Sweet Bondage by Dorothy Vernon

she could forget the horror of being trapped in his arms.
    She was still sitting there when Maxwell came in. She straightened up, expelling her breath in a long, shuddering sigh as she cast him a wary look.
    The bruised eyes in the haunted little face received no compassion; his expression reviled her for all the things he thought she was, for what he believed she had done to his brother and to a lesser degree for leading Andy on.
    She flattened her hands against her head, trying to contain the disarray of her hair, wishing she’d thought to tidy it instead of wallowing in confusion and despair. It was bad enough to be regarded as a tramp; she didn’t have to look the part.
    She wished now that she’d made herself scarce before he came in, gone upstairs to her bedroom or busied herself with some household chore. Anything not to have to talk about what had happened. She was too vulnerable and too near the tears that must not be shed at all costs.
    There were menace and purpose in his every step as he crossed the room. Towering above her, he lifted her face with one curved forefinger. ‘I hope you are satisfied.’
    â€˜Satisfied?’
    â€˜I fired Andy. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’
    Her spirits soared, putting the glow back in her eyes. ‘No, it isn’t what I wanted. I’m not that vindictive. I just wanted you to believe me. I’m not gloating because you’ve forced Andy to leave; I’m just happy that you believe me.’
    The cynicism on his face dashed her hopes. ‘What put that into your head?’ His eyes drilled into hers. ‘You asked for what you got. Andy’s a mere boy, used to uncomplicated, straight-dealing girls. He was out of his league with you. I’m sure you’re capable of distracting a much stronger character from the dull path of duty, so what chance did he have? You’d go to any man’s head.’
    The pressure of his finger on her chin increased, as if he was working some vengeance out of his system. The way he’d said, ‘You’d go to any man’s head,’ gave her the strangest feeling that this touched him personally and had nothing to do with either his brother or Andy. She didn’t think he’d meant to say that. He had spoken his thoughts out loud. Did she go to his head? Was he having difficulty keeping his own emotions in check? It didn’t seem possible for her to be so electrically aware of him as a man and for him to feel nothing in return. It was more probable that he was generating some of the heat, that the intense current was flowing from one to the other, a two-way thing. Even now, as her mind ran to fervent conjecture, the sensual pressure of his touch on her chin was sending abrasive shock waves, shafts of fire, through her entire system.
    His hand dropped away with shattering, telling abruptness. Thumb and forefinger were rubbed agitatedly together, as if he was trying to rid the intensity of feeling that was burning there. The tension was such that she thought if it didn’t ease, if the atmosphere between them didn’t find a more relaxing level, something would snap, like a tautly held piece of elastic that just needed one final twist to fragment
    â€˜If you think I’m to blame for the way Andy acted,’ she said gruffly, her voice gaining more composure as she went on, ‘why did you fire him?’
    â€˜He had whisky on his breath. On his own time, providing it doesn’t interfere with his work the next day, he can drink himself insensible for all I care. I won’t have him drinking on my time.’
    Was that the only reason? she wondered. ‘Isn’t dismissal harsh treatment for a drinking offense?’
    â€˜If it were the first time, perhaps. It wasn’t. I’ve had to reprimand him about this twice before. I warned him that if it happened again I would send him packing.’
    â€˜I see.’
    â€˜Don’t tell me