Penny Jordan - Savage Atonement

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Penny Jordan needs no introduction as arguably the most recognisable name writing for Mills & Boon. We have celebrated her wonderful writing with a special collection, many of which for the first time in eBook format and all available right now.She wanted to punish him–not love him!When she was fifteen Laurel had been the victim of an attempted rape, and Oliver Savage was the reporter who had twisted her story, tearing her reputation to shreds and leaving her fearful of every man who came too near.Now, six years later, he was anxious to right his wrong. «I want to help you, Laurel», he'd offered. But Laurel didn't want his help–she wanted retribution. She found it was not that simple.He was a stimulating man, and his every caress weakened her desire for revenge….

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She screamed as his fingers kneaded her breast, his mouth hotly sour on her skin, and kept on screaming even when he shook her like a rag doll, almost throwing her to the floor in his rage.

‘Don’t make me angry, Laurel,’ he warned her as he flung himself down on top of her. ‘You’ve teased and tormented me enough, and I’m going to have you!’

Her body felt heavy and lethargic, crushed by the oppressive weight of his, but some instinct for survival lent her the strength to scream once more, the sound stilled by the sudden pressure of his mouth, making her gag sickly. He was going to rape her and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Tears ran from her eyes, terror making it impossible for her to move, and then outside the bathroom door she heard her mother’s voice calling to her, saw her turning the door handle; saw the look on her face as she looked down on Laurel’s sprawled naked body pinned to the floor by the heavy weight of Bill’s.

Like a surly bear Bill clambered to his feet, but Laurel couldn’t move. She felt frozen with fear and self-shame. She had seen the look in her mother’s eyes as she stood in the doorway; a look that said quite plainly that whatever had happened Laurel was to blame.

‘She drove me to it, Elaine,’ she heard Bill mutter defensively, ‘Always parading about in front of me with next to nothing on—oh, she’s always careful to make sure she doesn’t do it when you’re around, but she’s always been jealous—always wanted me herself. You know what teenage girls are like… sex-mad, the lot of them. I couldn’t help myself… she was begging for it.…’

Laurel wanted to deny his accusations, to plead with her mother for understanding, but somehow the words would not come. She knew she had not encouraged Bill—she loathed him, neither had she flaunted herself in front of him, but her pride would not allow her to beg her mother to believe her.

As Bill followed her mother out of the bathroom, he turned once, giving Laurel a look that warned her that it wasn’t over, not by a long, long way.

Even with the lock on her bedroom door she refused to sleep that night, starting at every sound. She dressed for school in the privacy of her room, leaving early so that she could use the showers there instead of washing at home. Her body was bruised where Bill had touched her, and the sight of the finger marks against her breast made her retch dryly in shivering horror.

She found it hard to concentrate on her lessons. The last two of the day were gym. Half way though them the headmistress arrived, accompanied by a man—a school inspector, Laurel had later learned, but at the time all she had known was that he was a man and that for some reason he wanted to see her vaulting over the ‘horse’. The mere fact that someone was watching her was enough to destroy her shaky confidence. She mistimed her leap and half fell over the horse, and might have injured herself quite badly if he hadn’t leaped forward to catch her. But all she was aware of as his hands grasped her was that this was how Bill had held her last night, forcing her to the floor, touching her intimately, and as the world swirled and darkened around her, she was dimly aware of herself screaming, no, no, don’t touch me!

When she came round she was in the headmistress’s office. Miss Kellaway was there, but there was no sign of the man. Matron was also there and another young woman whom the headmistress introduced as Rachel from the Social Services Department, the significance of which didn’t dawn on her until much later.

‘Now, Laurel,’ the headmistress began kindly, ‘don’t be frightened. We’re here to help you, you know, my dear.…’ She paused, coughed and looked a little embarrassed.

‘Laurel, Miss Kellaway tells me that some time ago you came to school with a bad bruise on your arm. And now today, when you fainted… your body is very badly bruised, my dear, and.…’

The social worker interrupted gently, ‘What Miss Laker is trying to say, Laurel, is that we believe you may have been sexually abused.… Yes, I know you don’t want to talk about it, don’t want to admit it even to yourself, but you aren’t the first girl it’s happened to, Laurel, and you won’t be the last. We only want to help you, and there’s nothing to be frightened of. You do know, don’t you, that it’s illegal for someone to have sexual relations with a girl under sixteen? And it’s silly to get involved with such a rough boy-friend. Have you got a boy-friend, Laurel?’

She managed to shake her head, her whole body burning with the shame of what was happening to her. How could they understand? How could they know how she felt; how guilty and tainted; how much she hated her body?

‘Matron will have to examine you, Laurel,’ Rachel, the social worker, was saying in a soothing voice. ‘Nothing to be afraid of. If you’ll just go with her now.…’

Like a limp rag doll, Laurel went with her. The examination was painful and to Laurel humiliating, although she knew that Matron was deliberately trying not to hurt her, but afterwards she was sick, and she was still shivering when she was taken back to the headmistress’s study.

‘Matron tells us that you’re still a virgin, Laurel,’ Rachel announced, ‘But I don’t believe that you were a willing participant in whatever happened to you. We want to help you, dear. Why don’t you tell us about it?’

She wanted to, but Bill had warned her that if she told anyone they wouldn’t believe her.

As though she knew what she was thinking Rachel said softly, ‘You have a stepfather, Laurel—was it him?’

She started to cry then and Rachel had comforted her, gently drawing the whole story out of her.

‘Now listen to me, Laurel,’ she said when she had finished. ‘You are in no way to blame, in no way at all. You mustn’t think that.’ Over Laurel’s head her eyes met Miss Kellaway’s. ‘Men like him ought to be shot,’ she said bitterly. ‘When I think of the damage he might have done.…!

‘Now, Laurel,’ she said quietly, ‘for your own sake it might be better if you lived away from home for a while. Not for punishment,’ she added quickly, ‘but to protect you.’

‘My mother.…’

‘Don’t worry, we’ll explain everything to her.’

Laurel hadn’t argued, thankfully believing that her ordeal was over, but it was only just beginning.

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