Pagan Lover (7 page)

‘Admit it!’ he commanded, his voice vibrant with passion. ‘Admit that you did want to marry me—that you would have done so if we could have gone off at that time! I ought to have taken you—brought you to surrender so that you’d have had proof of your own desires.’ His hands slid down to her thighs, infusing life into her body, stimulating her emotions in a deliberate attempt to bring her to submission. ‘Admit that you wanted me—that you want me at this moment!’ So arrogant, so dictatorial his voice. She tried to twist away, but he held her easily as he slid his hands to her waist again. The next moment she was locked to him, melded to his body, her quivering lips were parted in obedience to the sensuous demands of his, and quivers of sheer ecstasy rippled along her spine. She was ordered to put her arms around his neck and as before she obeyed. From the deep mist of her drugged mind
 
she was recalling the night he had mentioned, and soon she was re-living it, thrilling to the hardness of his body in its erotic unrest, to the contact of his warm fingers caressing her breast, to the temptation of his other hand as it slid lower and lower down her back.

‘Admit it,’ ordered again hoarsely, and she had no resistance to defy him ... she had no desire to defy him. She was ready to surrender in any way he should command and he knew it; she was ready to become his wife and he heard her say it.

‘We shall pull in at
Corfu,’ he said a moment later when, hearing Dimitri and Elias talking outside the door, he released her and told her to sit down. ‘We’ll be married very soon,
Tara and all your desires will be fulfilled.’

CHAPTER FIVE

HE came to her cabin, as she expected he would. But the intervening time since the moment when she had said she wanted to marry him, and the end of the meal, had brought
Tara well and truly to her senses. She admitted that the Greek with his vast experience of women and the finesse which, apparently had always proved successful, could ignite within her a flame of desire which could rise to a conflagration that would destroy her altogether. Sanity came swiftly, with its cold logic, and by the time the coffee and cognac were served to them in the main saloon—which was the sitting-room——she was ready to do battle with him again. Her composure was restored, and her dignity. She accepted the fact of her own weakness where his persuasions were concerned but resolved firmly never to be caught off balance again. She would fight him all the way, would control her impulses somehow.

She was pale but totally composed when, hearing the door handle turn, she swung around to see
Leon in the doorway, a tall impressive figure with teak-brown skin, black piercing eyes and a smile on his thin lips that was a mixture of triumph and amusement.

‘Not ready for me?’ he observed with a lift of his straight black brows. ‘Shall I be lady’s maid for you, my dear ...?’ He was closing the door behind him as he spoke, and in spite of her resolve
Tara was already affected by his magnetic presence. What had he done to her? How could any man have this kind of power? Did every woman he met fall beneath it?

‘I—I’ve changed my mind about marrying you,’ she managed to say, amazed that her voice was steady. ‘I don’t know why you’ve come, but——’

‘
Tara,’ he chided in a very soft tone, ‘cut out the infantile innocence. You must admit it’s more than a little ridiculous after all that happened in there, an hour or so ago. If I’d carried you to bed then you’d be my possession by now.’

‘Possession! Greek women are their husbands’ possessions, aren’t they?’

‘Married women are’ he answered mildly. ‘It’s as it should be, surely?’

‘Who’s pretending now?’ demanded
Tara. ‘You’ve enough knowledge of the West to know that it is
not
as it should be!’

‘You expect equality?’ He shook his head. ‘Not for you, Tara. I’m the master in my home—and everyone, including my wife—would forget it at their peril.’ So unemotional the tone, but the dictatorial undercurrent could not possibly be missed.

‘Please go,’ said
Tara wearily. ‘I want to go to bed.’

‘You’re tired?’ Something was obviously amusing him, but his face was an impenetrable mask, fixed, unreadable.

‘Yes, I’m tired.’

‘You wouldn’t have been, though, if you were on your honeymoon?’

She gave a start. Was it only hours since this fiend had snatched her away from her waiting bridegroom? Tears started to her eyes. This night would have been...

‘Go away!’ she cried. ‘I hate your presence, your face, your rotten Greek arrogance. Go away, I said!’

Instead, he moved towards her and she retreated until the backs of her legs touched the bed.

‘You’re frustrated? Is that it? But there’s no need—’

‘Frustrated?’ she broke in, puzzled.

‘Feeling deprived—of the bedmate you’ve been looking forward for weeks to lying with.
 
I’ve been through the experience myself once or twice. It’s a bit of a let-down when you’ve banked on a passionate interlude that doesn’t materialise.’ Another step brought him closer, but then he stopped.

‘
You
seem to know,’ she flashed, playing for time.

‘Of course I know. Women are so unpredictable; they often think they will and then decide they won’t. Of course, any man worth his salt will accept the refusal as a challenge, but sometimes it’s not worth the trouble.’

She looked at him; the suspicion crossed her mind that he was playing with her and she flushed, maintaining a silence she had no intention of breaking.

Leon broke it by saying,

‘As I remarked, you have no need to be frustrated. I’m very sure I shall make a most excellent substitute for your bridegroom. In fact,’ he added, slowly coming towards her, ‘in your secret heart you prefer me to him.’

‘You pompous, conceited—heathen!’

He was close enough for her to catch the odour of after-shave—a clean, healthy smell that reminded her of pine trees after rain. His hand was lifted and she flinched, expecting him to slap her cheek for what she had said, but instead he took her chin in a hard grip, bent his head and kissed her tightly-closed lips.

‘When you’re angry you are very appealing; I want to prolong your anger and yet, oddly enough, I want to bring you to heel. You’re exciting,
Tara, as I knew you would be on the very first occasion I set eyes on you.’ Releasing her, he moved away; she missed the contact of his hand on her chin, of his nearness, of the touch of his lips.

She said after a moment,

‘Will you please go?’

‘You have just promised to marry me,’ he reminded her. ‘I don’t think it’s necessary to wait, do you? We can begin our honeymoon now—’

‘It was two hours ago that I said I’d marry you,’ she broke in, fear widening her eyes because of his glance, which swept its amorous way from her face to her neck and then to the firm contours of her breasts. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I shall never marry you, never!’

The black eyes kindled and the thin nostrils quivered. He reminded her of an untamed jungle beast ready to pounce on its terror-stricken prey. Oh, God, how had she got herself into a position like this! Such things only happened to other people. You read about them in the newspapers, felt sorry for the victim, then tossed the paper aside. You weren’t affected; you never even dreamed of being the victim yourself.

And now, in
England, people would be reading about
her
—the bride who had been kidnapped on her way to her wedding. What a dramatic headline it would make for the morning papers—an interesting story to be read at the breakfast table. And poor David frantic. For the first time in her life
Tara was glad that she had no parents.

‘You will marry me—and enjoy being my wife.’ The low, alien voice drifted into her thoughts; she could hake wept to hear the throaty bass note which he made no attempt to hide. ‘Come on,’ he coaxed, ‘relax and take what’s offered. I can promise you’ll enjoy this night far more than if you were with that fellow you were going to marry.’

‘Go away! I can’t think properly! Can’t you see my heart is breaking?’

An exasperated little intake of his breath, an impatient flash of his eyes and then,

‘Hearts never break! For heaven’s sake try to get rid of this dogged determination to suffer! It’s an attitude of mind,’ he added derisively, ‘nothing more!’

‘You have no heart,’ she quavered, ‘that’s, why you can’t understand.’

‘I understand how I can make you forget—’ And with a swift movement he drew her shrinking body to him, his arms pinning it against him as he sought her lips, forcing their tightness apart.
Tara writhed and twisted, fighting with everything in her, pitifully engaging herself in a losing battle. She could feel the wild throbbing of her heart and it frightened her; she knew the exquisite pain of a cruel, possessive embrace, the pleasure-pain of a breast being ruthlessly fondled.
Leon’s passion rose to unbridled heights and his kisses were fire on her lips. She knew she must surrender even before his strength had taken all the physical fight put of her.

‘Passive at last,’ he murmured, his mouth warm and soft against her breast. ‘What strength you have, child—but it makes the victory all the more satisfying.’ He lifted his head to stare with amused triumph into eyes dark and cloudy with desire. ‘You said you’d changed your mind about marrying me, but you haven’t, have you?’ While he spoke his hand was bringing down the zip fastener of her dress and she quivered ecstatically at the contact of his fingers with her back. She was totally trapped in a net of sensual yearning, unable to think of anything save the glorious temptation of the moment. Never in her life had she been affected with emotions of such violent intensity. Her forehead was damp, with tendrils of hair clinging to it. Excitement throbbed in every vein ... and David was a million light years away... ‘Have you ... my little tiger cat?’ repeated Leon, and she lifted her lovely face and said in a voice that held not a trace of uncertainty,

‘No, Leon, I haven’t changed my mind about marrying you.’

‘You want to marry me—say it.’

‘I want to marry you.’

The dress left her body and she stood before his gaze, colour filtering into her cheeks.

‘How beautiful you are.’
Leon traced the pattern of her mouth and chin, his touch feather-soft as it reached her breast. One strap of her bra was slipped down and he looked his fill—and suddenly his gaze seemed lecherous. She found a tangle of thoughts and ideas spiralling in her mind, pictures of scenes such as this, but with other women involved. Sickeningly she was thinking: how many women’s breasts has he looked upon as he’s looking upon mine now? She saw these women as she was, totally under the domination of this man, their will-power sapped beneath the lustful, animal strength of his. And, lastly, she saw David, and an hotel bedroom where she was running willingly into his gentle, loving arms. A terrible shuddering seized her near naked body and a flood of tears, which must surely have been gathered in a cloud behind her eyes all the time, was released, blinding her vision.

‘What the hell’s wrong now!’ The fury in his voice came over to her, but that in his black eyes had to be imagined. She was sobbing hysterically and in his anger he did no more than grip her by the shoulders and shake her. ‘Pull yourself together!’ he thundered. ‘So much can be endured, but this is beyond everything! A moment ago you were happy, and now this absurd weeping. Pull yourself together, I say!’

She rubbed at her eyes and could see him as if through a mist. At least, she thought with a vague sense of wonder, his ardour seemed to have cooled. When she spoke it was in the soft, sweetly-modulated voice which David had so loved. And she said what was in her heart at this particular moment.

‘Can’t you see,
Leon, how it is with me? This was to have been my honeymoon night, the night that David and I would remember all our lives, no matter what pleasures were to come later.’ Her beautiful eyes, bright with tears, looked appealingly into his. ‘But instead of what I’d so eagerly looked forward to, I’m here, in the power of another man, a man who doesn’t love me, who has made my wedding day one of blackness and despair, who’s even thrown away my lovely dress— wh-which a w-woman saves and treasures, Leon, although you would not understand—’ She broke off as a great sob shook her body from head to foot. ‘It would be dishonest if I were to deny that you can tempt me, can force me to say things I don’t mean like—like wanting to marry you.’ Again she looked appealingly up into his face, noticing this time that although it was taut and forbidding it was by no means harsh. And at a little point in his throat a pulse seemed to be throbbing, as if it were an outlet for some kind of emotion. ‘Is it likely that I would mean it when I say I’ll marry you? I’m in love with someone else—Oh, don’t be angry!’ she cried, seeing his expression change. ‘I beg of you not to get—get into a temper with me again. I can’t stand much more—surely even you can see that?’

To her relief the fury that had darkened his face was only fleeting. He was listening again, intently, to what she was saying. ‘My heart is breaking, no matter what you believe. Here! It—it hurts,
Leon.... She put a hand to her breast, feeling the wild throbbing of her heart.
Leon seemed spellbound his dark eyes fixed, staring at the trembling hand that lay against her heaving breast. ‘Don’t hurt me any more,’ she pleaded. ‘Go away and leave me—if you have any sensibility at all you’ll do as I ask.’