Master of Pleasure (29 page)

Jacob ran into the room, his small booted feet echoing as he rounded her. He bustled over to the far side of the room and yanked open one of several trunks, throwing everything out of it.

Leona paused on all fours and glanced over at him. “Jacob, that isn’t yours.”

“I know,” he called back.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking.” He buried his head far forward into the trunk, his feet scrambling in an effort to balance himself as he lifted something out. He turned toward her and triumphantly held up a checkered board in one hand and a carved wooden box in the other. “Malcolm told me to get it. We’re all going to play right now. You, me, and Malcolm. Chess requires three players.
Three
. Malcolm said so. Put away the bucket, Mama. Hurry up. Before Malcolm gets here.”

She sighed, sat back on the heels of her slippers and flopped the rag into the tin bucket. She didn’t even know how to play chess. Only draughts. “I’ll play later. I have to finish washing the floor.”

“Wash it later. We
have
to play. Malcolm said so.” Jacob scampered over and in the middle of the floor, set down the board and sat cross-legged, opening the wooden box. He dumped out all the pieces into his lap and dug through them, setting the black and ivory pieces all randomly onto the wooden board. “Mama, I’m waiting.”

Despite herself, Leona allowed for a smile and swiped her hands into her apron. Pushing up onto her feet, she abandoned her bucket and walked over to the middle of the floor. She sat beside Jacob and peered at the organization he was doing.

His little fingers set the black and ivory pieces in between the painted squares, alternating the colors all on one side of the board to create a wall, which he nudged as closely together as possible. He plucked up a piece and held it up. “It looks like a horse, Mama. Look. See its head?” He wagged it in the air.

Leona took the piece and pretended to gallop it through the air. “Its legs appear to be missing,” she chided. “Whatever shall we do?”

Jacob tsked. “It isn’t supposed to have legs, Mama.” He took the piece back and trotted it across the board. “It balances better this way. See?” His hair fell into his eyes as he continued trotting it.

Reaching out her hand to brush away the hair from his eyes, Leona’s heart squeezed knowing she didn’t have to worry about Ryder anymore. It was just him and her and—

Heavy booted steps crossing toward them made her look up and drop her hand away. Her breath caught.

Malcolm lowered himself to the floor beside them and stretched out long, trouser-clad legs beside them. He winced, giving away that the healing wound hidden from sight still bothered him. He let out a calming breath as if adjusting to the discomfort. Tugging his morning coat around himself, he then propped up on an elbow, to ensure he was close beside her and tilted his dark head toward her, his blue eyes brightening. “Good afternoon, pigeon.”

Her heart skipped. She had grown stupidly accustomed to that endearment. Strangely, over the past few days, he acted as if nothing had happened. Absolutely nothing. As if they hadn’t argued. As if they had made love and were now merrily heading straight for the altar.

Men. She adjusted her bundled hair and quirked a brow. “You appear incredibly cheerful.”

His mouth quirked. “I spent the entire morning and early afternoon with my brother. I haven’t seen him in thirteen years. It was nice.”

Her brows went up. “You have a brother?”

He nodded, averting his gaze. “Yes. And when I’m crazy enough to do it, I’ll introduce you. But first, you have to get used to me.” He cleared his throat and averting his attention to Jacob, pointed to the board. “The black and white pieces have to be separated, Jacob. The black pieces go on one side of the board and the white pieces on the other side.”

Jacob blinked and set the horse he was playing with onto the middle of the checkered board. “Why separate the blacks from the whites? They want to be together. Look. Look how happy they are.” He nudged them all even closer, no longer keeping them in their squares. “It’s a city. Everyone likes each other. And if they don’t follow the rules, they go back into the box.”

Malcolm smirked. “It’s genius. I don’t know how I didn’t come up with it.” He eyed the board. “I have an idea. How about today we play chess your way and tomorrow, we play chess the way everyone else plays it?”

Jacob perked. “Yes!” Jacob squinted at the pieces and gathered a few up, holding it out to Malcolm. “These are for you. Don’t lose them.”

With the bow of his head, Malcolm took the four pieces and splayed out his large hand. “Thank you. Now what?”

“Now you have to give them all names. They can’t be real until they have names.”

Leona couldn’t help but inwardly melt watching them both interact. This man was a natural with children. It made her want at least three more. Which meant…Persia. With him at her side, fear wouldn’t exist. Biting her lip, she leaned closer to Malcolm’s shoulder, pretending to only be interested in the pieces in his large hand. “I’m very good with names.”

“I bet you are,” Malcolm drawled. “I remember the sort of names you came up with for the creditors on the street. Rumpot was my favorite.”

She nudged him with her shoulder. “Cease.” She tapped on each piece. “This here is Anna, Beatrice, Mary and…Sarah.”

Malcolm’s gaze flicked up to her face. “There should be at least one male in this crowd.” He rattled the pieces. “Where is he?”

Leona shrugged, trying to remain serious. “I don’t see him.”

Jacob leaned in and scooped up the pieces. “It’s time for them to sleep.” Jacob shoved them all into the box, including the ones on the board. He closed the lid and then gathered the board and box and stumbled to his feet. “I’ll go show Andrew.”

Malcolm lifted a brow. “Andrew is still sleeping.”

Jacob sighed. “Is that all he ever does? I’ll go wake him up. He won’t mind. I’ve done it before.” He turned and with the checkered board hefted under one arm and the box under the other, he trudged out. “I’ll be back in thirteen minutes,” he called out over his shoulder.

“Should we stop him?” Leona chided.

“No. Andrew had to be somewhere in an hour anyway.” Malcolm hesitated and edged in closer. “Leona?”

She paused. “Yes?”

He searched her face. “I don’t want us arguing ever again. It’s not who we are.”

Her skin prickled in awareness. She half-nodded. “I agree.”

He was quiet for a moment then murmured, “
Deltangam.
”

She leaned in. “What does that mean?”

“It’s what I carved into the wall. It means…my heart is tight.” He averted his gaze. “It’s uh…it’s how I feel when I’m around you.”

A deep ache almost overtook her ability to breath. “I feel the same.”

His gaze veered back to hers. “Do you?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. I needed to know.” He wet his lips and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He eased out a long breath and then smoothed his cravat before patting his leg. “Can you lean on this with both hands? It needs attention.”

Her brows came together. Realizing his large hand patted the muscled thigh that was still recovering, she flicked her gaze to his. “You don’t want me leaning on that, Malcolm.”

His features tightened. He patted his thigh again. “I can take it. Start with one hand and lean into it.”

Her lips parted. “Lean into it? Aren’t there still threads in your leg?”

He shrugged. “Only a few. Lean into it. And then kiss me. I need you to kiss me.”

Something wasn’t right. She lowered her chin. “I’m not leaning into it.”

He shifted his jaw. “But I’m asking you to. I want you to.”

“And I’m telling you I won’t. I’ll hurt you.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Yes. I know. Now lean into it, pigeon. Go on. Hurt me.” His eyes brightened. “It makes me feel alive.”

This was…unusual. She edged back, scooting her bum away from where he sat. “Malcolm, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you enjoy being in pain.”

“Exactly.” He met her gaze, the amusement fading. “Are you fine with that?”

She swallowed. “I don’t…I don’t understand.”

He sighed and reaching for her, grabbed her waist and dragged her back toward himself. Taking her hand, he set it against his thigh and pressed her hand into it. He drew in a ragged breath through his teeth, clearly struggling to breathe his way through the discomfort and then said in a low tone, “It’s like sex when you do it. Every time you press, it makes me want it more.”

She jerked her hand away, her heart pounding. “Malcolm, what is this? This…I…this isn’t…”

He grabbed her hand back hard and bringing it to his lips savagely kissed it, holding her gaze. “This is who I am, Leona. And it would be the greatest honor I have
ever
known if you would share my life and bestow me with the sort of pain I deserve.”

She gasped and yanked her hand away from his. She scrambled up onto her feet and stumbled, her chest heaving. Now she understood. He enjoyed having the dagger in him. He had enjoyed it so much he had pleasured himself before her very eyes proving it.

Malcolm lifted somber eyes to hers, remaining on the floor. “Take all the time you need to understand it, Leona. It took me my entire life to understand it. Simply know, that when we marry, our lives will be like any other. I will honor and cherish you and be the father you expect me to be. In the bedchamber, however, I will expect a little more than pleasure. I’ll ease you into it when we start. I wish to assure you, I’m softer in my tastes. I won’t need a dagger in my leg. That was actually a bit much, even for me, but…crops would be nice. They wouldn’t be for you, of course. Only me.”

Her throat tightened in panic. A crop wasn’t even pleasure. Nor was it a way of giving love. It was nothing but…pain. Something she could
never
do. Not even to someone she hated.

Still staying on the floor, Malcolm grudgingly met her gaze. “Leona. Talk to me. You’re too quiet and I don’t like the look on your face.”

Setting a trembling hand against her mouth, she choked out, “I can’t do this. It isn’t—”

“Normal. I know.” A breath escaped him. He pushed himself up from the floor, his features twisting as he righted himself and fully stood. He reached out for her, that large scarred hand whispering of all the things he’d done to himself. “Come here.”

She shook her head and kept shaking it, stepping back.

He dropped his hand heavily to his side and stared. “Don’t treat me like this. Don’t act like you’re suddenly scared of me. I’m still the same man.”

She shook her head again. “No. You aren’t. The man I have come to love and know wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not even himself.”

He glared. “If I could rip it out of myself in your name, Leona, I would. But I can’t. This is who I am.”

“It can’t be,” she rasped. “You’re too kind in nature to be this cruel to yourself. You’re too kind to—”

“What is cruel is your inability to accept me for what I am.” He hit his chest. “I can’t change this. I’ve tried. And I’d only be lying to myself and to you if I didn’t give into it. And I’m done lying about it, Leona. I’m done lying.”

He swung away and stalked toward the door, the brass chandelier above her head trembling from his pronounced weight hitting the floorboards. Before leaving the room, he swung back. “You have five weeks to pick up a crop and be the woman I need you to be or I leave to Persia without you. Because I’d rather live without you knowing I am true to myself than live with you and betray all that I am. And if being true to
yourself
means being unable to pick up that crop…I will respect that. I will respect we simply were never meant to be.”

He hesitated, looking anguished about the words he shared. “When we first kissed, you challenged me to come to you, no matter the hour, no matter the reason, asking that I show you’re the only woman I would ever want in my arms and in my life. And I’m doing that. As you had once said, ‘I want a life where I’m not limited to someone who refuses to give me the one thing I not only deserve but want:
everything
.’ And I do want everything, Leona. I want everything including you and unlike before, I’m not settling for less.” Averting his gaze, he walked out and didn’t look back.

Numbly wandering over to the bucket of water that was as flat and murky as she felt in that moment, Leona sank to the floor beside it. A crop. He wanted her to wield a crop and treat him like an undisciplined animal by taking it to his body.

She wasn’t even capable of spanking her own child beyond a mere tap.

And he expected her to…?

She grabbed up the rag floating in the water and frantically scrubbed the floor, wishing she could scrub out the vision of Malcolm’s scarred hand reaching out to her, expecting her to further scar him.

All she wanted to do was love him in the only way she knew how. Not—

Whipping the rag against the floor, she closed her eyes in anguish and let out a sob burning within her, knowing her dream of them being together was cracking down its center. Malcolm was making her choose between hurting herself or hurting him.