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,
