Doll

  Even a plaything can be pushed too far…

  Power.

  Chloe Barnes thought her marriage to a wealthy politician would be the stuff of fairy tales. Instead, he took advantage of her naiveté and used her as a plaything to fulfill his twisted sexual needs. Ten years is enough. She returns to Bellhaven Island to sell the summer cottage she inherited, hoping the money will buy her freedom—and custody of her daughters.

  Memories.

  Fisherman Dustin McDougal never forgot the childhood crush he once had on the fairy-like Chloe. The woman she’s become has a haunted look that brings his feelings back, stronger than ever…with a mature edge. Along with all his protective instincts.

  Sexual healing.

  Their passion blows stronger than a Maine nor’easter, awakening Chloe to the joy of true love. Yet it may not be strong enough to free her from the past…

  Warning: This title contains politicians doing all sorts of nasty things and flashbacks of male domination. It also features hot sex on a boat, hot sex in an attic, hot sex on a work bench…you get the idea

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Doll

  Copyright © 2009 by Juniper Bell

  ISBN: 978-1-60504-844-4

  Edited by Laurie M. Rauch

  Cover by Kanaxa

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2009

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Doll

  Juniper Bell

  Dedication

  To Scott, for all your sweet loving.

  Chapter One

  As the Island Enchantment rounded the cliffs of Hope Island, Chloe Barnes huddled in the cabin, sheltered from the brisk March wind. As a child, Chloe had seen the shape of her beloved Bellhaven Island as two arms spread wide to embrace her. Now, instead of eagerly searching for familiar faces on the wharf, her eyes were drawn to the eastern tip of Bellhaven, where the Garwood estate lurked behind a stand of snow-covered pines. A wave of sickness passed over her, and she knew it had nothing to do with the rocking of the ferryboat.

  The Garwood estate. Where all her hopes had begun, and died. Where she’d lost her innocence. And gained—what? A millionaire husband? Status? The kind of life written up in magazines? No, she’d gained only one thing that mattered. Make that two—Halley and Merry. For her two girls, she was going back to Bellhaven.

  Chloe gripped the metal bench as the Island Enchantment slammed into the waves. Ice-cold spray splashed through a crack in the window onto the back of her neck, making her gasp. She shifted to one side, away from the crack, and saw that her tote bag had gotten sprayed as well. Maybe she should throw it overboard. Along with the document Andrew wanted her to sign, the one that would shut her up forever. Maybe she should jump in after it.

  The thought of disappearing beneath the waves was so alluring, she jumped to her feet and moved to the back of the ferry, farther from the tempting ocean. She couldn’t think that way. Her girls needed her. They were all that mattered.

  An elderly man in a slicker, worn over a thick wool sweater, gave her a wary look. “You ain’t gonna be sick, are ya?”

  “No. I’m okay.”

  He grunted, and went back to his own thoughts. Mainers knew how to mind their own business. As a kid, she’d loved hovering nearby while the old-timers fished off the wharf, telling their tall tales. Bellhaven was the only place in her sheltered childhood where she’d had any freedom. Summer meant she could ride her bike by herself to the wharf. It meant she could watch the other kids dive into the churning wake of the ferry. It meant she could watch Andrew Garwood, a godlike five years older, lead his pack of friends on one exciting adventure after another.

  And then one day, when she was fifteen, and he was on summer break from college, he’d looked up from the water skis he was hooking up to his speedboat, and asked her if she wanted to have a go. From her perch on the edge of the wharf, she’d looked behind her, certain he was talking to someone else.

  “I can’t,” she’d finally said shyly. “I’m not allowed.”

  “You will be.”

  She’d hopped anxiously behind him as he strode down the road to her parents’ door. It was a shock that he even knew where her house was.

  “Good morning, sir, I’m Andrew Garwood, and I’d like to request the company of your daughter for a brief and perfectly safe water-skiing outing.”

  It turned out even her parents weren’t immune to the Garwood name. He’d turned back to her, green eyes blazing with cocky triumph. “Let’s go, doll.”

  From then on, he’d been able to do anything he wanted with her.

  Anything.

  If her parents had had any idea what twisted things Andrew was capable of, they probably would have shot him that very day. Part of her wished they had.

  But then there would be no Halley and Merry.

  Out the window, she saw a lobster boat motor into view. It too headed for the wharf, and the man at the wheel raised his arm in greeting as he passed. He stood in the wheelhouse, feet braced, one hand casually on the wheel. Dark hair under a blue watch cap. Yellow Helly Hansen oilskins. Tall. Strong. Free. Was there something familiar about him? She watched him wistfully. What would it be like to be captain of your own ship? Master of your own destiny? Able to steer your boat in whatever direction you liked? Obliged to answer to no one?

  She couldn’t even imagine it. She’d never spent a single night on her own. Never read a book that hadn’t been selected by her parents. Never kissed a man other than Andrew. Her naiveté had been truly breathtaking. From the stifling shelter of her parents’ home, she’d gone directly into marriage with Andrew at the age of eighteen. And nothing in the first eighteen years of her life had prepared her for the next ten.

  Was that why Andrew had picked her? She’d been a blank slate. Obedient. Compliant. Dazzled. Only one time had she objected to his demands.

  “I don’t want to wear that, please, Andrew,” she said, in the soft, polite way her parents had taught her. Her stomach clenched at the sight of the outfit he held out to her. It was made of layers of transparent filmy fabric that would hide nothing. The scooped neckline drooped low in soft waves, and she knew it would barely cover her nipples. There would be no underwear. There never was, unless specifically selected by Andrew.

  “Put it on. We don’t have time for your childishness.”

  “But Andrew, everyone will see my…”

  “What did you say?”

  “They’ll see my…”

  “Wrong word, doll. Your body is mine. Everything here is mine.” He walked around her, eyeing her. She was already down to bra and shorts, and he reached inside her bra to cup her breasts and finger her nipples. “I want to show you off, and you should be proud. If you weren’t so sexy, I wouldn’t bother. I want people to know what a tight little wife I have. What an obedient, adoring wife.” He squeezed her crotch through her shorts.

  “You know I adore you, Andrew, but please. Why do you want to shame me like that?”

  “Shame you?” The question seemed to enrage him. “Shame is having to ask my wife
twice for something so simple.” He pressed the intercom button, the one that summoned his assistant.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Teaching you a lesson.”

  Andrew’s assistant, an acne-ridden young man named Colin, just graduated from college and awestruck at being in the orbit of the Garwoods, appeared in the doorway of their bedroom suite.

  “Colin, look at my wife.”

  Confused, Colin looked over at Chloe. Her eyes dropped to the floor. She felt herself begin to float, in the way that provided the only refuge she could find.

  “Isn’t she sexy?”

  “Ye-es.”

  “Haven’t you ever wondered what she looks like naked?”

  Stunned silence.

  “It’s a simple question, Colin. I’m your employer, and I pay you to tell the truth.”

  “Yes-s-s.”

  “She seems to have trouble believing in herself. I need your help now, this is very important. Take off my wife’s bra.”

  “No!” said Chloe. “I’ll do it.”

  “Don’t move, Chloe. Colin, take off her top.”

  Colin moved to Chloe’s side. She could feel him shaking next to her. “Sorry,” he whispered in her ear as he pushed down the straps and exposed her breasts. Floating high overhead by now, she said nothing. His breath was coming fast, hot against her neck.

  “Pull the bra over her head.” Andrew ordered. Chloe closed her eyes and obediently raised her arms as Colin eased the bra off her body. Try as he might, he couldn’t avoid brushing his thumb against her right nipple, and she could hear his stifled gasp as he felt her flesh. Her breasts were always a surprise to everyone Andrew showed them off to. On her slender, delicate frame, with her pale skin, her breasts stood unexpectedly proud and heavy, with long pink nipples that responded to the lightest touch. When aroused, they darkened to an erotic dark-red. And it took almost nothing to arouse them. Now they sprang free in the open air.

  “Spectacular, aren’t they?” said Andrew.

  “Yes,” said Colin in a strangled voice.

  “If you work hard and make your fortune, you too can have a woman with tits like this. Until then, look, but don’t touch. Are you turned on?”

  “Yes.”

  “It would be strange if you weren’t. Now, take off her shorts.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Don’t question me. Just do it.”

  And Chloe stood, imagining herself far, far away, maybe in the treetops of Bellhaven, maybe in a cloud high in the sky, as Andrew’s assistant stripped off her shorts. Before her marriage, no one had ever seen her naked, not even her parents. Her family was practically Amish in their modesty. Since her marriage, she’d lost count of the strangers who had ogled her exposed body. This time, it wasn’t a stranger, and a weird tension vibrated between her and Colin. They were almost the same age, after all. And while at first he’d been careful and gentle, now she could feel his surging lust. Andrew had just had her waxed. Colin’s eyes were fixed avidly to the sight of her smooth, vulnerable sex.

  “Have you ever seen anything so tempting?” asked Andrew.

  “No.” The young man could barely speak.

  “One touch, then.”

  Chloe stiffened. This had never happened before. Look, but don’t touch—since her marriage she had clung to the reassurance of that refrain. Before she fully realized what was happening, a clammy young hand covered her sex, greedily feeling her up. She staggered backwards, and Andrew moved behind her to hold her up.

  “That’s enough.” But the greedy hand dug deeper into her folds, and the kid’s mouth latched onto her nipple.

  “Get out, you little pervert.”

  Colin finally pulled away. Chloe could see the darkening stain on the front of his pants.

  “Sorry, Mr. Garwood. I couldn’t help—I’m sorry.”

  “You can pick up your final check tomorrow. Leave now.”

  As Colin scurried from the room, Andrew pressed himself against Chloe’s back. She could feel his hard arousal against her buttocks.

  “Did you have to fire him?” she whispered. It hadn’t been his fault, after all.

  “You liked that, you little whore? I’ve never let anyone else touch you before. I didn’t know I’d been depriving you.”

  “No! That’s not what I mean.”

  He picked up the disputed dress. “Lift your arms, doll.” She did and he pulled it over her head. As she’d expected, her nipples were barely covered by the thin folds, and they shone rose-red through the material.

  “You don’t know what you mean. You don’t know what you want. Anyway, that’s for me to decide. At the party tonight, whenever anyone asks, you pull up your dress and show them the goods, got it? If they want to see these…” He tweaked her nipples, and an electric shock shot through her. “You pull them out and offer them up like candy on a platter. If I ever see you hesitate, I’ll let the next person, whoever it is, help himself to these gorgeous breasts of mine. Got it?”

  She nodded. Andrew held all the cards. She was a prisoner in a multi-million dollar cage. Who could help her? Not her parents, to whom she could never admit her shame. Not herself. She had no money of her own, and had never even learned to drive. Not her friends, who were all Andrew’s friends.

  Wearing the see-through dress, she floated through that night’s party, displaying herself on demand and, at the end, as always, Andrew ravaged her body, the body so many had admired and desired, the body that belonged to him. The body he never bothered to satisfy.

  The Island Enchantment bumped against the Bellhaven wharf, and Chloe jerked back to awareness. If she didn’t watch herself, the memories would drown her as quickly as the ocean waves. She gathered her backpack and tote bag, and queued up behind the other passengers.

  On the wharf, Dustin MacDougal tied his boat to the cleat. Another trip into town for supplies, another eighty bucks down the drain. Fuel costs were worse than ever. It was almost enough to make him skip down to Florida for the winter. There wasn’t much lobstering to be done this time of year. But still, to him, Bellhaven was at its best with no summer visitors, no camera-toting tourists, no one but true-blue islanders. Only sixty people lived on Bellhaven all year round. And those sixty people got to know each other extremely, sometimes painfully, well.

  As if on cue, his cell phone rang. “Yeah.”

  “It’s Gary. Didja get my stuff?”

  “Stuff? Damn, Gary, I told you to call and remind me.” Dustin balanced the phone on his shoulder while he tied the stern line to the cleat. His boat banged against the foam fenders. It sure was bumpy out there today.

  “I tried, but your cell phone was off. You should keep it on, how many times I got to tell you?” Gary whined.

  “I’ll try to remember. From now on, I swear.”

  “It’s too late now.”

  Dustin smiled at the petulant tone in Gary’s voice. Then he scolded himself. It wasn’t nice to tease a quasi-alcoholic. “You want to come get this box of liquor, or you want me to drop it off?”

  “Goddamn you, I shoulda known you wouldn’t do me like that…”

  Someone caught his eye, and Dustin nearly dropped his cell into the ocean from pure shock.

  Chloe Barnes. It had to be. No one else had hair that color, like gold champagne flowing down her back. Her hair had always been one shade lighter than her tawny skin, until the summer sun bleached it even lighter, into a lemony blonde. He’d always loved seeing her hair flying behind her, like a flag of sunshine, as she rode her bike toward the wharf. Always alone, always with that shy smile. The island kids were all fascinated by the quiet, stunning girl who was rarely allowed to play with them. With someone else, there would have been resentment. But not with Chloe. Everyone knew her overprotective parents were to blame. She would have loved to play with them, that’s why she gave them that wistful smile whenever she saw them.

  The sound of Gary’s annoying voice on the other end of his phone recalled him to the presen
t. Without bothering to sign off, he snapped his cell shut. Chloe Barnes. No, Chloe Garwood. She’d married that asshole, Andrew. When he’d first heard the news, he’d felt sick. Andrew Garwood, arrogant, wealthy, ambitious. Rumor had it Andrew was about to run for Senate down in Massachusetts. Better there than here in Maine.

  Dustin stepped back onto his boat to unload his boxes. It rocked back and forth against the wharf, and only years of practice kept him from losing his footing. Andrew Garwood. He’d never forget the time Andrew had hired him to take a group of his friends fishing. Except all they’d really wanted to do was drink and act like jerks. When Andrew had actually caught a fish, he’d poked it around the deck, playing games with it while the bluefish flopped and flailed. Finally Dustin had thrown the poor thing back into the ocean. He’d never gotten paid for that trip, but he figured the lesson was worth the price. Moral of the story—stay away from Andrew Garwood.

  The thought of the fairy-like Chloe, with her wide amber eyes and fragile air, in the hands of Andrew Garwood was disgusting.

  And now here she was, walking down the gangplank, looking around her as though she’d never seen the place before. He caught her eye as it passed over him and the contact felt like a punch in the stomach. Not because she clearly didn’t recognize him. But because she looked…haunted. Spooked.

  Her face was thinner, which only emphasized her wide-set eyes. She looked more polished than he remembered. Her hair was pulled back in a knot, and she wore a simple, but obviously expensive, green wool coat. What was she doing here? No one had seen Andrew or Chloe on the island since their wedding. Maybe she was here to check the family silver, or inventory the china. Who knew what rich people did in those mansions of theirs? He shrugged. Not his worry.

  After all his boxes were unloaded, he headed up the wharf to his truck, which he always left parked by the store. A little snow had fallen while he’d been gone. He brushed off the tarp covering the bed of his truck, and shoved aside a couple of stray lobster traps to make room for his boxes. Then he backed the truck onto the wharf.