Page 25 of A Secure Marriage

He had been too angry to listen to anything she could have said the last time she had seen him, and she could understand that, but today he simply had to hear her. side of the story. The sordid business about Fenton's blackmailing threats would have to be exposed and, in a way, it would be a relief because Jude might be able to help.

Her hands shook as she pushed together the pile of papers, the reports and balance sheets she'd been ploughing through, and slid them into an empty drawer in the desk in Jude's study. It hadn't taken her long to realise that Slade Securities was in a mess, and she couldn't begin to see a way out while her mind was in such turmoil. Loving Jude as she did, his disgust with her, the loathing she'd seen in those cold, azure eyes, was a constant and debilitating pain, blinding her to everything else.

And her worries about Fenton's possible next move didn't help any, she acknowledged as she pushed herself listlessly to her feet on her way to find Thornwood and relay Jude's message. Fenton hadn't had the money he'd demanded, so heaven only knew what his next move would be. She didn't know whether to expect a renewed demand or to see, in print, the whole sordid pack of lies. And if that happened she couldn't bear to think what would happen to Uncle John. And Luke, for one, would make sure the old man read every word.

It was like living with a time bomb. But maybe, when Jude knew the truth, he would know what to do.

'You certainly know how to make yourself look sexy, but then you've had plenty of practice, for Fenton, haven't you?'

Cleo twisted round, her heart pumping wildly. Wearing her new dress, she had been putting the finishing touches to her make-up when he'd walked in on her.

She hadn't heard the bedroom door open and now he was leaning against the frame. He looked tired, world- weary, the lines of cynicism deeply scored beside his mouth. Disadvantaged, she looked at him with anguished eyes, the smoke-grey irises deepened to charcoal. She had planned on being ready when he returned, composed, waiting in the drawing-room. But Thornwood must have had a smoother drive from the airport than she had bargained for and her fingers froze, dropping the scent spray she'd been using on to the polished rosewood surface of the dressing-table. The tiny clatter broke the silence of his long, unwavering scrutiny and she said, 'We have to talk,' and tried to get herself together. He had to listen to her. He had to. She would never get through this evening if he didn't.

'Must we?' His tone was bored as he moved slowly into the room, loosening his tie, and her heart jumped, but she resisted the impulse to run. She wasn't a coward, although his patent disgust with her, his terrifying coldness, wasn't making things easy.

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'Yes, we must.' She was ashamed of the slight tremor in her voice, of the hunger she was sure must show in her eyes as she watched him remove his suit jacket, his hands moving next to the zip of his trousers. God, but he was superb, almost frighteningly male, and he was her husband, and she loved him, and he loathed her!

But she was about to change all that, wasn't she? Because after she'd explained about Fenton he would go back to being the caring, exciting lover and beloved companion he had been before, surely he would? She knew he had been on the verge of growing more than fond of her. She couldn't believe that wasn't true, and she had to cling on to that.

He was naked now and she closed her eyes against a sudden inrush of pain, of need, that gripped her like a giant steel hand. She had to get him to listen, to understand.

'Jude--'

'Don't you think you ought to go down?' The look he flicked in her direction might have been given to an irritating child. 'Sir Geoffrey and his wife will be here in an hour. You should be checking with Meg.'

He didn't pause in his progress towards the bathroom, and that, and the irritated look, riled her. She wasn't so completely besotted by love that she would allow him to brush her aside like a subnormal hireling!

'This won't take long.' Resolve stiffened her spine as she moved between him and the adjoining bathroom door, her chin lifting defiantly, her eyes unwavering even as she faced the exasperated lowering of his black brows.

'You've judged and condemned me without a hearing, and I deserve better than that!'

'You deserve a thrashing.' His mouth twisted down in a sneer. 'But I'm too much a gentleman to give it to you! But I tell you this--' He moved closer, and his tanned, taut nakedness seared her through the filmy fabric of her dress, making her shudder at the awareness of how easily he could rouse her, even in his hatred. He didn't touch her, he didn't need to, and her words of hot protest at his high-handed refusal even to listen to her side of the story died in her throat, clogging it. 'I know now why you married me. I didn't have to be a genius to work that out,' he flared, controlled anger making his eyes glitter. 'You needed to get your hands on your inheritance and you couldn't afford to wait another twelve months because your lover was getting restive. He wanted to get his hands on that so-called little gift he was practically drooling over. And you couldn't marry him to gain access to your inheritance, no matter how much you might have wanted to, because there's no way your guardians would have approved a jerk like him. So you married me, and, OK--' his breath sucked harshly into his lungs, making the rough satin of his skin quiver with an inner tension she could feel through every fibre of her being, as if he were an extension of herself '—so now I know, and, granted, our marriage was only ever one of expediency—but you're still my wife.'

Suddenly, his hands were at her throat, making her heart flutter in panic as the balls of his thumbs, beneath her chin, forced her head back, forced her to read the dark intent in his eyes.

'You will not be seeing Fenton again, and as that means you'll be deprived of the pleasures of his bed and his body, I've decided to help you.' His voice lowered to the threatening purr of a tiger and she shuddered helplessly, cold with the chill of the hating mockery that was looking at her from those narrowed, glittering eyes. 'You are one hell of a highly sexed lady, as I found out when you begged me to make love to you, when you used me to satisfy your needs in Fenton's absence. So, just to help you,' his mouth curled derisively, 'I'll make love to you until you're reeling. I'll make damned sure you know who you belong to, and you won't have enough strength left to even think of Fenton!'

He released her suddenly. And shaken, appalled, by what she was hearing she registered his voice, coming as if from a misty distance.

'Now get downstairs and see if Meg needs any help. Start earning your keep!'

* * *

Meeting Jude's sardonic eyes across the table Cleo thought, I hate him! Hate him!, then inclined her head to listen to what Sir Geoffrey was saying. He was a short, round man who loved his food—as evidenced by the way he had relished the saddle of lamb and was now enjoying a second helping of syllabub. No doubt he would make hearty inroads into the cheese- board, Cleo decided, thus prolonging the agony of having to sit opposite Jude with his sardonic eyes and derisive endearments. But at least Sir Geoffrey's appetite made up for her lack of one, although Jude would have noticed, she conceded edgily, picking up her wineglass and drinking recklessly. He had hardly taken his eyes from her throughout the meal. It was a subtle form of torture.

Whenever she had glanced up at the cold, hard, self- righteous devil, she had found him watching her with those clever, knowing, shaming eyes. And her skin had crawled with hot colour as she'd recalled his threat to make love to her until she reeled—and why. And so she had looked his way as little as possible, putting her mind to conversing with Sir Geoffrey and Hilda, his scrawny, overdressed wife.

Neither of them would know that things were very far from perfect between the handsome, urbanely charming chief executive of Mescal Slade and his new wife. They wouldn't be able to read behind the cynicism of his superficial smiles, those lying words of endearment, to the utter contempt he felt for her.

So much for her stupid belief that she only had to talk rationally to him to make him listen to her because he, more than anyone else she knew, was rational to his fingertips. And how could she have ever believed she could make things right between them again? Her arrogant husband had made up his mind. As far as he was concerned she was devious,, sly, unfaithful and greedy, and that was that. No amount of pleading or explaining on her part would make him change his mind.

And so she wouldn't demean herself by pleading for a fair hearing ever again!

Unguardedly, she caught his eyes again, saw the hateful, mocking gleam as he answered a gushing request Lady Blair had just lobbed into the air.

'I'm sure Cleo will let you have the recipe for the syllabub, Hilda. Won't you, my darling?' And, expounding hatefully, his long strong fingers toying idly with his silver fruit knife, his smile holding a savagery only Cleo could detect, 'I'm fortunate in having such a devotedly domesticated wife. She, I'm delighted to say, neglects no area of my—comfort.'

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