Cheryl Holt (11 page)

She was surprised by the brash maneuver, but she didn’t pull away, or raise a fuss. She was very still,
enjoying the sweetness of the embrace, and he speculated as to whether she’d ever been kissed and decided she probably hadn’t been. Stanton didn’t sound like the amorous type—at least not with her—and James was thrilled to be the first.

He held her close, their bodies melded. Her breasts were flattened to his chest, his aroused cock wedged to her belly, and though she was too unschooled to grasp what his erection indicated, her anatomy recognized that it was proceeding in the appropriate direction.

Her arms rose, and she hugged him, and the small gesture provoked him so that suddenly he desired more from her than she could ever give. He was yearning for love and companionship, for a home of his own, a devoted wife, and a gaggle of adorable children. He wanted all those things and more, and he was frightened by the ferocity of his craving.

He was the one to yank away, and he glared at her, a fiery storm of unspeakable hungers and passions churning around them.

“Don’t ask me to walk with you again,” she finally said. “I won’t. Not ever.”

She turned and ran toward the mansion.

“Rebecca!” he called, but she kept going.

He watched to guarantee she made it safely inside, and his mind was awhirl with how quickly he could finagle another rendezvous. Despite her plea that he leave her alone, he was determined to be with her. And soon.

He tiptoed to the rear wall, climbed over, and vanished.

  7  

“What am I to do?”

“Why keep pestering me? I haven’t a better answer now than I had the last time you asked.”

Nicholas sipped his brandy and glared at his brother. “It’s not enough money for a bird to live on. I want more from the family coffers. I deserve more!”

“I won’t dole it out to you,” Alex insisted.

“You’re a flippin’ earl,” Nicholas snapped. “You could share some of it if you wished.”

“Perhaps I don’t
wish
then.”

“Bloody right.”

They had the same argument at least once a month. Nicholas had been their mother’s favorite, and she’d sworn he’d be as wealthy as Alex, but their father had only bequeathed him tiny New Haven. The rebuff was a burr under Nicholas’s saddle, rubbing at his temper and his pride.

Why should Alex have everything, while he, Nicholas, had hardly anything at all?

“If you weren’t such a spendthrift,” Alex nagged,
“you’d have plenty to support yourself.” He swilled his brandy, stood, and motioned to the door. “I’m weary of this quarrel. Let’s join the ladies.”

They’d actually dined at home with Lydia and Rebecca. The sisters were regular visitors, more like sisters than guests, so when they came to town there was none of the fanfare that attached to company. The brothers wouldn’t try to entertain Lydia, for she was never happy, no matter what amusements were supplied.

“I’ve met someone,” Nicholas admitted.

“To marry?” Alex was intrigued by the possibility.

“No, not to marry. What darling little rich girl would have me? I don’t hold a title, remember?”

“You could have your choice. Stop complaining.”

“I’m taking a mistress,” he clarified.

“Is it anyone I know?”

“Her name is Suzette DuBois.”

“The actress?”

“Yes. I must buy her a house and provide her with an allowance.”

Alex frowned, then scoffed. “No.”

“You have to help me!” Nicholas grabbed Alex by the lapels and gave him a firm shake. “You can’t refuse. Not when this is so important to me.”

At being manhandled Alex was furious, so Nicholas released him and moved away. Alex was bigger and tougher, and he wouldn’t hesitate to administer a thrashing as he often had when they were boys.

“The woman is a shark,” Alex said. “She’ll eat you alive.”

“I have to have her,” Nicholas proclaimed. “I have to make her mine.”

His obsession with Suzette was starting to rule his
life. He couldn’t concentrate on any other topic, and his need to possess her was like a putrid tumor growing inside. He had to have her or die! Why couldn’t Alex understand?

“You’re mad to consider it,” Alex contended. “Don’t bother me about her again. I won’t change my mind, so you’ll be wasting your breath—and trying my patience.”

He marched out so there wasn’t opportunity for a caustic retort. The bastard! Always thinking he knew best! Always thinking he was smarter than everyone else!

Nicholas hated Alex, reviled his superior attitude, and begrudged him his dark good looks and urbane style. The disparity in their situations galled Nicholas beyond any sane limit.

What he wouldn’t give to bring Alex down a peg or two! There had to be a way, and he was determined to find it.

Lydia dawdled in the deserted salon, a candle burning, as she listened to the noises of the party progressing without her. Rebecca had many friends, was constantly surrounded by an exuberant crowd, while Lydia was shunned and ignored. No one came to check on
her
, no one wanted to chat or mingle with
her
. It was all Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and momentarily Nicholas poked his nose into the room.

“Cousin Lydia,” he said, “you’re hiding again.”

“Yes, I am. I can’t abide that pompous mob.”

His speech was slurred, indicating that he was inebriated, which seemed to be his habitual state. The fool had
no notion of restraint, and Lydia couldn’t stomach a weak man, especially one who couldn’t manage his liquor.

He entered and shut the door, and she studied him suspiciously. When he sat next to her on the sofa, her brows rose to her hairline.

The randy goat! She was aware of what he intended. Years prior, another oaf just like him had feigned affection and trifled with her in secluded parlors. She’d been young and gullible as to masculine impulses, so she’d reveled in the nonsense he’d whispered as he’d persuaded her he was a genuine beau.

Of course, his attentions hadn’t meant anything, and it had taken a humiliating trip to the barber to rid herself of the sin she’d committed. She’d never forgiven herself for being so stupid, but then she’d gained invaluable experience from the affair—experience that she’d used to push her father to an early grave.

Frequently she’d crept into her father’s bed at night, murmuring like a harlot and doing foul deeds with him that no wife would have countenanced. He hadn’t been able to resist his incestuous lusts, and she’d driven him insane with guilt and remorse, with terror over her sly threats to expose his unnatural behaviors.

She’d been wondering when Nicholas would realize she was the answer to his prayers. He always needed cash, and she was dying to be apprised of the details of his current fiscal crisis. She’d investigate later, but for now, she’d let him continue, smug with the knowledge that before the summer was through, she’d be married.

Despite how she publicly denied the prospect, it was her secret dream to have a handsome spouse she could flaunt before the members of High Society. She yearned to snatch a prime marital candidate away from the vapid
mothers and simpering debutantes who routinely ignored her, judging her too ugly to be a rival. She’d show them all! She could already picture the design of the wedding invitations, could envision the decorations on her cake.

After the ceremony, she would stay in town with her new husband, would demand that he march with her down the promenade in the park as the members of fashionable London watched.

Ooh, how she would relish the coming weeks and months!

Nicholas slid closer and made a gauche move, stretching his arm across the back of the sofa.

“Cousin Nicholas?” she asked.

She pretended to be naïve as to what was transpiring, for she grasped how men liked to presume they were in charge. She was perfectly happy to let him have his illusions, but for the privilege of laying his hands on her he would ultimately have to compensate her, and she could guarantee that he wouldn’t enjoy the penalty she planned to extract.

“It recently occurred to me,” he replied, “that we should become better acquainted, but in a different way than we have been. We have so much to offer one another.”

“Such as?”

“It’s awful that you’ve never wed, that you’ve never had your own home or family.”

As he spewed his male falsehoods, he was gazing at the far wall, which was just as well. If he’d been staring directly at her, she couldn’t have kept a straight face.

He was such an idiot! By never marrying he thought she’d been deprived, but she’d run her father’s estate, had supervised the staff and hosted his guests. With the old swine having passed away, all of it was hers—the
money, the mansion, the stables, the farms—to do with as she pleased.

She didn’t need Nicholas Marshall to have stability and security. But he needed her.

“I never wanted to wed,” she lied, “but with Rebecca marrying Alex, it’s dawned on me that I missed out by not accepting any of the proposals I’ve received.”

“You
have had marriage proposals?” His incredulity was revealed before he could mask it.

“Certainly,” she responded, though it was a huge fib. She’d never had a single one. “What with my enormous fortune, many fellows have been interested, but I refused.”

“Why?”

“I have everything a woman could desire: income, property, independence. Why would I need a man in my life?”

“Perhaps a man could furnish other things—more personal things.”

“Like what?”

“I. . . I. . . suppose I could show you.”

He was being deliberately enigmatic, but she knew to what he referred, and it was amusing, having him assume she was clueless. If he deemed her to be reluctant, he’d be more aroused, would force the issue, which would make it impossible for him to renege.

He went to the sideboard, poured himself a whiskey, and gulped it down. He poured another and swilled it, too; then he walked to the door and locked it.

As he returned to the sofa, he blew out the candle.

“Nicholas! What are you doing?”

“You need a husband, Lydia,” he maintained. “It might as well be me.”

“I don’t need a husband. I don’t want a husband.”

“You only think you don’t. I’ll change your mind.”

Pompous bastard!
she seethed. Men liked to imagine they were the greatest lovers, that a woman couldn’t wait to have them slobbering and rutting.

Without wooing or warning, he jerked her into a tight embrace and, as he pushed her down, as he came over her, she stifled a shudder. He was a big man, as her father had been, but his size didn’t scare her. She was an expert at exerting control, at inspiring panic. In the end, Nicholas would drown in his own misery.

He crushed her into the cushions, and for his benefit she faked a struggle.

“Lie still,” he commanded.

“I won’t,” she said. “I can’t.”

“Be silent, or our guests will burst in and discover how you’ve enticed me.”

At the notion that anyone might infer she’d
enticed
him she nearly guffawed aloud, but she quashed her reaction, not wanting to cause a delay. She continued to tussle, though, and the wrestling excited him.

He fumbled with her skirt, raising it up, and she stiffened as he shoved his clumsy fingers inside, as he stroked them back and forth. She abhorred being fondled, but it was the price she had to pay for a marriage. However, once the deed was accomplished, she’d cut off his hand before she let him touch her there again.

“Desist!” she entreated.

“No, I have to do this.”

“But I can’t bear it.”

“You have no choice, Lydia. I’ve been swept away by passion.”

“I don’t understand what you want,” she wailed. “What are you attempting?”

He loosened his trousers and pressed himself between her legs. His phallus was at her center, but it wasn’t anywhere close to where it needed to be, and she yearned to shake him. Hadn’t the accursed man ever fornicated? Was he too drunk to locate the route?

Eventually, he landed in the right spot, but though he thrust over and over, he couldn’t seem to enter her. His cock wasn’t very hard, and she was rankled. If he stopped in mid-ravishment, where would that leave her?