Without Trust. Penny JordanЧитать онлайн книгу.
startled her. It wasn’t the reaction she had been expecting at all, but before she could say a word he continued derisively, ‘But then, what else can you do, living here? You don’t have a job, you don’t have anything, do you?’
He had come here deliberately to taunt her, to remind her that, although she might have escaped conviction, she was still being punished as he quite obviously considered that she should be. But he was wrong, she did have a job.
Lark didn’t stop to weigh the consequences, to remember how she herself had had doubts about the wisdom of accepting Mrs Mayers’ generous offer. Instead she told him with fierce pride that he was wrong, that she did have a job. Her eyes flashed fierce signs of fire, her hands clenching into small fists as she stood up to face him.
He didn’t look as surprised as she had expected, but then, of course, he was adept at concealing his true feelings; that would have been all part of his barrister’s training.
‘You see, despite what you tried to do to me, there are still people around who can recognise the truth when they hear it.’
An odd expression crossed his face. If she hadn’t known better she might almost have believed that he was amused, and then suddenly he leaned forward, his hand touching her throat, sliding up over her skin to her jaw, cupping it firmly.
The shock of his unanticipated touch scalded her into immobility, while her pulse jumped frantically beneath her skin and her heart surged heavily against her breastbone. She knew that he was going to kiss her, and yet she refused to believe it. It was unthinkable, impossible, unimaginable, and yet when his mouth touched hers it was as though some part of her had always known that one day there would be a man who would kiss her like this, who would make her pulses race and her blood burn, who would caress her mouth with his own, and in doing so possess her more thoroughly than any other man before or after him.
Her senses reeled beneath the force of it, her mind a total blank, as he kissed her with slow thoroughness, not rushing or forcing her, his mouth tasting hers with voluptuous delight. His hand still supported her neck, his thumb gently caressing her pulse. His body didn’t touch hers. He made no move to hold her closer or to touch her in any other way, and yet she trembled as much as though he had caressed every single inch of her.
He released her slowly and deliberately. She came back to earth to hear him saying softly, ‘Delicious.’
Her eyelids felt weighed down. It was an effort to open them and look at him. He was smiling at her, his mouth curving half mockingly. His eyes looked more silver than grey, liquid like mercury.
She wanted to reach out and trace the shape of his mouth in wonder and awe, still lost in the mystery of what had happened between them, and then he said in amusement, ‘What’s wrong, Sleeping Beauty? Has no one ever kissed you before?’ And immediately she realised exactly what she was doing and wondered how on earth she would ever be able to forgive herself for being so stupid.
‘You had no right to do that,’ she told him painfully, appalled by the folly of her own actions, and yet her heart was still thumping, the effect of his touch still bemusing her senses. She had been kissed before, of course, but never in a way that had affected her so strongly.
‘No right at all,’ he agreed affably, cutting across her thoughts. ‘But that didn’t stop both of us enjoying it.’
Enjoying it? Lark almost choked on her chagrin, but what could she say? She had enjoyed it, more than enjoyed it, she admitted, shivering as she remembered how she had abandoned herself to the sensation of his mouth moving against her own.
It was because it had been such a shock, she told herself defensively. For him to kiss her had been so out of character, the very last thing she had anticipated.
‘I want you to leave,’ she told him stiffly, standing up and walking over towards the door. Her whole body felt as though she had been subjected to a terrible fever, her joints actually feeling as though they ached. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation.
To her relief he made no demur, but it wasn’t until he had actually gone and she had locked the door behind him that she realised that she had never really discovered exactly why he had come in the first place. What if he should come back? Panic hit her. She didn’t want to see him again. She couldn’t. She couldn’t even think about why she was so terrified at the prospect.
There was only one way she could escape. She would have to take Mrs Mayers’ job. Even if he traced her there, she wouldn’t be so alone, so vulnerable. He would never kiss her like that while she was living with Mrs Mayers. He would never dare to arrive on Mrs Mayers’ doorstep and demand entrance.
Had his kiss been his personal way of extracting payment because the case had been cancelled? She shivered, hugging her arms tightly around herself.
He was certainly arrogant enough to do something so unorthodox, but there hadn’t been anger in his touch, nor resentment. So why, then? She shivered again, knowing the answer but not wanting to admit it. There had been that brief moment of time in the court room, that exchanging and mingling of glances that had contained more than mere acknowledgement of one another as adversaries.
Too inexperienced to judge its value properly, she had nevertheless been aware of that brief arcing of some indefinable emotion between them, some sensation of almost physical communion, generated by their mutual awareness. But she had dismissed it, not wanting to recognise its potential.
She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself for instinctive comfort. She would have to take the job now. She wasn’t going to allow herself to dwell on exactly why she felt this need to protect herself, and if Mrs Mayers’ son disapproved, well, that was his problem, she told herself defiantly.
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