Free The Tawny Gold Man by Amii Lorin Page A

you couldn't possibly know all of the old man's business. I was merely trying to ascertain exactly what facts you were cognizant of."
    He'd hesitated, turned her halfway around to him, then stopped, dropped his hands, and stepped back, away from her. "You're tired," he snapped impatiently. "Take off and get some rest. You'll need it, for we still have one hell of a lot of work before us."
    He'd walked away from her, the very set of his shoulders a dismissal. Anne had been only too happy to escape, for the touch of his hands on her arms had caused a feeling of extreme weakness in her legs, a tight breathlessness in her chest.
     
    * * * *
     
    Anne moved restlessly against the plush covering of the car seat; then her eyes flew open as she felt the car slow down and then stop. Surely they couldn't be home already? They weren't. Andrew had brought the car to a stop on the side of a dark country road. He pulled the hand brake and turned to her, an unfamiliar sheen in his dark eyes.
    "Andrew, what—" that was as far as she got, for, without speaking, he pulled her into his arms and cut off her words with his lips.
    At first Anne returned his kiss, but within seconds she was struggling against him, her hands pushing at his chest. This wasn't a kiss, this was an assault, and she went cold and unresponsive. Never before had Andrew kissed her in this demanding way and not questioning the feeling of revulsion that swept through her, Anne fought him frantically. Her struggles just seemed to add fuel to his fire and the pressure on her lips grew brutal, his teeth ground against her, bruising her soft mouth. She went stiff when his hand clutched painfully at her breast and in desperation she tore her mouth from his, cried out, "Andrew, have you gone mad? Let me go, please."
    His breathing was ragged and uneven, his voice harsh as he released her, flung himself back behind the wheel.
    "You don't give an inch, do you Anne?" His voice was heavy with disgust.
    Completely bewildered, Anne gasped, "I don't know what you mean."
    "Don't you?" He almost snarled at her. "I'm human, Anne, a man. How long did you think I'd be satisfied with cold, chaste little kisses?"
    "But—but you never said anything," Anne stammered.
    "Good Lord, what do you suppose I was just trying to do? We've been engaged for three months. I need a woman and the woman who has agreed to be my wife has just turned away from me."
    Overtired, overwrought, Anne stared at him, stunned. What could have caused this change in him? Not for one minute could she believe in his sudden overwhelming need of her. No, there was more to his about-face than that. But what could it be?
    It wasn't until later, when she was safe in her own bed, that Anne realized Andrew had not actually said he needed her. That his exact words had been "I need a woman" not "I need you."
    Even though Andrew had apologized after bringing her home, Anne begged off seeing him the following day. His attack—she could not even force herself to think of it as lovemaking—had left her feeling sick and in some way soiled, and for the life of her she could not think why. True, he had been rough, but she was a young woman and although she lacked actual experience, she was aware of the fact that there were times when men did get rough with women. She was going to be Andrew's wife, had known all along there would eventually have to be a physical side to their relationship. So why had she felt that revulsion, that near panic?
    Anne spent all day Sunday unconsciously avoiding the answers to her own questions.
    Her second week as Jud's assistant followed the same pattern as her first, Jud driving ahead tirelessly, Anne pushing herself to keep up with him. The only difference being that now she had an office of her own. It was there, she had seen it. She kept her handbag in one of her desk drawers but she was rarely ever in it. Also, in open defiance, she now left the building at lunchtime. If Lorna could go out for lunch,