it was like. Drew would come in. He would look at her, those tawny

eyes going dark. He would be gentle, sweet, patient. She could almost

feel his long, clever fingers skimming over her skin. He would tell her

how much he loved her, how much he wanted her. Then he would carry her

into the bedroom, and show her.

Patiently. Tenderly. Pa.s.sionately.

By ten o'clock she was anxious. By eleven, uneasy. By midnight, she

was frantic. Her calls to the studio only told her that he had left

hours before.

She imagined a terrible accident. He would have been in a hurry to get

back to her, as anxious as she to begin their life together in the big

soft bed. He might have been careless, and his car ... They

wouldn't know where to reach her-the doctors, the police. Even now Drew

could be lying in some hospital bed, bleeding, calling for her.

She was working her way down the lists of hospitals ivhen she heard the

key in the lock. Before he could open the door, she was there, swinging

it open and failing into his arms.

"Oh, Drew, I was terrified."

"Easy, easy does it." He gave her b.u.t.tocks a quick squeeze. "Anxious,

are we?"

Drunk. Part of her mind tried to deny it, but it was there in the

slurred words, the sway of his body, the smell. She stepped back to

stare at him. "You've been drinking."

"Just a little celebration with the lads. Not every day a man gets

married, is it?"

"But you ... You said you'd be here by ten."

"Christ, Emma, you're not going to start nagging me already?"

"No, but-I was worried, Drew."

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" He struggled out of his jacket and let

it fall to the floor. It wasn't often he got drunk, but tonight it had

been so easy to let one drink follow another. Tonight, he'd climbed one

more rung to the top. "And look at you. The perfect picture of the

blushing bride. Beautiful, beautiful Emma, all in white."

She did blush. There was desire in his eyes now. The kind she'd seen

before, the kind she'd imagined seeing in them tonight. "I wanted to

look beautiful for you." She went easily into his arms, lifted her mouth

to his in innocent trust.

He hurt her. His mouth was fierce and hot. He nipped hard at her

bottom lip as he pushed himself against her. "Drew." She tried to

struggle back, alarmed by the memory flash of Blackpool in her darkroom.

"Drew, please."

"Don't play that game with me tonight." He caught her hair in his hand

and dragged her head back. "You've made me wait long enough, Emma. No

excuses tonight."

"I'm not. I just-Drew, can't we-"

"You're my wife now. We do it my way."

He pulled her to the floor, ignoring her pleas and struggles. His hands

were rough, tearing the filmy lace as he bared her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to suckle and

squeeze. The speed and urgency frightened her. It wasn't right, she

thought frantically. It wasn't right lying on the floor, the lights