In the Millionaire's Possession (28 page)

Swallowing, Helen backed into her room and closed the door. The lamps had been lit on either side of the bed, and the covers were turned down. One of her nightgowns
—
the white one
—
was waiting for her, fanned out over the foot of the bed.

So she was not to be spared after all, she thought numbly. Even though there was another woman in his life, Marc was still not prepared to forego the novelty of possessing his virgin bride.

It had been bad enough when she
’
d only had the danger of her own responses to fight, she thought. But now she had the added humiliation of knowing that she would be sharing him. That even on their wedding night she
’
d be denied the small comfort of knowing that, for a brief time, he
’
d been hers alone.

A laugh like a sob escaped her.
‘
My God,
’
she whispered.
‘
And I thought I could fight him.
’

She went over to the dressing table and sank down on the padded stool. In the lamplight she looked pale, her eyes wide and almost bruised.

She thought, How can I bear this? What shall I do? And sat motionless, her face buried in her hands.

She did not hear the door open, but some deep instinct warned her when she was no longer alone. She raised her head and met his gaze in the mirror. He was standing behind her, wearing a robe of dark silk which she knew would be his only covering.

He had showered as well, she realised. The clean damp scent of his skin filled her senses, and she took a swift breath of helpless longing.

He said quietly,
‘
I thought you would be in bed,
ma belle
.
’

‘
My dress,
’
she said, snatching at an excuse.
‘
I
—
I couldn
’
t reach…
’

‘
You could have come to me, Hélène. Asked me to help you.
’
His hands closed on her shoulders, urging her gently to her feet.
‘
Like this,
’
he whispered.

Helen felt the tiny hook on her bodice give way, and the faint rasp of the zip as he lowered it. She felt his mouth touch the nape of her neck, then move with sure gentleness to her shoulder, pushing away the thin strap, baring the soft skin for his lips.

She felt the dress begin to slip down her body, and clutched it with both hands as the first dangerous and uncontrollable tremor of need quivered through her body.

He turned her slowly to face him, his mouth seeking hers. He said softly,
‘
Mon ange
.
’

Angel, she thought dazedly, her pulses swimming. My angel. My
—
Angeline… Was that what he called her too
—
mon ange
? Were these the caresses he used to seduce his mistress
—
and countless others?

Marc
’
s women
—
so easily interchangeable. So soon forgotten.

But only if she allowed it, she told herself, anger building on wretchedness.

As he kissed her she turned her face away sharply, so that his mouth grazed only her cheek. In a voice she didn
’
t recognise, she said,
‘
No
—
no, Marc, please.
’

He paused, frowning, but more in surprise than annoyance. His hands cupped her face, making her look at him.
‘
Qu
’
as tu
?
’
His tone was still gentle.
‘
What is the matter?
’

‘
I can
’
t do this.
’
She swallowed.
‘
I thought I
—
could. But it
’
s impossible.
’

He put his arms round her, his hands slipping inside the loosened dress, gently stroking the naked vulnerability of her back, making her shiver and burn.

‘
Mon amour
,
’
he murmured, as if he sensed her body
’
s confusion.
‘
There is nothing to fear. Do you think I would hurt you? I promise I shall not.
’

But she was in pain already. She screamed at him soundlessly. She occupied an agonising wasteland where need fought with reason and heartbreak and humiliation waited to devour her like hungry tigers. And if she turned to him now, she would be lost.

‘
Please
—
you have to let me go.
’
Her voice cracked.
‘
I
—
I can
’
t be what you want
—
do what you want. You
—
you said you
’
d be patient…
’

‘
Patient,
’
he repeated, almost incredulously.
‘
You dare to say that to me?
Mon Dieu
! When have I not been patient? Even when your body was mine for the taking, I held back. Waited for the moment when you would be my wife in honour.
’

‘
There is no honour,
’
Helen said, her voice a shaken breath.
‘
We
—
made a deal. That
’
s all.
’

Grim-faced, he stepped back from her.
‘
Mais, oui
,
’
he said.
‘
We had a deal
—
that sordid little bargain of ours, to which you agreed,
ma chère
, however much you may regret it at this moment.
’

She faced him, her arms wrapped round her body.
‘
You threw me a lifeline,
’
she said.
‘
And I was grateful. I didn
’
t let myself consider
—
the personal implications. At least, not until now.
’

‘
Not even when you were in my arms,
ma belle
?
’
His laugh was harsh. His words seared her to the core.
‘
I think you are lying.
’
He paused.
‘
But here is something else for you to consider. Why should I continue to keep to the terms of our agreement if you do not?
’

There was a silence. At last she said hoarsely,
‘
You mean you
’
d
—
abandon Monteagle? Stop all the work because I
—
I won
’
t…
’

She stared at him pleadingly, but found she was looking into the narrowed angry eyes of a stranger.

She said, stammering slightly,
‘
But you couldn
’
t do that, surely? You
—
you love it too much. Besides, you promised…
’

‘
And you,
’
he said,
‘
made a vow also. Just today. And, whatever I feel about the house, I hate being cheated far more,
ma petite trompeuse
. And if you can break your word so easily, then so can I.
’

He paused.
‘
Or maybe you would prefer to
—
reconsider, my beautiful wife. After all, we still have the rest of the night. And surely for the sake of your beloved Monteagle you can endure this
—
minor inconvenience. But do not make me wait too long for your decision,
’
he added coldly, turning away.
‘
And this time,
madame
, you will come to me.
’

Helen stood motionless, hardly breathing as she watched the door close behind him.

After a while she unclasped her arms and let the dress slide to the ground. She stepped out of it and went into the bathroom, running water into the tub as she took off her underwear and put it in the linen basket.

Then she climbed into the bath and lay back, closing her eyes, trying to be calm
—
rational.

All over the world, she thought, women were having sex when they didn
’
t want to. That was nothing new. She couldn
’
t, of course, fake an orgasm. Even if she knew how she guessed Marc would not be deceived for a moment. Instead, she would have to feign the frigidity that Nigel had once accused her of. Maintain some kind of integrity by her indifference, no matter what the cost
—
and instinct told her it would be high.

This minor inconvenience
, he
’
d said, his mouth twisting cynically.

Oh, God, she whispered wretchedly. How little he knew.

She could only hope he would soon become bored by her passive resistance. But until then…

She dried herself, cleaned her teeth and brushed her hair. Calming herself with the usual routine of bedtime.

She went over to the bed, picked up the pretty, fragile thing that lay there, and slipped it on over her head. She supposed he would want her to take it off. Supposed, but did not know. Not for certain. Nothing for certain.

It
’
s ludicrous, she thought, swallowing a small, fierce sob. My first time with a man and I haven
’
t a bloody clue.

Except, of course, the remembrance of his hands weaving their dark magic on her skin only a short time before. The magic she
’
d always known could be her downfall.

The white silk rustled faintly above her bare feet as she went slowly out of the room and across the passage. The door of his room was ajar, and she pushed it open and stepped into the lamplit silence.

CHAPTER NINE

MARC was lying propped up on an elbow, facing the door. Waiting, she realised, without one solitary doubt for her to appear. Savouring his victory in advance. The enjoyment he so confidently expected.

Yet there was no triumph in the brief, bleak smile he accorded her.

He pulled back the cover, indicating without words that she should join him. Helen obeyed, lying rigid and awkward beside him, aware of the painful thud of her heart, but even more conscious of his naked warmth and the grave dark eyes studying her face.

Still propped on his elbow, Marc lifted his other hand, stroking the hair back from her temples with his fingertips, then moving down to trace the arch of her eyebrows. His touch was as light as the brush of a butterfly
’
s wing as it followed the hollows of her cheekbones, then hovered at the corner of her mouth.

‘
Hélène.
’
His voice was oddly gentle too.
‘
Do you know how I have longed for this moment
—
and for you?
’

He bent his head and kissed her, his lips moving coaxingly on her unresponsive mouth while his hand slid down to the demure neckline of her nightdress, brushing its straps off her shoulders.

‘
C
’
est très jolie, ça
,
’
he whispered.
‘
But I think you would be even lovelier without it.
’

She was shaking inside as the silk slipped down her body, and she heard his soft murmur of satisfaction as his fingers cupped her bare breast. No matter how determined she might be to withstand him, she found with dismay that she could not prevent her nipple hardening in excitement at his caress, or deny the sudden languorous melting between her thighs.

Marc bent towards her again, his mouth closing on the rounded softness he
’
d uncovered, his tongue laving its engorged peak with passionate finesse.

He was lying beside her now, his arm round her shoulders, holding her against him, leaving her in no doubt that he was fiercely aroused. His hand drifted slowly downwards over her body, exploring each curve and contour through the thin fabric of her nightdress, creating a delicate, enticing friction against her skin.