A Fever In The Blood Read online

  Cass held up her head, her fragile hopes splintering beneath the onslaught of his savage words. 'You—you can't make me live with you,' she got out unsteadily. 'I'm not a child—'

  'No. No, you're not a child,' conceded Roger, narrow­ing the space between them to stare at her with vengeful eyes. 'But you know what your father will say when he finds out what you're thinking. He wants this marriage to work. He's invested a lot of time and trouble in giving me the kind of corporate education necessary to follow in his footsteps, and how do you think he's going to feel if you tell him you want a divorce?'

  'He'll understand if I tell him you're having an af­fair—'

  'He didn't before.' Roger sneered. 'And what if I tell him about you? About how you feel about sex? How you've refused to sleep with me? The reasons why we haven't given him the grandson he's so desperate to have?'

  'You wouldn't!'

  'Wouldn't I?' Roger stepped nearer, and although she tried to get out of his way his hands fastened loosely about her throat. 'I would, believe me. I'd do whatever's necessary to prove it's not my fault this marriage isn't working. What would I have to lose? Self-respect doesn't mean much when you're fighting for your life!'

  'Don't—don't be melodramatic!' Cass lifted her hands as she spoke to try and free herself from his grasp, but his grip was merciless. 'You—wouldn't be—fighting for your life. Only you could see it that way.'

  'Well, whatever way I see it, that's the way it is,' retorted Roger imperviously, his expression mirroring his enjoyment at having her helpless in his hands. His fingers brushed the soft underside of her jaw. 'So why don't you go and pack your case, like a good girl, hmm?'

  'No!'

  Roger's hands tightened, almost threateningly. But he wouldn't kill her, she thought painfully. That would achieve the exact opposite of what he had come here for.

  'Don't say that,' he told her after a hostile moment. And then, switching tactics again, his hands gentled to a lover's caress. 'Oh, Cass, Cass!' he breathed, lowering his mouth to brush the corner of her mouth with his lips. 'If you would only stop fighting me, we could have such a good time together. I'm not a possessive man. I don't need total fidelity. I wouldn't object if you had a little— fun, now and then. Just as I do—'

  'Let go of me!'

  With a superhuman effort Cass tore herself out of his arms, rubbing her bruised neck with frantic fingers, as if by this means she could erase his touch from her skin. She felt humiliated, abused; but most of all she was afraid of the power he had over her. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that what he had said about her father was true. So far as Guido was concerned, Roger was the son he had wanted Ben to be. She knew Ben had let him down. When it had come to the crunch, Ben had not been prepared to sacrifice his own ambitions for the company, and Cass knew how much that had hurt her father. So how could she let Roger tell Guido the truth about their marriage? That she had only married him on an impulse, that the physical side of their mar­riage was a farce, and that she had driven Roger to turn to other women? That they would never have the grand­son her father wanted so long as they continued to oc­cupy separate rooms?

  Roger was rapidly losing what little patience he had. She could see it in his face, and it terrified her. And he held all the cards. He knew it and she knew it, just as she had known that this sojourn in Italy could only be a temporary escape. She was a coward, perhaps, but the idea of Roger telling her father the truth about their mar­riage had always deterred her. Guido wouldn't under­stand, never in a million years. It would ruin their as­sociation, and she couldn't bear the thought of losing the special relationship they shared. He was still old-fashioned enough to regard a woman's role in marriage as sacrosanct. Despite his divorce from Sophia, he still considered her his responsibility, and the alimony he paid was far in excess of any settlement given to her in a court of law. Even Diana was obliged to be obedient, for all her much-vaunted views on female emancipation, and Cass guessed there would have been brothers and sisters if her mother had not developed an infection after her birth which made any future pregnancies inadvisable. To hear that his daughter, the only child of his flesh, as he was wont to say in moments of extreme emotion, was deceiving him, would hurt him deeply, and although she wanted her freedom, some costs were just too high to pay.

  'Well?' Roger demanded now. 'What are you waiting for? Go and collect your things. We're leaving.'

  'No!'

  In spite of everything, Cass hung back from that ul­timate submission. Dear heaven, she thought, if she was to be forced to go home, at least she would have some time to herself first.

  'What do you mean? No?'

  Roger came towards her again, and she put out her hands to forestall him. 'I mean—no. I'm not coming with you. Not yet, at any rate,' she got out unsteadily. 'Ben—Ben's mother says I can stay with her for a while, and—and I'm going to.'

  'Like hell you are!' Roger was incensed. 'You're coming back with me today, even if I have to drag you into the plane!'

  'N-o!'

  Cass's cry was protracted as he reached for her, his hand brushing her jaw painfully as she tried to turn away and he snatched at her shoulder. She felt his nails score her cheek and then his fingers managed to get purchase on a handful of the sloppy T-shirt, arresting her progress and jerking her back against him.

  'Yes,' he contradicted her grimly, getting an arm about her waist. As his knuckles touched her breast, he uttered a hoarse oath. 'Bitch,' he muttered, taking hold of her breasts with callous fingers, and squeezing them cruelly. 'I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't for­get, and you'll be too pregnant to make a fool of me again—'

  'Let her go!'

  The controlled yet implacable command caused Cass to let out a little shriek of relief. Although Roger made no immediate move to obey the words, his grip on her breasts was released, and Cass breathed a little more freely as the pain he had created subsided.

  Swinging round, still holding her like a shield in front of him, Roger confronted the man who was standing in the open doorway with unconcealed dislike. 'Well, well,' he said, apparently undaunted. 'The prodigal returns. I wondered how long it would be before you put in an appearance. Well, may I remind you, Cass is my wife, and if you have any sense you'll stay out of my way.'

  'I said, let her go,' repeated Ben levelly, but evidently Roger was unaware of the dangerous gleam in his eyes, Cass decided, torn between a desire to let Ben make her decisions for her, and a fear of what might happen if he did.

  '— off!' retorted Roger, using a word that Cass had never before heard used in her presence. Abandoning his stance by the door, Ben purposefully crossed the room.

  She thought then that Roger had realised his mistake and tried to rectify it, but it was too late. Although her husband pushed her violently towards the other man— maybe in a belated attempt to satisfy his demands, maybe to create a diversion, she wasn't sure—Ben sim­ply put her gently aside before grasping Roger's shirt front and hauling him up in front of him. Then, thrusting his face close to the younger man's, he stared at him contemptuously for a moment, before saying in a low, almost pleasant, tone, 'If you ever lay a hand on her again, I'll kill you.'

  'Get your hands off me!'

  With hands that were not quite steady, Roger suc­ceeded in freeing himself from Ben's grasp, but only, Cass suspected, because Ben allowed him to do so. There was no comparison between the two men: Roger might be fit and stocky, but he didn't have the height or the tensile strength of his adversary. While he had been at college, Ben had belonged to a martial arts group, and, although she doubted he still practised regularly, the dis­cipline was still there in every line of his lean, muscular frame.

  'I suggest you leave,' Ben invited now, giving Cass a brief appraisal, as if to reassure himself that she really was all right. His eyes narrowed when he saw the weal that Roger's nails had left along the side of her face, but he didn't mention it. He merely waited for her husband to obey his command.

  Roger w
as sullen. 'Cass is coming with me.'

  'No, she's not.'

  Ben's tone was implacable, and Roger turned to his wife, his expression eloquent with meaning. 'Aren't you?'

  Cass caught her breath. 'I—I—'

  'I've told you. She's staying here,' inserted Ben flatly, as Cass struggled with her conscience. 'You can tell her father she's spending the next few weeks at Calvado. If he wants to get in touch with her, he can contact her there.'

  Roger flexed his shoulders and checked his tie, a de­fiant gesture, Cass suspected, to prove to Ben he was not intimidated by his presence. Then, catching her eyes upon him, he held her gaze. 'And that's your decision, is it?' he enquired. 'You're sure you don't want to change your mind?'

  It was a threat, pure and simple, and for a moment Cass was half persuaded to give in. But then, what it would mean to go back with him, to give up these few weeks of freedom, swept over her once again, and in spite of her fears she knew she couldn't do it. Not yet, at any rate.

  'No,' she said now. 'No, I don't want to change my mind. Like I said earlier, I need—some time. We both do. And—and if you can't live with that—'

  She broke off abruptly, realising she had said enough. It was up to Roger now. If he went to her father it would be all over, either way. And just at that moment she didn't much care what he did.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE DOOR slammed behind him, and it wasn't until its echoes died away that Cass realised she had been hold­ing her breath. Then she took a shuddering gulp of air, and turned to look at Ben.

  He hadn't moved. He was still standing on the spot where he had practically lifted Roger off his feet. He wasn't looking at her. His gaze seemed to be fixed on the distant spire of a church, visible through the open window, and if she hadn't known better she might have thought he was completely immune from the scene that had been enacted only minutes before.

  Shivering a little, as much from reaction as from any feeling of chill, Cass pushed nervous hands through her hair. Then, gathering her composure, she walked across the room.

  'I—I'm sorry you had to hear that,' she murmured, stopping in front of him and forcing him to look at her and not at the view. 'Urn—I had no idea he would come here. He must have got the address from Daddy.'

  Ben's eyes were still distant as he met her anxious gaze. 'And how long has he been here?' he enquired flatly.

  'How long?' Cass blinked. 'Er—not long. Fifteen minutes, maybe.'

  Ben's face was inscrutable. 'Fifteen minutes,' he ech­oed. 'Is that all?'

  'Yes.' Cass licked her lips. 'Don't you believe me? I thought it was Mrs Cipriani. That's why I opened the door. If I'd known it was Roger—'

  'You wouldn't have?'

  'That's right.' Cass swallowed. And then, almost de­fensively, 'He—he's not usually like that, you know. I— I made him angry.'

  Ben's nostrils thinned. 'But you didn't want to go with him. Did you?'

  'No.' Cass shook her head. 'No, of course not.'

  'Are you sure?'

  'Yes.' She moved her shoulders a little jerkily. 'You must know that.'

  'Must I?'

  'Yes.' Cass didn't understand his attitude. Moments before, he had seemed so supportive. But, now that Roger had gone, she wondered if he was having second thoughts. 'You—you haven't changed your mind, have you? You don't think I should have—gone with him?'

  Ben's mouth compressed. 'With that brute?' he de­manded harshly, and Cass's knees went weak with relief. 'If I'd had my way, you would never have married him.'

  But you don't know why I did, thought Cass bitterly, a little of her exhilaration fading at the memory. Still, at least Ben wasn't blaming her for what had happened. And thank goodness he had arrived back as he had. She had never seen Roger in such a temper, and without Ben's intervention she didn't know what he might have done.

  'Then—then that's all right, isn't it?' she managed, a little tremulously, finding the courage to brush his bare arm with her fingers. He was wearing brown cord trou­sers and a beige cotton shirt, and he had rolled back the sleeves over his forearms. His skin was warm and brown, and rather liberally spread with fine dark hair, and her nails stirred the filaments, causing a disturbing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  Consequently, she jumped rather badly when his other hand came to cover hers, compelling her palm against the heated flesh above his wrist. Her eyes lifted to his face then in some amazement, and she flinched when he asked her savagely, 'Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?'

  'Pregnant?' Cass gazed at him aghast. 'Wherever did you get that idea?'

  'Where did I get it?' Ben uttered a sound of aggra­vation. 'Cass, Roger was taunting you about it when I came in!'

  'Roger was?' Cass shook her head uncomprehendingly, and then suddenly her face cleared. 'Oh—Roger!' she exclaimed, as the memory came back to her. 'I know what you mean now. But that's not what he was saying.'

  'No?' Ben didn't sound convinced.

  'No.' Cass looked down at his hand imprisoning hers, and as if sensing her awareness Ben abruptly released her. 'No, it wasn't like that,' she added, wishing she had not drawn his attention to his grasp. 'I—well, I should say it was virtually impossible, as things stand.' She flushed. 'You see—it's been some time since Roger and I shared a bedroom, let alone a bed.'

  'Are you serious?' Now it was Ben's turn to stare at her.

  'Yes.' Cass lifted her head. 'I suppose you think that that's some justification for Roger's behaviour, hmm?'

  'I didn't say that.'

  'You didn't have to.' Cass took a deep breath. 'It's true. I'm not much good as a wife.' Her lips twisted. 'I'm not much good at anything.'

  Ben frowned, evidently absorbing what she was say­ing. Then, 'Does—your father know this?'

  Cass's head swung round. 'No,' she replied shortly. A trace of resignation entered her voice. 'Are you going to tell him?'

  'Me?' Ben shook his head a little grimly. 'Why should I want to do that?'

  'I don't know.' Cass didn't know anything any more. 'I just thought—oh,' she spread a helpless hand, 'you might feel less sympathetic'

  Ben stared at her for a few moments longer and then turned away, raking back his hair with a restless hand. He was obviously disturbed by what she had told him and, although he had not said he was going to speak to their father, he had avoided a direct answer.

  'I'll pack my things,' said Cass abruptly, making the decision for him, and he swung about to block her exit.

  'No.'

  'Yes.' She squared her slim shoulders. 'It's obvious how you feel. You thought I was the poor betrayed wife, and now you find out that's not exactly how it is, you're confused. Well, don't worry. I can handle this on my own—'

  'Don't be stupid!' With an oath in his own language, Ben grasped the hands she was using to express herself, and imprisoned them between his own. 'There's no way I'm going to let you walk out of here. Pregnant or oth­erwise, you're staying with me—or at least, with my mother. Maybe in a few weeks you'll be able to see things more clearly. When you've had some time to rest and recuperate.' His fingers brushed the delicate bones of her wrist, which were almost visible through their thin veil of flesh. 'And put on some weight,' he added, a faintly humorous glint appearing in his dark eyes. 'I think that's one thing I can rely on Sophia to do.'

  'Oh, Ben!' Cass caught her breath. 'I do love you.'

  'And I love you,' he assured her crisply, but he re­leased her hands almost immediately, and she knew she had once again overstepped the bounds of their relation­ship. She would have to be careful not to do that too often, she reflected tensely, blinking back her tears. After all, it was one thing to ask for his help, and quite another to expect something more…

  Despite the tensions that had greeted Ben's return, the rest of the day passed fairly smoothly. Cass prepared some lunch, which neither of them did full justice to, and in the afternoon she washed some clothes, checking over the things she had brought with her and which she intende
d to take to Calvado. She had packed mostly ca­sual garments, in hopeful anticipation of staying at the villa, and anything else she needed she could buy in Porto Camagio, or Calvado itself.

  Ben spent most of the afternoon at his desk, catching up on his mail, she thought, and doing a little work. She didn't particularly share his interest in medieval Italian history, but she did find the lives of the Medicis and the Borgias fascinating; and after she had put her own un­derwear, and several shirts of Ben's she had found stuffed in the clothes basket, into the dryer, she made a cup of coffee and brought it to him.

  'Was she really as beautiful as they say?' she asked, leaning on the desk beside him, her hip against his arm, flicking through the pages of a book about Lucretia Borgia. She had found the biography while she was dust­ing the day before, and left it on top of the pile of books on the desk. 'Her brother evidently thought so. Isn't he supposed to have been in love with her himself?'

  'I doubt if love ever entered into Cesare Borgia's scheme of things,' retorted Ben shortly, removing the book from her hands and tossing it across to the other side of the desk. He shifted a little pointedly, so that she was obliged to move away from him. 'Thanks for the coffee. When you're working, a drink is very welcome.'

  But not company, finished Cass silently, acknowledg­ing the rebuke. She forced a tight smile and left the room, but once she had gained the sanctuary of the bed­room her hard-won control deserted her. Sinking down on to the bed, she gave in to the tears that had been threatening ever since Roger had forced his way into the apartment, and it was several minutes before she re­gained her composure. But there was relief in the tears; relief, and a certain amount of resignation. No matter how sympathetic Ben might feel towards her, there were limits to his generosity. He saw her as his younger sister, nothing more, and the iniquitous attraction she felt to­wards him had to be squashed once and for all.