Free The Devil Claims a Wife by Helen Dickson

with Richard took control of her whenever they were together, filling her mind with thoughts no decent, unmarried girl should think of. She allowed herself to imagine how it would be were she to give in to his desire. A thrill coursed through her and warmed her blood. It seemed far-fetched to think that one man could move her to such extremes, yet when she compared her joy at the feelings he had awakened in her to the strange, inexplicableyearning that presently thwarted her mood, what else could she put it down to?
    How could she possibly bear being married to Richard now?
    Her brain worked quickly, and when she finally got to her feet, she felt as though she had been born anew as a result of some painful and unaccustomed process of gestation. Slowly the picture she had built up of her life with Richard was finally crumbling away.
    Her father’s image came to mind. Suddenly her heart was pounding and her cheeks were hot and she tried not to think of him or how angry he had been when Andrew had told him he was to fight for the Lancastrian cause. He would be furious. But he had not arranged her marriage to Richard out of devotion to her but, controlling, cruel and manipulative, to his devotion to his own self-interests. Her mind made up, she heaved a deep sigh. She would be in command of her own fate. As much as she dreaded confronting her father, she knew she had made the right decision. She could not have sustained living with such a man as Richard.
    Having no wish to alarm her parents and wanting to absorb her decision and consider what it would mean to her future, wanting tothink about it some more and to nurse her secret a while longer, she had kept it to herself.
    What she had not expected was that Richard would call on her.
    It was mid-morning the following day when he arrived. She was alone in the parlour and with a quiet confidence she watched him approach. There was something different about his manner, something out of character. There was also a strange excitement in his eyes. She felt her hair bristle in the nape of her neck, but forced herself to remain calm. Now the moment of confrontation was at hand, she was strangely relieved. He made no move to approach her. His face was white and he seemed to be struggling with some inner turmoil.
    Despite the repugnance he inspired in her, her smile did not falter for an instant. She knew she looked stunning in her snug-fitting gown of emerald green with its flared skirt and a lace cap covering her hair, but it would be lost on Richard, whose thoughts only seemed to focus on what they concealed.
    When she rose from the settle by the hearth, Richard could barely keep his lusting gaze from straying from her beautiful face to her softly rounded breasts and tiny waist. But suddenly he seemed to recollect himself and pulled himselfup straight, a hard gleam replacing the sexual desire in his eyes.
    ‘Richard! You find me all alone today. My parents have gone to call on my aunt and uncle. But I am glad you are here. I—have something to tell you which cannot wait.’
    ‘How odd,’ he said, anger flushing the pallor from his face. ‘I have something to say to you—you whore.’
    She stared at him as if she didn’t understand the meaning of his word. ‘What?’
    ‘You whore. I will not be played false.’
    Thrown off balance by his callous insult, she stepped back. ‘What are you talking about?’
    He looked at her accusingly. ‘As if you didn’t know? The minute my back is turned I find you consorting with someone else—Sinnington, of all people.’ Moving closer, his face having turned a terrible shade of red, Richard fastened his rage-filled eyes on her. ‘I saw you with him outside the church yesterday—talking to him, preening yourself for him like a whore, flirting and cavorting with your simpering smiles.’
    ‘I most certainly was not.’ Jane flared with indignation, shocked by what Richard was implying.
    ‘He put his hands on you. I saw him—and your