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her?
    He walked to the side of the bed and removed hisrobe, exposing a white nightshirt that came down to his knees.
    â€œWell, girl, are you ready?” Again, his voice had that leering tone.
    She managed to make an assenting noise, but it was a lie. She would never be ready.
    â€œLie down, then. Did you expect to do it sitting up?” He laughed.
    She could barely move, but managed to shift her position so that she was lying flat on the mattress. He got into the bed beside her and leaned up on one elbow. Victoria’s muscles tightened even more. He had brown eyes, she noticed. His heavy jaw was darkened by a shadow of beard, and she could smell a sweet, cloying scent about him. Lying this close to him, she was overwhelmed by the mixture of cologne and sweat, so much so that she had to struggle to prevent herself from gagging. Desperately she tried to remind herself that he seemed clean enough, he was just a rather heavy man and naturally sweated.
    He bent and pressed his mouth to hers. She could feel the clammy sweat on his upper lip. Revolted, she tried to press her head deeper into the pillow to escape him.
    Oddly, the kiss seemed to excite him. He began breathing faster, and his beefy hands jerked at her nightgown. Victoria clenched her fists and tried to prepare for the exposure. At least they were still under the sheet.
    But when the nightgown was about her waist he kicked the thin sheet away and rose up on his knees. Victoria closed her eyes, so humiliated she could barely think. He was looking at her
there,
something she couldn’t remember anyone ever doing before. It was shocking enough that he should see her bare legs, but for him actually to look at her triangle of hair was horrible.
    The sound of his heavy breathing was the only noisein the room. He put his hand on her bare leg and she jumped. “Feels good, does it?” he panted. “Just wait, there’s more.”
    She couldn’t bear more. It couldn’t get worse than this. He pulled her legs apart, and nausea churned her stomach. Dear God, he was actually looking between her legs. In all her nightmares she had never imagined this.
    He shifted so that he was kneeling between her spread legs. She felt him touching her there, rubbing his fingers over her, and suddenly he pushed one thick finger into her. Her eyes flew open and she went rigid as pain tore through her body. She was dry, and his rough finger felt like sandpaper as it ripped apart the delicate tissues of her hymen. The pain and the idea of what he was doing were finally too much, and she dug her heels into the bed in taut rejection of that horrible penetration, her muscles locked.
    With his other hand he had pulled up his nightshirt and was rubbing and pulling at an ugly, veined thing. Victoria looked at him in horror as she suddenly realized what he was going to do. She hadn’t thought she could get any suffer, but she could feel her muscles pulling even tighter, her body going as rigid as a board. He was cursing for some reason as the ugly little sausage rolled limply in his hand.
    Abruptly he let himself down and pushed it against her, and Victoria gagged.
    McLain barely noticed her stiffness. It was what he expected; she was a
lady,
not a whore like Angelina. It was his own unresponsive flesh that held his attention, infuriating him. Dammit, he’d never had this trouble before! Despite his wound, he’d always been able to hump any woman he could get beneath him. But now his organ remained flaccid, no matter how vigorously he pulled at it. Frantically he pushed it against her, hoping that the feel of her would get him hard. He grew more panicked and furious with every passing second as nothing happened.
    And then he realized she was lying frozen beneath him, just like that Sarratt bitch Elena had done. The demon that had tormented him for twenty years, that lurked inside him always waiting for a chance to leap out, smiled evilly. Once again out of the