Penny Jordan - Blackmailing the Society Bride

‘No? Well, all I can say is that if this is the state you were in when Nick Blayne picked you up, it’s no wonder—’

‘It’s no wonder what?’ Lucy stopped him. ‘No wonder that I went to bed with him? Well, for your information, I went to bed with him because—’

‘Spare me your reminiscences about how much you loved him, Lucy,’ Marcus told her flatly. ‘Blayne saw you coming and took advantage of you—financially, emotionally, and for all I know sexually as well. He used you, Lucy, and you let him. Couldn’t you see what he was?’ he demanded in exasperation. ‘I should have thought even a sixteen-year-old virgin could have recognised that the man was a user.’

‘Sixteen-year-old virgins probably have better eyesight than twenty-plus unmarrieds,’ Lucy retaliated flippantly. How many times had she used flippancy as her defence against the powerful blasts of Marcus’s irritated broadsides? Surely more than enough to know how much they increased his ire. But what else could she do? Without her protective shield of nonchalance she might just break down into a sobbing wreck of pleading female misery, and he would like that even less!

‘I loved Nick,’ she lied wildly.

‘Did you? Or did you just want to go to bed with him?’

‘A girl doesn’t have to marry a man in order to have sex with him these days, Marcus. She doesn’t even have to love him. All she needs to do is simply do it.’

She could see the contempt flashing through his eyes as he looked at her.

‘Have you any idea just how provocative that statement is? Or how vulnerable you are?’

Lucy stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that right now any man could get you into his bed.’

‘That is so not true!’

‘No? Want me to prove it to you?’

‘You couldn’t,’ Lucy objected recklessly.

‘No?’

He reached for her so suddenly that she didn’t even have time to think about evading him, never mind actually do so. One minute she was standing in his hallway, the next she was in Marcus’s arms, held securely against him. His mouth came down on her own, hard and sure, hot with male pride and anger, and he took her half-parted lips in a victor’s kiss. And she didn’t care, she didn’t care one little bit. A feeling far more potent than the bubbles from a thousand bottles of champagne hit her emotions. He was kissing her. Marcus was kissing her.

Marcus was kissing her.

Marcus was kissing her!

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