Authors: Connie Mason
“I’ve forgotten nothing, and I don’t deserve your contempt. Adam. I saved your life, damn you! I should have let you hang!”
“Maybe you should have, Alexa,” Adam agreed softly. Before she could offer a tart reply. Adam’s hard mouth claimed hers, slanting first one way, then the other in a kiss meant to punish as well as show his contempt.
Struggling beneath him. Alexa felt her breath leave her soul as his kiss deepened and his tongue ravaged the soft inside of her mouth, stabbing, probing, insulting in its boldness. His fingers dug hurtfully into the tender flesh of her upper arms and Alexa whimpered, wishing she had the comfort of a sword in her hand.
At the first touch of her mouth against his, Adam was driven beyond reason, beyond time and space as his blood took fire and blazed white-hot through his veins. Lifting himself slightly he began ripping and tugging at her clothes until he finally bared her beautiful breasts to his hot gaze.
Abandoning her lips, his eager mouth fell to a nipple, dusty rose and pouting prettily beneath his gaze. “This is rape. Adam!” Alexa managed to gasp out.
Ignoring her taunts. Adam continued to nuzzle and suck at her breasts, vaguely thinking that she had somehow changed since he had last had her; her breasts seemed fuller, more firm. His mouth continued its brazen assault as he tugged off the rest of her clothes and tossed them on the floor. Then he worked furiously to free himself of his own constricting clothing before renewing his salacious attack.
“You’ve changed, Alexa,” he murmured, his hands skimming sensuously over her body, discovering once again all the secret places he had forbidden himself to think about these many months. Passion, as well as
anger, caused his hands to grasp roughly, almost hurtfully, at her tender flesh.
“If you’re trying to hurt me, Adam, you’re succeeding,” Alexa complained, flinching beneath the onslaught of his ardor.
“I should hurt you, my love. You deserve to be hurt, damn it!” cursed Adam. “But for some unexplained reason the need to possess you, to lose myself in your warm flesh, is far greater. If I can’t punish you with one weapon I shall use another; one you are accustomed to.”
“Adam, I won’t …” began Alexa stubbornly.
“You will,” Adam interrupted harshly.
Before she could reply Adam’s lips were once again claiming hers, forcibly at first, then softening, swallowing her cries of protest deep in his throat while his hands played at her breasts. With the heel of his palm he molded the mounds, caressing the taut nubs with a thumb. Alexa whimpered, drawn against her will into the vortex of his passion.
Then his lips replaced his hands at her breasts and Alexa stiffened and arched as he drew first one and then the other into his mouth, his tongue working wetly in ever widening circles. Moving downward he nipped at her rib cage, lapped at her navel and the smooth surface of her stomach. Lower still, to the crisp nest of ebony curls which he parted with his tongue, searching for and finding the tiny bud of her femininity.
Alexa gasped, tugging at his hair. “Oh, God, Adam, don’t do this to me!” No answer was forthcoming as Adam’s fingers found her moistness, as his mouth continued to plunder.
Alexa was panting now, crying out, begging. “I can’t stand it. Adam! Stop! Please! You’re torturing me!”
But Adam was relentless, enjoying her helplessness,
reveling in the knowledge that he was driving her wild with desire. Unable to control her response. Alexa exploded in a million pieces, writhing, shuddering, crying out mindlessly. And then she felt herself stretching as Adam reared up and shoved himself inside her.
“I’ve forgotten how good you feel,” he groaned, feeling her tighten around him. And then words were forgotten as his own passion took over and he thrust, withdrew, thrust again, moving smoothly into her welcoming flesh.
Alexa moaned as she felt herself responding again in a way she never thought possible. It had been so long since she had been made love to, since she had been touched with love, if Adam’s angry passion could be construed as love, that she felt herself grow tense and finally disintegrate once more, melting inside as he stroked her to another climax. A few moments later Adam allowed his own passion full reign and he cried out harshly, joining her in her ecstatic journey.
Alexa was allowed little sleep that night. Adam seemed unable to get enough of her, using her repeatedly, forcing a response from her by employing his hands and mouth in ways that drove her to the very brink of insanity. With ridiculous ease he had her writhing and moaning beneath him time and again, despite her resolve to remain unmoved. Morning found her exhausted, her violet eyes smudged with dark circles, her body stiff and sore.
The sun was already high when Alexa awakened to find Adam sleeping peacefully beside her. With his brow smooth and relaxed he looked so young Alexa almost forgave him for treating her so shabbily. Almost, but not quite. If only he would listen to her and believe her. Alexa thought miserably. If only there was some way to
persuade him that she loved him. Though he professed to hate her. Alexa had to admit he hadn’t hurt her, at times making love to her most tenderly. But then, she remembered the Adam from old whose very nature cried out against physically abusing a woman. He had no need for violence for he was an expert at finding other, more subtle means of punishment, and would not hesitate to use them.
Alexa’s ruminations were halted unexpectedly when the door to her room opened and Bertha entered bearing a breakfast tray. “You overslept this morning, my lady,” the elderly woman said cheerfully, “so I thought you’d like your breakfast in bed for a change.”
Alexa sat up so suddenly the sheet fell away, baring her breasts to the astonished woman, vivid purple bruises clearly visible on her otherwise flawless flesh. When Bertha’s eyes fell upon Adam still sleeping peacefully beside her mistress, the tray clattered noisily to the floor from her nerveless fingers, scattering food in all directions. Startled by his rude awakening. Adam reared up, exposing a nude, well-muscled body to the thoroughly confused woman.
“Oh, my lady!” she gasped, eyes bulging dangerously. “I’m so sorry! I did not know!” Embarrassed beyond bearing for disturbing her mistress and her lover, the poor woman threw her apron over her head and wrung her hands helplessly.
“It’s all right, Bertha,” Alexa soothed as she quickly donned a robe and Adam fell back into bed covering himself with a sheet. “This is Lord Penwell, my … my husband.”
Slowly the apron descended. “But … but … I thought … we all thought …”
“I know, Bertha, everyone thought Adam was dead but as you can see he is very much alive. Go back to the
kitchen and I’ll come down later and explain everything to you.”
Slanting a furtive glance at Adam’s amused face, Bertha retreated after quickly retrieving the tray and removing most of the spoiled food from the floor. The rest would have to wait until later.
Alexa fumed beneath Adam’s sardonic grin, challenging him with hands resting on her slim hips. “You nearly shocked that poor woman to death. Adam Foxworth!”
“She’d better get used to it,” he drawled lazily, “for I intend to move in. This is much more comfortable than my present quarters.” And if that wasn’t enough, he added, “And this place is so large I think I’ll invite Mac to join us.”
“Mac is in London?” asked Alexa evidently overjoyed by the news.
“Aye,” said Adam sourly as his cold eyes narrowed in speculation. “You appear inordinately happy to learn Mac is in London.”
Alexa flushed. “Mac is my friend.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Not after what you did.” He bounded out of bed and began gathering his clothes, walking about nude and totaly unconcerned. Alexa towered her eyes, thinking no man had a right to be so beautiful despite the scattering of scars over his muscular form.
“I’ll have Bertha prepare a room for you,” Alexa said, her eyes straying to his masculinity so boldly displayed.
“This one will do fine.” Adam smiled obliquely. As if sensing her eyes upon that certain part of his body he began to grow hard before her eyes. Alexa gasped and raised her eyes to his grinning features. “Are you still hungry for me, Alexa?” he asked. “Charles must have been gone a long time to make you so greedy.”
Alexa gasped. “N-no, Adam, I was just …” Just what? she chided herself, turning crimson.
“Don’t play shy with me, my love,” he warned, eyeing her dangerously. “Either get back in bed or stop looking at me like that.”
“Go to hell!” Alexa shouted angrily. “You’re a conceited bastard, Adam Foxworth!”
“And you’re an insatiable vixen!” He laughed, grabbing her about the waist and falling with her into the rumpled bed.
Another hour passed before Adam finally dressed and left the house, telling Alexa he’d be back later that evening with three dinner guests, Mac and two others he failed to name. Alexa’s vile curses followed him out the door.
Alexa spent half the day explaining to Bertha and Owen why they couldn’t tell Adam about Davie, and the other half hiring a crew of servants to staff the house and prepare for guests. She wasted little time wondering who besides Mac Adam was bringing to dinner. She was much too busy for that. She sent off a hasty message to Maddy explaining the situation at Ashley House and begged her to care for Davie until she knew what Adam intended for her.
If she had to, Alexa was prepared to take Davie and go someplace where Adam could not find them. Especially if he continued to humiliate and debase her. Still, she was his wife and from all appearances it looked as if Adam intended to exert his husbandly rights. Evidently her wealth meant a great deal to him and he had no intention of letting it slip through his fingers no matter what it took to keep it.
Oh, why did she love him so? Alexa wondered miserably. One day, she hoped, he’d listen to her, really listen, and understand that she acted as she did to save his life. If only Charles hadn’t taken himself off to India she might have persuaded him to speak in her behalf and tell the truth. The coward! Her threats must have frightened him to make him go away so suddenly.
Sometime during the day Adam’s trunks, along with Mac’s, arrive, and Alexa had them carried upstairs. She smiled impishly as she directed Adam’s to be placed in a room at the far end of the half, knowing full well he would not like it. The thought gave her a small amount of pleasure as she went serenely about her duties. At least, she sighed gratefully, she no longer had to worry about Billy Ashley and his nefarious scheme to bilk her out of her inheritance.
Mac arrived late in the afternoon, and Alexa, happy to see his merry face, threw herself into his arms. “Mac, it’s so good to see you!” she cried warmly. “I’m glad you’ll be staying with us.”
If Alexa noticed that Mac’s greeting was less than exuberant she said nothing. After all, she surmised. Mac was still under the impression that she had left Adam to die an ignominious death. “This wasn’t my idea. Alexa.” Mac said, shrugging. “I had no idea you and Adam had … er … resolved your differences. When I returned to my room at the inn this afternoon I learned my trunks had been sent here and I was expected to present myself at supper. What’s this all about, Alexa?”
“You’ve not seen Adam today?”
“No, he didn’t return to the inn last night and I left on business before he returned today.” He paused, searching her face intently. “Was he with you last night, Alexa? What did you say to change his mind about you? For months he could not tolerate the sound of your name.”
Alexa felt her face grow hot. “He hasn’t changed his mind, Mac,” she said with bitter emphasis. “Adam still hates me. What he did was to realize that I am suddenly extremely wealthy. That alone persuaded him back to me.”
“Can you blame him, Alexa?” Mac accused sourly. “Not once did he hold you responsible for wishing to save yourself, but it was cruel of you to let him know you had already become Whitlaw’s mistress.”
“I know it sounds damning, Mac, but it’s not all what it seems.”
Mac looked doubtful. “You didn’t order Adam’s death?”
“How could you even think such a thing?” cried Alexa, angry as well as terribly hurt. “You of all people know how much I loved Adam!”
Mac watched the play of emotion upon Alexa’s lovely features, thinking it was time to discover the truth for himself. “I think you’d better tell me about it, Alexa,” he said gently, leading her to a chair. “I want to believe you but the facts speak for themselves.”
“I tried to explain to Adam, but he refused to believe me. Why are you any different?”
“It didn’t happen to me, I can afford to be more objective. Now start with that night the soldiers came for you and Adam.”
Though still somewhat reluctant to bare her soul. Alexa told Mac everything up to the moment Adam knocked on her door the night before. The one thing she was careful to omit was the fact of Davie’s birth. But Mac knew her better than she knew herself. For several poignant minutes he stared at her, digesting all she said. To his way of thinking her story lacked some essential part. It was as if Alexa had deliberately omitted an important piece of the puzzle.
He startled her when he finally asked, “What aren’t you telling me, Alexa? What have you left out? I know you. The Vixen would never allow a man like Charles to bend her to his will. She would have run him through and taken her chances on escaping with the man she loved.”
Alexa sighed wearily. “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you thought, Mac.”
“So Adam would have me believe,” Mac replied dryly. “Will you please tell me, Alexa, how Charles managed to keep you under his thumb for so long?”
You win, Mac,” Alexa conceded. “I would never have fallen in so easily with Charles’s plans if I … I hadn’t a good reason.”
“The reason, Alexa… ?”
“I … was pregnant.”
“You were carrying Adam’s child!”
“Aye! And I had to protect it, no matter what. I thought Charles would hold to his bargain and allow Adam to go free as he promised, otherwise I would never have agreed to his terms.”
“He threatened to turn you in if you didn’t submit, the bastard!” Mac said, comprehension dawning.