A Trial Marriage. Anne Mather
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you no ambitions of—an academic nature?’
Rachel nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, I was planning to go to university. But—what with Daddy and Mummy dying … Della said it was better to give myself time to get over it.’
‘And in so doing provide her with a ready-made companion.’
‘It wasn’t as callous as that,’ she protested. ‘Who knows? I might have failed the exams.’
‘Do you intend to try again? Next year, for example?’
‘Perhaps. If I have enough money.’
‘Money.’ His echoing of her word was almost a sneer. ‘Ah, yes. Everything revolves around money, doesn’t it?’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ she declared indignantly.
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘So you’re a romantic, on top of all else,’ he drawled sardonically. ‘What a novelty!’
Rachel bent her head. ‘Do you want rid of me?’
The expletive he uttered made her flinch. ‘Such a remark does not deserve an answer!’ he snapped. ‘Come off it, Rachel. You’re not dealing with some callow youth who needs that kind of immature invitation!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean—coyness doesn’t suit you!’ he retorted coldly, lifting one suede-booted foot to rest on the iron fender surrounding the hearth. ‘Like I said before—I must be out of my tiny mind!’
‘If—if that’s the way you feel …’
Rachel turned abruptly away, her nerves unable to stand any more of this biting double-talk. She had started this; it was up to her to finish it.
But before she had taken a couple of steps, he moved with surprising agility, interposing himself between her and the door, his fingers closing painfully round the soft flesh of her upper arm. She tried to pull away from him, alarmed by the smouldering look in his eyes, but he jerked her back against him, and she felt the hard length of his body against hers. His arms went round her, sliding across her flat stomach, propelling her closer, so that for the first time in her life Rachel could feel the throbbing heat of his desire.
‘You have no conception of how I feel,’ he protested roughly, bending his head to brush her neck with his tongue.
Rachel’s panic began to subside. ‘I—I thought you were angry with me,’ she stammered.
‘I am,’ he retorted unsteadily. ‘I shouldn’t be holding you like this, and you shouldn’t be letting me.’
‘Why not?’ Her mouth was dry, and she moistened her lips as his hands slid up over her rib-cage to cup her breasts.
But she knew. She had read books, and her instincts warned her that she was playing with fire. Yet she couldn’t help herself. She wanted him to hold her, and the thin material of her chemise was no barrier to the way her breasts responded to his touch, swelling and hardening beneath his experienced fingers.
‘Oh, Jake …’ she breathed chokingly, using his name without thinking, and with a muffled oath, he twisted her round in his arms and covered her mouth with his.
A thousand stars seemed to explode in her head at the touch of his lips, and she clung to him desperately as the room swung giddily about her. She realised with a pang that she had never been kissed before this moment. The boyish embraces she had endured had never felt like this, and the muscled hardness of his thighs made her overwhelmingly aware of what she was inviting.
He released her lips to bury his face in her neck, his hands tangled in her hair, and she realised he was trembling. There was a heady intoxication in the knowledge that she could arouse him in this way, and her hands burrowed beneath his sweater, finding the slightly damp skin of his back. He was so hard and male and virile, and she pressed herself closer against him, delighting in the strength of his legs against hers.
But suddenly, with a stifled oath, Jake set her free, turning away from her violently, raking back his hair with unsteady hands. He put the width of the couch between them, and then turned to look at her through tormented eyes. Rachel was shocked by his pallor, the way his eyes seemed to have sunk further into his head, and she stared at him anxiously as he made an obvious effort to behave normally.
‘What is it?’ she cried. ‘What’s wrong?’
Jake made a negative gesture. ‘I think you’d better go.’
‘Jake——’
He turned his back on her, resting his hands on the mantel above the hearth. ‘God, I need a drink!’ he muttered. Then: ‘Don’t make it any harder than it already is, Rachel. Just go!’
‘But why? Why? What have I done?’ She was confused. ‘Are you still angry with me?’
He sighed, casting a contemptuous look in her direction. ‘I think you know better than that,’ he told her heavily. He straightened, staring up at the hunting scene pictured above the fireplace. ‘I suppose I should apologise. But you asked for it.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘Jake, don’t say things like that!’ she implored wretchedly. ‘I—well, I’m sorry if I—if I did something wrong, but I’ve never——’
‘That’s just it!’ he declared savagely. ‘You’ve never. But I have. And I wanted to, but God help me, I can’t!’
Rachel’s face flamed. ‘Why—why not? Or—or is that what’s wrong with you?’
A faint wave of colour entered his cheeks at her words, and she was horrified at her own audacity in voicing them. ‘Is that what you think?’ he demanded.
Rachel quivered. ‘I don’t know, do I?’
He was breathing hard. ‘Well,’ he ground out harshly, ‘not to my knowledge. But I’m not such a swine as to take advantage of a girl young enough to be my daughter!’
Rachel caught her lip between her teeth. ‘That’s what you say …’
He made a bitter sound, dragging the palms of his hands down over his thighs. ‘If you must know, I had a breakdown! I went to pieces. Couldn’t work—couldn’t sleep!’ His lips curled. ‘I was a wreck. But not impotent!’
Rachel pressed her palms to her hot cheeks. ‘I—I suppose what you’re really saying is, I—I’m not very good at it, am I?’
Jake stared at her frustratedly, and the intensity of his stare achieved its usual breath-stopping effect. Then he said flatly: ‘All right—no. You’re not very good. You’re much too inexperienced.’
The callousness of his statement robbed her of what little composure she had left. ‘Then—then why pretend it’s anything else?’ she cried tearfully, and appalled at her lack of self-control, she turned towards the door.
‘Rachel!’ His tone stopped her, containing as it did a reluctant reassurance. ‘Rachel, I am sorry, believe me. But I am too old for you.’
She swung round again, searching his features for some sign of his real feelings. ‘You’re not old,’ she exclaimed.
‘I think we both know I am,’ he said evenly. ‘And what is more, if your employer learns that you’ve been here, I run the risk of being blacklisted by the management.’
Rachel bent her head, her hair tumbling with unknowing sensuality about her shoulders. ‘I don’t believe you care what the management think,’ she retorted.
He sighed. ‘Well, accept that I care what happens to you,’ he said.
Her eyes lifted, seeking his. ‘Do you?’
‘Enough not to want to ruin your life,’ he responded crushingly. ‘But thank you for the