His Independent Bride: Wife Against Her Will / The Wedlocked Wife / Bertoluzzi's Heiress Bride. Catherine SpencerЧитать онлайн книгу.
she said. ‘Well—goodnight.’
When she reached her room she was as breathless as if she’d been running. A shower, not too warm, could be soothing, she thought, because she felt as stretched as a wire, and she really needed to sleep. Because there was tomorrow to face, and all the days and nights after that.
She used some shower gel that smelled exquisitely of carnations, and after she’d dried herself languidly on one of the enormous bath sheets she scented her skin with the matching body lotion.
Joel’s gift was the only nightgown she had with her, so, reluctantly, she put it on, then went back into the bedroom. The bed was soft, and welcomed her like a friend. She drew the sheet up to her waist and lay staring up at the ceiling, thoughts, impressions and snatches of conversation tumbling through her mind. And achieving precisely nothing, she decided, except, maybe, to make her feel more on edge than ever.
She needed to stop thinking, turn off the lamp and go to sleep. Because things would be bound to look better in the morning.
But even as she reached for the switch, she saw her door opening silently and Joel sauntering into the room.
He was wearing a dark red silk robe that reached mid-thigh, and nothing else. ‘Don’t say you weren’t warned,’ he’d told her, and now her worst nightmare was coming true.
As he reached the side of the bed, Darcy heard her voice coming from some far distance. ‘What are you doing here? Get out of my room. Get out now.’
‘No chance,’ he said softly. ‘You’re my wife, Darcy, and this is our wedding night. And I think I’ve waited for you quite long enough. Don’t you?’
CHAPTER NINE
FOR A moment Darcy was completely still, assimilating what he’d said. Feeling the meaning invade her consciousness like tiny chips of ice. Then,
‘But you promised.’ The words burst out of her in a little wail of agony and betrayal. ‘You said—you gave me your word you wouldn’t want to sleep with me.’
‘Nor will I. That’s no great hardship.’ His voice was still gentle. ‘But I haven’t come here to sleep, my lovely one. Not for some time, anyway, because I’m actually not tired at all. And neither, I suspect, are you.’
‘But you let me think that you wouldn’t…’ Her voice rose in desperation. ‘We had an agreement.’
‘With all agreements, examine the small print closely.’ Joel was unruffled. ‘Sleeping together is such an ambiguous concept, don’t you think? It can mean different things to different people. And it covers none of the very pleasurable things one can do when awake.’
He smiled down into her frightened, pleading eyes, and his voice deepened slightly. Became husky. ‘And now, my sweet, I want to look at you.’
He took the edge of the sheet and turned it back, his brows lifting as he saw her nightgown.
‘Almost virginal,’ he remarked. ‘And yet we both know that’s not the case.’ He paused. ‘So, will you take it off, or shall I?’
She wrapped her arms round her body, staring up at him wild-eyed.
‘Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me. You lied to me, you bastard. You tricked me…’
‘It’s a trait we seem to share,’ he drawled. ‘Just be thankful we’ll never have children, or heaven only knows what they’d be like.’ He paused, and his voice hardened a little. ‘And you weren’t deceived, Darcy, whatever you may tell yourself. I told you once that I wanted you from that first moment—but you already knew that, so don’t bother to deny it. It was always a question of when, so don’t pretend otherwise.’
‘Joel.’ She was shaking, her voice sinking to an anguished whisper. ‘Don’t do this. I’m begging you. Don’t force me. I—I couldn’t bear it.’
‘I don’t believe in force, darling,’ he said. ‘Just a little gentle persuasion, perhaps. Starting with this.’ He reached down and, with a deftness that appalled her, whipped her nightgown over her head and tossed it aside.
For a long moment he stood looking down at her, and she lay transfixed—her whole body burning with the knowledge that he was the first man ever to see her naked—and terrified by the open hunger in his gaze.
When he spoke, his voice was very quiet. ‘You’re so beautiful, Darcy. Lovelier than any of my dreams, if that’s possible.’
He untied the sash of his robe and shrugged it off, revealing that it was indeed his only covering.
With a cry of outrage Darcy flung herself on her side, turning her back to him, but knowing at the same time that it was already too late. That there was another image now—unwanted but unforgettable—burning itself into her brain. And that there was nothing she could do about it.
She was aware of the slight dip in the mattress as he joined her in the big bed. She could feel the warmth of his nearness, and her stomach muscles clenched in panic.
As his hand touched her shoulder, she flinched violently. ‘Don’t!’
He sighed. ‘I’ve already established my intentions,’ he said. ‘So save the token protests, sweetheart.’
‘Don’t you dare say that to me,’ she whispered. ‘Because I also told you something once—that I loathed sex, and never wanted it again.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I remember.’
‘Then why can’t you understand that? Accept it as my decision?’
‘Darcy.’ His voice was not unkind. ‘Darling, I’m aware that a lot of girls must find their first sexual experience disappointing, but they don’t take an immediate vow of chastity. Isn’t that something of an overreaction?’
‘I thought you were going to leave me alone.’ She choked on a sudden sob. ‘My God, I married you on that one condition. You know I did. But men can never believe that you don’t want to be mistreated—brutalised. Because “no” really means “yes”, doesn’t it, Joel? Because it’s what we bitches all want.’
She sat up in bed, turning on him, uncaring that her breasts were uncovered, tears running down her white face. ‘That’s what Harry kept saying to me all the time he was doing it, all the time I was trying to push him off, crying out for him to stop because he was hurting me so much—so badly. But he wouldn’t—he didn’t…’
‘Darcy.’ There was a note in his voice she’d never heard before—sharp, almost agonised. ‘Dear God, Darcy, what the hell are you talking about? Are you telling me that Harry Metcalfe—raped you?’
‘Rape?’ she repeated, then shook her head. ‘Oh, no, because there’s no such thing as rape. Just stupid little girls who change their minds when it’s too late. Didn’t you know that? Harry knew it. He said so.’
Joel’s face looked as if it had been carved out of stone. He said something soft and obscene under his breath, then reached over to the box of tissues on the night table and passed her a handful. Then he leaned down and retrieved his robe from the floor, wrapping it gently round her bare shoulders. Darcy clutched at it, dragging the red silk across her breasts with one hand, while she tried to mop her face with the other.
‘Let me.’ He took the tissues, drying her eyes and wiping her nose as if she were a child. His arm went round her, drawing her against his shoulder. ‘Now tell me what happened.’
She swallowed convulsively. ‘I’d been to a party at the house of a girl called Isobel, whose parents had gone away on holiday. I’d just left school, and I didn’t know her very well, but I realised as soon as I got there that it was a big mistake. Harry was there, and he offered to drive me home.’
Her fingers played restlessly with the crisp edge