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He had been struck a blow to the very foundations of his pride. She took a deep breath, knowing that only by baring her own heart to him could she go some way to healing his wounds, and salvaging her self-respect.
‘It wasn’t lack of trust that stopped me from confiding in you. It was lack of faith in my own feelings. I believed that I owed my first loyalty to my own family but then I fell in love with you and everything got confused—’
‘Love?’ The word was uttered in loathing. ‘You and your cousin say that so easily, yet you don’t begin to know the meaning of the word…’
He thought this was easy for her?
‘The more I loved you the more angry and jealous I felt of Kate, until I was afraid that my judgement was being clouded by malice,’ she pushed on unsteadily. ‘So I dithered over what to do until it was too late. I can only say I’m sorry for deceiving you. I love you and I was afraid of losing you, so I pretended to myself that nothing was wrong. I hoped that you might come to feel something for me, too.’ Her voice cracked a little but she didn’t stop. ‘I was so afraid of doing or saying anything that might shorten our time together that I was a coward. I’m ashamed of what I did, but nothing can make me regret loving you…’
‘Nothing?’ The acid bite of the word warned her that worse was to come. He wanted to hurt her, as he had been hurt, and she had just handed him the perfect weapon. She only hoped that she was strong enough to survive the attack without permanent scars. ‘Are you sure about that?’
She lifted her chin, slim and defiant in her silky pink dress, her arms straight at her sides, her fingernails digging into her palms. ‘I’m not ashamed of how I feel about you.’
‘Prove it.’ His eyes glittered with cruelty as he threw down the gauntlet. He walked over to the door and kicked it shut, turning to lean against it with folded arms.
She licked her dry lips. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean. Give me a demonstration of these so-called loving feelings. Let’s see how unashamed you are. Take off your clothes. I want you to make love to me as if you really mean it. Show me how much you love me.’
She swallowed, refusing to be shocked by his sardonic crudeness, knowing that was what he wanted. ‘I won’t let you cheapen what we had—’
He shrugged, shouldering away from the door. ‘I knew you wouldn’t do it. Love has its limits as a form of manipulation, doesn’t it, Anya? People have a nasty habit of expecting you to back up your words with actions.’
He stopped in his tracks as Anya’s trembling hands went to the top button of her dress. He watched her as she undid the first button and then the next two, revealing the lacy white camisole she wore underneath. They were both breathing hard by the time she got to the button at her waist and he suddenly caught her wrists in both of his with a savage curse, preventing her from going any further.
‘Are you really prepared to humiliate yourself like this? For what? It won’t change anything,’ he railed at her, dark blood flaring on his cheekbones.
‘I thought you wanted me to prove my feelings for you,’ she said, a tremulous hope stirring at the knowledge that he had stopped her from abasing herself. She bent her head and kissed one of the hands that was gripping hers. ‘How can loving a man I respect and admire be humiliating for me?’
He wrenched his hand away and plunged his fingers into her pale, silky hair, pulling up her head to snarl in wounded fury, ‘All you’re going to be proving is that we don’t need to trust each other to have good sex.’
He dragged her against his chest and crushed her mouth under his in a lustful, passionless kiss. Anya remained passive as he ran his hands over her open dress, fondling her braless breasts through the satin camisole and stroking her thighs with a clinical expertise and calculated lack of feeling that made her long to weep.
Instead, her heart aching, she lifted her hands to tenderly cup his angry jaw. At her delicately tentative touch he groaned a harsh protest, and suddenly the quality of the kiss was changing, from aggressive and punishing to a sensual, hungry meshing of mouths, his bullish stance shifting to support her softening body, his hands moving more slowly, a different kind of heat and tension beginning to build up in his big frame. Anya shuddered and uttered a soft cry as he stripped off her dress and began feasting on her soft flesh, shrugging out of his jacke
t and shirt and tearing at the fastening of his trousers.
‘This doesn’t change anything,’ he groaned again as he pulled off her clinging panties and pushed her down onto the bed.
‘I know…I know it doesn’t,’ she reassured him huskily, welcoming him with parted thighs as he came heavily down on top of her, offering him the only kind of love he was willing to accept. Passion flared and, conscious of the banked anger that had intensified his naturally dominating sexuality, Anya yielded ardently to his every command, their coupling hard and fast, yet deeply satisfying.
Afterwards, instead of lying with her in his arms in the sweet aftermath of their love-making, he got up before the sweat had cooled on his body and silently tossed Anya her clothing. They both dressed swiftly, Scott substituting casual trousers and a clean shirt for his suit, Anya stealing glances at his unrevealing face, and when they were ready to leave she was stunned when he detained her at the door.
‘Are you forgetting something?’
He turned to get Kate’s untidy stack of belongings and handed them to her, including the journal and crumpled piece of letterhead.
‘Isn’t that what you came here for?’ he said coldly, as she looked at him uncertainly. ‘Take them. They’re of no interest to me. They’re a dead issue. Just like your cousin.’
And me? She didn’t dare ask. At least he was being civil…barely. Surely that was a good sign?
‘What are you going to tell the reporter?’ she couldn’t help asking as they walked down the stairs.
His knuckles whitened briefly on the banister rail. ‘As little as possible.’ They reached the foyer and he shot a cuff and looked at his watch. ‘He’s due at two. Tell Petra I’ll be out until then.’
‘Where’re you going?’ asked Anya involuntarily. She had hoped they might talk.
He looked at her and she saw a glimpse of tightly smothered rage. He had expended some of his anger in bed, but the rest was festering inside. ‘I’m not answerable to any woman, least of all you,’ he crunched. ‘Don’t think your feelings give you any sway over mine.’
