Revenge was such an ugly word, and such an ugly emotion, and at first Charlie did not want to believe what she was hearing. But as it sank in she was horrified at his colossal confidence, his despicable arrogance—that he would assume she was such a pushover that she would accept such an explanation and continue as though nothing had happened. She swallowed hard. 'Why did you ask me to marry you?' She had to know the worst.
'You are carrying my child, Charlotte.' His free hand slipped to her stomach and rested there.
Tears of anger and pain stung her eyes, and she fought them back, achingly aware of his strong, near-naked body touching her own from chest to thigh, but also finally aware—on her wedding night, of all nights—that Jake didn't love her, never had, and probably never would.
She wanted to scream and yell her pain to the world as her heart shattered into a million pieces. But she didn't. Instead the chill inside her grew until a blessed numbness froze the pain and she said, in a voice that seemed to come from a long way off, 'And to think when you proposed, I asked you if you loved me, and you lied and said yes.'
'As I remember you asked if I was marrying you because you were pregnant or because I loved you, and I answered yes, I adored you.' His unreadable eyes swept her carefully controlled features, a smile as insincere as any she had seen curving his beautiful mouth. 'How you interpreted my response was up to you.'
'A question of semantics,' she mocked hollowly, and dragged her gaze from his. The revelations this evening had cut her to the bone. But she could not betray her weakness. She had to be strong, not just for herself but also for her child. With a proud tilt of her head she looked at him coldly, her voice displaying no trace of emotion as she said, 'Be honest, Jake, you don't love me. All I ever was to you was a body to enjoy while you fed your sick need for revenge, but unfortunately I got pregnant.'
'You're wrong. I no longer have any need for revenge, and as for enjoying your body...' His dark eyes gleamed with sardonic humor. 'So far I am not having much luck, but that is about to change.'
His dark head bent and she saw it in his eyes, felt it in the tightening grip of his hands, and she knew he was going to kiss her. Belatedly Charlie lifted her own hands and shoved against his chest. 'No.' She struggled frantically, her hands curling into fists, and she punched him on the chest- anywhere she could reach. 'No, no!' she cried.
His mouth silenced hers and the possessive passion of his kiss and the sudden heated response that arced through her completely shamed her. Charlie tore her mouth from his and struck out wildly, but with his superior height and strength he simply swept her up in his arms, and deposited her surprisingly gently on the bed.
Lashing out with her feet, Charlie scrambled up into a sitting position. 'Don't you touch me, don't y
ou dare,' she yelled. 'And you can take your damn ring!' she cried, twisting desperately at the wedding band on her finger.
Rage tore through Jake and, leaning over her, he grasped her hands in one of his before she could remove the ring from her finger. 'Leave it, Charlotte!' he roared. And as he saw the hurt and fury in her eyes he froze.
What the hell was he doing? Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, he let go of her hands and straightened up. He could not argue with her. She was upset, and she was pregnant.
Frustration riding him, he stared down at her, his eyes raking over her body: the high, full breasts, the narrow waist and the gentle rounded curves of her hips; the transparent scrap of lace she was wearing doing little to hide the shadow of her femininity... No, he could not go there. Abruptly he raised his eyes to her face. She was looking at him as if he had developed two horns and a tail, and it was his own damned fault. Whichever marriage expert had recommended absolute truth needed their head read. If he had not been so out of his mind with sexual hunger for Charlotte, he might have had the sense to keep his mouth shut.
But he wouldn't be in this unenviable position if someone else had kept his mouth shut, he thought bitterly, silently cursing Diego for mentioning Anna and ruining his wedding night. He had burned the damned painting weeks ago. He didn't care about revenge; he didn't care about anything except Charlotte, he realised with shock. His stunned gaze roved over her flushed face, he saw the defiance in her gorgeous eyes, and felt a sharp pang of regret for the loss of her unfeigned adoration. And a frustrated fury he could barely control.
'The only thing I want to leave is you.' Charlotte slotted the words into the lengthening silence. Jake took a step closer. His dark eyes narrowed to angry slits, and she drew in a stunned, slightly unsteady breath.
'You are not going anywhere.' His face was a taut mask of rigidly controlled rage. 'But I will leave.' For one heart- stopping moment she thought he meant for good. 'We will talk about this in the morning.' Dipping down, he retrieved something from the floor and flung it at her. 'When hopefully you remember why you wore that today, and grow up.' And spinning on his heel, he left, slamming the door behind him.
The sound echoed in the sudden silence of the room as Charlie fingered the crumpled wedding dress he had thrown at her, the events of the evening racing through her tormented mind. This was her wedding night. How had it gone so terribly wrong? Because she had finally chipped through Jake's—her husband's—monumental control and discovered the truth, and it was not the love she had hoped and dreamed of.
White-knuckled, she gripped the gown and began to shiver. Acting on autopilot, she slipped off the bed. She found her suitcase and withdrew a blue satin nightgown, then shoved her wedding dress inside and shut the case. She slid the blue satin over her head. It wasn't very warm, but then she had not bought it with warmth in mind. She blinked and blinked again as she walked back to the bed, and lay back down, pulling the sheet up over her shaking body. Then, and only then, she buried her head in a pillow and surrendered to the agony and despair that tore at her very soul. Finally when there were no more tears left, only dry racking sobs, and her stomach ached with the pain, she realised she had to stop—if not for herself, for the sake of the baby.
She didn't know what she was going to do. All she did know was the happy, laughing bride of a few hours ago was no more. Jake had seen to that. 'Damn Jake—damn him to hell,' she muttered under her breath as hurt and anger rose to the fore. Who the hell did he think he was? What right had he to sit in judgment of her or her father's morals when he had the morals of an alley cat by all accounts?
Charlie tossed restlessly on the bed. She had to be strong. Already she was coming to terms with the revelations this evening had brought, and given time she would work out the best plan of action. She was an independent woman, or had been before she had met Jake and let love cloud her judgment—but no more, and no more tears. She rubbed her eyes with the sheet. And if Jake thought she was going to sit around playing the grateful little wife and mother, Jake was in for a rude awakening.
With his name lingering on her lips she fell into an exhausted sleep, unaware that her husband had returned and was staring down at her. He saw the tears that leaked from under her pale lids as she slept, and sorrow dampened his eyes as he quietly turned and left.
CHAPTER NINE
'GOOD, you're awake.'
Charlie shot up in bed, her gaze winging to the door, her eyes widening in shock as Jake, barefoot and wearing a maroon silk robe, entered the room. In his hands was a tray set with breakfast with a vase containing a single red rose as a centrepiece. 'Not quite the conventional honeymoon breakfast of champagne, due to your condition. But I have made you tea and scrambled eggs on toast.' He smiled, approaching the bed.
Jake looked so pleased with himself, Charlie had to fight back a reciprocal smile and consequently she said more harshly than she intended, 'You needn't have bothered.'
'Hostilities resumed, I see,' Jake mocked, his eyes darkening, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he placed the tray down on the bedside table.
For a fleeting moment she regretted ignoring what was obviously an olive branch from Jake, but only for a moment. The hurt had gone too deep for Charlie to forgive or forget. 'I'm pregnant, not an invalid. I could have made my own breakfast.'
'You don't need to; that's Marta's job. But I gave her the day off for some reason that escapes me now,' he said sardonically. He filled a cup with tea and handed it to her and, careful to avoid touching his hand, she took it.
'Thank you,' she murmured, slanting a glance at his handsome face.