His Independent Bride: Wife Against Her Will / The Wedlocked Wife / Bertoluzzi's Heiress Bride

Her whole body went rigid, then she turned on him furiously. ‘You must be joking.’ She almost spat the words. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

‘Why not? It’s going to happen sooner or later,’ he said, his tone unforgivably casual. ‘And when it does, I’d prefer you to accept the fact and not leap away from me like a frog on speed.’

‘What a charming image.’ She glared at him. ‘There’s not much anyone could teach you about romance.’

‘And I,’ he said, ‘thought that romance was the last thing you wanted—particularly from me.’ He allowed her a moment to digest that, then continued, ‘On the other hand, we should be able to produce the occasional show of spurious affection. Enough to convince the world at large that we’re in love, and even fool our friends and family, just as long as they don’t peer too closely. Agreed?’

Her gaze faltered. Fell away to the cold glitter of his diamond on her hand, reminding her once more of its significance. Of exactly what she’d committed herself to.

She said thickly, ‘I don’t seem to have much of a choice.’

There was a silence, then he said, his voice quivering with amusement, ‘Tell me something, darling. Were you put on this earth for the sole purpose of crushing my self-esteem? Because you’re doing a fabulous job.’

She said curtly, ‘I doubt there’ll be any lasting damage. Even so, it will hardly keep me awake at nights.’

‘Which leaves me wondering what might,’ he said softly. ‘In the meantime…’ He moved slightly, invitingly, stretching an arm along the cushions, and summoning her to move within its curve.

Reluctantly, Darcy complied.

There was another pause, then Joel said quite gently, ‘Sweetheart, you’re trembling. What on earth do you imagine I’m going to do to you?’ His long fingers captured her chin. Turned her to face him. ‘This is no big deal. Relax. You’ve been kissed before.’

Yes, she thought, the sweep of her lashes veiling her eyes as the breath caught in her throat. But not that often. And never since that night when Harry…

She realised that she was near enough to Joel now to feel the warmth of his lean body. To breathe the clean male scent of his skin commingled with the faint musk of the cologne he used.

These were the things that had emblazoned themselves on her senses two years ago when he’d first put his hands on her, she thought angrily, and, to her lasting shame, had reawoken her awareness as soon as they’d met again.

Part of the memories that she could not escape.

But at least now she did not have to look at him. Or see him looking at her.

As her eyes closed she felt Joel’s lips touch her hair, her temples, and move down to her cheek, light as the tracery on a butterfly’s wing, while his fingers stroked the delicate line of her jaw and throat.

Then, with equal gentleness, he kissed the corners of her inimically compressed mouth, and she felt the sharp, painful thud of her pulses as she found herself waiting…

But there was nothing to anticipate. Because Joel was straightening suddenly. Releasing her.

He said quietly, ‘There. Was that really so bad?’

Her eyes flew open and she stared at him, but there was nothing to be learned from his enigmatic blue gaze.

She knew, if she was honest, that she’d admit the soft brush of his mouth on her skin had been strangely unnerving. That his forbearance had surprised her. Maybe even intrigued her a little.

Which was just as disturbing, in fact, as the knowledge that she could have drawn back at any time, and yet, for some unfathomable reason, had not done so.

However, this was not a situation for honesty, but sheer survival.

She made herself shrug. ‘Rather like banging your head against a brick wall,’ she said, with an assumption of coolness. ‘So nice when it stops.’

His mouth twisted. ‘Something tells me I’m the one banging his head against a wall,’ he drawled.

‘I don’t know what else you expect.’ There was a defensive note in her voice. ‘I can’t help it if I feel—nothing.’

‘You mean I leave you cold?’ He sounded almost politely interested. ‘Then I’ll just have to try harder, won’t I?’

Before she could move, or protest, he reached for her again, pulling her towards him, lifting her so that she was lying across him, a virtual prisoner. Letting her know, once again, the latent power of his lean body to control—to dominate.

His hand slid into the fall of her hair, twining it round his fingers, then he bent his head and took her mouth with his, effortlessly silencing her first trembling words of outrage.

His lips were still gentle, moving slowly on hers, but the demand they created was deepening with every second. He was deliberately coaxing her to open her mouth for him, she realised. To yield up its carefully guarded secrets, then lure her further, towards the danger of a surrender as unexpected as it would be devastating. He was seeking a response.

Already a strange languor was stealing over her, the tautness and the inner trembling beginning slowly to subside, as she felt the heated silken pressure of his tongue urging her lips apart. As she experienced the beat of his heart so close to her own.

As his mouth continued to caress hers, she became aware that the pulsing of the blood in her veins was quickening relentlessly. That her breasts seemed to be swelling, the tumescent nipples grazed by the lace cups of her bra, as if reliving that long-ago brush of his fingers which still had the power to humiliate her.

And, at the same time, other bad memories were suddenly reasserting themselves too. Reminding her forcefully that she could not let this happen.

That what remained of her taut control had to be maintained at all costs.

Because she was remembering another mouth, wet and greedy, fastening itself on hers. Hands dragging and tearing at her clothing. Her own voice, scared and muffled, saying, ‘Harry—no, please don’t. You can’t. Please don’t—’

The stuffiness inside the car. The feeling that she was stifled, unable to breathe properly.

She remembered trying to struggle—to get Harry away from her, off her, and her instinct telling her that he wasn’t paying any heed. That all her scared protests were going to be ignored.

And then the shock. The insult of a pain she’d never imagined as he thrust into her without tenderness or consideration.

And that was what men did, she thought as the anguish and rage came welling up in her all over again. That was where all the kissing led. What happened when the sweet talk finally turned sour, and they took what they wanted in any way available to them. Even by force.

She’d sworn to herself in the miserable and guilty aftermath that she would never let it happen to her again. And she had meant it. Then, and now.

Most of all now.

As Joel gathered her even closer, murmuring softly against her lips, she lifted both hands and braced them against his chest, pushing at him with near violence.

He raised his head immediately, relaxing his hold on her, his brows drawing together in a faint frown. ‘What’s the matter?’

She managed somehow to sound almost composed. ‘I think this has gone quite far enough, that’s all.’

‘How strange,’ he said, drily. ‘I thought we’d barely got started.’

‘Then you were wrong.’ She freed herself completely, and moved back to the far end of the sofa, conscious of the uneven thud of her heartbeat. ‘It’s over. And now, if you don’t mind, I’d quite like to go to bed.’

Joel’s look of concern was replaced by the mocking grin that rubbed her nerve endings raw. ‘Really? My ambitions hadn’t got beyond the rug in front of the fire for an hour or so. But a bed would certainly be more comfortable—and convenient.’

Darcy hated the sudden heat that blazed in her face. ‘That’s not even remotely amusing.’

He leaned back against the cushions, the blue eyes suddenly hooded. ‘No,’ he said after a pause. ‘I don’t think it is, at that. But it’s not a federal case either. So, what I ask myself is—why should one fairly muted attempt at a kiss make you so uptight?’