Marriage Without Love & More Than a Convenient Marriage?

‘How I feel about Matt has nothing to do with you. And I don’t want to talk about it. Just drop me here, and I’ll make the rest of the way alone.’

She reached angrily for the door handle, and Kieron swore viciously, the car screeching to a halt. And then he was reaching for her, his face white with fury, his eyes murderous with rage.

He shook her like a rag doll.

‘Don’t you ever try anything like that again, you silly little bitch! What the hell were you going to do? Fling yourself out on to the road? We were doing forty miles an hour back there, in case it had escaped your notice. Do you know what a road surface could do to your skin at that speed? It would have been ripped to ribbons!’

‘Stop it!’ Briony was feeling faintly sick, her head throbbing painfully with shock and fright. She had never really intended to open the car door; he had just made her so angry that she had reached for it automatically.

He let her go with a smothered imprecation, his hands tightening on the steering wheel and a white line of rage round his mouth. Briony glanced covertly at him. For a moment in his arms she had been filled with a wild, fierce satisfaction as she felt his anger beat up to meet her own, but now it was gone, her imagination painting pictures of what would have happened to her if she had succeeded in opening the door.

Kieron seemed to be simply staring into space, and she wondered what thoughts were running through his mind. In one short day he had made his presence felt on the paper, and people were already beginning to speak of him with respect. He had intense pride and resilience, and it must go against the grain to have her constantly under his nose—a reminder of what he had done to her. Or perhaps it didn’t bother him. Perhaps he was ruthless enough to pretend it had never happened.

He started the car again without speaking. There was a faint clicking noise and when Briony looked puzzled, he explained coldly, ‘An automatic locking device for the doors. If you insist on behaving like a child then you deserve to be treated like one—or would it give you some sort of twisted satisfaction to kill yourself in my presence?’

Her hands, which were lying in her lap, itched to slap his face, but she contented herself with a cold stare, her eyes the colour of sea in winter.

Kieron only had to ask her the way once, when they turned off the main road into her avenue, and as the grey car slid to a halt in front of the house, she was glad that it was dark and that Gina and Paolo could not witness her arrival—or her companion.

She turned to open her door the moment the car stopped, forgetting that it was locked.

Kieron eyed her sardonically.

‘Oh no, you don’t,’ he said softly. ‘We’ve got things to talk about, you and I. Did you really think you could get away with the sort of treatment you’ve been dishing out? I’m not Matt, Briony.’

‘No, I know,’ she replied coldly. ‘I know exactly what type of man you are, Kieron. Ruthless, deceitful, completely without compassion or compunction.…Do I have to go on? Oh, don’t worry,’ she added icily when he didn’t speak, ‘you won’t lose your reputation. The big clever reporter who got a front page scoop, and turned his back on the poor little fool who give it to him, leaving her to face the wolves!’

He reached across the seat, his fingers biting into her arms. ‘It wasn’t like that,’ he ground out. ‘I.…Oh, what the hell!’ he pushed her away from him, his expression unfathomable. ‘Don’t put all the blame on me, Briony. You did your bit, although you might choose to forget it now. It wasn’t all one-sided.’

‘Let me out of this car,’ Briony demanded tensely. ‘I think you’re the most contemptible person I’ve ever met! Oh, God, don’t touch me!’ she moaned frantically, seeking to avoid the hard strength of his hands as he all but yanked her out of her seat, hauling her against him and keeping her a prisoner there while her eyes spat hatred and defiance.

‘Go on, hit me,’ he goaded softly, watching the hurried rise and fall of her breasts beneath the thin blouse. She twisted desperately to free herself, but her agitated movements merely brought her closer to the unwanted intimacy of his body, as Kieron grasped both her wrists in one hand and pulled her on to his knee.

‘I hate you!’ Tears threatened and she willed them not to fall. Her heart was hammering anxiously, every muscle tensed against him, fear rising up inside her like a tidal wave. Oh, God, she didn’t want him to touch her. She couldn’t bear it. No one had touched her since he left, and she sometimes thought that if they did she might actually be sick, so strong was her fear that the feelings she had deliberately dammed up inside herself might burst their banks and sweep her into the same sort of dangerous waters she had once experienced with Kieron. If one man skilled in physical pleasure could arouse her so easily, then might not others? She had refused to accept that it was her own overwhelming love for Kieron which had lowered her guard. Love did not exist, it was merely a euphemism for sex which men used to coax women into submitting to them.

‘Hate is akin to love, so they say,’ Kieron mocked.

‘Love!’ Her body stiffened, her voice high and strained. ‘The mere thought of having you near me makes me feel physically sick!’ she flung at him.

‘Does it now?’

The silky, dangerous tone set her nerve ends quivering with fear. She tensed automatically, turning away as his head descended, but his free hand forced it back again, his fingers tightening painfully in her hair to keep her head still as his mouth covered hers, with hard, angry pressure.

She fought desperately against the dominance of his kiss, her mouth tightly closed, her eyes spitting fury into the glittering darkness of his. When his hand released her head, she thought she had won and struggled triumphantly to sit up, but the pressure of his body kept her wedged against the door, and then his hand swept down her body, ruthlessly deepening the opening of her blouse, his fingers almost brutal as they closed over her breast.

Her lips parted on a gasp, his victory instantly reinforced by the hardness of his mouth as it punished her earlier defiance. If she had feared that the embrace might evoke unbearable memories, she need not have done. It was no coaxing, gentle caress, designed to soothe the fears of a young innocent girl, but a punishment, to humiliate and degrade, the tender inner flesh of her lip

s ground mercilessly against her teeth until it was torn and sore.

His touch was an insulting parody of what a lover’s should be, and after the first initial shock, her flesh cringed beneath his hand. She was entirely at his mercy, and anger gave way to overwhelming fear as she realised the depth of the rage which gripped him.

Panic made her struggle frantically, her rebellion ruthlessly subdued as Kieron reinforced his mastery. The buttons on her blouse had given way beneath his attack, the soft curve of her breast clearly visible, and she closed her eyes in horror as she felt Kieron move, anticipating his intention. She felt his breath against her skin, a cold, icy mist, slowly creeping over her as she tried feebly to push him away, her eyes dilating with fear. Her soft moan halted him, and the next moment she was sitting upright in her own seat, Kieron’s voice terse as he said acidly, ‘There’s no need to faint. You’re not some fragile Victorian heroine enduring the unwanted attentions of a wicked Sir Jasper. My God, though, it’s true what they say. You’re as cold as ice, aren’t you?’

‘I’m what you made me!’ Briony hurled at him through numb lips. ‘What did you expect? That I would fall into your arms with cries of rapture? Let me out of here!’ Her voice shook and a dreadful inertia seemed to spread through her. They had been outside the house for less than fifteen minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime. This time when she reached for the handle, the door swung open instantly, and then she was out on the pavement, breathing in the cool, clear air, her legs feeling as though they were stuffed with cotton wool.

She couldn’t face Gina and Paolo. Unlocking the door to her own flat, she went into her bedroom, staring blindly at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was ruffled, her mouth swollen and bruised. There were the beginnings of faint marks against the flesh of her breast, and shuddering with disgust she ripped off her blouse and bra, rolling them up into a ball and throwing them into the wastepaper bin. Never mind the fact that both were comparatively new, she could not bear to have either of them close to her skin again.

She showered in icy water, the blood beating up painfully under her skin. She felt sick and dizzy and wanted to lie down, but to do so would mean giving in to the fear Kieron had ignited, so she forced herself to dress again, brushing her hair and securing it with an elastic band, before going upstairs to collect Nicky.