The Bride Wore Scandal by Helen Dickson

Author:Helen Dickson [Dickson Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4603-4940-3
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2010-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

No matter how hard Christina fought Mark in desperation, it was no use. He flung her on to the bed and himself on top of her, pinning her down. The weight of his sweaty body was so heavy that she wondered if her ribs could stand the pressure without cracking. The fact that she was being held against her will by this loathsome man, and the looming possibility that she’d soon find herself a victim of his lust, was not only thoroughly frightening to her, but immensely revolting.

His lips sank to her throat, moving on to her bosom. She winced in pain as his sharp teeth bit the tender flesh, and a sick feeling of nausea rose within her when his questing hands lifted her skirts and fondled the bare flesh of her thighs. She continued to struggle with every measure of resolve she could muster to gain her freedom, until, no match for Mark’s brute strength, she felt her own strength leave her and she lay pliant beneath him. The utter helplessness of being a woman totally at the mercy of this man struck her with full force.

Then, invaded by a nameless terror, she lay perfectly still, her gaze suddenly riveted beyond Mark to the open doorway. She had to bite her lips to stop herself crying out in horror, for she saw who stood there. It was Simon Rockley. His tall, broad-shouldered figure blocked out the light and seemed to fill the whole room.

Sensing a change in her, seeing her stricken face, her eyes wild as she stared at the doorway behind him, Mark raised his head and looked towards the door. The smile of triumph on having Christina pliant beneath him froze on his face. With an angry snarl, he leapt to his feet. He would have rushed the intruder, but seeing him holding a sword pointing directly at him in one hand and the glint of a pistol in the other, then eyeing his own pistol out of reach on the table beside the bed, he backed off warily.

Christina shrank against the pillows. The blood left her face and rushed to her heart, which seemed to have stopped beating, leaving her suffering as she had never suffered before. Her eyes never left Lord Rockley’s eyes, which were wide and savagely furious as he looked at her in murderous silence, his lips curling with disgust as he absorbed the scene. Such a transformation had come over his features that she recoiled before the change. All that had ever been controlled, attractive and good-humoured had given way to hot fury and positive revulsion. The silver-grey of his eyes seemed sheathed in ice, and anger fixed his mouth into a straight line.

‘My compliments to you, Miss Atherton,’ he emphasised contemptuously, ‘on your duplicity and your dishonesty.’

With a wildly beating heart, she stammered, ‘S-Simon…’ She longed to run towards him and explain that the scene was not at all as it seemed.

His eyes threatening to explode on finding the

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