‘We’re not lovers!’ Vivian shrieked. ‘Those pictures—they’re all fakes. You just… You posed me, like a mannequin—’
‘Did I really, Vivian?’ he taunted softly. ‘You were very willing. Don’t you remember telling me how I made you feel all soft and hot and buttery inside, and grumbling that it wasn’t fair you had to miss out on the thrill of being ravished by a sexy villain…?’
‘That was the drug talking, not me! There’s a big difference between being barely conscious and being willing,’ she pointed out with smouldering force. ‘And—and, anyway—if I… If we had done anything…I’d know…’
‘How?’ He seemed sincerely curious.
She practically melted her spectacles with the glare she gave him. ‘I just would, that’s all,’ she said stubbornly.
‘Not if I was very skilful and very tender, and you were very, very receptive… Not if you were all soft and buttery inside,’ he said, in a satin murmur that slithered over her skin.
‘Stop it! I won’t listen!’ she cried childishly, covering her burning ears with her hands. His eyes dropped to the sharp rise of the hem of his sweater as it flirted against her upper thighs, and she hurriedly lowered her arms. ‘No one else will listen to your lies, either. They’ll believe me…’
‘But you won’t be there to tell them the truth,’ he said smoothly. ‘You’ll be here with me. You don’t think I’m going to let you go so easily, do you?’
‘But you have to let me leave eventually.’ She tried to sound confident.
‘Eventually, you may find that you don’t want to leave…’
His insinuating murmur filled her with alarm. What was he suggesting—that he intended to turn her into some kind of…sex-slave, addicted to the forbidden pleasure that he could provide?
‘You can’t keep me imprisoned here forever…’ she protested faintly.
He shrugged. ‘Who’s keeping you prisoner? You came here of your own free will. In fact, you’ve already sent a fax to your office saying that everything is fine and that you’ll be back with the contract the day before the wedding. So don’t think anyone’s going to come flying to your rescue.’
That much was true. She had been too secretive, too determined to solve the problem herself.
When she had gone to visit Nicholas Rose’s lawyer, to plead that her sister’s illness made it impossible for her to deliver the settlement papers personally, as arranged, Vivian had been still reeling from what she had discovered on her visit to Janna’s flat.
Then she had bumped into a secretary over-loaded with files, and glimpsed among the scattered papers a letter addressed to Nowhere Island—but to Nicholas Thorne, not Nicholas Rose.
Some fast and furious digging for information had brought answers that had shocked her out of her self-pitying depression and sent her charging off in a spirit of reckless bravado.
Only now was she realising how ill-prepared she was for her mission. Nicholas Thorne had shown no sign so far of being open either to intimidation or to reason.
Vivian swallowed. Damn it, she couldn’t afford to let negative feelings undermine the determination that had brought her here!
‘Look, I realise that you genuinely feel that you have some justification for hating me, but don’t you see that what you’re doing is wrong. That car crash was an accident. The police investigated it thoroughly at the time—’
‘Your sister claimed that our car skidded as we came around the corner,’ he said neutrally.
‘Yes, but Janna wasn’t accusing you of anything,’ Vivian explained eagerly. ‘She was just describing what she saw. The police said the skid-marks confirmed that neither of us was speeding…it was just the way the gravel had been shifted by the rain, making the road unstable—an act of God…’
Then she added gently, because she knew the tortuous ways that guilt could haunt the innocent, ‘Neither of us was to blame for that night. Not me and not you. We’ll never know if we could have prevented it by doing something slightly faster or reacting differently, but being human isn’t a crime…’
She broke off because he was looking at her extremely oddly. ‘You think I blame myself?’
She hurriedly changed her tack. ‘When I wrote to you back then, I just wanted you to know that I was sorry for the accident…I didn’t mean to taunt you with your grief, if that was what you thought. I—I never showed your reply to anyone else. I didn’t think you meant those terrible threats. I thought it was just your grief lashing out. I can’t believe you’ve nursed that mistaken grudge all these years. Surely, for the sake of your son, you should have put the tragedy behind you—’
‘My son?’
The floor
suddenly seemed to heave beneath her feet as Vivian realised what his arrested expression could mean. ‘I—I know he was injured, and it’s all a bit hazy now, but at the hospital I remember the doctor saying he was a very lucky boy to be in the back seat… H-he is still alive, isn’t he?’
He nodded slowly. ‘Very much so.’
‘Oh. Oh! That’s great!’ Vivian’s eyes were starry with brilliant relief. ‘And…in good health?’ she asked, with more restrained caution.