Vendetta by Susan Napier Read Free Book Online Page B

state-of-the-art instant camera—the photos only take a few minutes to develop.’
    He rolled off the bed and Vivian uttered a choking cry, closing her eyes a fraction of a second too late to deny herself a glimpse of taut male buttocks and hard, hair-roughened flanks.
    ‘Prude.’ His mockery singed her burning ears. ‘Here.’
    She peeped warily through her lashes and relaxed a trifle when she saw that he had pulled on his jeans. He was holding out the thin red sweater he had worn the previous day.
    He shook it impatiently at her immobility. ‘Come on.’ He threw it on the bed. ‘Put that on.’
    ‘I want my clothes,’ she said stubbornly, as she watched him apply his eye-patch, raking his thick, blond-streaked hair over the thin band of elastic that held it in place.
    ‘Then want must be your master.’ He put his hands on his hips, legs aggressively astride, a bare-chested pirate. ‘Or rather, I shall—and as your master I’m quite happy for you to remain without clothes indefinitely. In fact, yes, I rather like the idea of keeping you here naked…’ He invited her to consider the notion in a dark, seductive voice, watching her defiance waver. ‘Nude, you’d be so deliciously vulnerable, so much easier for me to control…’
    With a muttered curse, Vivian snatched the sweater and hastily pulled it over her blushing head, contorting herself to arrange it carefully over the top of the bedclothes before she let them go. Thankfully, the sweater came to mid-thigh, although she still felt horribly exposed as she crabbed to the edge of the bed and swung her feet tentatively to the floor.
    ‘That colour makes you look like a fire-cracker with a lit fuse.’
    The faint suggestion of approval confused her. She was acutely conscious of the scent of him clinging to the sweater, mingling with her own, and of the soft brush of the thin fabric against her bare breasts. She licked her lower lip, and then fingered it nervously. It felt fuller than usual.
    ‘What are you going to do—with the photographs, I mean?’
    ‘Why, there’s only one honourable thing to do with them.’
    Hope flared briefly. ‘What’s that?’
    He plucked her hand from her mouth and mockingly kissed the backs of her fingers.
    ‘Have them delivered to the church on Saturday, of course. Your poor fiancé must be given some reason for being left stranded at the altar!’
    His tongue flicked against her knuckles, stroking her with a brief sting of moist fire that distracted her from his bombshell. She jerked her hand away, but not before he had caught her wrist and with a savage twist removed Peter’s ring from her finger.
    ‘We’ll send this bauble along with the pretty pictures, just to make sure he gets the message that he can’t have you.’
    He tossed it in the air and caught it, flaunting his possession before thrusting it casually into his pocket.
    ‘You can’t do that…’ Vivian whispered, her first thought of the havoc he could wreak on an already tense situation; that was, if the wedding hadn’t already been cancelled. Had Janna and Peter taken her advice seriously and gone ahead with the arrangements, or were they still stubbornly wallowing in joint guilt and remorse?
    ‘Marvel will never marry you now, Vivian. Learn to accept it.’
    ‘No, Peter loves me!’ she declared desperately, jumping to her feet. On one level, at least, it was still true. It was because of his deep affection and respect for Vivian that he and Janna had put themselves through such torture over the past few weeks. Vivian hadn’t even been able to maintain a righteous fury over the betrayal, for it was obvious that the guilt-stricken pair had suffered agonies trying to ignore and then deny their love, in order not to hurt sweet, gentle, defenceless Vivian.
    She had bluntly told them to stop being so nobly self-sacrificing. The practical thing to do would be to forget the huge hassle of calling off the elaborate wedding-arrangements and returning all