Capital Sins (27 page)

'Just tell
her I'm sorry, will you?'

He looked
at her, and his eyes were gentle. 'Your friendship with her means a lot to you,
doesn't it?'

'I think to
both of us,' Sheila said briefly. 'She doesn't really have anyone else.'

Samuel
raised his eyebrows cynically.

'You know
what I mean,' she said, a little impatiently.

He sighed.
'I suppose so.'

Sheila
toyed with her glass. 'Sometimes I wish I could turn the clock back. I feel as
guilty as you when I think of how I pressured Connie into keeping her babies.
If she hadn't trusted me so much, none of this might have happened.'

'I'd say I
was
more guilty
than you,' he said heavily.

She
squeezed his arm. 'Well, let's not harp on what's done. Go on home and relax in
a hot tub unless,' she smiled into his eyes, 'unless you want some company for
the rest of the evening
... '

'You're the
most generous woman I've ever met, Sheila, but I'd better go. Thanks, though.'
He bent to kiss her forehead.

She watched
him swing through the revolving doors of the hotel,
then
summoned the bartender.

It was easy
to see that his wife had had company for dinner. Samuel was more than
affronted; he was furious that she should have brought one of them back to his
own home. He'd have something to say to her in the morning about such a breach
of faith. This kind of thing couldn't go on; they just had to come to some sort
of understanding about the whole position.

Tight-lipped,
he got ready for bed, yet his anger and hurt mounted rather than diminished. By
God, he'd have it out with her now! Perhaps if they talked sensibly, they could
come to a settlement. He'd be reasonable, not lose his temper with her. He'd
never been angered enough to shout at her before, and he wouldn't now. They'd
talk calmly and rationally, like civilised adults, and maybe they'd get
everything sorted out once and for all.

He halted
by her door, hand raised in mid-air. His expression changed as he heard
giggling and scuffling from inside Connie's room. His face went livid and it
was all he could do to stop himself from hammering on the door. His knuckles
were white as he tapped. The scuffling stopped immediately. He heard
whispering.

'Who is
it?' Her voice seemed calm enough.

'Samuel. I
want to talk to you.'

'It's late.
Can't it wait until morning?' He heard a man's voice, low and urgent.

He clenched
his jaw. 'No.'

There was
an
exaggerted
yawn. 'I'm sorry, but I'm tired. I've
just taken a sleeping pill, so you'll have to wait.'

Samuel
turned on his heel and went into his own room, shutting the door quietly behind
him.

In Connie's
room, Fletcher turned to her. 'I must go.'

Connie
wound her arms around his neck. 'Stay with me.'

'He must
know you're not alone.' He tugged her soft arms from around his neck. 'We'll
meet again.'

'When?'
She pouted.

He looked
agitated. 'I don't know ... maybe next week.'

'Hah,
you're scared of him. Don't be, there's no need. He's just a mouse.'

'I'm scared
of what he can do.'

'Don't
leave me,' she pleaded, trying to draw him near again, but he wouldn't have it.
'I'm tired of being alone, tired of having no one.'

'You've got
him.' He dragged on his trousers.

'No one,'
she repeated. 'Don't go ... Howard!'

He stopped
by the door and looked back at her as she lay naked and very desirable on the
bed. 'I've got more to lose than you, Connie.'

'How
utterly unselfish of you!' she shouted.

Worriedly,
he shushed her. 'I don't want to be cited in divorce proceedings.'

'You told
me you didn't care about your miserable little wife,' she said accusingly, her
violet eyes flashing angrily.

'I do care
about my home.' He refused to meet her eyes, and she watched as he inched open
the door and peered outside. He looked back at her.

'I promise
I'll phone you.'

'Don't
bother,' she yelled and, springing up, locked the door behind him while he made
his escape.

She lay on
her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She felt drained and empty – soulless.
Once, she remembered, she'd been so full of hope and longing. Was it so long
since she'd believed that romance and love existed? Was there really no one who
wanted her? Didn't anyone need her? Tears of self pity welled in her eyes then
her attention was drawn to the door when she heard the sound of the knob being
turned. A second later, she heard Samuel order her to open up. Connie shivered,
she didn't want to face him ... not now, not yet,
she
felt too vulnerable.

'Unlock it,
Constance!
This minute!'
He sounded like an actor from
a Victorian melodrama, but she wasn't in the mood to find it comical. She
clutched the bedclothes around herself.

'Go away,
Samuel. Please.' Even to her
her
voice sounded weak.

'I swear
I'll break the damn thing down!'

She heard
the fury in his voice. He'd always been so restrained and civil. This new
creature frightened her. Connie tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She
couldn't answer. Suddenly it was quiet. The silence was worse than his bellows.
And then the frame of the door splintered and a panel was shattered as Samuel,
methodically measuring the strain, kicked with the full force of his weight.

Her hands
dropped to her sides. Like a hypnotised rabbit she watched him advance.

'I won't
have any door in this place locked to me again!' He stared at her in disgust
until Connie, unable to bear the menace in his face any longer, bounded to her
feet, glaring back at him. A tense moment passed and the air was electric.

'Just how
do you expect me to behave?' she spat.

'I didn't
expect my wife to fornicate with another man while I'm in the next room,' he
thundered, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

'You're
jealous.'

'Damned
right I am!'

She bit her
lip. 'You weren't expected home,' she said lamely. She knew she sounded like a
silly child.

'You're a
Jessop, not a bloody trollop!'

'You don't
know how ridiculous you sound when you say that,' she said bravely. 'I am what
you made me.'

'Just how
much do you think a man can take?'

'Do you
think I care any more about your damned respectability?'

They faced
each other like boxers about to fight.

'I care
and, as my wife, so should you!' He remembered that he'd vowed he wouldn't let
her get to him, but her next words made him lose control.

'Since when
have I been a wife, eh? All I am is a possession, a
thing
to adorn your
dinner table and gatherings.
A trophy which you don't
deserve.
Just wait, I'll tell them all the truth, and then won't they
laugh!' She knew then she'd gone too far, but was unable to curb her tongue.
'Then try to show your face in public – you won't have any self-respect left!'

He hit her
then and she screamed as his palm viciously stung the side of her face. He'd
never hit a woman before, and that might have been the last of it had Connie,
breasts heaving, not slapped him back. Samuel, in a sudden uncontrollable rage,
snatched at her hair, yanked, and threw her backwards to the ground. As she
fell, she kicked out with her legs and her foot caught him in the knee
painfully.

'Bitch!' he
yelled, falling beside her, and began to hit,
punches landing
on her breasts, the side of her head, her shoulder. The punches made her reel,
feel dizzy, want to be sick, but instinct made her fight back like a wild cat,
hitting and lashing out indiscriminately, the pent-up frustration of the years
coming to the fore. She didn't care, nor did he, where the blows landed, as
long as they hurt.

Her long
nails clawed his face, producing blood. She scratched his hands. Swearing and
cursing, Samuel managed to pin down her arms and, with a heave, avoiding her
kicks, sat astride her heaving hips. She spat, and the spittle ran down his
face. All the while she thrust herself up and down in an effort to dislodge
him. A strange expression crossed his face and he stared down. His bulging
manhood was thrusting through the vent in 1\is pyjama trousers. He shook with
excitement as Connie bucked beneath his thighs, irritating him to a delicious
frenzy. She was unaware of what was happening.

'I'll show
you who's a real man, you cheating little whore!' He slapped her face again.
Her head rocked, bouncing off the floor. He'd cut the corner of her mouth,
drawing blood. The sight of it excited him still further. Her futile efforts to
escape also excited him. Without thinking, he slapped her again. It wasn't
necessary. She was exhausted. The pain brought tears to her eyes.

'Bastard!'
she hissed.

'You're the
bastard, not me!' Again he raised his fist.

'Don't,
don't hit me again,' she moaned.

The next instant
he plunged into her bucking hips. Connie gasped, and went rigid. Then she
couldn't stop herself responding as she felt him growing inside her and the
movement of her hips changed to a regular grind. Her arms went around his
sweating back to pull him even closer. She stared up into his face. It
frightened her, his eyes were glassy, the pupils dilated. She closed her eyes,
head rolling from side to side as he pumped in and out.

'Oh, Christ
... ' she groaned and then, as he jerked once more and climaxed, she moaned and
went with him.

She felt
him trembling as he lay on top of her. She couldn't bear to move, dared not
make a sound.

'I ... made
it.' He sounded wondering and, with a stifled sob, he rolled off to lie beside
her. She didn't say anything,
then
she heard him say,
'If I can do it once, I can again.'

Shuddering,
she jumped to her feet. He stared up at her, seeing her shivering.

'What's
wrong? Isn't this what we both wanted?'

'Are you
mad!
' Her voice was icy cold as she gazed down at him.

'I don't understand.'
He was puzzled, but rose to his feet. 'Everything's going to be all right from
now on, Connie.'

She avoided
his arms and moved aside. 'You raped me. You raped your wife to make love to
her!' She wiped her hand across her mouth, smearing the blood. She looked down
at her bruised flesh. 'Violence excites you ... you should've realised it
before ... saved yourself a great deal of time and worry. Do you know, there's
a name for people like you
... '

'No, Connie
... '

'Sadist.
You'll be buying whips and leather thongs before long, when sheer brute force
fails to stimulate you. You'll learn finesse in your approach, to get the most
excruciating and exquisite thrill from inflicting brutal pain ... ' She sat
heavily on the bed, shoulders shaking. 'Must I be assaulted all my life?' she
said in a small voice.

'Please,
listen to me,' he began desperately.

'There's
nothing to say.' She sounded infinitely weary. 'I can't stay with you any
longer,
I've got to get away.' Now it was Connie who sounded
desperate.

'What about
me?'

'Sheila
would do anything you asked of her. Let her move in. Perhaps she'd prove to be
more ... amenable.'

'Where will
you go? What
wiii
you do with yourself, Connie?'

It was as
if they were two strangers, discussing their futures.

'Probably
end up like Madame X,' she said wryly. She looked over to where he sat with his
head lowered in shame, yet she knew that he was prouder of himself now than he
had ever been. She felt the first stirrings of pity for him. 'I'll survive
somehow. Don't worry about me,' she added gently.

'I wouldn't
like to think of you being alone.'

She
regarded him with cool amusement. 'I've always been alone.'

'Isn't
there ... anyone you can go to at all?' He was unwilling to accept any guilt
for her actions.
'Anyone at all?'

His words
triggered a reaction. He saw her expression change and it was suddenly as if a
blind had been drawn from her eyes.

'There
is
someone ... ' She saw an image of herself as a little girl, yellow hair like
streamers of living sun hanging down her back. She was five years old again,
and wondering when her mother would come for her...

Connie
turned to him, and the look he saw on her face made him blink his eyes hard.

'There's
always my little girl.' Her voice was soft.