A WAVE of blind panic swept over Charlotte at these words. "Faulkner?Are you sure?""As sure as I can be." Laura looked at her curiously. "Why? Who is he? Hecame in a big black limousine. Seems like he's not short of money." She paused."Don't you want to see him?"Charlotte passed a dazed hand over her forehead. Did sht want to see him?Yes. But not like this. Not so - precipitately. Was that why he had come? Theelement of surprise to add to his attack?"I - yes, I want to see him, Laura." Charlotte glanced down frustratedly at herjeans and tee-shirt. If he was standing in the hall, she could not pass him to getchanged. "Mmm - show him into Daddy's study - well, the study, anyway. Imust get changed. I can't see anyone like this!""Why not?"The deep male voice so unexpectedly behind them startled both women, andLaura's huge brown eyes widened in dismay. For Charlotte, it was a moment ofcomplete imbalance, and she stared at the man confronting her with almostchildish indignation. The words "How dare you? formed and disintegratedwithout being spoken as her astonishment at his audacity gave way to a senseof shock. If this was Alex Faulkner, he bore no slight resemblance to the manwhose image she had created.Her imagination had conceived an obese, repugnant individual, his bodybearing witness to the excesses in which he indulged. A man whose appearancerepelled those women he would want to attract, and who had to resort toblackmail to get himself a wife. The reality came almost as a relief.This man was tall, more than six feet, she guessed, with a broad muscularframe. His skin was darker than was normal for an Englishman, and shewondered if there was some Greek blood there somewhere. Straight dark hairlay thickly against his scalp. He was not handsome, but his hard features didhave a certain attraction. He was immaculately dressed for the city in a darkblue pinstripe suit, the jacket unfastened to reveal the matching waistcoatbeneath, the pants moulding the powerful muscles of his thighs.In those first few seconds, Charlotte found disbelief uppermost in herthoughts. This could not be Alex Faulkner, could h? No man who looked like hedid, who had such superb s-eif-confidence, whose eyes seemed to penetrate tothe very core of her being, could seriously consider buying himself a wife. Couldhe?Gathering herself with difficulty, she realized he was waiting for her to speak.Laura, too, was watching her strangely, and Charlotte felt the hot colourrunning up her throat to her face. Oh, yes, she decided, with sudden insight.This was Alex Faulkner. This was exactly the sort of thing he would do todisconcert her."I - you are - Mr. Faulkner?" she enquired coolly."That's right." His eyes assessed her insolently. "And you must beCharlotte."Charlotte! Charlotte's indignation hardened. For a few moments she hadallowed his appearance to disconcert her, and now he thought he had the upperhand. Well, he was wrong! This was still the man who had forced her father tosign that contract, still the man who had driven her father to his death !Bitterness surged inside her."What are you doing here, Mr. Faulkner?" she demanded."An unnecessary question, don't you think? As you asked to see me," hereturned smoothly. Then he looked at Laura. "You can go. I want to talk toMiss Mortimer alone.""I'll dismiss Laura, as and when I choose," exclaimed Charlotte angrily,putting a detaining hand on the older woman's arm.He inclined his head. "If you wish to discuss our affaii in front of yourhousekeeper, that's all right with me. However, don't you think she might findit rather embarrassing?"Charlotte pressed her lips frustratedly together. Then she gave a helpless littleshake of her head. "All right, Laura," she said, her hand falling to her side."Thank you."Laura moved reluctantly towards the french doors, glancing back doubtfully,and following her Alex Faulkner said: "You can fetch us some coffee - Laura,isn't it? Then you can reassure yourself that I'm not a rapist - or worse."Laura's mouth opened in a gasp, but she said nothing, and Charlotte indicatedthat she should do as she had been asked. Then they were alone, and her heartrefused to slow its exhausting pace.Alex Faulkner turned and looked at her, then he gestured towards the frenchdoors. "Shall we go inside?" he suggested coolly. "I would not expect you towant our conversation to be overheard.""Don't you mean you don't want it to be overheard?" she burst out hotly,and his mouth turned down at the corners."My dear Charlotte, if you want to discuss your father's addictions out here,that's perfectly all right by me."Charlotte glanced round apprehensively. Although his voice was deep, itwas very clear and succinct, and he had spoken in just a slightly raised tonedeliberately."Oh, come inside," she exclaimed angrily, and brushed past him into thelounge.He followed rather more slowly, looking about him with evident interest, andunable to prevent herself, she said: "Assessing your property? I believe you'llget quite a good price for it these days !"Alex closed the french doors and leant back against them, "You've decided tosell, then?""I've decided? Don't you mean you have?""No." Alex shook his head. "This house is yours, as is the company. They'reof no value to me."Charlotte stared at him. "What do you mean?""Exactly what I say. What possible use would I have for another house inLondon? But I would suggest you sold the company. You could always investthe money. I believe Faulkner shares are quite viable."''What do you mean? What are you talking about?" Charlotte could feelpanic rising inside her again. "Everything's yours, you know it is!""No. Everything's yours. Only you are mine."Charlotte's gulping laugh was hysterical. "You can't be serious!"He straightened, his features hardening. "I trust we will not have to gothrough all that. I understand your solicitor made the position perfectly clear toyou yesterday.""Perfectly clear? Perfectly clear?" Charlotte gulped again. "I won't marryyou! I - I don't know you! And - and besides, I wouldn't marry the man who -who drove my father to kill himself!""Ahl" He thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "So you've foundout.""What do you mean? Found out?""That your father's death was no accident, of course."Charlotte gasped, "You mean - you mean you can stand there and tell mecoolly that my father committed suicide, knowing that you were directlyresponsible - ""I was not directly responsible," he interrupted coldly. "Was your father amachine? An automaton, controlled by my manipulations? No! He was not. Hewas a free and thinking individual. Gambling was second nature to him - ""No I"" - and the stakes were never too high for him I Good God, this isn't the firsttime he's gambled his soul away!""What do you mean?""Never mind." He breathed deeply. "So - as I say, he chose to play. Heknew the rules, as well as anybody else."-, "Oh, that's very easy for you to say,isn't it?" Charlotte^ stormed, her breasts heaving. "Do all murderers excusethemselves so easily?"Alex's eyes, which she had thought to be dark brown, were now almost black,and shaded by thick black lashes guarded his expression. "I am not a murderer,"he stated quietly. "I! did not choose the stakes.""What do you mean?""I mean that like all addicts, your father needed one more, game - one morechance to win. He had nothing left, so - he \ chose you I""I don't believe you.""I don't expect you to. Nevertheless, as you get to know me better, you willlearn that I do not tell lies. Nor do I make rash statements which I cannotsustain. You belong to me, Charlotte, whether you like it or not, and you willmarry me.""Why? Why me?" Charlotte's forehead and palms were damp, and she couldfeel the trickle of sweat at the back of her neck. "Am I so desirable? Or are youone of those men who prefer young girls?"If she had thought to arouse his anger, she was disappointed. A faint sardonicsmile crossed his lips, and belatedly she recalled what Mr. Falstaff ad said aboutcrossing swords with this man."I have no preference," he said then, surveying her in a way which deepenedher unease. "So long as you were not too repulsive and were capable of bearinga child, I had no objections."Charlotte gasped, "You mean - you would be prepared to make love to anywoman, just to get a son?""Oh, no, not any woman. You seemed eminently suitable. But I would hardlycall the act we are to perform making love!"Charlotte stepped back from his cold cynicism. "But -there must be dozensof women who - who would jump at the chance...""You flatter me." But he did not sound gratified. "However, the women whomight, as you say, jump at the chance, are not the kind of women I would chooseto be the mother of my son.""How do you know what kind of woman I am?"He shrugged. "The very fact that you are charing at your fate reveals acertain independence of character. I like that."Charlotte sniffed resentfully. "So - if I'd thrown myself into your arms,you'd have changed your mind?""Such a hypothetical question requires no answer. We're wasting time. Arethere any questions you wish to ask?""I-I-"Charlotte was still staring at him desperately when Laura knocked at the opendoor. Alex glanced round, saw the woman standing there, and indicated that sheshould place the tray on a low table near the couch,"Is there anything else, Charley?" Laura looked anxiously towards the girl,who hardly seemed aware of her presence. Charlotte heard the words as if froma distance, and swung about,"I'm sorry, Laura. No, no. That's fine, thank you.""What time would you like lunch?" Laura persisted, obviously reluctant toleave them, but Alex intervened."Miss Mortimer will not be in for lunch," he stated firmly.Laura's eyes widened in dismay. "Not in? After I made this good food? Isthat right, Charley?"Charlotte shook her head, trying to shake away the dazed feeling of unrealitywhich had enveloped her with increasing speed since Alex Faulkner's arrival. "I -what? I don't know, Laura. Am I lunching out?" She turned to stare at Alex."Yes. We'll eat at my apartment," he replied, ignoring Laura's exclamationof protest. "Oh - and by the way." He glanced at Charlotte and then transferredhis attention to the daily. "Miss Mortimer is getting married in a few days. Shemay wish you to stay on here, if she decides not to sell this house. Otherwise,she'll let you know.""What? What's this?" Laura stared disbelievingly at the girl she had knownfor five years. "Is this true, Charley? You getting married? Why didn't you tellme?"Charlotte swallowed convulsively. "It's not as simple as that, Laura." She casta furious glance in Alex's direction. "Nothing's settled yet. Nothing's arranged.""On the contrary, everything's arranged," returned Alex smoothly. "Your - er- your employer is a little - bemused by her good fortune, that's all.""Why, you - " Charlotte bit back an epithet as realization of what a denialwould mean struck her. This was really happening, he really expected her to gothrough with it. The moment of decision had come.Laura waited for Charlotte to go on, but when she didn't, she saidimploringly: "Charley, I don't understand all this. You never said a word to me."She looked Alex up and down. "I never seen this man before, and I don't thinkyou did, too."Charlotte felt as if she was nearing the end of her tether, and it was almost arelief to hear Alex say: "We've been -corresponding with one another. Youknow - pen-friends, that sort of thing. Miss Mortimer's father knew all about it.He - he would approve."Charlotte clenched her fists and turned away, unable to meet Laura'saccusing stare. Patently, she didn't believe Alex, but equally she had no proof tothe contrary. Besides, sooner or later she would have to believe it. It would bean indisputable fact.She heard Alex dismissing the West Indian woman, and then he gestured tothe coffee. "I like mine black, with sugar, two spoons," he directed her coolly."You might as well begin to learn your wifely duties here and now."Charlotte sank down wearily on to the couch. "You really expect me to gothrough with it, don't you?""I know you will," he said, seating himself in the armchair opposite, legsapart, hands hanging loosely between. He had nice hands, she noticedinconsequently, long-fingered brown hands, rings on each of his little fingers.One was a kind of signet ring, gold, inset with a ruby; the other was filigreesilver, thick and broad, a useful weapon in a fist fight."So," he said, deliberately intercepting her gaze. "Let us have the coffee,then perhaps over lunch you'll think of things you need to know."Charlotte drank her coffee without tasting it. When she got to her feet, herose also, and she looked at him apprehensively. "I - I need to change," she toldhim shortly."Very well. I'll-wait here." He lounged into his chair again, but his eyeswere watchful. "Don't be long."Charlotte made no reply, her lips clenched mutinously as she left the room,slamming the door behind her. In the hall, she breathed deeply. She desperatelywanted to escape, to run away from the situation that was developing withouther volition. What would he do if she disappeared? Employ detectives to findher, without doubt. Where in the world would she be safe from a man like him?There was no answer to that.Laura put her head round the kitchen door. She had obviously heard theslamming of the door and when she saw Charlotte she left the kitchen and camepurposefully towards her. "What is all this?" she hissed impatiently. "What isthat man doing here? I don't believe he knew your father.""Oh, he did, believe me," Charlotte assured her wearily, realizing that shecould not confide even in Laura. If she had to go through with this, no onemust know at what cost. She could not bear sympathy on top of everything else.Somehow, she would do it, though be should not find it the easy path heimagined. And afterwards she would take him for every penny she couldsqueeze out of him!"And you're thinking of marrying him?" exclaimed Laura, in dismay."Yes." Charlotte's tone was flat, but Laura didn't notice."And what about me?" she demanded. "You selling this house?"Charlotte shook her head. "No. No. I don't know. I don't think so." Shesighed. "Laura, you don't have to worry, whatever happens. I'll see you're allright. You and Jess and Billy. I - well, I just may keep this house on. I mean,you never know when a house can come in handy. You could be sort of -caretaker, if you like. I'd pay you, of course."Laura folded her arms and shook her head. "There's more to this than meetsthe eye, Charley, and you know it. I wasn't picked off the banana tree yesterday.I ain't that green!"Charlotte had to smile, even though she felt more like crying. "Laura, I'vetold you the truth. What more can I say?"Laura sniffed. "All right, have it your way. I just never thought there'd come atime when my little Charley told me liesl""They're not lies, Laura." Charlotte spread her hands. "Honest to God, I'mnot about to enter a harem or anything. He - " she gestured with her thumb, "hewants to marry me. Is that so strange? Am I so unattractive?""You're deliberately misunderstanding me, Charley. You know you're theprettiest girl I know. Too thin, of course, but that's natural, in thecircumstances." Laura stared at the girl anxiously. "You going to be happy,Charley? This man got lots of money? He treat you good?""I - hope so," said Charlotte, bending her head so that Laura should not seethe tears in her eyes. "Now - excuse me. I must get changed."Charlotte was aware of Laura's reproachful eyes following her up the stairs,but there was nothing she could say to assuage her anxiety. Besides, she couldnot shoulder Laura's worries. She had more than enough of her own.The car that waited outside for Alex Faulkner was a chauffeur-driverMercedes, the kind of car which hitherto Charlotte had only glimpsed around thetown. A second man was seated beside the chauffeur, and both men got out attheir approach."Vittorio Santos, my chauffeur," Alex indicated offhandedly. "And hisbrother, Dimitrios, my - bodyguard."A bodyguard! As the luxurious vehicle rolled away, Charlotte stole a glance atthe man seated so indolently beside her on the wide back seat which left fully twofeet between them. Until then, she had not given a thought to the possibility thatthis man could well be a target for unscrupulous revolutionaries requiring ahostage. If - when - she became his wife, would she require a bodyguard aswell?His wife! Even those words were startling. Mrs. Faulkner! It didn't soundreal. Not to her. And then other, more intimate thoughts entered her head. Tobe this man's wife would be to submit herself to his every demand. He wouldhave the right to share her bed, to make love to her whenever he chose, to denyher even the smallest privacy.She trembled violently. The intimacies between a man and a woman were asyet unknown to her. Oh, she had listened to the girls in the school dormitory atnight whispering about their experiences. She had attended biology' classes andhad the whole sexual act explained to her in detail. But what was the spoken orwritten word when compared to actual experience? The whole thing seemedvastly overrated, and although she had had boy-friends and indulged in kissingand a little mild petting, she had never felt any urge to explore further. The veryidea seemed slightly indecent to her. To imagine this man, this stranger, seeingher without her clothes. ... She shrank a .little further into her corner. If it didcome to that, and she supposed that one day it would have to, she would makesure she was adequately clothed in pyjamas or a nightdress, and safely under thebedcovers.Alex's apartment temporarily allayed her fears in a surge of pure admiration.The rooms at the house in Glebe Square had not been small but these roomswere enormous - wide and spacious, with expanses of soft carpet where onecould stretch at will. The lounge had long windows, with slatted blinds, therewere soft velvet couches in shades of blue and green, modern Swedish-stylefurniture cheek-by-jowl with what were obviously antiques and silky off-whitecarpeting.An elderly man greeted them. Alex introduced him as Potter and it soonbecame apparent that Potter was a resident at the apartment, catering for hisemployer should it be necessary, although there was an excellent servicerestaurant on the ground floor of the block, and caretaking in his absence. Alexintroduced her to the old man as his fiancée, much to Charlotte's dismay, and itwas Potter who suggested that she might like to see all the apartment.To her relief, Alex said he had some telephone calls to make anddisappeared into a room which Potter explained was his study. Then they wenton a tour of inspection.Charlotte had never seen such luxury. There were three bedrooms, all withcolour televisions and hi-fi equipment as well as the usual fitted units. Therewas a panelled dining room with a long table capable of seating more than adozen people in the soft, velvet-seated chairs. The kitchen, too, contained eatingfacilities, and was sleek and modern.Charlotte asked, half reluctantly, which room Alex used, but Potter seemedto find nothing strange in this. Indeed, he had taken her arrival in his stride, andshe wondered whether he found anything odd in his employer producing as hisfiancée a girl he had never seen before."This is Mr. Faulkner's room," he said, indicating the second largestbedroom, a room designed in shades of coffee and cream, with thick apricotsatin curtains at the window. All the rooms had bathrooms adjoining, andCharlotte looked into Alex's bathroom with a certain desperation. What had sheexpected to find here? she wondered, looking at the coffee-coloured bath andbasin, the cream tiled shower cubicle. No man could imprint his personality onsomewhere he used so fleetingly. The whole apartment was beautiful, but thatwas all it was. A shell - which only occasionally housed its occupant.She entered the lounge again alone, Potter having excused himself to go tothe kitchen, and found Alex lounging comfortably on one of the velvet couchesexamining some papers he had taken from a briefcase beside him. He looked upat her entrance, however, and thrusting the papers aside, got to his feet."I have ordered lunch to be sent up," he told her smoothly. "I hope you likeroast beef and Yorkshire pudding. I always eat English food when I'm inEngland. It never tastes the same elsewhere.""I don't think I could eat a thing," Charlotte retorted tautly.''Nonsense." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Food can be a delight as wellas a necessity, and the restaurant here can be recommended. Your clothes revealthat you've lost weight. Perhaps we should do something about them thisafternoon.""What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" she demanded resentfully, lookingdown at the navy wool suit which she had last worn at her father's funeral. "I'llhave you know this suit was made to my design at a boutique where I - where Iworked before...""You haven't worked since your father's death," Alex stated calmly,revealing a closer knowledge of her affairs than she had imagined. "And many ofthe clothes sold there are cheap and badly finished."Charlotte caught her breath. "You don't know that""I assure you, I do. Besides, you don't suit that flat shade of navy. Royal bluewould suit you far better.""Have - have you been spying on me?""Not personally, no. I left my binoculars in Greece.""Don't make a fool of me!" Charlotte shifted restlessly. "Well? Have you hadsomeone watching me?"Alex sighed resignedly. "In my position it's necessary to investigateeverybody I come into contact with - " "Oh, God! That's terrible!" "Butnecessary, I do assure you." Charlotte turned away, biting her lips. "I couldnever be like that.""You may have to be," he replied quietly. Then, as the doorbell chimed:"This sounds like lunch."They ate in the lounge from the folding table sent up from the restaurant,seated by the windows which allowed one a panoramic view far beyond theThames, to the expanse of green which was Richmond Park. During the meal,Alex talked, general things mostly which Charlotte answered in monosyllablesbut which nevertheless relaxed her sufficiently to enjoy at least a part of themeal> and she guessed that this was his intention^ A clear vegetable broth wasfollowed by the roast beef he had promised, and to finish there was a chocolatesponge pudding. He smiled when Charlotte refused the dessert, and had a secondhelping."You must forgive me," he said, pouring custard from a jug. "Spongepuddings have always been my favourite form of dessert and I always indulgemy weakness when I am in London. Henri, the chef downstairs, keeps this onhis menu especially for me.""I'm surprised you don't have a food taster," remarked Charlotte ratherspitefully, and Alex's smile deepened."It may come to that," he conceded dryly. "Are you as venomous as yousound?"Charlotte sighed frustratedly. "Well!" she said defensively. "Privateinvestigators, bodyguards! It's archaic! I'm surprised they don't live in theapartment!""Oh, but they do," Alex told her mildly."But - we left them downstairs ...""I didn't want to alarm you," he replied, finishing the wine in his glassand getting up from the table wiping his mouth with the table napkin. "Ithought we would take it slowly.""Slowly! Slowly!" Charlotte stared at him angrily. "You call forcingsomeone to marry you taking it slowly?"Alex shrugged, regarding the array of bottles revealed by the opening of thecocktail cabinet with apparent consideration. "I would suggest you startedaccepting that situation and considered the advantageous aspects of it.""What advantageous aspects?"Alex held up a bottle of cognac, but Charlotte shook her head quickly andwith an indifferent gesture he poured some into a balloon glass. Then he walkedback to where she was still sitting at the table in the window, cradling the glassin his hands."Let me tell you about Lydros, hmm?" He paused. "It is an islandapproximately fifty miles off the mainland of Greece, in the group of islandsknown as the Cyclades." He swallowed a mouthful of his cognac, ignoringCharlotte's apparent disinterest. "We are very lucky on Lydros - there is anadequate water supply and we are able to grow much of our own produce. OldSpiro Santos, the father of those two brothers who also work for me, makeswine, and it is rich and sweet, like the grapes from which it is squeezed.""I'm really not interested," retorted Charlotte tightly, but Alex merely smiledthat infuriating smile and Charlotte could have slapped him, "You will be," heassured her. "You will be living there in a little less than two weeks. I have toleave for New York tomorrow. I shall be away approximately ten days. I hope tobe back in England on the fourteenth and we are to be married on the fifteenth."Charlotte's breath seemed to be stuck in her throat. "But why?" she appealed,his confidence panicking her ail over again. "Isn't there anything I can say -anything I can do to make you change your mind?""No." His expression hardened abruptly. "You have the choice - marry me,bear my child, and, in possibly a year, I'll set you free. Deny me that right, andI will not be responsible for the consequences.""You're - you're a beast! Inhuman!""Why? Because I choose to make you honour your father's agreement?""No. No, because — well, because you don't need to do this. You - " She benther head. "You're an - attractive man. I'm sure you could find some otherwoman equally suitable - ""Why should I go to the trouble of doing that when I already have you?" Heput out a hand and lifted her chin, and she flinched from the touch of those hardimpersonal fingers. "Do not alarm yourself, little one. I shall not trouble youoften. Only as long as it takes.""But - what if I don't - what if we can't - " Her voice trailed away as hercheeks blazed with colour.His hand fell away. "It's all arranged. While I am in New-York, you will havecertain - tests. I have already had them.""You mean - you mean to see whether - whether I can?""Yes."Charlotte uttered a gasp of horror. "Well, I hope I can't !" She spat the wordsat him.His sardonic smile returned. "Don't tempt me to find out. for myself,Charlotte. As my wife, you will have certain rights. As my mistress, you wouldhave none at all."Charlotte could feel a wave of hopelessness sweeping over her. "But - but Iknow nothing about you," she protested ; bitterly."What do you want to know? I have not refused to answer your questions. Iam almost forty years of age, almost senile, I suppose that seems to you," headded shortly. "My father was killed by terrorists when I was twenty-four, andmy mother died soon afterwards."Charlotte hid the shock the news of his father's death had given her. Untilthen, the simple precautions he took had seemed rather dramatic and ridiculous.But suddenly they were not, and she felt a reluctant sense of shame."I am of English-Greek extraction," he went on flatly. "My grandmotheron my father's side of the family comes from Eastern Macedonia. She is stillalive and lives with me on Lydros."Charlotte digested this uneasily. "Will she - continue to do so?""After our marriage, you mean? Oh, yes. Do not be alarmed. She does notlive in my house. She has her own villa across the island."Charlotte shivered, but she couldn't help it. The reality of it all wasgradually getting through to her."Is - is it a big island?" she asked, in a low voice, not wanting to dwell onthe thought of meeting his grandmother."Not big, no. About five miles long, and two miles across at its widest point."He finished his cognac, and as he lowered the glass he looked at her over the rim."It is a beautiful island. I was brought up there. As a boy I learned to swim andfish from its beaches; I explored its caves, and got trapped by the tide, so thatSpiro had to come with his boat and get me out. My father taught me how tosail. He bought me a dinghy, and I used to spend hours trying to get back intoshore after the wind had changed." His smile was not sardonic now. "There areonly a few people on the island, the Yannis, and the Philippis and the Santos.We are not troubled by tourists, and the rocky coastline makes it impossible forlarge vessels to get inshore. It is very hot - very white - very beautiful. The seais an unbelievable colour, always warm and soft. At night the only soundscome from the cicadas. Then occasionally, just occasionally, they are silent, andthe stillness is uncanny."During those moments, as he looked at her, Charlotte felt the strength of hislove for the island, and the faintest glimmer of anticipation stirred within her.She had never been to Greece, never been further than Brittany in the summer,and Switzerland in the winter. The picture he had painted of his home was veryattractive, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to swim in awarm sea.But then he moved, and all eager sense of anticipation fled. Her eyes droppeddown over the hard muscular length of his body, and a terrifying numbnessgripped her. To see and experience the delights of the island, she was expectedto accept whatever this man chose to do with her. She had never slept withanyone before, much less a man, and to picture him sharing her bed was topicture indignities too great to be borne. And even then, if she could endure thehumiliation of being used, she had nine months more, nine months when herbody would swell out of all proportions with all the agonies of childbirth beforeshe could make her escape...
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"Beware the beast" كيف احيا معك بالانكليزية Anne Mather
RomanceBEWARE THE BEAST ANNE MATHER
