The Heat Of Passion

Untouched by her fury, Carlo cast her a grim smile. 'Parody or not, it will still be a true marriage and you will still be my wife... for a while.'

'You smirking, self-satisfied toad!' Jessica launched up at him. 'You think that's a reward? It's a punishment! Unlike you, I have some respect for the sacrament of marriage. It's not just a useful ploy to me.. .you'd use anything and anybody to get what you want!'

Hooded dark eyes surveyed her. Abruptly, he lifted himself fluidly from her and vaulted upright, contempt in every angle of his bearing. 'Would I?’ he parried drily. 'Six years ago, I could have told your father how close we had become and I am quite sure he would have strained every sinew sooner than watch you marry Turner!'

Her furious gaze dropped from him. She had never thought of that possibility. His derisive withdrawal exercised a similarly disturbing effect on her. She felt bereft.

'I could have personally dealt with Turner. I could

have made marrying you such a humiliation that he

would have been forced to save face by calling off the

wedding!' Carlo continued with biting conviction. 'I did

neither of those things. I kept quiet. I stood back... I

&nbsp

; allowed you to make your own decision ‘

'Damn you!' Jessica gasped. "There was no decision. You treated me like a whore!'

"That is not true.’

'Yes, it is. And don't you dare forget the background of blackmail and pressure that came before it!' Jessica urged bitterly. 'I never have. You made no attempt to understand how I felt. I had betrayed Simon. I had done something unforgivable to a man I believed I loved. I was confused and ashamed and I couldn't handle it. And what did you do? You gloated. You didn't care about how anybody felt, except yourself. You said that was true of your father but it was equally true of you then!’

Carlo was standing stock-still, his piercing gaze wholly pinned to her distressed face. 'You said... the man you believed you loved. So you finally admit it,' he grated, throwing his ebony head back. 'You finally admit that you didn't love him,’

Jessica whirled away, cursing her impulsive tongue and the descent into temper which removed all restraint. Her knuckles showed white as she curved her unsteady hands fiercely round the rail. ‘I thought I loved him... later I realised that I didn't...at least,' she stumbled in her turmoil, 'not the way I should have loved him.’

'Later!’ Carlo ejaculated with lancing contempt. He followed it up with something that sounded exceedingly rude in Greek.

In anguish, Jessica closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She had loved Simon as a friend. Had their marriage

been normal, she might have continued to believe that she loved him, but when they had lived month after month with separate bedrooms and the relationship of a brother and sister, she had had too much time in which to analyse the fact that sexually Simon did not attract her and that, if she offered herself, tried to talk to him about the lack of a physical relationship, she did it out of guilt and the belief that that willingness was the very least she owed him. Ironically, that attitude had kept Simon at even more of a distance until he fell ill and sex became the least of their worries, she conceded sadly.

'I did not treat you like a whore ‘

'Ten days ago, you called me one for what we did that

day! And that is how you treated me,’ she condemned

starkly, sticking to her point. 'I was only twenty and I

had no experience of a man like you. You are the one

who took advantage, Carlo '

'I wanted you.' The assurance was harsh, immoveable, no admission of fault.

Her mouth twisted painfully. 'Regardless of cost or decency? I paid in spades for what I did. Loyalty is very important to me. I could hardly live with myself and all for what... a little entertainment for you, so that you could prove that I was susceptible? Was it worth it?' she demanded shakily.

'No,’ he murmured, suddenly very quiet. 'Looking back, I see that it was not worth the cost.'

Involuntarily she looked at him. His chiselled profile might have been carved from marble. All of a sudden she wanted him to argue the point, which was crazy. He should never have touched her that day but then neither one of them had been in control. She saw that now. Carlo had been as possessed as she was by the passion that had flared up between them. But that didn't mean she forgave him for his behaviour afterwards.

He sailed the yacht back in alone. She couldn't wait to get off it. She couldn't cope with Carlo's moody in-