Imprisoned by a Vow Page 9

‘Do you really think I’d have dressed as I did last night if I’d had a choice?’ His nape prickled as he heard bitterness lace her words.

  She wasn’t joking. Hell! How could it be?

  His image of her, all his certainties, fractured.

  He opened his mouth to demand an explanation, but stopped himself.

  Did he want to embroil himself in the details of Leila’s past? He’d spent too many hours already pondering his beautiful, enigmatic bride. She’d distracted him as he’d sought to network and his concentration this morning had been shot. Because of her.

  ‘You should have told me.’

  ‘You weren’t here to tell.’ She paused. ‘I could have phoned your office and left a message but frankly the idea of explaining to a third party—’

  ‘I’ll have the arrangements made immediately.’ Joss swiped a hand over his jaw, as if he could rub away the shard of guilt that pierced him. He supposed he should have given her his mobile number before he left. The fact that he was unused to being tied to anyone was no excuse.

  ‘Someone will contact you within the hour with details of your new account and how to access it.’

  He wouldn’t give her cause to claim he’d reneged on their marriage bargain. Too much rode on it.

  And as for his wife?

  He set his jaw. He couldn’t avoid it any longer. It was time he satisfied his curiosity about her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LEILA PACED the sitting room, schooling herself not to twitch the slippery fabric of her new dress that clung and caressed in the most unfamiliar, sensual way.

  Sophisticated, Joss had ordered in that offhand tone. Chic. And then he’d had the gall to ask her if she could manage that! His tone had reminded her again of her place in his world: mere window dressing for his schemes.

  Pride smarting, Leila had aimed instead for spectacular.

  She refused to be dismissed and ordered about by another arrogant man. She’d show Joss she was a thinking, feeling, capable woman who demanded respect!

  She bit her lip and spun on one spindly heel, her heart diving. She felt like a sham.

  How to convince him she was worthy of respect when she hadn’t got the nerve to leave this apartment? The only time she’d left was last night, with him. When the emotions he aroused had eclipsed all else.

  Today she’d tried again alone and been overwhelmed by wrenching nausea at the prospect of stepping outside.

  Leila’s nails dug into her palms, hating that even now Gamil had a hold over her. She had no doubt her imprisonment at his hands, and the stress of living with his unpredictable moods, had led to this...weakness.

  Even this gorgeous new dress was courtesy of a personal shopper who’d arrived at the penthouse, bringing a bewildering array of outfits for approval.

  Joss had been as good as his word. She’d had money of her own within thirty minutes of their phone call. The first money of her own in years! That fact sent a tingle of excitement down her backbone. Money meant a level of independence that had been too long denied her.

  No wonder she’d splurged on some extras as well as the clothing she needed. Leila surveyed the colourful scatter cushions enlivening the austere furniture and the bowls of fresh flowers, all ordered by phone or online.

  And there was money enough to begin saving a nest egg. One day she’d find a way out of the legal agreement that kept her here at her husband’s pleasure. Then she’d be truly free.

  ‘Leila, you’re ready.’ The words cut across her thoughts and made her stiffen.

  Joss stood just inside the doorway, handsome in a craggy, rough-around-the-edges way that oozed raw masculinity. Her breath snagged. He looked more vital, more potently alive than any man she’d ever seen.

  Reluctantly Leila met his eyes. A sizzle of raw power arced across the room and sparks fizzed through her.

  Her gaze dropped helplessly to his firm, sculpted mouth. She swallowed hard, remembering the taste of him on her lips, the feel of being swept hard into his embrace, of going up in flames against his body.

  ‘Hello, Joss. How are you?’ Her voice dropped to a throaty murmur when she’d intended to sound unaffected.

  For a moment he seemed not to register her words. His stare had a fixed quality. Then he paced into the room. ‘Well, thank you. And you?’

  ‘Fine.’ Her smile was perfunctory. She’d told herself the stress of last night had skewed her perceptions. That she’d imagined him more compelling and disturbing than he really was.

  She’d been wrong. One look and her body came alive in ways she hadn’t known till that kiss... No, she couldn’t afford to think about that.

  The glint in his eyes drew her skin tight. For a man who saw her as merely a social asset his gaze was incredibly intense.

  ‘Sophisticated enough for you?’ she asked finally, gesturing to the gown of sea-green silk shot with misty grey she’d loved at first sight.

  Still no reply.

  Her assurance cracked. Had she fooled herself into thinking this worked?

  Gamil had removed the mirrors from the house years ago. Maybe she’d lost her discernment in that time?

  Annoyed for letting doubt in, Leila reminded herself she didn’t care what Joss thought. She liked the dress and that was what mattered. It made her feel good.

  Setting her chin, she lifted her arms a fraction and turned on the spot with exaggerated slowness. Her mother’s pearl pendant, with its platinum chain fully extended, swung gently against her bare back where the deep V of the dress, mirroring a shallower V at the front, revealed a daring amount of flesh.

  She’d decided to wear the pendant that way in a flash of bravado, annoyed at Joss’s brusque demand over the phone. She’d wanted to look eye-catching.

  Now, with his gaze fixed on her, she wasn’t so sure.

  A ripple of sensation tensed her muscles as he closed in on her. Automatically her jaw angled higher lest he guess the strange jittering unsteadiness inside her.

  ‘Perfect,’ he murmured. ‘You look gorgeous.’

  Really? She was stunned at her surge of delight.

  Her father had called her pretty but since his death no man had complimented her on her looks. Not that many had been given the chance!

  Now she read appreciation in Joss’s eyes. After years of being berated and denigrated, a compliment was a shock. It did wonders for her bruised ego. But it also, like tenderness after years of abuse, threatened her composure.

  Dismayed, she blinked and lowered her gaze a little, battling a sudden tightness in her chest.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said when she found her voice. ‘You do too.’

  Joss’s mouth lifted on one side, driving a crease down his cheek. It emphasised the sexy curve of his mouth and the wholly masculine set of his chin.

  Jerkily she reached for her purse. ‘Shall we go?’

  ‘After you.’ He gestured for her to precede him.

  ‘I hear you’ve had a visitor,’ he said a moment later.

  She shrugged, hypersensitive to the barely-there silk swishing around her with each step and the weight of the pearl heavy between her naked shoulder blades.

  ‘I engaged a personal shopper.’

  ‘Ah.’ Joss drew out the monosyllable. ‘And I gather there was a man too, several days ago.’

  Leila slammed to a halt, glacial ice crackling down her spine. Even facing the daily frustration of her new-found fear of going out, Leila had believed herself free. She thought she’d left spies and coercion behind.

  She swung round, meeting Joss’s dark eyes with a blaze of fury. ‘Is your staff spying on me?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  Her fingers bit the beaded softness of her bag. ‘Then how do you know about my visitors?’

  For what
seemed an age Joss stood, watching her, his scrutiny sharp enough to take in her blush of rage and the pulse thundering in her throat.

  ‘Mrs Draycott was worried.’ He spoke slowly, almost gently. ‘She said you seemed upset after he’d gone.’

  With a hiss of air escaping from tight lungs, Leila’s ire dissipated, leaving her off balance. She wasn’t used to anyone worrying about her, had forgotten what it felt like.

  ‘Leila? Who was he?’ Amazingly she registered concern in Joss’s voice. It stroked her like the brush of finest velvet, far more potent even than his admiration.

  She was tempted to say it was none of his business who her visitor had been. But what was the point? ‘A lawyer I consulted about the marriage contract. And as for being upset...’ she shrugged ‘...I was just preoccupied.’

  Worry about how she’d pay for that legal advice had been just an extra burden to add to the rest. She’d had no difficulty getting a private consultation—lawyers were used to visiting rich clients. But at the time Leila thought she’d have to sell her mother’s jewellery to pay for the privilege if she didn’t soon get the money to which she was entitled.

  ‘I see.’ Yet still Joss’s frown lingered, as if he wanted to know more.

  What was there to know? The contract was watertight. She abided by it or returned to Bakhara and Gamil’s tender mercies. Stoically she repressed a shudder. She’d do anything rather than face that.

  She turned and walked down the hall.

  ‘Mrs Draycott also said you haven’t left the apartment.’

  Leila stiffened, but kept walking. ‘Did she?’

  ‘Yes.’ He was so close she could swear she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck. Rills of sensation rayed out from the spot.

  ‘I had a busy few weeks preparing for the wedding. I needed a rest.’

  ‘You’ll make yourself ill if you don’t get some fresh air and exercise.’

  Leila kept walking. ‘Still afraid I’m anorexic?’ She gritted her teeth. That accusation still rankled. ‘Or did you hear my appetite’s improved lately?’

  Silence.

  She’d been right! He had been checking on her. No doubt he wanted to make sure his shiny new trophy wife was fit for duty.

  Impotent fury spurred her on as she entered the foyer, her heels clicking furiously on gleaming marble.

  So much for being free! She was Joss’s captive, though her cage was lavishly sumptuous.

  The knowledge beat a heavy tattoo in her heart. She would find a way out of this.

  ‘If you must know,’ she said when the silence between them drew tight, ‘I’ve been using the indoor pool to exercise.’

  After her close confinement those laps had almost killed her to start with but she’d refused to give in. With her returning appetite and decent sleep, she was starting to build her strength. She felt better for it.

  ‘I apologise.’ His voice was gruff. ‘I was...concerned.’ Leila paused, caught by the note of something she couldn’t read in his voice. Something that eased the fiery anger inside.

  Beside her a long arm reached out and pressed the button for the lift. Immediately butterflies the size of kites dipped and whirled in her stomach. Her mouth dried.

  The door swished open with a hiss like a venomous snake.

  Leila stared at the mirrored wall at the back of the lift and stepped in before she could have second thoughts. She tried to focus on the reflection of her chic gown and Joss, tall and broodingly handsome behind her. But it was the small airless space that consumed her attention. And the fact that straight after this she’d face the wide-open streets of the city.

  With each breath her pulse quickened.

  ‘Leila?’ Joss held the door open with one hand and she wanted to scream at him to shut the doors and get this over quickly.

  ‘Yes?’ Her voice echoed hollowly.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Just brilliant.’ Her smile was a rictus grin but she couldn’t prevent it. Her nails clawed the delicate purse.

  ‘You don’t look it.’ Those penetrating eyes were fixed on her face as if they read every thought.

  Tremors raced down Leila’s spine, drawing her skin so she felt stretched on a rack of tension that screwed tighter with each slow motion moment. Her muscles ached with the force of fighting the impulse to flee straight back into the safety of the apartment.

  It took everything she had to fight her fear.

  Still he didn’t move, just stood there, prolonging the agony.

  * * *

  With a suddenness that surprised him Leila lunged, grabbed him by the arm and hauled him inside. Her other hand slammed onto the control panel, sending the doors swishing shut.

  This close he saw dampness bloom on her forehead and upper lip. She was pale, her features drawn.

  Another punch of the controls set the lift plunging.

  Leila’s hand tightened like a talon on his arm and she stared fixedly at his shirt as if memorising every detail.

  ‘Leila?’ Her absolute concentration unnerved him. What was he missing?

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Look at me.’ She didn’t move.

  ‘Leila!’ At his sharp tone her head swung up. His heart kicked hard against his ribs as shock smacked him. Her pupils had dilated so far her eyes looked black, only a tiny circle of crystalline green glittering at the edges.

  Joss covered her hand with his, feeling her tremble.

  She was afraid!

  It was remarkable, inexplicable, but true.

  He raised his hands to her cheeks. They were clammy. He tried to convince himself there was another explanation but none made sense.

  His brain clicked in rapid replay.

  Had it been fear earlier in the lift? When he’d taken her sudden change of mind for a spoiled woman’s wilful games?

  Fear too that day she’d half collapsed on the way to the plane?

  And what about last night returning to the apartment when she’d sat statue-still in the far corner of the limo’s wide back seat? He’d thought her lost in private reverie.

  What if, instead, Leila had been frozen with fear?

  Suddenly, appallingly, Mrs Draycott’s comment about Leila not leaving the premises made awful sense. And the fact that instead of going out to meet friends or shop, she’d had visitors come to her.

  Joss wanted to reject the mind-blowing suspicion, but couldn’t. It fitted together too neatly.

  Why hadn’t he put it together before?

  Because he’d had more important things on his mind than his bride.

  A searing blade of guilt skewered him.

  He, of all people, knew what happened to the weak when no one took time to notice and respond to their fears. Hadn’t he told himself Joanna would still be alive if someone had taken a real interest in his sister?

  Yet Leila wasn’t weak. Even collapsing in his arms at the airport she’d been adamant about continuing the journey. The woman who’d just berated him for nosing about her private business was no weakling.

  He looked into those unfocused eyes, remembering how she’d yanked him into the lift and slammed the button for the underground car park. She might be scared but she wasn’t running. She faced fear head-on, with a reckless disregard for her well-being.

  Joss’s gut tightened at her valiant, confronting courage.

  ‘Speak to me, Leila.’

  ‘What do you want me to say?’ She spoke slowly, the words thick on her tongue, as if she had trouble talking.

  He couldn’t believe this was the woman who moments before had tossed barbed comments at him.

  ‘Tell me what you’re scared of.’ He had a pretty good idea, but he needed to hear it from her.

  ‘I’m not scared of anything.’ Yet h
er words were slurred, her eyes unfocused. Beneath his hands she shivered. Did he imagine her growing colder by the moment?

  It was a lifetime since he’d worried about anyone, except in the impersonal way an employer took responsibility for his workers’ safety. This didn’t feel impersonal. It felt frighteningly real.

  Joss’s hold firmed as he recalled their kiss last time they descended his private lift. At least then she hadn’t been frozen with terror. She’d been all vibrant, hot passion.

  ‘Kiss me, Leila.’ His voice was husky as he bent to meet her lips.

  She jerked back, swaying till he caught her in a gentle grip. This was for her own good, he assured himself.

  ‘No.’ But her voice had lost its strength. Where were her sassy comebacks? That, more than anything, convinced him this was real, not a product of his imagination.

  Joss threaded his fingers through her perfectly coiffed hair, tugging it loose. The fact she didn’t stop him added to his alarm. He massaged her scalp and brushed his lips across hers as she stood perfectly still. Back again, feeling the soft swell of her bottom lip, the infinitesimal caress of warm air in his mouth as a sigh escaped her parted lips.

  A thread of sensation unravelled in his belly as if in response to the most erotic lover’s touch. The power of it took him by surprise.

  And still she didn’t move.

  His lips firmed, slanting to cover hers as his tongue slid along those sultry lips. He reminded himself this wasn’t about sex. It was about...what? Saving her from fear? That wasn’t the whole truth.

  His interest was personal.

  Her mouth moved against his and a jolt of sensation speared him. Relief or pleasure?

  Joss didn’t analyse. He drew her closer, one arm wrapped around her, his palm pressed to her bare spine, capturing the pearl that had swayed so tantalisingly against her flawless skin as she sashayed in front of him to the lift.

  Her skin was cool but it warmed to his touch as her mouth moved carefully under his, mirroring each gentle caress.

  The sensation of her lips accommodating his, opening with a sigh at the lunge of his exploring tongue, was deliciously provocative. She tasted like desire and honeyed promise. Like the most luscious exotic fruit.