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She had an odd impulse to go into the study to check that everything was all right, but she quelled it, reminding herself that it was not her place to interfere. Nevertheless, after she had dropped the girls off and tactfully refused Mrs Simmonds’ offer of a cup of tea, she found she was driving a little faster on the way back then her usual speed.
Just as she was about to turn off the main road into the drive, Isobel’s car shot out ahead of her, the tyres squealing protestingly as Isobel turned on to the main road far too quickly and then drove away at a high speed. Her stomach knotted with tension, Maggie drove into the courtyard and parked the car. Her mouth was dry when she went into the kitchen.
She told herself that it was no business of hers what had happened, and yet, as she walked down the corridor past the open study door, she found she was hesitating beside it, lingering there.
‘Isobel…’ Marcus called out sharply from inside the room, and she had a craven desire to turn and run, but instead she said shakily,
‘No, Marcus, it’s me…Maggie.’ And somehow or other she found that she was inside the room and unable to tear her appalled gaze away from the diamond ring glittering malevolently on top of Marcus’s desk. Unable to hold the words back, she swallowed nervously and said huskily, ‘Oh, Marcus. I’m so sorry.’
‘For me?’ He laughed harshly in disbelief. ‘Don’t give me that, Maggie. Isobel’s already passed on your views on our engagement.’
Maggie stared at him, appalled. As far as she could remember, she had said nothing to Isobel that might indicate her true feelings. Surely Isobel hadn’t realised how she felt about him?
All the breath seemed to be squeezed out of her lungs. She stared at Marcus like someone in a trance, while her mouth went dry and she had to touch her tongue-tip to her lips to moisten them.
‘No denial?’ Marcus asked her in a hard voice.
‘I…’
‘You what, Maggie? You didn’t tell Isobel how much you pitied her, tied to a man who at best could never be completely free of a limp and who at worst could turn out to be a complete cripple. Is that how you see me?’ he demanded threateningly, coming across the room towards her and making the air between them almost vibrate with the intensity of his rage. ‘As something far less than a whole man who can only excite pity in a woman, and not desire?’
Maggie was horrified. ‘No…’ she denied. ‘No, Marcus! You can’t believe I said anything like that!’
‘Why not?’ he demanded brutally. ‘After all, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve lied about me, would it? Only this time, Maggie, I’m going to teach you a lesson I swear you’ll never forget.’
As he grabbed hold of her, Maggie protested desperately, ‘No, Marcus. Please… I swear to you, I said nothing to Isobel. Look, I know how much it must hurt you to lose her…’
‘You don’t know the first thing about what makes me hurt,’ he told her, the harsh impact of the words almost bruising the sensitive flesh of her ear. ‘You make me hurt, Maggie,’ he told her. ‘You make me hurt in ways…’
His right hand, free of the plaster which had encumbered his movements, slid along her throat, his thumb probing the nervous tremor that ridged it as she swallowed. He was looking at her in a way that made her muscles lock in disbelief.
That couldn’t really be desire she could see burning in his eyes, turning his face hard and making the colour burn up under his tanned skin, and yet, when she allowed her disbelief to show in her own eyes, he said rawly, ‘You see, Maggie, the accident might have smashed virtually every bone in my leg, but it hasn’t destroyed my ability to feel, to desire…nor to lie awake at night aching with it, wanting…’
His teeth snapped together, biting off the words, and Maggie tried to wrench away from him.
‘It’s Isobel you want…not me,’ she protested chokily, adding, ‘Marcus, this is madness. You must let me go.’
She could probably have fought her way free of him, but if she did, she could potentially do untold damage to the fragile bones that were not yet healed and which, now free of their supporting plaster, must surely be far too vulnerable to expose to any kind of force.
He saw her looking at him and laughed savagely. ‘Go ahead and kick it,’ he suggested watching her. ‘Go ahead and bring me down, Maggie, the way you’ve brought me down many, many times before.’
She looked at him, her expression tortured. ‘Marcus, you know I can’t.’
‘No?’
His thumb stroked the fluttering pulse in her throat as though unable to resist the temptation to torment it.
She made a despairing sound of protest and tried to reason with him.
‘Marcus, I know you must blame me for what’s happened with Isobel. I know how you must be feeling, but you can’t honestly want to…’
‘To what?’ he taunted her. ‘To take you and strip the clothes from you and then to taste and touch every delectable inch of your far too enticing body?’
She shivered as the words rolled easily off his tongue, almost with amused detachment, hardly able to credit what she was hearing.
‘I can assure you that I do, and indeed have done for longer than I care to think about. I wasn’t totally oblivious to all those provocative little messages you used to send me, you know, but in those days I was idiotic enough to believe…’
He broke off and Maggie pleased huskily, ‘Marcus, please… I know you’re angry with me, but this is all wrong. I don’t want you, and…’
