Simply Wicked (29 page)

“But I could still hit you over the head with one, couldn’t I?”

“You really are quite amusing, my dear, but you should know that I’m not afraid to defend myself, even from a woman.”

Marguerite couldn’t believe she’d actually said the words out loud. Lord Minshom had the nerve to smile as if she’d made a joke. Anthony said nothing, his attention on Minshom as he resumed his position behind him. He flinched as Minshom curved his arm around his waist and then dropped his hand to cover Anthony’s groin.

“Does she do what you tell her to? Or is it the other way around? Is she happy to hurt you to give you sexual release?”

“I wouldn’t ask it of her.”

Anthony flinched as Minshom twisted the fabric of his breeches, dug his fingers into the curve of his balls and kneaded his cock. Minshom smiled at Marguerite. “But surely you know that she likes the unusual. Why else would she have married Justin Lockwood if she wasn’t prepared to be . . . accommodat-ing?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Anthony’s voice sounded strained as if he was fighting the pressure of Minshom’s fingers, and the obvious and gradual swelling of his shaft.

Marguerite shivered; perhaps this wasn’t about Minshom 246 /
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showing her how perverted Anthony was after all. Perhaps it was far more personal.

“Marguerite, didn’t you tell Anthony about the true nature of your liaison with Justin?” Minshom tutted. “And I thought you told me you believed in being honest.”

“I do.”

“Yet you omitted to mention that you shared a bed with your husband and his lover and fucked them both?”

Marguerite focused her gaze on Minshom’s hand which was roughly fondling Anthony’s cock through his breeches. She couldn’t bear to look up, to see the shock she knew would be on Anthony’s face.

“What Marguerite chose to do in her marriage is nothing to do with you.” Anthony’s quiet voice penetrated Marguerite’s haze of guilt.

“Really?” Minshom asked. “Yet Justin was my cousin. I believe I have a right to ensure that his reputation, even in death, is spotless. If his wife cuckolded him, surely the world should know?”

“You forget, I knew Justin. He was scarcely an innocent.”

Minshom laughed. “Are you suggesting my cousin encouraged his wife to indulge in an affair?”

Anthony looked straight at Marguerite. “I’m not sure. Perhaps Marguerite would like to tell me that part of it herself, in private.”

He swallowed a gasp as Minshom’s hand jerked hard on his cock.

“Oh, no, Sokorvsky.
Nothing
is private between us. Don’t you remember how that felt? How you used to beg to be fucked, to be beaten, to be used as I saw fit?” Minshom chuckled.

“How many men fucked you, came in your mouth or in your arse at my command?”

Anthony grimaced and closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear SIMPLY WICKED / 247

to remember. Marguerite pictured it instead, Anthony being repeatedly taken, naked, alone, hurting . . .

“I don’t care.”

“I beg your pardon?” Minshom said.

“I don’t care if he had fifty men a night.” Marguerite forced back her tears. “He had no choice, you said so. You said you forced him.”

“And you admire a man who allows himself to be used like that? A man so weak that he can’t say no?”

She opened her eyes wide. “But he did say no, didn’t he?

That’s why we are here now and why you are behaving like a pathetic, discarded lover.”

Minshom’s face stilled as did the hand that gripped Anthony’s cock. “You would know all about that, wouldn’t you, my dear?” he purred. “When you realized Justin had only married you to conceal his affair with Sir Harry, you must’ve been furious.”

“That’s not how it happened . . .”

“Didn’t you know that? Justin told me he was looking for a suitably ignorant female to marry. The kind of woman who would be so grateful that she wouldn’t care what he got up to in the bedroom. But it was even easier for him than that, wasn’t it?

Because you not only condoned his behavior but embraced it.”

“Leave her alone.”

Anthony stirred, tried to turn, but Minshom held him close, the knife edge biting into his throat. His cock throbbed along with the sting of the blade. Did Marguerite realize that in defending him, she had pushed Minshom too far, that now he would have no compunction in bringing her down?

“Shut up, Sokorvsky. Perhaps it’s time you realized Marguerite isn’t quite as pure and lovely as she appears. She married Justin, found out he was fucking Sir Harry, and deliberately 248 /
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tried to come between them.” Minshom’s laugh was deadly.

“Perhaps even literally. She pretended to like Harry, all the while whispering lies and poison into his ear about how Justin no longer needed him or wanted him now that she was around.”

Anthony glanced at Marguerite, who seemed to have shrunk back into her chair, her eyes wide and terrified.

“It’s hardly surprising that Sir Harry picked a fight with his best friend, is it, when a woman like Marguerite starts to meddle?”

Anthony licked his lips. “It is hardly Marguerite’s fault if her husband cannot manage his affairs. She was married to him; surely she had a right to be first in his affections?”

“And the way to do that was to fuck his best friend? To ignore her wedding vows and conveniently end up a widow?”

Marguerite shook her head as if words were beyond her.

Anthony drew an unsteady breath. Had she instigated a mé-

nage à trois within her own marriage, and was Minshom really implying that she had caused her own husband’s death?

“I don’t care.” He echoed her earlier words, hoping she realized it. “I don’t care if she fucked them both.”

He almost groaned as Minshom gave his cock one last savage twist and then shoved him forward. He stumbled and fell to his knees, braced a hand on the floor to stop himself falling forward. He managed to look behind him and saw Minshom heading for the door.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving. I’ve never heard such pathetic drivel in my entire life. I fear the pair of you are beyond my help.”

“Your help? You call this
help
?”

Minshom’s eyebrows rose. “You deserve each other. You are both weak and easily manipulated. There is no enjoyment left even in tormenting you.”

Anthony got to his feet, conscious that Marguerite hadn’t SIMPLY WICKED / 249

moved or said anything since Minshom’s last diatribe. He advanced slowly toward Minshom, who had opened the door.

“Then you are done with us?”

Minshom bowed. “I believe I am.”

“Good.”

Anthony raised his fist and plowed it right into Minshom’s smiling face, did it again and watched Minshom’s legs buckle and him fall backward down the stairs to land in an untidy heap at the bottom. Without another glance he slammed the door shut and locked it.

21

“Marguerite, are you all right?”

Anthony went down on his knees beside her chair, and grabbed hold of her hands.

“Why did you do that?” she whispered.

“What?”

“Knock Minshom out. Now he can’t tell me where to find Sir Harry.”

Anthony let go of her hands. She watched distantly as his expression darkened.

“After all that just happened, why the hell are you still worried about Sir Harry?”

Marguerite licked her lips. “I only agreed to stay with Minshom because he promised to tell me where Harry was.”

“And I thought you’d stayed for me.”

“You don’t understand . . .”

Anthony got off the floor and walked away, coming to a stop in front of the fireplace, his back still facing her. “I think I do. I’d assumed you were grieving for a dead man, not pining SIMPLY WICKED / 251

for another. Minshom had it wrong, didn’t he? You were in love with Sir Harry, not Justin.”

Marguerite blinked as searing color flooded her cheeks, slowly shook her head, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “That’s not true. Lord Minshom deliberately tried to mis-lead you; are you going to believe him over me?”

Anthony finally swung around, one hand still cupping his groin as if to ease the ache of Minshom’s touch. He sighed and didn’t really look at her. “It doesn’t matter. We can’t choose whom we love, can we?”

Marguerite rose to her feet, advanced toward him and slapped him as hard as she could on the cheek. He grabbed her wrist when she attempted to do it again.

“What the hell was that for?”

“For believing Minshom, for pretending you didn’t care what I’d done and then throwing it in my face.”

“I’m hardly doing that. On the contrary, I just told you I understand!”

She struggled to speak through the tears crowding her throat. “You understand nothing. Perhaps Minshom was right and you only understand pain.” She pushed his hand away from his groin, replaced it with hers. “Perhaps this is all you need from me.”

His expression darkened. “Don’t do that. I’m far too close to coming.”

“Because Minshom made you hard? Is that what you meant about not being able to control whom you love, because you still love Minshom?”

God, she hated what she was saying, hated herself, but the need to hurt, to take the pain howling inside her and hurl it outward consumed her. Anthony knew—he knew what she’d done, and sooner or later he’d realize how unfit she was to be 252 /
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associated with him. Better to end it now, better to send him away before it hurt too much and destroyed her.

“Christ, I
loathe
Minshom, I
never
loved him. Don’t you know that? Don’t you understand anything about me at all?”

Anthony was yelling, his face flushed, his blue eyes narrowed with anger. “I’m sick of being told what to do and what to think.”

“I’m not telling you what to do. I’m trying to make you listen to me.”

“Then do it without touching me, without . . . Christ, what’s the use? Minshom’s already convinced you I’m a pathetic weak-ling.”

“No he hasn’t; I’m just trying to . . .”

Anthony held up his hand. “Marguerite, when you touch me, all I want to do is throw you on that bed and shove my cock inside you, use it as
I
wish, rather than how Minshom
thinks
I should. I’m sure you don’t want that, so please, get dressed.”

Marguerite retreated to the chair, picked up her dress and petticoats and tried to put them on. Her fingers trembled so badly she could barely get the fine satin over her head.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Anthony muttered. He appeared at her side, his intent gaze fixed on the swell of her breasts, the tightness of her nipples. He placed his hands on her shoulders and the dress fell from her fingers.

“Marguerite . . .” His mouth descended over hers, the savagery of his kiss a challenge she couldn’t resist. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, nipping at his lower lip, his tongue. Exchanging anger for lust seemed almost too natural, the desire to mark him, make him groan and beg not for Minshom but for her.

He angled her back toward the bed, his body heavy and hard on top of hers, his knee parting her thighs. He didn’t stop kissing her, their mouths fused together, heat binding and blind-SIMPLY WICKED / 253

ing them, the need insatiable. She gasped as he freed his cock from his breeches and his knuckles grazed her mound. And then he was inside her, his shaft pressing deep, her back arching to take him all in.

“Marguerite, yes . . .”

He pounded into her, his thrusts fast and hard, relentless.

She didn’t complain, her body far too busy keeping him close, wrapping her legs around his hips to hold him within the cradle of her thighs. His kiss mirrored his movements, possessing her mouth as he possessed her body, utterly dominant, utterly in control.

His fingers slid between them, found her clit and worked it until she was coming and screaming his name into his mouth.

His kiss dissolved into a gasp for air, and he bucked against her as the heat of his cum spurted deep inside her. When he rolled off, he stayed on his stomach, his face buried in the pillows.

Marguerite moved slowly off the bed and bent to retrieve her clothes. Surely now they were done? She’d never imagined allowing a man to take her like that, so completely, so absolutely.

Having heard about her marriage, did Anthony now consider her fair game? She stared at her petticoats, fumbling as she attempted to tie them around her waist.

“Let me.” Anthony was beside her again, setting her to rights, tightening her laces, doing up buttons, straightening her bodice.

Almost unnoticed, her tears trickled down onto the dark blue satin, staining it black. This was the end; this was the last time he would ever want to touch her. She swallowed hard.

“Are you done now?”

His fingers stilled. “What?”

“Are you done proving to yourself that you can fuck a woman?”

In the silence that followed, she could clearly hear the irreg-ular thump of his heart and his shallow breathing. Anthony 254 /
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stepped away from her and did up his breeches, picked up his gun and stuffed it into his pocket. She raised her chin and tried to make him look at her, but he avoided her gaze.

“My lady, if you wish to leave, I need to check on Minshom.”

He sounded formal, all the anger stripped from his voice.

Unable to reply, Marguerite simply nodded and waited by the fire as he opened the door.

“He’s gone.” Anthony sounded as stunned as she felt. “Obviously I didn’t hit the bastard hard enough. I’ll make sure he isn’t loitering in the kitchen, and then you may come down.”

His voice faded as he clattered down the stairs. Marguerite blew out the candles and left the room bathed in the warm glow of the fire, wondered distantly who lived here, who had been forced out to accommodate the selfish desires of Lord Minshom.

“You can come down, my lady.”

Marguerite picked up her skirts and headed down the stairs, found Anthony in the kitchen. He gestured at the table. “I think Minshom left you something.”

She picked up the bundle of parchment tied with the blue ribbon. At least she had that, Sir Harry’s account of the duel, even if she didn’t have him in person. She clutched the papers to her chest as Anthony draped her cloak around her.