Bought With His Name Read online

  Their onlookers had lost interest in them now and were drifting away. No doubt they thought Luke was still pleading with her to go with him, Genista thought wryly, nursing her aching wrist, when he turned without another word as he headed towards the door, leaving her standing alone.

  'Phew, you were taking a bit of a risk, weren't you?' Jilly Holmes, Greg's secretary commented to Genista ten minutes later when Luke had gone.

  Genista liked Jilly, they got on well together. She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. 'Serves him right. He shouldn't go round expecting females to fall at his feet with delight just because he deigns to smile at them.'

  'You weren't exactly discouraging him, love,' Jilly pointed out mildly. 'In fact you were positively leading him on, and he didn't strike me as the type of man to take very kindly to the way you humili­ated him. It was a bit much, wasn't it, Gen?'

  'What are you trying to do? Stir up my non­existent conscience? I'm telling you, Jilly, he got exactly what he was asking for, supercilious brute!'

  'Oh, come on. He was rather gorgeous. I wish he'd been looking at me the way he was looking at you. You had me convinced, you know. When the pair of you were dancing together, I thought the impossible had happened and you'd actually found a man you could like. You know, love, you were lucky he didn't get nasty with you. You were really giving him the green light.'

  'Stop feeling sorry for him,' shrugged Genista. 'All I did was bruise his ego. You can't be foolish enough to think he cared about me. We'd only just met! All he wanted to do was get me into bed.'

  'Don't be so sure. Haven't you ever heard of love at first sight?'

  'Often, but not from anyone who's ever experi­enced it. Look, I think it's time I went. I don't know why I came really.'

  'Umm,' mused Jilly. 'Well, you can't act the hermit all your life. I know you like to pretend that you're quite happy in your solitude, but there must be times when you feel . . .'

  'A longing for a home and family?' Genista interrupted briskly. 'Never! Happy families are a myth, that's all. Say goodbye to Greg for me, will you, Jilly. I'm going now.'

  'And you're going to walk, I suppose, all on your own through the streets of London at this hour of the night. You must be mad!'

  'It's only a short walk—quite safe. Don't fuss. After all, I'm probably in far less danger walking home alone than I would have been if I'd accepted a lift from Luke.'

  'Umm, but that type of danger I could get to enjoy,' Jilly drooled unrepentantly, but her eyes were clouded as she watched Genista go. There had been a look in Luke Ferguson's eyes when he left the party that made her feel uneasy for her friend.

  Genista, oblivious to Jilly's concerned thoughts, collected her jacket from the bedroom where the coats had been left, adroitly fending off an amor­ous pass from one of the more junior members of the staff, as she reached past him to open the door. The night air felt cold, the street below the flat was deserted, and for a moment she considered going back inside and calling a taxi. The knowledge that it might be quite a while before she could get one made up her mind for her. It would only take her fifteen minutes or so to walk home. She had never felt at any risk in London before, it was silly to do so now just because of what Jilly had said.

  Poor Jilly! She had obviously been quite smitten with Luke Ferguson. Genista shrugged. He deserved everything he had got. Disconcertingly she remembered the pressure of his hands on her back when they danced. He had held her close, making her feel every movement of his body as they swayed to the music, and knowing that ap­parent capitulation then would make her revenge seem all the sweeter, she had not objected to the way he had held her. She bit her lip, unconsciously worrying at it as she stepped outside. The street was deserted. Turning right, she walked briskly away from Greg's flat, her mind on the possible repercussions of the takeover of Computerstore and its effect on her. She had no real need to work for a living, but she enjoyed her job and would not wish to lose it.

  She had walked several yards before she became aware of the soft purr of a car engine behind her. At first it did not alarm her; all the old houses along this road had been converted into flats, and the sound of a car slowing to a halt was nothing to get frightened about. Only the car wasn't stopping. It was crawling slowly and purposefully along behind her, keeping pace with her, the long, shiny bonnet just visible out of the corner of her eye.

  Automatically she started to walk faster. Her mouth had gone terribly dry, fear tying her stom­ach into tight knots. Her heart was pounding, her legs trembling, as she prayed for a policeman to materialise and frighten off her pursuer. She had heard about girls being followed like this by men in cars, but it had never happened to her before.

  She refused to glance at the car, or be panicked into any foolish action, and yet as the driver menacingly kept pace with her she found her eyes flickering nervously towards it, her heart coming into her mouth as she recognised the hardly hand­some profile of the driver. Luke Ferguson! He must have waited outside the flat until she left. Instead of reassuring her the knowledge of his identity increased her fear. She had never doubted that her behaviour had made him furious—that had been more than evident, and in view of his own arrogant attitude she had considered her actions completely justified, but now she was be­ginning to wonder how much she had underesti­mated him. He was following her to punish her; probably hoping to panic her into an ignominious flight which would be brought to an abrupt halt when it was outstripped by the powerful car he was driving. Up ahead of her an alleyway loomed, and with a feeling of relief she remembered that it led to a small square from which she could quite easily walk to her own apartment block. The alley­way was only a footpath; Luke could not follow her up it, and she hurried into it with a feeling of, thankfulness, almost welcoming the darkness which swallowed her up as she stepped off the main road.

  At first she was too relieved to have escaped to be aware of the soft footsteps shadowing the tap­ping of her high heels, and it was only some sixth sense that made her hesitate, nerves stretched like taut wire as her ears and eyes searched the dark­ness—no longer protective, but terrifyingly alien, masking all manner of danger. Nothing moved. She must have been imagining those faint sounds, Genista told herself. She turned, her sharp cry of protest cut off as strong fingers circled her throat.

  'So you thought you'd eluded me, and now in­stead you find you've run straight into a trap' Luke jeered in a whisper. 'Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to harm you—much as I'd like to squeeze this soft throat of yours until you're begging me for mercy. Surely you didn't think I'd let you get away with humiliating me so easily?'

  His grip of her throat prevented Genista from replying. Terror had given way to anger, and she struggled wildly, trying to free herself from the steel-like arm he had flung round her waist, pulling her back against him.

  'When I walked in that room tonight and saw you, I thought I was seeing a dream. Your beauty caught me by the throat; there seemed to be an instant rapport between us, or so I thought. But I was wrong, wasn't I, Genista? All you saw was another man to build up and then let down. I've heard about women like you who get their kicks from that sort of thing.'

  His grip on her throat had relaxed sufficiently for her to speak, her eyes mirroring her contempt as she stared up at him.

  'Instant rapport?' Scorn laced the words. 'Oh, come on. You can't expect me to believe that? I wasn't born yesterday, Luke. I know what men like you are looking for when they look at a woman. Someone who's accommodating in bed; someone who won't make a fuss when she's tossed aside to make room for the next in line. A little divertisse­ment; a means of passing the time. You looked at me like a man who was trying to work out how long it would take you to get me into bed. Your vanity is so enormous that it never even occurred to you that I might not want to be there. You wanted me and that was enough. You deserved everything you got from me, Luke, so don't expect me to apologise. After all, I wasn't doing anything to you that you haven't probably already done to many, many women.
'

  'Is that a fact?' She could feel his body tighten with tension. 'I never argue with a lady.' He em­phasised the last word, and Genista could feel the tightly leashed anger emanating from him—anger which he had no right to feel, she reminded herself. 'And contrary to what you seem to think, I've never gone in for physically humiliating them— until tonight.'

  Before she could unravel the meaning hidden in the words he had spun her round, his arms locking tightly round her so that the palms of her hands were pressed against the hard warmth of his chest. He wasn't wearing a jacket and she could feel the crispness of his body hair beneath the thin cotton. Her mouth was dry with apprehension, perspira­tion breaking out over her body in a heated wave, despite the coolness of the evening.

  'Let me go!' The words were betrayingly unsteady, and she knew from the satirical gleam of the cold grey eyes that she had not been able to hide her fear from him.

  'This is for my own satisfaction,' Luke told her, as his head descended with slow deliberation. 'It's a pity no one else can witness it, but until I can find a way of getting public satisfaction for what you did to me tonight, it will have to do.'

  What followed was like something out of a nightmare. His lips were cool; deceptively gentle at first, moving lightly against the numbed flesh of her own. Luke's weight bore her backwards, until she was leaning over his arm, her body vulnerably exposed to his eyes and hands—a situation of which he took full advantage as his free hand moved leisurely over her body, stopping nerve-rackingly just below the full curve of her breast, where her heart was beating like a trapped bird. It was a long time since a man had touched her so intimately. Richard had been the only one to do so—fumbled, uneasy caresses, nothing like the assured, knowledgeable touch of this man, who seemed to know instinctively the moment when her cool control would give way to deep shudders, which he mercilessly exploited, his hand sliding under the thin stuff of her top, pushing aside her bra to stroke her nipple roughly with his thumb.

  When her mouth parted in shocked protest, his hardened over it, his kiss callously enforcing his superior strength. Bitter resentment filled Genista. What he was doing was tantamount to assault, and there was nothing she could do about it. The harsh pressure of his mouth was bruising the tender flesh of her lips, forcing them back against her teeth, with relentless, grinding pressure, his hand on her breast eliciting a response that shocked and humiliated. Since Richard no man had ever aroused her sexually; Richard she had loved and even with him she had been shy and reserved, and yet here was this contemptuous stranger, teaching her that her body was capable of a treachery she had never dreamed existed, because, despite her own horror and abhorrence, physically she had responded to him, and they both knew it.

  When he released her, satisfaction gleamed in the steel-grey depths of his eyes, and childishly Genista rubbed the back of her hand against her mouth as though by doing so she could obliterate the memory of his touch. Where his hand had touched her breast it seemed to throb with an aroused awareness which awakened some deeply primitive core she had not known she possessed.

  'My place or yours?'

  The crude question brought her abruptly back to reality.

  'Neither,' she said coldly. 'I meant what I said, Luke. I don't want you.'

  'But I want you,' he said silkily, 'and you seem to have forgotton that this time I have the upper hand. You aren't surrounded by your friends this time, Genista. We're all alone here and there's no one to stop me forcing you into my car and taking you back to my apartment—and I will do if I have to, make no mistake about that.'

  'You'd force me, merely to appease your mas­culine pride?' A little of her disgust must have showed in her voice, because for a second she saw something flicker in his eyes, and then they hardened.

  'Why not? It might be quite an experience.'

  'Meaning you don't normally have to use force, I suppose?' she said bitterly. She was feeling badly frightened, but she wasn't going to let it show.

  'Not normally,' Luke agreed urbanely, but there was a tightening of his mouth that warned her that he was annoyed. 'As I say, it might be quite an experience—for me. I doubt if you would enjoy it very much. Not even an experienced woman enjoys being raped.'

  Raped? Genista stared at him.

  'I'll report you to the police,' she said unsteadily. 'Rape is a criminal offence. You'll be thrown into prison . . .'

  'No way,' Luke told her cruelly, shaking his head. 'Do you think after the way you were behav­ing at the party that any jury would believe you weren't willing?—and I'd make sure they knew all about it. You were leading me on. How old are you? Twenty-four? Twenty-three? Old enough to have had several previous lovers. That never goes down well in court.'

  It was a nightmare, Genista thought unsteadily. This simple could not be happening, but it was, and if she didn't go with Luke willingly now she was quite sure that he would put his threats to good effect. Rape! The word shivered horrifyingly through her. Several previous lovers, Luke had said. She bit back a hysterical laugh. She hadn't even had one—Richard had seen to that! She took a deep breath, her mind working overtime as she tried to find a means of escape. She could always run, but Luke would soon overtake her. Her brief contact with his body had shown her that he was lean and well muscled, more than a match for her!

  'Well?'

  'I'll come with you.' She took a deep breath and tried to relax her tensed muscles. 'But it must be my flat.'

  She could feel him looking at her, trying to read her mind. She held her breath, hoping he could not see what she had in mind.

  'Very well,' he agreed slowly. 'Give me your doorkey. As a sign of good faith,' he mocked. 'I'm not having any doors slammed in my face this time, Genista, either metaphorically or actually.'

  With shaking hands she opened her bag and removed her key. He took it in silence, his fingers biting painfully into her arm as he led the way back to his car.

  It was a sleek dark red Maserati." Luke was obviously not short of money, Genista reflected as he opened the passenger door and waited until she was seated before closing it.

  'Don't bother trying to open the door. I've locked it,' he told her sardonically, before walking round the car and sliding in beside her.

  The confining interior of the car heightened her feeling of alarm. The upholstery was cream hide, the smell mingling with the sharply masculine fra­grance of Luke's cologne. It was a masculine car, driven by a very masculine man, she thought, watching him change gear smoothly. The lights changed and they moved off with a smooth roar.

  'Where do you live?'

  She gave him directions automatically. If she hesitated and he took her to his own flat she dared not think of the consequences. What had started out as a simple exercise to show him that he simply could not have whatever he wanted, just because he wanted it, had turned into a nightmare of alarming proportions. The revenge Luke wanted to mete out in payment for the way she had humiliated him was something she could not endure, and would not have to endure if she was lucky. The hands resting lightly in her lap tensed, and she crossed her fingers childishly, uttering a silent prayer that the commissionaire of her apart­ment block would be in the foyer when they drove up.

  She felt rather than saw the way Luke's eyebrows rose when she indicated that he should stop. The apartments had their, own underground car park, but she wasn't going to direct him into that. Instead she let him pull up outside the discreetly expensive block, waiting passively for him to help her out of the car.

  'You live here?'

  The sharp enquiry heightened her fear.

  'Yes.' She had bought her apartment when she first came to Lpndon. In many ways it had been a mistake, because the other occupants were mainly middle-aged couples, and apart from the occasional 'Good morning' or comments about the weather they had not exchanged any conversation.

  The foyer was brightly lit from within, George sitting solidly behind his desk, and Genista felt a little of the tension drain out of her. He recognis
ed her straight away, and started to smile as she walked in. Taking her courage in both hands, Genista turned to Luke, a false smile pinned to her lips.

  'Thank you so much for a wonderful evening,' she told him, hoping that her voice did not sound as artificial to George as it did to her. 'I'll say goodnight now.'

  For a moment she thought he was going to force a showdown. She could feel George watching them, and wondered feverishly if she should have pre­tended that he was accosting her in some way, and then just when she felt sure that her gamble had not paid off, she heard him say smoothly,

  'Goodnight, Genista.' His hand slid from her arm to her wrist, lifting her fingers to his lips and touching them with a panache that was making George goggle. 'You must think of our parting not as an end, but as a beginning.'

  Genista could tell that George thought he was witnessing the tender beginning of a love affair, but beneath the lightly drawled words and the soft look she sensed an implied threat. Luke was warn­ing her that he still intended to have his revenge!

  Only when she was quite sure that the Maserati had pulled away did she turn towards the com­missionaire, her voice shaky with released tension.

  'George, I seem to have misplaced my key,' she told him. 'Would you be an angel and let me in? I think I'd better have the lock changed as well. You can't be too careful these days.'

  'I'll see to it myself tomorrow, miss, if you like,' George offered. 'I'll just lock the main doors and then I'll come up with you and open your door for you.'

  He'd always had a soft spot for her, right from the first day she moved into Mallory Court, he told his wife later. There was something about her. It wasn't just that she was beautiful. She made him feel all protective-like somehow. High time she got herself a boy-friend, he added, and by the looks of it the one she'd now found herself was doing alright for himself. Fast, powerful sports car ...