Faine Hellier is a librarian. She meets and marries Burke Harding, who is wealthy, handsome and in love with another woman.
Burke is a real winner. I didn't particularly care for him from the moment Faine (literally) ran into tall, dark, and rude, but in matters of taste… the real problem with the book comes later. Faine and Burke don't have sex right away–for quite a while, in fact–and Burke isn't entirely graceful about it. He threatens her: "Just remember this. If I chose to I could take you now, here, on the floor, and there's nothing you could do about it." (1983, p. 127) When she objects, his response isn't great:
'I meant it, Burke. The thought of being raped terrifies and repels me.'
'Some women enjoy the idea,' he said, and smiled cynically as she began to protest. 'Oh, calm down. Give me some credit for knowing how devious your sex can be!'
But don't worry! He isn't actually going to rape her, because that wouldn't be as much fun: " The decision will be yours, my sweet, so that you can’t complain that I took you against your will. You’ll come to me when you can’t bear the hunger any longer, but until then I’ll leave you alone." (1983, p. 129) Unfortunately, a dozen pages later he forgets his resolve on the matter:
‘I’m not going to beg any more, Faine, Or wait until it pleases you to stop punishing me. I need you now.’
‘So you'll rape me.’ She stared at the taut line of his jaw, afraid to lift her eyes in case he saw how his nearness affected her.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. ‘Don’t be naive,’ he said against her temple. 'Just relax.’
She fought him until he lost patience and used his great strength to subdue her. ‘Then she stood rigid in his arms, refusing to let her body respond to his practised seduction, her eyes unfocussed as she stared straight in front of her.
[…]
His hands moved, there was a ripping sound and she gasped, looking in astonished horror at the wreck of her dressing gown on the floor. For a moment she was too shocked at his sudden violence to remember that she had only a very flimsy nightgown on.
'No–' she stammered, hugging her arms across her breasts in a vain attempt to ward him off.
'Then take it off,' he said. 'If you like it that much. I don't feel inclined to be gentle.'
'You–you said you wouldn't…' She stepped backwards, swallowing nervously. 'You can't rape me!'
Burke laughed again, and reached out to run a finger from her mouth to the hollow between her breasts. Colour bloomed in Faine's cheeks; she breathed in quickly and sharply, fighting her desire to give in. Defiantly she tightened her arms, then flushed again as the pressure pushed her breasts together, almost entrapping his finger.
'But you want me to,' he said softly, enjoying her discomfiture. 'You know, I'd heard that there were women who enjoyed being raped but never believed it. Incredible to find myself married to one!' (1983, pp. 141–142)
Twenty pages later he does it again, coercing her with "Are you going to give me what I want or do I have to hurt you to get it? You know bloody well you'll give in eventually." (1983, p. 159) He does eventually, uh, explain? Make an excuse? Not apologize, anyway: "I suppose I wanted you to love me and be unable to hide it. When you kept silent it infuriated me. I think that was why I raped you after the funeral." (1983, p. 178) This gem of a comment, notice, is only ten pages from the end of the book. It's not the start of a redemption arc, it's already into the happily-ever-after.