Marriage Without Love & More Than a Convenient Marriage(17)

Kieron only had to ask her the way once, when they turned off the main road into her avenue, and as the grey car slid to a halt in front of the house, she was glad that it was dark and that Gina and Paolo could not witness her arrival—or her companion.

She turned to open her door the moment the car stopped, forgetting that it was locked.

Kieron eyed her sardonically.

‘Oh no, you don’t,’ he said softly. ‘We’ve got things to talk about, you and I. Did you really think you could get away with the sort of treatment you’ve been dishing out? I’m not Matt, Briony.’

‘No, I know,’ she replied coldly. ‘I know exactly what type of man you are, Kieron. Ruthless, deceitful, completely without compassion or compunction.…Do I have to go on? Oh, don’t worry,’ she added icily when he didn’t speak, ‘you won’t lose your reputation. The big clever reporter who got a front page scoop, and turned his back on the poor little fool who give it to him, leaving her to face the wolves!’

He reached across the seat, his fingers biting into her arms. ‘It wasn’t like that,’ he ground out. ‘I.…Oh, what the hell!’ he pushed her away from him, his expression unfathomable. ‘Don’t put all the blame on me, Briony. You did your bit, although you might choose to forget it now. It wasn’t all one-sided.’

‘Let me out of this car,’ Briony demanded tensely. ‘I think you’re the most contemptible person I’ve ever met! Oh, God, don’t touch me!’ she moaned frantically, seeking to avoid the hard strength of his hands as he all but yanked her out of her seat, hauling her against him and keeping her a prisoner there while her eyes spat hatred and defiance.

‘Go on, hit me,’ he goaded softly, watching the hurried rise and fall of her breasts beneath the thin blouse. She twisted desperately to free herself, but her agitated movements merely brought her closer to the unwanted intimacy of his body, as Kieron grasped both her wrists in one hand and pulled her on to his knee.

‘I hate you!’ Tears threatened and she willed them not to fall. Her heart was hammering anxiously, every muscle tensed against him, fear rising up inside her like a tidal wave. Oh, God, she didn’t want him to touch her. She couldn’t bear it. No one had touched her since he left, and she sometimes thought that if they did she might actually be sick, so strong was her fear that the feelings she had deliberately dammed up inside herself might burst their banks and sweep her into the same sort of dangerous waters she had once experienced with Kieron. If one man skilled in physical pleasure could arouse her so easily, then might not others? She had refused to accept that it was her own overwhelming love for Kieron which had lowered her guard. Love did not exist, it was merely a euphemism for sex which men used to coax women into submitting to them.

‘Hate is akin to love, so they say,’ Kieron mocked.

‘Love!’ Her body stiffened, her voice high and strained. ‘The mere thought of having you near me makes me feel physically sick!’ she flung at him.

‘Does it now?’

The silky, dangerous tone set her nerve ends quivering with fear. She tensed automatically, turning away as his head descended, but his free hand forced it back again, his fingers tightening painfully in her hair to keep her head still as his mouth covered hers, with hard, angry pressure.

She fought desperately against the dominance of his kiss, her mouth tightly closed, her eyes spitting fury into the glittering darkness of his. When his hand released her head, she thought she had won and struggled triumphantly to sit up, but the pressure of his body kept her wedged against the door, and then his hand swept down her body, ruthlessly deepening the opening of her blouse, his fingers almost brutal as they closed over her breast.

Her lips parted on a gasp, his victory instantly reinforced by the hardness of his mouth as it punished her earlier defiance. If she had feared that the embrace might evoke unbearable memories, she need not have done. It was no coaxing, gentle caress, designed to soothe the fears of a young innocent girl, but a punishment, to humiliate and degrade, the tender inner flesh of her lips ground mercilessly against her teeth until it was torn and sore.

His touch was an insulting parody of what a lover’s should be, and after the first initial shock, her flesh cringed beneath his hand. She was entirely at his mercy, and anger gave way to overwhelming fear as she realised the depth of the rage which gripped him.

Panic made her struggle frantically, her rebellion ruthlessly subdued as Kieron reinforced his mastery. The buttons on her blouse had given way beneath his attack, the soft curve of her breast clearly visible, and she closed her eyes in horror as she felt Kieron move, anticipating his intention. She felt his breath against her skin, a cold, icy mist, slowly creeping over her as she tried feebly to push him away, her eyes dilating with fear. Her soft moan halted him, and the next moment she was sitting upright in her own seat, Kieron’s voice terse as he said acidly, ‘There’s no need to faint. You’re not some fragile Victorian heroine enduring the unwanted attentions of a wicked Sir Jasper. My God, though, it’s true what they say. You’re as cold as ice, aren’t you?’