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pause Tara walked stiffly to the bed and after undoing the string, which was in a bow, she lifted the lid of one of the boxes. ‘Take it out,’ ordered her captor authoritatively. ‘You’ll be delighted with it!’
    She did as she was told, extracting the diaphanous nightgown from its wrappings of tissue paper.
    She flung it on the bed and turned, tears in her eyes.
    ‘Let me go,’ she pleaded in a small voice. ‘I haven’t done you any harm, so please let me go.’ Even before she had stopped speaking he was shaking his head, and a spasm of ‘sheer hopelessness swept through her. She put her hands to her face, but before she had time to weep into them they were removed and she was taken almost gently into
Leon’s arms.
    ‘Don’t take it to heart, my child,’ he said. ‘It seems much, worse than it is, I assure you. At present you can think only of the wedding you missed and the man you would have married. But it will all soon fade when we are man and wife; you’ll know that it is I who is meant to be your husband and lover.’ He tilted her chin and tapped her cheek possessively. ‘Now, cheer up. Nothing irritates me more than a weeping woman. Undo another box— No, there are other things in that one. Take them out first.’
    Tara looked at him and knew it was wise to obey him. She withdrew bras and panties, another night gown and a lacy petticoat. He ordered her to open another box, and then the last one. She put everything on the bed—two dresses and two skirts, three blouses and several items of clothing for use oh a beach—or the deck of a pleasure boat. Everything bore labels of one of the most expensive fashion houses in
Paris. Raising her eyes to his face,
Tara said,
    ‘You’re a wealthy man, obviously.’
    ‘I have enough,’ he answered carelessly.
    ‘More than enough for your own good!’ she flashed at him, and again saw his eyes narrow threateningly.
    ‘Be careful,’ he warned in a very soft voice. ‘You’ve seen only the best side of me—’
    ‘The best!’ she exclaimed, and a laugh broke from her lips. ‘My God, if this is your best side then I hope I never see any other!’
    He advanced towards her and she stepped back until her calves touched the bed.
    ‘You ask for it, my girl! Shall I make you smart—or shall I bring you to heel in a very different way?’ Without giving her time to answer he brought her to him with a savage jerk and, thrusting her head back, he pressed his lips to hers’. She struggled even while aware that it was hopeless. His hands roved, caressing, but by no means gently this time. His mouth was cruel in its demands, his body movements erotically persuasive.
Tara fought both physically and mentally, but all her efforts met with failure within minutes. He was too masterful for her, too arrogantly confident and determined; he would force her surrender, he whispered, his lips caressing her ear. She tried to push him away, but her hands were imprisoned behind her back for a while before, with a quiet but authoritative inflection,
Leon told her to put her arms around his neck. She obeyed, and when he told her to kiss him she obeyed again. He laughed and she hated the sound. He held her from him and she detested the triumph that lit his eyes, mingling with the humour already there.
      Her temper surged and without considering the consequences she bit the finger that was caressing her mouth. He winced, his body caught in a spasm of pain. She saw his disbelieving stare and tried to escape. But it was too late and she felt that hell had been let loose within him as, catching hold of a handful of her hair, he dragged her head back with a ruthlessness that brought a cry of pain to her lips.
    ‘You ... wretch! I ought to pay you in your own medicine!’ Instead, his hands touched her throat, then encased it, closing slowly, increasing the pressure. Her eyes dilated and the fear he saw appeared to satisfy him. His hands were withdrawn from, her neck. ‘Just a