MOTORWAYS provided a fast but very monotonous means of traversing the country, Genista thought, watching the landscape flash past as the Maserati ate up the miles. Lancaster had come and gone; the scenery grew gradually wilder. The empty feeling in the pit of her stomach reminded her that it was past her normal lunchtime. She snatched a brief look at Luke’s remote profile. He had not talked to her at all during their drive, and she had been quite happy to let him concentrate on the motorway, even though her thoughts were not happy ones. He had arranged a special licence, he had told her before they left London, and his uncle had made all the arrangements with the small church where they were to be married.
‘My parents were married there,’ Luke had told her, and the brief comment had aroused her curiosity.
The Maserati slowed down, and Genista glanced at Luke again. ‘I thought we’d stop for lunch. There’s an excellent hotel not far from here. We used to eat there whenever we travelled north.’
‘Do your parents live in Cumbria?’ Genista probed, curious to learn a little more of his background. If they did, it was not inconceivable that she might meet them, and they could prove to be allies.
‘No,’ Luke said shortly, quenching her hopes. ‘They’re dead—they were killed in a road accident several years ago. Now there’s just my sister and myself. Marina is divorced. She lives in France with her daughter. Her husband left her for his secretary.’ His mouth twisted. ‘A story with which I’m sure you’re quite familiar. Unfortunately Marina was very sheltered by our parents. She’s never really got over the blow, and Lucy is left to run wild when she isn’t at school, while Marina broods.’
‘I’m sorry.’ The trite words were low, but she meant them. She was surprised that Luke had told her so much, but then of course he could hardly keep their marriage a secret, and she would be expected to know something about his background.
‘Your parents are dead too, of course.’ He shot a sideways glance, perceiving her sudden start of surprise. ‘It was on your staff records.’
‘Oh?’ Something in the way his eyes slid over her, assessing the shape of her body beneath her clothes, provoked her into saying bitterly, ‘Did they also tell you that I’m illegitimate? That my mother bore me without benefit of marriage? That my father was married at the time but gave her a child anyway?’
‘It happens.’
His laconic response halted her. She half turned in her seat as they left the motorway, her forehead furrowed. ‘Aren’t you shocked? Aren’t you going to say like mother, like daughter?’
‘Ought I to? I’ve never been able to understand why our society casts the slur of illegitimacy on innocent children. They’re not to blame for their parents’ actions. A true case of the sins of the fathers, I suppose. Is that what made you the way you are?’ he demanded, catching her off guard. ‘A deep-seated desire to get back at all men for the fact that your father caused you to be illegitimate?’
‘No,’ Genista told him shortly. ‘My parents loved one another very deeply. For a time I did resent what had happened, but I didn’t know until I was in my teens, so I was spared a lot of the agony.’
‘And suffered a great deal more when you eventually discovered the truth,’ Luke hazarded shrewdly. ‘Who told you? An interfering gossip?’
‘No. The man I thought loved me,’ Genista heard herself saying to her horror. ‘Only of course he didn’t. How could he love me? I was illegitimate, unworthy. No, all he wanted was to sleep with me.’
She was unaware of the bitterness in her voice; tears forming in her eyes, which she blinked quickly away. It would never do to break down in front of Luke!
‘And did he?’
The question puzzled her. She looked up, the muscles of her throat tightening as she saw the look in his eyes.
‘Did he sleep with you, Genista?’ he pressed.
There was no way she could tell him the truth. She had told him too much already—things she had told no one else; secrets she had kept close to her heart all her life.
‘What do you think?’
A muscle jerked in his jaw, his hands tightening on the steering wheel until the knuckles gleamed whitely through the tanned skin.
‘You were a fool,’ he told her harshly. ‘You should have refused him.’
‘Why? So that you could be first?’ She could have bitten her tongue out the moment the words were uttered. She had no idea what had prompted her to utter them. Luke’s expression was savagely angry, and she was glad that the narrow road demanded his concentration. He looked as though he would have liked to strangle her, but she had no idea why. ‘I thought men didn’t go for virgins these days,’ she added, trying to make the words sound light. ‘Experience is all the vogue.’
‘You’re right, of course.’ Luke’s voice was completely impersonal. ‘Inexperience causes fear, which in turn lessens both parties’ pleasure.’ He shrugged, and Genista saw the powerful muscles beneath his shirt contract and expand. ‘Virginity in itself is nothing, but I suspect deep inside every man lurks the desire to teach the woman he loves to respond to him, and him alone.’
His words touched a chord deep inside her she had never known she possessed, causing her an aching pain which seemed to spread endlessly through her body in waves of anguish, and yet why, she did not know. She did not love Luke and he did not love her. But he would be the first man to make love to her, stealing from a man who might love her the right to teach her. She shrugged the thought away. She had never intended to marry, never believed in love, so what did it matter? This marriage was something that must be endured for Bob’s sake. A sudden thought struck her. Surely if he found her cold and unresponsive Luke would soon lose his desire for her, and wish their marriage over? And she wouldn’t need to act the part. Already she was dreading being alone with him, her body rigid with terror at the thought of having him touch her.
‘Hungry?’
She had been totally engrossed in her thoughts and realised that the Maserati had come to rest in the forecourt of a large Victorian hotel. She wasn’t really hungry, but it was obvious that Luke intended them to eat, and as she was fast beginning to learn, he wasn’t a man one could argue with and win.
His courtesy as he helped her out of the car was something which surprised her, until she reminded herself that his excellent manners were probably an automatic reflex of which he was possibly unaware. The hotel was imposing, the red brick façade faintly awe-inspiring. A flight of shallow stone steps led upwards to the entrance, and as they stepped into the cool tiled foyer. Genista looked around the elegant high-ceilinged room appreciatively.
‘It was originally a country house,’ Luke told her informatively. ‘The scene of many a weekend party, or so I should imagine, but after the war it was turned into a hotel.’
The head waiter materialised in front of them, and obviously recognised Luke. They were shown to a small table overlooking the gardens with a deference that Genista found enlightening. She had thought of Luke only in context with herself, and now it was brought home to her that she was marrying a very important man; and certainly an exceedingly wealthy one.
She was handed a menu which she studied absently.
‘If you’re not feeling particularly hungry, I suggest you start with the river trout,’ Luke said quietly. ‘They’re a speciality of the hotel.’
Genista did as he suggested, and as he had promised the fish was delicious. She had ordered fillet steak for her main meal with a side salad, and although the steak was beautifully tender she was unable to eat more than a couple of mouthfuls. Seated opposite Luke in the elegant surroundings of the restaurant with its thick pile carpet and gliding waiters, she felt the enormity of her situation suddenly come home to her. She all but choked on her steak, pushing her plate away, as she stared blindly into space. What had she agreed to? She wouldn’t marry Luke. She couldn’t marry him! She stole a glance at his imperious profile. He appeared absorbed in his food. Her eyes rested on the strong male features of his face, trying to relax her taut nerves. Luke beckoned the wine waiter and murmured something to him, and for a moment the man’s impassive features relaxed into a smile. He disappeared, returning several minutes later with an ice bucket containing a green bottle, and two champagne glasses.
‘Drink it,’ Luke commanded when the frothing liquid had been poured. ‘It will help calm your nerves.’
‘So would a cup of Horlicks,’ Genista murmured irreverently. It seemed wrong to be drinking champagne—a drink she had always associated with happy celebrations—before this forced wedding.
‘Horlicks is a bedtime drink,’ Luke said softly. ‘Do you have trouble getting to sleep, Genista? I’m not surprised, with all that you must have on your conscience. They do say that healthy exercise is an excellent cure.’
Her cheeks burned, as much at the implication of his last words as at the earlier insult. Tears burned against the back of her throat, and all at once she felt unable to fight any longer. A terrible feeling of misery engulfed her, a lassitude so foreign to her nature that she couldn’t understand why she should be experiencing it. It was as though her mind was at last acknowledging that there was nothing more she could do to escape and it was trying to teach her body acceptance.
Luke had ordered strawberries and fresh cream for dessert. He himself had cheese and biscuits, and Genista pushed the fruit round her dish, until his muttered exasperation got through to her.
‘I don’t want it,’ she told him defiantly. ‘All I want is for everything to be over…’
‘And for things to be as they were before,’ Luke finished for her.
Self-pity welled up inside her.
‘Things can never be as they were,’ she told him fiercely, flinching a little at the inimical look in his eyes as they searched her flushed face.
‘No, they can’t, can they?’ he agreed softly. ‘And I warn you now, Genista, if I think for one moment that you’re thinking of Bob when I make love to you, I’ll make you sorry you were ever born.’
‘You already have,’ Genista said recklessly. ‘And you can’t tell me what to think, Luke. My thoughts at least are still my own.’
She could feel the anger beating up inside him, and wondered shiveringly what would happen if he ever unleashed it. She hoped she never got to find out.
It was two o’clock when they left the hotel. They didn’t return to the motorway, but drove through the dales, lonely, magnificent country dotted with sheep, and laced with ancient grey stone walls. Villages huddled in the valleys, single streets of tiny cottages by rivers, so clean and clear that Genista could see the river bed as they drove past. The sun shone sporadically, casting shadows which chased each other over the rolling hills as clouds drifted over the sun. In other circumstances the peace of her surroundings must surely have had a relaxing effect upon her, she reflected, but today she was too tense, too highly strung to appreciate the timeless beauty of the countryside.
Kendal, with its limestone walls and houses, was busy. They drove straight through, Luke concentrating on his driving. In Windermere she gazed at the blue-grey expanse of the lake, her tension tightening into coils of fear that slid agonisingly through her stomach. The road circled the lake before climbing steeply into hills so old and weathered by time that Genista caught her breath in awe.
The road seemed to wind for an eternity through woods which she suspected must be heartbreakingly lovely in the autumn before emerging among the hills. The faint baaing of the sheep was the only sound to disturb the stillness of the afternoon. High above in the sky Genista saw a bird hovering motionless.
‘A peregrine falcon,’ Luke told her, following her gaze. ‘There’s a place up here where they train them. There’s a huge export demand for the birds, especially in the Middle East. I suppose there’s something of the pagan in all men which responds to the ultimate primitive thrill of taming so much splendour.’
The knot of fear in Genista’s stomach tightened. It wasn’t hard to imagine one of those proud birds, wings outstretched, fierce claws digging into a leatherbound wrist as Luke fed it raw meat. There was something primitive about him, she thought uneasily; something that refused to be tamed by civilisation. The knowledge unnerved her, and if they hadn’t been on such a deserted stretch of road she might have contemplated trying to escape.
The road dipped suddenly. Below them she could see a small village, the church spire reaching up towards the clouds.
Half a dozen children were playing in the village square, and they scattered when Luke stopped the car, gazing at it with open-mouthed awe.
Despite the fact that the afternoon was mild, Genista felt goosebumps rise up under her skin as Luke helped her out of the car. In silence he led the way to the small vicarage set next to the church.
‘The Vicar here was a close friend of my parents,’ he told her quietly as he opened the garden gate. ‘One wrong word, one glance to show that this marriage is not desired by both of us, and I’ll make tonight something you’ll want to blot out of your mind for the rest of your life.’
Genista shivered, pressing her hand to temples which had begun to ache badly. For some reason Luke seemed to sap all her normal resilience. In his presence she felt as capable as a small child faced with a domineering adult. Mindlessly she allowed him to propel her up the garden path. It was bordered by lavender which smelled heavenly, she noticed absently, and old-fashioned pink roses climbed over the Vicarage walls to mingle with the honeysuckle and clematis.
The door opened before they could reach it, and a plump woman with soft brown hair, touched with grey, and a delighted smile hurried towards them. She embraced Luke first, tilting back her head to stare up at him. She barely reached his shoulder, and there were tears in her eyes as she turned from him to Genista.
‘Oh, Luke, she’s lovely!’ she said emotionally. ‘When John told me you wanted to be married here, I was so thrilled. Luke’s parents were married in this church,’ she told Genista. ‘But I expect you already know that. But you should have given us more warning, Luke.’ Her smile robbed the words of any criticism, and Genista could see that she was very fond of Luke.
‘Amy is my godmother,’ he explained to Genista as their hostess turned away to open the front door. ‘Since the death of my parents she and John are the nearest thing I’ve had to a family.’
The Vicarage hall was dark after the sunlit garden, and Genista stumbled over the step and would have fallen if Luke’s arm hadn’t caught her round the waist. Just for a second her body was pressed against the hard warmth of his, and a feeling not unlike panic swept over her. Amy turned, beaming at them both, and her fear subsided a little. Luke was unlikely to do anything to her in someone else’s presence.
‘Luke told me you both wanted to get changed before the ceremony. Luke’s in his usual room, but I’ve put you in our daughter’s. Where are you taking her for the honeymoon, Luke?’ she asked her godson. ‘Or is it a secret?’
It was impossible not to like the small, motherly woman. Genista felt drawn to her immediately, and in other circumstances—had she not been so obviously under Luke’s spell—she might have risked confiding in her and begging for her help. However, it was simply not possible. It was obvious that she expected Genista to be over the moon with joy at the thought of marrying Luke, and moreover, believed that they were madly in love. Narrow twisting stairs led off the hall, and as she followed her hostess up them Genista heard Luke saying behind her, ‘It’s a secret, Amy. Unfortunately we’ve only got a long weekend.’
‘You work far too hard,’ she reproved him. ‘You must make him slow down,’ she told Genista. ‘A long weekend! You’re lucky she agreed to marry you, Luke. I would have insisted on a month—preferably on some gorgeous tropical island.’
‘Haven’t you noticed? Genista’s a redhead. She’d be suffering from sunburn before the first day was out, and that’s no good on a honeymoon.’
Amy tried to look disapproving and failed. Genista forced a smile, knowing that something was expected of her. She could have told them both that her skin didn’t burn, but she sensed that to do so would bring Luke’s anger down upon her hapless head, and she already had enough to cope with without that.
The room Amy showed her to was prettily feminine. Luke brought up her suitcase while Amy was still chatting about his childhood, and how delighted she and her husband were that they’d chosen to be married in his church.
‘I’ve been down this morning and done the flowers. June is such a lovely month for a wedding, but we don’t get many here, unfortunately. The young people move away to the towns looking for jobs, and marry there. John’s in his study, if you want to have a word with him,’ she told Luke as he placed Genista’s case on the bed. ‘We’ve arranged the ceremony for four, to give you time to get to wherever it is you’re going afterwards.’
‘I’ll go down and have a word with him after I’ve showered and changed.’
He went, closing the door behind him, and fresh panic engulfed Genista. She turned blindly towards the window, unaware that Amy had caught a glimpse of her face until the older woman said softly,
‘It’s such a big step, isn’t it? But you couldn’t entrust your life to a better man. Luke’s parents’ marriage was exceptionally happy. His father had old-fashioned values and both Luke and Marina were brought up on them. I think that’s why Marina took it so hard when her husband left her. For a while we thought Luke might never marry. It seemed to harden him, and then…Well, the fact that the girl Philip ran off with was Luke’s girl-friend was an added complication. Marina blamed him for introducing Verity to Philip. She couldn’t seem to see that Luke had been hurt as well.’ Amy sighed. ‘Forgive me, my dear, this isn’t the time to bring up all that sad business again. I’m so glad Luke’s found happiness. He deserves it, and I’m sure you’ll make him very happy.’ She patted Genista’s hand and laughed. ‘You probably think we’re too old-fashioned to be aware of these things, but I can recognise love when I see it, and love for you is written all over Luke’s face.’
Amy was mistaking love for sexual desire, Genista thought wearily as the door closed behind the older woman.
Alone, she showered quickly in the small en-suite bathroom attached to the bedroom, drying herself briskly on one of the large fluffy towels Amy had supplied, before slipping into the silky briefs she had pulled out of her case. Because of the camisole top to the suit it was impossible to wear a bra, but the sheer fabric was lined, and although the soft swell of her breasts was clearly visible beneath the fabric, there was nothing offensive about it. The hem on her skirt brushed her silk stockings, and she slid on fragile leather sandals in a toning shade of green before sitting down to apply her make-up.
Her skin glowed healthily from her holiday and she had no need to use foundation. The merest hint of soft lilac eyeshadow added depth to her amethyst eyes. She brushed her lashes sparingly with mascara, and added soft pink lipstick before brushing her hair until it crackled.
She was just spraying her skin with perfume when she heard the rap on the door, and she opened it nervously, blinking a little in surprise at the strange man standing there.
‘I’m Jeff Stanley. Luke asked me to do the honours—I hope you don’t mind? We used to play together when we were kids. I’m the local doctor here. My wife and I are going to act as your witnesses, and as Amy flatly refused to allow Luke to see you in your wedding finery, I was deputised to escort you to the church. An honour and a privilege,’ he added with an admiring grin. ‘Now I’ve seen you I know why Luke was so reluctant to leave you. I don’t suppose he’d appreciate it if I took my best man’s kiss in advance!’
He was obviously trying to help her to relax, but Genista felt as stiff as a poker as they walked along the lavender-bordered path to the small, grey country church. In other circumstances the simple service in the plain whitewashed church would have been her ideal. The flowers arranged by Amy made a soft pool of colour against the white background. Light streamed in through the stained glass windows—a gift to the church by a seventeenth-century inhabitant of the village, and obviously cherished.
Amy’s husband, John Robson, was as homely and pleasant as his wife. His voice was the one which guided Genista through her responses—responses which were tying her irrevocably to the man at her side, giving him licence to do with her as he wished. At one point she thought her voice was going to desert her completely, and only the hard grip of Luke’s fingers round her wrist jerked her back to awareness. And then at last it was over. The church bells pealed, and a small crowd had gathered outside to wish them well, and stare at the bride. Jeff Stanley did kiss her, but only lightly on the cheek before turning her back to Luke with a wide grin.
‘She’s all yours now, you lucky man. Barbara has prepared a buffet up at the house, but you aren’t expected to stay long. We’re still able to remember what it feels like to be newly married. I expect you can’t wait to be on your own. Aren’t you going to kiss the bride?’ he added.
Genista shrank back as Luke’s arm circled her waist. But it was too late. He was already drawing her towards him, his cool breath fanning the tendrils of hair at her temples, as his dark head bent towards her, blotting out the sun. It was that night in the alleyway all over again, and she tensed in fear, panic spreading through her body like fire. She was trembling so badly that she knew Luke must have felt it. His lips felt cool as they touched her own, his eyes night-dark as she looked up into them, pools of emptiness in which she could drown if she let herself. His body was shielding her from the onlookers, and to them they probably looked much like any other newly married couple, exchanging a brief embrace. Luke’s lips didn’t linger. The butterfly embrace was over almost before it had begun, leaving her feelings vaguely cheated, although she was at a loss to understand the reason for this strange emotion.
Jeff Stanley’s wife was plump and pretty. They had been married two years and had a very active nine-month-old son.
‘Luke’s a real dreamboat, isn’t he?’ she commented to Genista when she had taken her upstairs to show her the baby. ‘I used to have the most dreadful crush on him. How did you meet?’
‘At a party,’ Genista said truthfully. Even now she could not believe that they were actually married.
‘Come on down, you two,’ Jeff called. ‘Luke’s champing at the bit! I’d hurry if I were you, Genista,’ he teased. ‘He’s not a patient man and I suspect he’s longing to get you to himself.’
Genista hadn’t changed out of her suit; there seemed little point. She had no idea where Luke was taking her. He had cancelled the business meeting which had been the original purpose of their journey, she knew that.
Seated in the car, waiting for Luke to join her, she felt her stomach tensing nervously. She was on her honeymoon, the thought brought anxiety crawling along her nerves. She was just on the point of thrusting open the car door and screaming that she couldn’t go through with it, when Luke slid in beside her, turning the key in the ignition.
‘Come back soon!’ Amy called as the Maserati slid out of the square. ‘Have a good time!’
‘Where are you taking me?’
She sounded like an abducted heroine, Genista thought crossly. The worst possible thing she could do was to show fear. She ought to be showing Luke that she felt completely in control of the situation. Tonight he fully expected that he would be sharing her bed, but she knew that she could not allow him to do so, and if she panicked she would have next to no chance of preventing him.
‘It’s a surprise,’ was all he would say, but he said it in such a grim tone that Genista felt her nervousness increase. She should never have allowed herself to be manoeuvred into this position. She should have told him right from the start that he was completely wrong about her. A confession trembled on her lips, but she quickly realised that telling him the truth would serve no useful purpose. He would still desire her, perhaps even more when he knew that he would be her first lover. Her pulse rate quickened as she remembered what he had said at her apartment.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she demanded huskily.
‘Frightened?’ The mocking question sawed at her raw nerve ends. ‘There’s no need to be. After all, I won’t be the first man to share your bed, but I intend to be the one you remember the longest, Genista.’
‘Sure of yourself, aren’t you?’
She could feel him watching her, the knowledge sending prickly warnings along her skin.
‘No more than any other man with experience of your sex. The act of love is one which should be mutually enjoyable, and I believe that our body chemistry is such that it will be. You can’t deny that you responded to me when I kissed you.’
‘I hated it,’ Genista interrupted, her voice trembling with the fear the memory aroused. ‘And I hate you!’
The scenery had become vaguely familiar, and with a growing sense of disbelief she realised that they were approaching the hotel where she had stayed with Bob and Elaine.
‘Recognise it?’ Luke asked sardonically. ‘I asked Jilly to book us a double room. I got the impression she disapproved. No doubt she’ll be extremely relieved to see that on your hand when we return;’ he added, lifting Genista’s left hand, where her new rings glittered on her finger.
She had been surprised when Luke produced both an engagement and wedding ring. They had obviously been designed to be worn together, the single beautiful diamond of the engagement ring, set into a fine platinum band cut to match the gold and platinum wedding ring.
‘Am I allowed to return to the office?’ Genista retaliated sarcastically, as much to hide her growing fear as anything else. ‘Would you trust me so close to Bob?’
‘No, but I trust him,’ came Luke’s laconic response. ‘And you won’t be returning to work—just making a visit to let everyone know how the land lies. I don’t want Bob accusing me of doing away with you. Once he knows we’re married…’
‘He won’t be tempted to resume our affair, is that what you’re thinking? What makes you think I can’t make him overcome his scruples? After all, desire for me led you to overcome yours. I can’t really be the sort of woman you wanted for a wife; a businessman such as yourself—surely you wanted a wife you could be proud of, someone who would play her part as your hostess, impress your business colleagues.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be able to do that,’ Luke said dryly. ‘And as for the rest, I learned long ago that a man has to accept women for what they are, not what he would like them to be.’
‘Because of Verity?’
‘Who told you about her?’ The sharpness of the question betrayed his anger that she knew about the other woman.
‘Amy let it slip. When you said that your sister had been deserted by her husband, I didn’t realise that he’d gone off with your girl-friend.’
‘Verity was the one who did the “going off”, as you term it. Philip was already a successful businessman while I was still struggling, and no doubt Verity thought him the better proposition. As it turned out she was wrong, but it taught me a lesson I’ve never forgotten. You might remember that if you are tempted to cheat on me, Genista.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ She said it tauntingly, but it was true. The more she came to learn about this man, the more she wondered at her own blind folly in provoking him in the first place. One look at him was all it took to realise the steel will cloaked by the sensual body, but for some reason she had been completely unaware of the danger lurking in the depths of the cold grey eyes the first time they met. Her mind had been on other things, of course; the takeover of the company, but that did not totally excuse her. It was too late to regret her shortsightedness now, she reminded herself bitterly.
The old coaching inn was just as charming as she remembered. Built on four sides of what had once been the coachyard, into which the mail coaches had once driven, the yard had been turned into a delightful enclosed patio, overlooked by the ancient timbered walls of the inn itself.
A smiling receptionist greeted them, and under her professional greet, Genista saw the flicker of interest in her blue eyes as they lingered on Luke’s tautly male features.
‘Mr Ferguson. Of course, you booked the suite, didn’t you? I’ll have someone take up your cases. There’s still time for dinner in the main restaurant if you wish, or if you prefer it we could arrange for you to dine in your suite?’
‘In our suite, I think,’ Luke said decisively. ‘We’ve had a long drive up from the south, and we both feel like relaxing.’
‘I’ll show you to your suite and have a menu sent up to you straight away,’ she promised, with far more enthusiasm than the small task warranted, or so it seemed to Genista. Had she walked into the hotel alone she was quite positive that she wouldn’t have merited the same dewy-eyed service.
Their suite of rooms consisted of a delightful sitting room with a beamed ceiling and windows overlooking the courtyard, furnished with charming reproduction antiques; flowers arranged in the empty hearth, plus a large bedroom, dominated by a massive carved fourposter, with a luxurious bathroom off it.
A porter arrived with their luggage while the receptionist was still showing Luke the bedroom, and Genista hung back on the pretext of examining the furniture. She was interested to discover if it had been made by their client, or so she told herself, trying to find excuses for her reluctance to follow Luke into the bedroom. The sight of the huge old-fashioned bed had sent fresh fear crawling through her stomach. When a waiter arrived with a menu she gestured to him to leave it on the coffee table, convinced that she wouldn’t be able to touch a morsel of food.
The receptionist left, closing the door behind her. Luke had ordered a meal for both of them, while Genista stood woodenly by the window, trying to control her rising tide of panic. The moment the door closed, like a cell door on a condemned prisoner, her control snapped. She flew to the door, tearing at it in a frenzy, dry sobs rasping her throat.
‘Stop it! I’ve already told you—no hysterics. You won’t get round me that way, Genista. I know all about you, remember? A few crocodile tears aren’t going to make me change my mind. I’ve paid dearly for your favours; the highest price a man can pay—I’ve bought you with my name, and I don’t intend to be cheated.’
‘You can’t do this!’
Her despairing cry was smothered against his chest as he plucked her from the door, hauling her against him so that her body was forced to endure the knowledge of his unashamed arousal.
‘I want you, Genista, and I mean to have you.’
‘Then you’ll have to take me by force,’ she told him fiercely, ‘because I don’t want you, and I never shall.’
‘You think not?’
His knowing smile made her feel faintly sick, her face paling as she realised that there was no way she was going to be able to persuade him to change his mind. For one mad moment she contemplated throwing herself from the window, but this notion was swiftly dispelled. Even had she wanted to, the windows were far too small. Luke was reaching for the phone.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Cancelling dinner,’ he said smoothly. ‘I’ve suddenly realised I have other appetites that need satisfying first. Come here, Genista,’ he commanded softly as she started to back away from him. ‘There’s no need for any games, we both know what it’s all about.’
You might do, she wanted to scream, but I don’t, but pride held her silent.
She hadn’t realised that he was very skilfully backing her towards the open bedroom door, until she felt behind her for the wall and found instead only space. She turned wildly staring at the huge canopied bed.
‘Please don’t do this, Luke,’ she begged passionately. ‘Please let me go.’
‘It’s too late, Genista.’ His eyes and mouth were hard—nearly as hard as the fingers gripping her shoulders. ‘It was too late from the moment I walked into Greg Hardiman’s flat and saw you. If you’ve any sense you’ll meet me half way, but you haven’t, have you, so we’ll have to do it the hard way. I want you, and nothing is going to stop me taking you—nothing!’