Mishap Marriage. Helen Dickson

his seductive, urgent mouth and knowledgeable hands. Overwhelmed by his raw, potent sexuality, she fed his hunger, her parted lips welcoming the thrusting invasion of his tongue, the sensations inside her mouth like tight buds that burst into blossom, filling her with splendour. She felt as if her whole being would melt, but her heart began to drum a faster rhythm as his fingers continued to stroke the side of her breast in a leisurely, erotic caress. From a low level of consciousness there grew a vague feeling of pleasure and, had the circumstances been different, she might have enjoyed the hard, wickedly masculine feel of his body against hers. But she reminded herself that he was doing this to abuse her, to demonstrate his power over her, to subdue her into a quivering wreck.

      Trailing his warm lips over her cheek, Zack felt himself weakening in response. Devil take it, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. This wasn’t working. He was losing the battle for control.

      Shona sensed his struggle. Through the haze in her mind, she heard him groan softly and, with an abruptness that left her swaying, he tore himself away. He stood there, staring down at her in silence as if seeing her for the first time, his look a mixture of pain and pleasure and anger. She was glad for the support of the balustrade against her back. Otherwise she might have fallen, her legs were so weak.

      ‘Why did you do that?’ she whispered. Her emotions seemed to be all over the place and a rogue tear trickled from the corner of her eye.

      Zack hardly knew why himself as he looked at her standing there, teary-eyed and vulnerable. And lovely. By God, she was so lovely. He wanted her with a fierceness that stole his breath. His mouth tightened as he stared at her softly heaving bosom and the tantalising mouth that was still full and hot from his angry kisses. Lifting his hand to wipe away the tear, he drew back when she wrapped her arms around her waist, as if trying to protect herself from him. His jaw hardened, trying not to feel as if he were abusing a stray dog.

      ‘Don’t be concerned, Miss McKenzie,’ he rasped, his voice low and harsh in the silence, ‘that my barbaric display will be repeated. I won’t touch you again. I have enough troubles on my plate just now without adding to them by taking a wife. I bid you goodnight.’

      Striding into the house in search of his first mate, intending to leave right away, he raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. The vexing tide of anger which had consumed him began to subside. Only the ragged pulse that had leapt to life in his throat attested to his disquiet as he looked ahead with feelings of regret. Miss McKenzie’s proposition pounded inside his head, combining with the torment of his own harsh rejection, and he wondered how she had managed to make him feel such a cad for refusing her.

      Dear Lord, she was a magnificent creature, but heaven help the poor devil who got landed with her as a wife. He liked his women quick-tempered, spirited and with fire in their veins. It made for a satisfying and exciting relationship, but Shona McKenzie with her bullheaded stubbornness would not only need a husband as strong-willed as herself, but with the patience of a saint.

      * * *

      Shona stood looking out over the garden, shaken by what had just happened and the trend of her own thoughts. Nothing in all her twenty years could have prepared her for Zack Fitzgerald. His kiss had sent an explosive thrill crashing through her body. Her heart had raced with guilty pleasure. And this, heaven help her, was exactly what she had wanted from the man she chose to marry. Often she had dreamed of such a kiss, but this, her first, made those insubstantial dreams seem the shadows they were, the reality of flesh on flesh causing a delirium of delight. His lips had been warm and moist, caressing her own, pressing, probing, firm, growing more and more insistent, demanding the response she instinctively gave.

      Her large green eyes swam with unaccountable tears, which she instantly dabbed away as earlier she had dabbed red wine from her lips—perhaps she had drunk too much wine. To say that she was aghast by her behaviour was an understatement. When she had fired her maiden salvo over the bow of convention and picked up her battle flag for liberty, she had not imagined Captain Fitzgerald’s fierce reaction to her proposal. It seemed impossible to her now not only had she proposed marriage to him, but had practically demanded that he do so.

      She was still musing on what had occurred when she realised the shadows surrounding her were empty. Without a word or a stir of air, he was gone. Only the lingering smell of tobacco smoke was left to remind her that he had been here.

      She wasn’t sure whether her anger and fierce disappointment was due more to his rejection of her proposal or because she was still left with the dilemma of her future. But whatever it was, it would be an evening etched in memory and emblazoned in her heart for all time.

      One thing she was certain of—Captain Zachariah Fitzgerald was the last man in the world she would ever marry.

      * * *

      Carmelita had seen Shona go out on to the terrace. When she did not return, curious as to what was keeping her, she went to find her. Another survey of the gentlemen taking after-dinner drinks with Antony showed her that the captain was also absent.

      She went in the direction of the terrace, peering into the moonlit garden. Standing in the shadows, she saw Captain Fitzgerald walk along the terrace and into the house. His face was expressionless, his jaw set hard. Keeping out of sight, she saw him stride into the house and heard him ask one of the servants as to the whereabouts of Mr Singleton. A few minutes later the two of them left.

      Leaving the terrace, she came face-to-face with Shona. Her sister-in-law shot Carmelita a guilty look and went to join the other ladies without a word. The look in her eyes—what was it? Anger? Hurt? Disappointment? Carmelita was unable to tell, but whatever it was it told its own story.

      She closed her eyes to hide the feral glitter in their depths, her thoughts upon how to bring the two of them together and ultimately get Shona off the island for good.