becoming loose enough for her to twist away. At least this way she didn’t have to look at herself, or meet his darkly accusing eyes.
‘I’d be a fool to try and do that—wouldn’t I? I mean— look at me…’
No, that was a mistake. Bringing his eyes to her exposed body, reminding him of how she looked, how he had made her look, was not going to help her in this. With a flare of hot embarrassment flooding up into her cheeks, she tugged at the skirt of her dress with one hand, the top of it with another, both movements having very little practical effect.
‘Here…’
To her total shock and consternation, Zarek moved across the room, snagged a blue silky robe from the back of the door, shook it out and held it open.
‘What?’
‘Put it on…’
At the sight of her wary-eyed hesitation, he muttered an imprecation in savage Greek.
‘I am not going to harm you.’
‘I know…’
Whatever else there might have been between them—or not—Penny knew Zarek was not was physically cruel or hurtful.
But these were not normal circumstances. She still had no idea at all what had happened to Zarek while he had been away. The whole time of his absence had started with the violence of the hijacking of the Troy by the pirates. Then there had been the ordeal of being held hostage in the tiny, enclosed boat, the bullet that had been meant for his head and had only by some miracle missed by inches.
And after that? That had all been in the very first week—God knew what had happened in the years afterward.
Oh, but the truth was that even when they had been together, she had never truly known him. She had married him in a rush, in the heat of the biggest crush she had ever had in her life. She had been wildly in love, with the emphasis on wild, but she had never really known the man she had married. That had been proved to her by later developments.
‘I’m sorry—I know you wouldn’t harm me under normal circumstances!’
It was meant to be a peace offering, a verbal olive branch, and although Zarek nodded in acknowledgement it didn’t subdue the blaze in his eyes or ease the tension in his jaw and shoulders.
‘Then cover yourself up and perhaps we’ll be able to talk— normally.’
The bitterly cynical emphasis on the last word made Penny wince, as did the bleakly efficient way he was setting about restoring his appearance to—that word again—normality. The way he buttoned up his shirt, tucked it in where she had pulled it adrift at the waist, smoothed the disordered hair her clutching fingers had tangled, spoke very clearly of his instant withdrawal from her.
What had happened to the hot-blooded, fiercely passionate man who had carried her up to his bed just a short time before? Had he really existed? Or had she been deluding herself? Had that been just another sign of cool calculation on Zarek’s part? Like the way he had decided to marry her in the past.
The way he had chosen her as the potential mother for his heirs.
Chapter Eight
SHIVERINGLY cold in spite of the warmth of the September evening, Penny stumbled across the room to where Zarek still held out the blue silk robe and pushed her arms roughly into the sleeves. It was all she could do not to snatch the robe away from him as he pulled it up around her shoulders, but the ordeal didn’t take long. A moment later she was back over the other side of the room, dragging the sides of the robe together and belting it as tightly as possible around her waist. It was made of soft and thin material, so it was little use as protective armour against him, but at least she was covered and felt more secure that way.
‘You never needed to armour yourself against me.’ Zarek’s drawl stunned her with its hint of dark amusement. Even more so with its uncanny echoing of the word in her own thoughts. ‘And you never used to play games in bed—at least not those sort of games.’
‘I wasn’t playing any sort of game.’
‘No?’
With the blue robe wrapped round her, Penny felt a little more secure and able to face his cold-eyed derision.
‘I wasn’t playing at anything. I know I responded—there was always that spark—OK, more than a spark—of passion between us.’
‘As I recall, you couldn’t keep your hands off me. And vice versa. But then I’m not the one denying the blatantly obvious.’
‘I’m not denying it,’ Penny persisted. ‘I’d be a fool to even try. It’s there, obviously it is—but that doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it.’
Whatever else Zarek had been expecting, it was not that. His dark head went back sharply, his eyes narrowing till they were just gleaming slits in his tanned face.
‘I’m not someone who just jumps into bed with any man in the first moment I see him, no matter how strong the provocation.’
He knew that. She saw the acknowledgement of it in his eyes even though he said nothing in response. She’d come to him a virgin and, in spite of an almost overwhelming longing to change that situation before then, she had been a virgin on their wedding night.
‘I’m not just any man.’
‘But I don’t know you.’
‘I’m your husband!’
It was a sound of fierce exasperation blended with total disbelief of what she was saying. Penny took several steps backwards, away from him, stopping short when she found that her back had come up against the wall. She could see from his face that he thought she had gone completely mad, right before his eyes, and even in her own mind her argument sounded weak and unsubstantial. But then he had got exactly what he wanted from their marriage. She wasn’t yet prepared to open up her heart to him and confess the truth—that he wasn’t the husband she needed.
She had more pride than to admit that until she knew more clearly exactly where she stood.
‘So you keep telling me.’
‘Are you saying you don’t believe I am who I claim to be? What do you want—a DNA test?’
Penny flinched at the malign humour in his dark tones but, pushing her hands into the pockets of the silk gown and curling them into tight, defiant fists, she managed to find the strength to continue in spite of feeling that she was suddenly desperately fighting for her life.
‘N-no—I don’t need that.’
‘Then start acting like you know me. I’m your husband—the man you married—and you damn well know it. And if you need any further confirmation—something we both know—then let me remind you that I am also the man who made sure that you—or at least an image of you—was added to the carving on our bed.’
One long tanned hand pointed back at the dishevelled bed they had just left.
‘Yes—as a mouse!’ Penny flung
