God knew, as did Paul Arden, that it could never be any other way with her. Her proper, religious, New England upbringing had served to save her the first few times he had nearly broken down her resistance. And Lord above, it was not as if she hadn't been tempted, hadn't wanted him so badly she ached with her desire for hours after they parted of an evening. She trembled when she thought of how close they had come those times… and secretly, she knew that had he persisted she would have eventually given in to him… She loved him so much… so much.

Last night, she had been as anxious for the consummation as he… and it would have been so beautiful had he only shown a little understanding, preparing her gently for the assault on her virginity. She shuddered now as she thought of it. The tips of her swollen nipples were so raw and sore that she could barely stand the touch of her bra against them. Her whole body ached from his savage rape. He had used her for nothing more than a fleshy receptacle to gratify his vile lust, without a thought toward her desires and pleasures. He had been an animal… a… a gross, carnal beast…!

Tears puddled her slightly reddened eyes as she hurried along the passageway of the French luxury liner, St. Croix. What was to happen to them now? Yes, she still loved him… of course, she loved him. He was her husband, but the mere thought of him touching her naked body again sent quakes of angered revulsion coursing through her violently. She had lain awake for hours after he was done with her, even as he had begged for her forgiveness, not answering him, only weeping in her agonized repugnance.