Mishap Marriage. Helen Dickson

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Mishap Marriage - Helen  Dickson


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heaving bosom and the tantalising mouth that was full and soft and trembling, trying to ignore the mute appeal in those large, luminescent eyes, seeking refuge in his anger. She might look fragile, but he was beginning to suspect she was as strong as steel inside.

      ‘Devil take it, I will not be persuaded or manipulated into marriage, not even to a woman as lovely and bewitching as you, Miss McKenzie,’ he said, refusing to be moved. Normally he steered clear of entanglements with females of marriageable age or any females who might place demands on him, preferring instead the more honest and uncomplicated relationships with women of lower class and of lower expectations. It was the easiest way, he had learned from experience. A brief encounter back in England with a woman who had attracted him for a short time had left him shackled by bonds that could never be broken. He was not about to repeat the mistake.

      ‘I am a man who has made his own choices for most of my life. As much as I would like to appease my manly appetites with you, I will not, like some lapdog, blandly accept your proposal of marriage. Next time you decide to throw yourself at an experienced man of the world, tread lightly or you will not survive. I’m not termed a pleasant sort. I have a foul temper which can snap up naïve young ladies like you without a second’s notice. So be warned, Miss McKenzie. Do not tempt it. When and if I decide to marry, I prefer to do the asking myself.’

      ‘I...thought that...’

      ‘What?’ he jeered, ignoring the way the colour drained out of her soft cheeks as he continued with deliberate brutality. ‘That if you let me take advantage of you—I might be swayed.’

      He seemed enormous and very close. His powerful body emanated heat, matching the heat that was rising in her cheeks. ‘I—I don’t know.’

      ‘Life isn’t like that. I have kissed many women I have been attracted to, but that doesn’t mean to say that I wanted to marry any of them.’

      Shona was conscious of a sudden surge of anger, realising just how stupid and naïve she had been. ‘You may be used to kissing ladies all over the place, but I do not have your experience,’ she told him with simple honesty, giving Zack further insight into just how truly innocent she was.

      ‘Nevertheless, you were misguided to think I would marry you.’

      ‘I should tell you that my dowry is quite substantial.’

      Zack’s entire face instantly became hard, shuttered and aloof. He looked her over carefully, as if to judge her for her worth, and appeared dubious as his brows snapped together and a feral gleam appeared in his narrowed eyes as they locked on hers with angry disgust.

      ‘Now you do insult me,’ he said, his voice so controlled that Shona felt an icy chill sweep down her spine. ‘I cannot be bought, either. I have no need of your money. I have plenty of my own. However large your dowry, Miss McKenzie, what makes you think you are worth it?’

      Shona gasped, her humiliation complete. ‘Now it is you who insults me,’ she flared, a fresh surge of anger rising up inside her like flames licking round a dry log, furious with herself for being stupid enough to think he might help her.

      ‘If you have so much money, then what you do should not be a problem. You’ve had life handed to you on a silver platter. What more could you possibly want?’

      ‘Liberty,’ she cried passionately. ‘Freedom to do as I choose. Creature comforts are not all that matters to me.’

      ‘If you imagine that marriage will give you freedom, then think again. You will find yourself bound by shackles of a different kind. But if that’s what you want, then go ahead. You can live where you choose or buy yourself another husband—which shouldn’t be too difficult. You have other assets to your credit besides your substantial dowry,’ he ground out with suave brutality, his insolent, contemptuous gaze raking over her. ‘Another ship bound for England will drop her anchor in the cove before too long with some other fool on it for you to marry.’

      Captain Fitzgerald’s jibe, savage and taunting, flicked over Shona like a whiplash. Stung to anger by his harsh words, hot colour flooded her cheeks and her soft lips tightened as she exerted every ounce of her control to keep her temper and her emotions in check. Stiffening her spine and lifting her small chin, she looked at him directly. Zack saw her put up a valiant fight for control—a fight she won—and she looked as regally erect as a proud young queen. Her eyes frosted over.

      ‘I understand you perfectly, Captain Fitzgerald. You are a devil—a barbarian, a callous barbarian—and I am sorry I approached you. We will say no more on the matter. I will trouble you no further and I thank you for your time.’

      When she tried to sweep past him, his strong hand spun her around. ‘Barbarian? Believe me, Miss McKenzie, you have no idea how much of a barbarian I can be. You don’t want to be my wife, I assure you,’ he said, his voice rumbling soft above her like distant thunder.

      His hold on her arm tightened. Slowly, with menacing deliberation, he backed her against the balustrade. His grip wasn’t overly painful, but the casual strength exerted in his fingers startled her. His other hand rose to grasp her chin, but Shona turned her face away, eluding capture. When his hard fingers at last closed over her jaw, she gasped in alarm.

      ‘Let go of me. You are hurting my arm. I can’t fight you. You are much stronger than I.’

      Zack stared down at her. He hadn’t missed the flare of temper in her eyes, or the fear. He clenched his teeth in frustration. Impatiently he released his hold on her arm, his hand unintentionally brushing her breast. He was instantly aware of the contact, and so was she. He could tell by the furious blush that flooded her cheeks.

      Shona tried to ignore the effect of his touch. ‘I asked you to let go of me,’ she uttered icily. ‘Remove your hands from my person.’

      It was a supremely correct response, just the kind Zack would expect from a woman of her social standing. Perhaps he could turn her reticence to his own advantage.

      ‘I will do precisely that,’ he said, deliberately running his fingers along the side of her breast, ‘when I have made you realise your mistake in thinking you could manipulate me into marriage.’ Releasing his hold on her chin, with grim satisfaction he saw her flinch. He bent closer, his face dark and threatening and like granite in the moonlight. ‘As my wife you would be at my beck and call and I could take you any time I pleased. I would take my pleasure of you whenever I wanted. Shall I show you how I would assert my husbandly rights?’

      Dimly, Shona saw his mouth slowly descending to hers. He put an arm about her waist and pulled her to him, moulding her body against his. Her legs felt weak, the back of her knees aching. As she gazed into his hard face, some lambent protective instinct cried a warning that she was getting in too deep. Panicked, she turned her face away a scant instant before his lips touched hers, her breath coming in rapid gasps as if she was running. Undaunted, Zack tipped her face back to his and lowered his mouth to hers. He assaulted her lips with a controlled expertise that left her gasping, engulfing her in a heady scent of brandy and tobacco. She was too surprised to resist and hung limp in his embrace. With no protest forthcoming he asserted pressure, his kiss growing more dedicated to strengthening her response and nearly devouring her lips in a tantalising frenzy.

      His plundering, devouring kiss sent Shona spiralling off into a hot darkness where nothing mattered except his seductive, urgent mouth and knowledgeable hands. Overwhelmed by his raw, potent sexuality, she fed his hunger, her parted lips welcoming the thrusting invasion of his tongue, the sensations inside her mouth like tight buds that burst into blossom, filling her with splendour. She felt as if her whole being would melt, but her heart began to drum a faster rhythm as his fingers continued to stroke the side of her breast in a leisurely, erotic caress. From a low level of consciousness there grew a vague feeling of pleasure and, had the circumstances been different, she might have enjoyed the hard, wickedly masculine feel of his body against hers. But she reminded herself that he was doing this to abuse her, to demonstrate his power over her, to subdue her into a quivering wreck.

      Trailing his warm lips over her cheek, Zack felt himself weakening in response. Devil take it,


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