Her explanation was delivered in such a cool, disinterested voice that Anton simply glared at her. He did not trust himself to speak—disgust and anger washing over him.
‘And you believed her?’ he finally demanded through gritted teeth.
She gave him a derisory glance. ‘The number of women you have bedded is legendary according to the press and I don’t hear you denying it.’
His reputation in the business world was first class, and he would defend it to the hilt. But he had never concerned himself with the vastly exaggerated claims the press made about the women in his life.
‘I don’t have to,’ he snapped. ‘As for Sally Harding, she is a married woman who came on to me. A woman scorned and all that.’
‘If you say so.’ She shrugged her shoulders and Anton saw the patent disbelief in her face as she turned and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
He stepped forward, his knee-jerk reaction to go after her, convince her of the truth. Then he stopped, masculine pride coming to the fore. He had never seen the need to justify himself to a woman in his life and he was not going to start now. It smacked too much of begging …
It was another new experience for Anton. No woman had ever rejected him and apologized. Then insulted him so thoroughly that he was still having difficulty believing Emily … his wife of mere days … had casually suggested he seek out another woman for sex.
The anger he had held in check for so long engulfed him. A string of Spanish expletives rolled off his tongue, and in a mood as black as thunder he stalked out of the cabin and up on deck. He did not trust himself to be around Emily right now without losing control, and that was unthinkable …
When he had cooled down and returned Emily was curled up in bed fast asleep.
She was so innocent and so gullible, the Harding woman had probably known Emily was listening and had fed her a pack of lies. She was no match for some of the female sharks that moved in the circle of the super-rich, or for the news hounds that preyed on a man in his position.
Given his family background, he had learnt long ago that it was pointless issuing denials—it only added fuel to the flames of gossip. Any woman he was seen with was automatically labelled his latest mistress. Yet he had never actually kept a mistress in the true sense of the word. The knowledge of his mother’s not particularly happy life spent waiting for a man to visit, a second-class lover, and for her son a virtually nonexistent father, was a salutary lesson.
Sure, as a single, healthy, sexually active male, of course there had been women in his life, women he had had relationships with lasting from a few months to over a year, though he had never lived with a woman. He preferred his own space. But they were women he respected and when the inevitable parting had come, they had for the most part remained friends. In fact he could count them on his fingers, and he had only once had a one-night stand and that had been with Eloise, and a disaster. Whether Emily would believe him was questionable. But whatever her father had done to his sister, he realized, revenge and pride aside, it was up to him to reassure her. She deserved that much.
Quietly he stripped and showered, then slid into bed beside her. He looped an arm around her waist and drew her into his body. She didn’t stir and for a long time he lay with Emily enfolded in his arms. She was his … and he could set her straight in the morning, was his last arrogant thought as he drifted off to sleep.
Emily stood at Anton’s side as they waved farewell to the last of their guests, the picture of marital bliss, she thought, when nothing could be further from the truth.
She flinched as Anton’s hands cupped her shoulders and he turned her to face him. ‘So, Emily, where would you like to go? I have to be in New York next Monday, but we have a week to do what you want. We can cruise anywhere in the Mediterranean or we can go to my Greek island villa, whichever you prefer.’
She glanced up at him; his dark eyes held hers and she knew what he was thinking. She had awakened this morning wrapped in his arms, and their early morning love-making was a potent sensual memory simmering between them. No, sex session, she amended with a now familiar dull ache in the region of her heart.
Afterwards he had explained why Sally Harding had lied—apparently she had come on to him a couple of years ago and Anton had knocked her back. Her husband was a friend of his. He also told her that naturally there had been a few other women in his life. But if he had slept with the number the press accredited him with he would never have made a fortune and would have been dead from exhaustion by now. Emily had said she believed him, because lying sated beneath him she couldn’t have done much else, but she noted he never said how many! He had given her a very masculine satisfied smile and a tender, but in Emily’s opinion vaguely condescending, kiss.
It was amazing to her how a brilliantly clever, highly successful man in the business world could so completely separate the physical from the emotional when it came to his sex life.
She could not do it … But she was trapped, and not just by worry over her family. She was trapped by her helpless desire for him. It was like a fever in her blood. She had thought after what she had discovered yesterday that she was cured of her helpless response to him. But this morning he had proved her wrong.
He had awakened her with a kiss, she had tried to resist, she had hit out at him, and tried to wriggle from beneath him, but he had simply pinned her down with his great body and had the audacity to laugh at her feeble attempt to dislodge him. ‘So you want to play rough, hmm?’ he had drawled, and kissed her again, his strong hands roaming over her body, finding erogenous zones she never knew she had, until the fire in her blood overwhelmed her, and she was reaching for him … kissing him …
She knew every day she spent with him she would just fall deeper under his sensual spell. She could not resist him, and he knew it. Before she had had no idea sex could become so addictive, but she did now. She craved his touch and it filled her with shame and seriously dented her self-esteem.
Max had left earlier with the guests and, alone now apart from the crew, paradoxically the yacht seemed smaller. Spending a week with no escape from the vessel filled her with alarm. At least on land there was the possibility of walking away from Anton for a while, escaping the overwhelming physical attraction he held for her. On the yacht there was nowhere to hide …
‘I suppose home is out of the question,’ she said with an edge of sarcasm.
‘Your home is with me. Decide or I will decide for you.’
His hands tightened on her shoulders and she saw the ruthless implacability in his dark eyes. ‘In that case your villa sounds nice.’
‘Good. I will inform the captain. Unfortunately I have some work that can’t wait. Amuse yourself for a while, and try the pool.’ He drew her to him and kissed her with a possessive passion that made her senses swim and, lifting his head, he added, ‘I’ll catch you later, and that is a promise.’
By the gleam of masculine anticipation in the dark eyes that met hers she knew that was one promise he would keep.
‘Okay,’ she murmured, and watched him stride away. Probably the only promise he ever kept where women were concerned, Emily thought sadly.
Leaning over the rail, she recalled the promise he had made in church. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. She had meant every word of her vows, but she realized they had meant nothing to him—they had simply been a means to an end. As for his excuse about his ex-lovers … if they were ex, she amended, she didn’t believe him for a moment.
Anton was a man with a very high sex-drive—even she in her innocence had gathered that in the last few days. She doubted he had even noticed the difference from their wedding night, when she had loved him freely and told him so frequently, to the silent lover she had forced herself to become. If it wasn’t her he was having sex with it would be some other woman.
The