Don't Hurt Me (13 page)

  
‘All the time,’ she admitted.

  
‘How do you deal with it? I usually
put the manuscript away for a few weeks and leave my subconscious to work on
the problem.’

  
She managed a nod in reply,
disturbed by the warmth of his body against hers. ‘I do something very similar.
Often you can’t see a problem because you’re too close to it.’

  
There was an odd flicker in his
eyes. Marshall slid his arm along the back of the Chesterfield, brushing the
bare skin of her throat, the touch of his fingers seductively light. ‘That
doesn’t work in every case, of course,’ he murmured. ‘Sometimes you can only
resolve a problem by getting closer to it.’

  
She looked away at once, her face
flushed. His double meaning was obvious. Not content with having chased her
relentlessly while they were in London together, he was now intent on seducing
her under his own roof. The thought filled her with a sense of panic. It was
hard enough to fight her own hunger when he was not in the room; sitting next
to him like this, their bodies touching every time he shifted position, it would
be next to impossible.

  
‘Don’t go back to London, Julia,’
he said after a long moment of silence, meeting her eyes as she turned to stare
at him. ‘Why not stay here at Moor’s Peak for another couple of weeks? The
country air will do you good.’

  
She tensed, biting down hard
against the reckless desire to say yes. It was difficult enough to resist his
seduction with only one night to go before she could escape. Being trapped here
with him for another few weeks was the last thing she needed. Marshall watched
her from under drooping lids like a tiger in the heat, waiting to see which way
his prey would jump. His hand lifted to her cheek, moving delicately towards
her lips, and she turned her head abruptly away.

  
‘I can’t. I’ve got contracts to
honour,’ she said huskily.

  
‘Put them off.’

  
Her eyes flashed to his face,
irritated by his cavalier attitude. ‘That would be unprofessional and you know
it. Besides, I need the money. You may be in a position to throw away solid
offers of work, but I’m not. Somebody has to pay the bills.’

  
‘Come and live here permanently
then,’ Marshall said lightly, as though it were only a joke. But his gaze had
dropped to her mouth and he was not smiling. There was an odd expression on his
face which she could not decipher. ‘There’s plenty of room, let’s face it.’

  
‘That’s not funny, Marshall.’

  
‘I’m being serious.’

  
‘You’re being ridiculous!’ she
retorted, flushed and uncomfortable. He was far too close, she thought. Her
skin prickled at his proximity as though pierced by hundreds of tiny hooks.

  
‘Actually, I think it’s rather an
inspired idea. We could convert one of the larger downstairs rooms into a
studio for you. The light’s excellent all year round, and you could courier
urgent work to anywhere in the world from here.’ He paused, looking at her with
narrowed eyes. ‘There’s no particular reason for you to be based in London, is
there?’

  
‘No, but that doesn’t mean - ’

  
He seemed to relax, dismissing her
protest with an arrogant gesture. ‘And Victoria would love you being here on a
permanent basis. She’s really enjoyed herself since we brought her back from
London. I haven’t seen her so happy in years and it’s all down to you.’

  
That was hugely unfair, she
thought, using his own daughter to make her feel guilty about refusing. But there
was an element of truth in what he had said. She could work down here in
Cornwall just as easily as in London. Her agent could always phone or email her
with possible assignments. Indeed, many of the better-paid jobs these days
seemed to be for foreign clients where no personal contact was required.

  
‘It’s a crazy idea,’ she whispered,
shaking her head.

  
‘Why?’
  

  
‘Because it all sounds wonderfully
idyllic - me sketching and you writing, Victoria making daisy chains on the
grass - but it wouldn’t end there and we both know it.’

  
His jaw clenched and he dropped his
hand from her face. There was a tense silence in the study, broken only by the
crackling of logs in the fireplace. Marshall was thinking very hard, she could
almost hear the rapid turn of cogs in that razor-sharp brain. Then their eyes
met and he grimaced.

  
‘Okay, you’re probably right.
Sooner or later I would have to take you to bed.’ He leant back, sounding
frustrated. ‘Is that such a terrible thing? We’re both adults, we both want
each other. I don’t understand your objection.’

  
‘My objection is Sasha,’ she said
bluntly.

  
‘Look, I told you that was over.’
He ran a hand through his hair, his mouth twisting. ‘It was only a short-lived
affair. To be brutally frank, Sasha is far too narcissistic for my tastes. A
couple of months and I was bored stiff.’

  
‘That’s what worries me,’ she said
pointedly. ‘It works now but how long before you get bored with me?’

  
 
‘I can’t imagine ever getting bored with
a firecracker like you, though I have to concede it is a possibility,’ Marshall
said drily. He put his hand on her thigh, his touch warm and insistent. ‘Come
on, what exactly do you expect from me, Julia? Moonlight and romance, promises
of eternal faithfulness?’

  
‘That would be a start,’ she
muttered.

  
 
He gave a short laugh. ‘We both know
that’s not my style. I’ve learnt the hard way that nothing lasts forever.’

  
‘So because you got hurt first time
round, you’re not prepared to try again?’

  
‘I’m just trying to be honest.’

  
‘Were you honest with Sasha too? It
seems to me she probably expected more than a few months in your bed.’

  
‘I’m not interested in discussing
my past mistakes with you,’ he said with a sudden frown, cupping her face in
his hands. His eyes dropped to her mouth, examining her intently. ‘Not when
there are far more enjoyable things we could be doing.’

  
He lowered his head, giving her no
time to protest, and began to explore her mouth with an unexpected urgency.
Unable to resist what he was doing to her, she shifted against him in response,
trembling as she acknowledged the need rising inside her. It might be madness
but she no longer possessed the ability to reason logically. All she felt was a
burning desire to let this man strip away her defences and know her fully.

  
His hands moved over her
unhurriedly, finding her breasts under the soft blue jumper and teasing her
nipples until they stiffened with excitement. She turned her head aside from
his kiss and her lungs tore harshly at the air as though she were drowning. But
she did not have time to break free. His mouth returned inexorably to hers, hot
and insistent, and Julia soon found herself sinking again. The effect he was
having on her pulse rate was devastating.

  
She began to shake, fighting the
need to touch him back, to run her hands down his chest and feel the powerful
muscles flex against her. There was a passionate intensity in his caresses, his
kiss deepening as she felt him undo her jeans and slide his hand inside,
stroking the pale skin there with unsteady fingers.

  
‘Don’t push me away this time,’ he
whispered. As he lowered his mouth to her throat, shivers of desire ran through
her body. ‘’I want you so badly, it’s driving me insane. Can’t you see that?’

  
Marshall raised his head to stare
down at her, the jagged scar on his throat and face lit up by the glow from the
fire. For one frightening moment, she thought he looked like a medieval version
of the devil, his hooded eyes glittering and a stark hunger transforming his
face.

  
‘Say yes,’ he insisted, his hand
moving seductively between her thighs. ‘Forget about everything else. Just say
yes tonight.’

  
Her head was spinning wildly. Had
he cast some paralysing spell on her? Julia could hardly breathe and the
firelight seemed obscured by a strange floating mist. She would not put it past
him to practise the art of magic in this shadowy house, it seemed as though
Marshall would do anything to get his own way, however forbidden or dangerous.

  
Desperate to clear her head, she
broke from the possessive grasp of his hands and ran from the room. It was dark
outside in the narrow hallway; acting on some primitive instinct for
self-preservation, Julia groped her way towards the staircase, heading for the
comparative safety of her bedroom. By the time she had reached the top of the
stairs though, she heard the door being thrown open below and knew he would
soon guess where she had gone and come after her.

  
 
There was a full moon that night, its
pale disk huge and solemn, shining through the windows at the far end of the
landing. He was close behind and gaining on her. She would never make it to her
room before he caught her, her heart thudding so loudly now she imagined he
must be able to hear it. She gave a stifled moan of despair as he pursued her
silently along the landing.

  
 
She glanced back in panic, catching a
glimpse of his furious face in the moonlight, and stumbled.

  
Marshall caught her in his arms
before she hit the floor, pinning her against the wall like a butterfly. His
mouth sought hers in a punishing kiss. ‘What the hell’s wrong with you? Why did
you run out on me like that?’ he muttered thickly against her skin.

  
‘Because I can’t do this,’ she
managed to reply, trembling violently as he lifted his head to stare down at
her.

  
‘I really don’t know what you want
from me,’ he said grimly, his eyes flaring with angry intensity. ‘I told you
it’s all over between me and Sasha. She’s still obsessed with me, I admit that.
But I’m not even remotely interested in her. Sasha’s not capable of a genuine
relationship, she’s too much in love with herself.’

  
She pushed at his chest. ‘Please
let me go, Marshall.’

  
His expression unreadable, he
ignored her request and watched her in silence for a moment. ‘Is it marriage
you want?’ he asked suddenly. ‘The proverbial wedding ring?’

  
‘For god’s sake ... ’

  
‘After my divorce, I swore I’d
never make the same mistakes again. Getting divorced was such an appalling
experience, rather like having my entrails whipped out in public and wrapped
round a tree,’ he said drily. ‘But this would make sense on at least one level.
Victoria needs a mother figure in her life and she thinks the world of you.’

  
His hands tightened on her skin,
then his mouth twisted in an odd wry grimace. ‘What the hell. Marry me, Julia.
If marriage is what you want, then I’m willing to offer it to you.’

  
Breathless, she stared up at him in
flushed bewilderment. Surely he could not be serious?

  
‘What did you say?’

  
‘Marry me,’ he repeated, and this
time there was more conviction in his voice. He raised a hand to her cheek, the
long fingers cool. ‘I know it sounds crazy and it probably won’t last a day.
But let’s take a chance on each other. What have we got to lose?’

  
Everything, she thought feverishly,
her mouth too dry to form an answer. It was the height of insanity, it went
against all her instincts, yet the urge to say yes was almost overpowering.
Perhaps this was why she had been accepted the offer to come down to Cornwall
and work with him; perhaps this was her destiny. Her eyes moved over his lean
moonlit face with undisguised hunger, trying to imagine how it would feel never
to see this man again, never to lie in his bed and have him make love to her.
Her whole body ached at the thought of it.

  
‘Put me out of my misery,’ he said
huskily, that dark gaze probing her face. ‘Will you consent to be my wife?’

  
She closed her eyes, hardly able to
believe it was her own voice replying. ‘Yes,’ she whispered into the stillness
between them. ‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’

CHAPTER
SEVEN

They were
married a few weeks later at Bodmin registry office. It was a simple ceremony,
held on the ground floor of a large double-fronted Victorian house, with sprays
of soft yellow roses matching the flowers in her hair. They were allowed a
non-religious reading and Julia chose one of her favourite poems by Ted Hughes,
‘Bride and Groom Lie Hidden for Three Days.’ She read it aloud herself in a
voice which trembled, very aware of Marshall’s eyes on her face.

  
She had gone back to London before
the wedding, faced with the difficult task of telling her family. Her parents
seemed pleased for her, if a little bewildered by the speed of it all. Her
elder sister Charlotte was less easy to convince; she had always seen through
any pretence when they were kids and now was no exception. When Julia smiled
and told her how much she and Marshall were in love, her sister merely looked
back at her with a shrewd expression. But nothing was said and Julia was able
to pack up her beloved little flat and return to Cornwall without any real
opposition from her family.

  
The wedding reception took place at
Moor’s Peak, all the windows of the great house lit up as their guests arrived
in a December dusk. It was a small gathering of close friends and relatives,
Julia surprised by the relaxed openness of her new brother-in-law and his
family. Victoria had even invited Paul and a few friends from her new school,
the teenagers lounging on the floor in the living room while they listened to
music.

  
Wandering amongst the guests, a
champagne flute in her hand, Julia felt oddly light-headed. She kept catching
sight of the heavy gold band on her finger and experiencing a jolt of utter
amazement. This was her wedding day; she and Marshall were now husband and
wife, for better or for worse.

  
‘Something wrong?’ asked a voice at
her elbow and she spun, flushing to see Richard there. Her agent was staring at
her, his mild face concerned. He had been one of the few amongst her friends
who seemed genuinely delighted about the wedding. But no doubt he was thinking
of the good such a liaison would do her career.

  
‘Fine,’ she lied, smiling brightly.

  
‘You look lovely in that dress,’
Richard told her, slipping his arm through hers. ‘Perhaps I should have popped
the question myself, while I still had the chance.’

  
Julia laughed. She had always got
on well with her agent, they had an easy working relationship which had proved
extremely fruitful for both of them over the years. Now that she was based in
Cornwall though, they would be unlikely to see quite so much of each other. But
they had agreed to stay in regular contact via phone and email.

  
‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ she
asked.

  
‘Absolutely. These hors d’oeuvres
are delicious.’ He drew her closer to the wall as one of the other guests
squeezed past, his eyes lingering on her face. ‘I have to admit though, I was a
little surprised when you said you and Marshall were planning to tie the knot.
He’s a brilliant writer, of course. But not an easy man to get to know in such
a short space of time, I should imagine.’

  
‘No,’ she admitted.

  
‘And his novels are notoriously
dark. He had rather an unhappy first marriage, didn’t he? I seem to recall
reading somewhere about their fights. Very public and bloody.’ Richard
hesitated, feeling her shudder against his arm. ‘I’m sure he’s made the right
choice this time though. I was watching Marshall at the ceremony and he looked
like a man very much in love.’

  
‘Do you think so?’

  
Her agent frowned, leaning forward.
‘Are you sure you’re okay, Jules? You look terribly pale.’

  
‘Too much champagne,’ she muttered,
looking away. ‘Perhaps I ought to lie down for half an hour.’

  
‘It must have been a long day for
you,’ he agreed with a reassuring smile but she could sense his concern. They
had known each other too long for her unease not to show. He made no comment
though, leading her through the small throng in the dining room to the bottom
of the stairs. ‘If I don’t see you before I leave, have a wonderful honeymoon.
I hope it works out between you and Marshall. You’re a beautiful talented woman
and I’m jealous as hell!’

  
‘Thanks, Richard,’ she whispered
gratefully, and kissed him on the cheek.

  
Going upstairs to her bedroom, she
happened to glance back and met her husband’s cold stare. He was leaning in the
doorway to his study, watching her through narrowed eyes. His face was taut,
his arms folded across his chest. With a shock, she realised that he must have
been standing there the whole time as she said goodbye to Richard.

  
Not daring to answer his demanding
stare, she hurried along the landing to her bedroom and closed the door with a
trembling hand. It was only at that point, turning to see an emptied room,
drawers standing open and the bed stripped of its sheets, that she realised her
mistake. Her clothes and personal possessions had all been moved into the
master bedroom that morning, into the room she would be sharing with Marshall
now that they were married.

  
Seconds later the door was flung
open and Marshall stood there, his mouth tight with barely suppressed fury.

  
‘Getting cold feet already?’ he
sneered, the tawny eyes hostile as they raked over her.

  
‘I came in here automatically,’ she
stammered. ‘I’d forgotten that everything had been moved into your room.’

  
‘Too preoccupied with your fond
farewells to Richard, no doubt,’ he snapped. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I’m
not a fool, Julia. I saw you kissing him.’

  
‘Why shouldn’t I kiss him? He’s my
agent, for god’s sake!’ she exclaimed, surprised to realise that she was
trembling.

  
How dared he try to dictate her
behaviour towards friends? They had only been married a few hours. Was this how
it would be for the rest of their lives together? She drew a sharp breath at
the thought and raised her chin defensively, a snap in her own voice. ‘It’s
none of your business anyway. Richard and I have known each other for years.’

  
Marshall came towards her, slamming
the door shut behind him. With the grey suit jacket slung over one shoulder,
his tie gone and the formal white shirt loosened at the collar, he looked
devastatingly attractive. Even the jagged scar running up his throat towards
his mouth seemed to add to that air of smouldering sexuality.

  
Seeing the look in his eyes, Julia
retreated in alarm, nearly tripping over the long skirts of her wedding dress.

  
‘So what exactly were you saying to
him downstairs?’ Marshall demanded, seizing her before she could escape. His
fingers curled cruelly around her upper arm and he shook her like a rag-doll.
‘I caught the tail-end of your little chat and I didn’t like the sound of it.
Just how close are you and Richard?’

  
‘You’re hurting me,’ she said
angrily.

  
‘I’d like to hurt you a lot more,’
he grated, but the grip on her arm lessened. His strange eyes swept hungrily
over her in the wedding dress, its clouds of white lace barely concealing her
tight bodice, restrained by a row of tiny satin-covered buttons. There was a
fierce predatory look on his face, reminding her of a tiger about to devour its
prey. ‘You’re my wife now. That means you belong to me and I won’t stand for
other men pawing you.’

  
‘Richard was not “pawing” me, as
you put it! We’re old friends, that’s all.’

  
He stared down at her flushed
cheeks and indignant expression without speaking for a moment, his eyes
narrowed.

  
‘Have you two been lovers?’

  
The question shot out of his mouth
like a bullet from a gun and Julia stared up at him in silence, too startled
and confused to answer. For some reason she was frozen, incapable of a coherent
reply. Marshall watched the shifting emotions on her face, his mouth
compressing to a straight line. He jerked her against his body, yanking at the
pins which held her hair in place. She gasped at the pain, loose hair tumbling
over her shoulders, unable to take her eyes from his face.

  
‘Whatever relationship you had with
Richard in the past, it’s over,’ he said grimly. ‘You’re mine now and don’t
ever forget it.’

  
His mouth descended, meeting hers
with a suffocating heat. Panic set in and she fought to be free. He made an
angry noise under his breath and lifted her in his arms, throwing her down onto
the bare mattress. She twisted away, trying to escape, but he caught her easily
and dragged her back. Then his body was on top of hers, his kiss silencing her
with violent intensity.

  
She had begun to shake beneath him,
a pulse beating fast in her throat. This was not how she wanted it to be
between them, she thought desperately, not on their wedding day. But her own
body betrayed her, wildfire running through her veins, a deep and impassioned
arousal that could not be denied. As if sensing her helpless compliance, he
released her wrists and Julia lifted her arms about his neck, kissing him back
with an urgency equal to his own.

  
She ran her fingers through the
short dark hair, groaning against his mouth as his hands moved beneath her
wedding dress, sliding inexorably up her stockinged thighs until they met bare
flesh. The pressure of his kiss was replaced by a more persuasive sensuality.
Julia turned her face into the mattress, very flushed. There was no longer any
attempt to prevent him, her body shuddering against his as she allowed that
long-suppressed desire to take hold.

  
‘You drive me crazy,’ he said
huskily, shifting to one side as he shrugged out of the white shirt. Lowering
himself against her body again, he watched her run both hands down his bare
chest, a dry smile on his lips. ‘Feels good, doesn’t it? We should have done
this ages ago.’

  
Lost in the sweet drugging
sensations, she pulled his hands down to her breasts. Her body arched in
pleasure as he undid the buttoned bodice and brought her nipples to stiff eager
peaks with his tongue and fingers.

  
‘Make love to me, Marshall,’ she
whispered into his throat.

  
‘So you still want me?’ he demanded
in triumph, though his voice was not entirely steady.

  
‘Badly,’ she admitted.

  
Marshall groaned, closing his eyes
briefly as her hands slid down to the waistband of his trousers. ‘I don’t want
you to touch another man again,’ he said, a note of fierce possession creeping
into his voice. ‘Not even a platonic kiss. My first wife thought she could make
a fool of me and get away with it. This may not be an entirely conventional
marriage but I’m not prepared to let history repeat itself. Is that
understood?’

  
She kissed him for a long moment,
their tongues meeting and mating, wild and passionate. When she drew back, she
whispered, ‘I would never do that. I’m not that sort of woman.’

  
It was true, she thought, she would
never betray him. Whatever happened between them, she would always prefer to
divorce him than have an affair.
Not an
entirely conventional marriage
. His words echoed in her head as their
mouths met. So he had only married her to provide a mother for Victoria. But
while he might feel nothing for her, it was painfully clear to Julia that she
had fallen in love with him.

  
She could never see herself walking
hand in hand along a beach with Marshall, or gazing adoringly at him across a
candlelit table. No, this was quite a different love. It was a primitive,
visceral urge to lose herself in his love-making; a deep-seated need to possess
him and be possessed by him in return. She loved him fiercely, Julia thought,
staring up into his dark face, as the tigress loves the tiger. But she dared
not hope he would ever come to feel the same for her.

  
Marshall removed the rest of his
clothes, his erection strong and proud, then knelt on the bed and began rolling
her stockings down with expert fingers. She helped him, eager to feel his naked
body against hers.

  
He took one of the stockings and
smiled at her, his eyes suddenly dangerous.

  
‘Hold out your hands,’ he told her
shortly. ‘Together.’

  
She obeyed, not without
trepidation, and watched in silence as he looped the stocking about her wrists,
then tied it, not tight but firmly enough to prevent movement. She was his
prisoner now, and felt that restriction with pleasure. Like his possession. He
had said before that she would enjoy being treated like a sexual object, and he
was right. She could hardly breathe, her heart thumping behind her ribs as he
examined her nude and helpless body.