Fate's Intervention (34 page)

“
Had I known you were so afraid of the dark,
”
a voice whispered close to her ear, and she gasped,
“
I would not have closed the door on you. I could hear your gasping breath from across the room.
”

Marcelle
’
s breathing increased again and she dared not move. If she turned now, she would find herself in Mark
’
s embrace and
she didn’t want to be there
.

“
M
m
m, you are so beautiful,
”
he murmured, his hot breath caressing her neck.

“
A
nd
you smell drunk,
”
she said haughtily.

“
I probably am,
”
he admitted,
“
but not so drunk that I can
’
t enjoy your womanly charms.
”

“
A
ll you
’
re going to receive is my wrath if you don
’
t step away from me this instant,
”
Marcelle said, more courageously than she felt as he pressed his body closer to her. His hands, spread on either side of her waist, effectively pinned her to the French door.

“
Don
’
t tell me, my lovely,
”
he whispered, placing a kiss on her bare shoulder and grinding his arousal against her skirt,
“
t
hat
at your age, you
’
ve never known the
pleasure
of a man.
”

“
What I have or have not done,
”
Marcelle snapped, trying to move closer to the glass,
“
is of no concern to you. Now move away from me or you will rue the day you walked into my house!
”

He stiffened slightly and she felt him move back a little. She sighed in relief, but that relief was short-lived.
A
moment later,
he yanked her about and
into the very embrace she so wanted to avoid.
He grasped her upper arms in a vice grip that belied his slender frame,
“
you
tempt a man to distraction with those enormous breasts of yours and then when he wants to collect on the promise
they offer
, you turn him away? You are a tease, aren
’
t you? Tell me, Marcelle, did you turn my brother away, or did you willingly lift up your skirts for him? No matter. If you want to tease a man, I
’
ll show you what you get for it.
”

Without allowing a response, he brought his mouth crashing down on hers. Marcelle struggled and tried to pry her mouth away, but he pressed her head against the glass and gripped both sides with his hands.

Memories of another kiss flitted through her mind. Matthew had accused her of teasing him and had responded in much the same way, but she
had
teased him and
welcomed
his
response. She
’
d never knowingly tempted Mark
thus far from deserved
–
or desired
–
his attentions.

If he continued this bruising kiss for too much longer, she grimaced, her lips would start to bleed. She had to do something!
H
er hands were useless, pinioned between their two bodies, but her feet were unobstructed.
A
n idea blossomed in her head and she only hoped she could exert enough power to make him release her.

She lifted
her s
lippered foot and brought the heel crashing down on his stockinged toes. He yelped, releasing her to grab at his foot. So ludicrous was the sight of him hopping around with his injured foot in his hand that Marcelle stood gaping at him and almost missed the opportunity to flee. She mentally shook herself, then sidled past him and made a dash for the door. She thought she was going to make it, but Mark dove at her and grabbed her ankle, sending her flying headlong onto the Oriental carpet. Marcelle
’
s scream
was short lived when her head collided
painfully
with
the floor.

Mark
’
s hand slid under her skirt and grasped her calves, twisting them until her body followed and she flipped over on her back. He slithered up the length of her until his face was mere inches from her own.

“
Bedding you is going to take a bit of effort,
”
he
breathed
heavily into her face. Marcelle started to reply, but a chill seized her thighs
through her thin stockings
, and it was only then that she realized that his hands hadn
’
t moved from beneath her skirts when he slid up her body,
rather
they
’
d stayed beneath the material, drawing it scandalously high upon her legs.
T
hose same hands were now caressing her thighs, moving higher with each stroke. She bucked, and he laughed.

“
Wait until I get inside before you start bucking,
”
he laughed, reigning kisses along her neck and upper chest.

Marcelle pushed against his shoulders, but he wouldn
’
t budge,
“
If you are so interested in bedding someone,
”
she huffed, pushing at his shoulders again,
“
Elizabeth Stanharbor is more than willing.
”

“
Jealous? Don
’
t fret, pet, I
’
ll pay a visit to Miss Stanharbor on the morrow,
”
he grinned. His tongue flicked out and stroked her exposed neck.
“
It
’
s you, however, that makes my blood boil. I
’
ve been waiting for this moment since I met you.
”

Marcelle opened her mouth to scream, but it was cut off as his mouth came crashing down on hers again. This time, she tasted blood as his tongue dove in, flicking around hers. She felt her stomach roil, and her nausea rose.

He raised his head as quickly as he
’
d lowered it and glared angrily at her,
“
I like kissing you, so be warned that if you try to scream, I will gladly silence each and every attempt.
”
His tongue flicked along her split lip and she jerked her head aside. He laughed at her puny efforts and she wanted to scream, her anger hot
, b
ut the thought of him putting his tongue inside her mouth again made her ill, so she held her anger in check.

“
You beast! I am not a dog in heat that you can rut with just because you take a notion. Now get
off
me!
”
She hissed, pushing fruitlessly against his shoulders again.
He may be smaller in size than Matthew
, she thought,
but his wiry strength is definitely going to be more than I can handle
. She needed a miracle.

“
You heard the lady, Mark,
”
a soft voice whipped the air in the study,
“
get
up,
and move
away.
”

Marcelle craned her neck and sighed in relief,
“
Matthew. Thank God!
”
The miracle had arrived.

“
Go away, Matthew,
”
Mark snarled, remaining where he was,
“
The
lady and I were having a little tryst.
”

“
Marcelle, would you like me to go away?
”
Matthew asked so calmly that Marcelle wondered whether he was as angry as his posture portrayed.

“
Please, don
’
t leave me.
”
She whimpered, and gasped when Mark
’
s hand slid between her legs, cupping her womanhood in a vicious grip.

“
S
ee, Matthew,
”
he grinned at her reaction,
“
s
he
’
s enjoying herself
, s
o go away.
”

“
It doesn
’
t sound as if she
’
s a voluntary participant, now get up.
”
The tone in Matthew
’
s voice confirmed that his anger was barely controlled and a shiver ran down her spine. It may have been spoken in a mere whisper, but the
threatening
manner in which it was delivered had her wondering why Mark didn
’
t jump up in all haste and run for the hills.
She would have.

Matthew
’
s nerves stretched taut. It was taking a considerable effort on his part to remain
motionless and
calm. When he entered the room and saw Mark
at
o
p Marcelle, his first instinct was to barge in and murder his younger brother. He still felt that urge, but for his mother
’
s sake
–
and Marcelle
’
s
–
he was trying to maintain a civilized control. However, if his brother persisted in ignoring his warnings, he would be paying for a funeral and begging for forgiveness from his mother
,
and
what would Marcelle think of him then? Would she perceive him as a murdering scum, or would she understand?
All
it would take to end this was for Mark to heed his warning
and move.

H
e didn
’
t. In fact, he remained there, snickering, and Matthew
’
s calm slipped another notch.

“
If you could feel the tremors rolling through her body, Brother, you
’
d know how much she wants me. More than she could ever want an old codger like you.
”

He must be drunk
, Matthew thought
,
o
therwise he
’
d heed the warning and quit his persistent
taunting
.

“
If I have to move you, Mark, I will,
a
nd
you won
’
t find
it pleasant.
”

“
Why don
’
t you just leave us be. I
’
ll be done in a minute, then you can have her back.
”

“
So
n-of-a-. . . .
”
Matthew growled. That did it! He was finished trying to be
reason
able.

He moved so quickly, that Marcelle didn
’
t fully realize that Mark was gone from
at
o
p her until she saw him flying across the room. He landed with a thud, his head banging against her
father
’
s mahogany desk.

He rose unsteadily to his feet, but before he could move a step, Matthew gripped the collar of his shirt with one fist and slammed the other into his jaw, sending him sprawling again.
A
fter
two more punches, Mark wisely stayed down. He wiped at the blood seeping from the cuts on his lips and glared angrily at his older brother.

“
I want you out of here on the next train,
”
Matthew said, his breathing heavy, his fist clenching and unclenching by his side.

“
I
’
m not leaving,
”
Mark yelled defiantly,
“
unless you agree to come back to
New York
and sign over control of the company to me.
”

Matthew started at that. He had
n
o
t thought of Daragh Steel since he was eighteen, had completely forgotten that control of the company pass
ed
to him upon his
father
’
s death. Well, whatever Mark
’
s
reason
for being in this house, it didn
’
t justify his behavior, and if he expected Matthew to be
reason
able after his drunken display . . . .