The Merry Widow (7 page)

“Excuse me, everyone, I’ve suddenly found myself under the weather, so I must bid you good night. However, I ask that you remain and partake of the rest of tonight’s dinner. If you don’t, I fear Bea will ring my neck for ruining all of her hard work.”

As Phillipa made a move to stand, Reggie jumped up and helped her with her chair. “I will see you to the stairs.”

Gritting her teeth in anger, she took his arm and allowed him to escort her from the dining room. As soon as they were beyond earshot of her guests, she rounded on him. “Your escort is no longer needed nor wanted, Lord Bellomont.”

“Phillipa, I—”

“Stow it!” Her blood boiled over at the implications of his actions. “Regardless what this may do to my reputation, I will not participate in your pretense. I will not allow myself to be manipulated, under my own roof no less, and by someone who does not carry any real affection for me.” She withdrew her arm from his. “After tonight, this acquaintance will cease to exist.”

With her head held high, she turned on her heels and proceeded to climb the stairs, leaving him alone in the foyer. But even as she rounded the corner to her room, she felt his hot, hurt stare on her back.

“Good morning, everyone!” Phillipa beamed cheerfully as she entered her office. For the first time in over a week, she was in better spirits, and her life was returning to normal. Of course, Viscount Bellomont had been turned away from her house on a daily basis, along with his twice-a-day delivery of purple hyacinths. And he’d been dissuaded from making any more appearances at her place of business by the burly fisticuffs expert she’d hired to guard her front stoop. But other than that, she’d escaped his acquaintance with her reputation blessedly intact.

As she crossed the office, her steps slowed. William and Charles were scrambling for their respective stations. While they returned her “Good Morning,” Lucy swiped the newspaper under her bottom and sat on it.

Eyeing them all suspiciously, Phillipa walked over to Lucy’s desk. “What are you hiding?”

Lucy eyed the others, but finding no help from that quarter, she addressed her employer. question. “Trust me, Mrs. Jones, you don’t want to know.”

The hackles on the back of Phillipa’s neck stood on end. “Let me see,” she insisted, holding her hand out to the younger woman.

Lucy sighed heavily as she rose and withdrew the newspaper. But before handing it over, she laid it against her bosom and rubbed her open palm over it in an attempt to smooth it. Satisfied, she then handed the paper to her employer.

Phillipa instantly recognized the twelve-page thick Evening Marlborough. In its fourth year, the evening paper was very popular with the general populace due to its many illustrations, which far outweighed any actual journalism.

Despite her otherwise stoic expression, her hands shook as she quickly scanned the front page. And there it was, the headline that proved she was now the laughingstock of all London. Viscount of Equine Finally Tamed by the Merry Widow of Grand Surrey Docks?

Once she’d finished reading the article, she folded the paper neatly and slid it under her arm. She then retraced her footsteps, stopping short of opening the door. “Please hold all callers, Lucy.”

“For how long, Mrs. Jones?”

“However how long it will take to geld a certain Viscount of Equine.”

***

Phillipa walked up to the young man sitting behind the half-moon desk in the reception area of B&T Shipping LTD. “Is Lord Bellomont here?”

“Mrs. Jones, I presume.” At her stiff nod, he continued. “Lord Bellomont has informed told me I should look out for you. If you will excuse me….” He quickly disappeared behind a pair of double doors and returned with equal speed. “Lord Bellomont will see you now,” he announced, stepping to one side.

Phillipa bolstered her resolve by tightening her hand on the newspaper. She then squared her shoulders and strode past him into his employer’s office. Upon entering, her eyes immediately sought him. And to her dismay, when he slowly rose to greet her, her body reacted like a whore on holiday. Her nipples hardened, her underpants suddenly chaffed, and her palms fairly itched to touch him.

Thankfully he spoke first, because she’d lost all capacity to do so.

“Good morning, Phillipa. I can guess the reason for your visit, for I am both surprised and appalled by my cousin’s audacity—”

“You’re surprised and appalled?” Phillipa countered, emerging from her punch-drunk haze. “At least you’re not the laughingstock of London! All you’ll receive is a pat on the back. I am ruined!”

“Well, there’s only one thing that can be done to repair the situation,” he replied softly.

“And what is that?” she asked, her interest piqued. “Are you going to ask for a retraction?”

“No.”

She tensed when he came around his desk to stand in front of her. Although she was a tall woman, she had to crane her neck back to look at his face. Affected by his nearness, she took a precautionary step away.

He said, “You can simply prove her correct. Marry me, Phillipa. Tame me. Make me yours.”

“Marry you?” She stared at him. “Blessed Jove, I was right! Your masquerade, the dinner party, and now this newspaper article were all schemes! You brought your dear cousin along, not to simply meet me, but for insurance! You left me no choice but to go through with your manipulations!” She shook her head. “I knew you were a cutthroat businessman, but I cannot believe you would go this far to marry someone just to get hold of her company.”

She gasped when he grabbed her arms and began to shake her.

“Blasted woman! Why can’t you get it through your thick skull that this no longer has anything to do with business?”

She stumbled backwards when he suddenly released her and began to pace in front of her.

He muttered, “I will admit that my pursuit did begin with an ulterior purpose. But ever since the evening when a beautiful siren tempted me in nothing but a lavender dressing gown, I’ve been consumed with nothing else. Don’t you see you helped me to heal?”

Phillipa’s breath caught in her throat when he captured her hands in his.

“You healed… this,” he whispered, drawing her hand upwards and placing it over his heart. “For the first time in my life, I have felt one with another. What I’m trying to say, ma petite fille, is that I’m in love with you.”

She tensed when he lowered his head, knowing the instant he pressed his lips against her own, all her good judgment and reasoning would fly through the window. His lips were like a potent elixir or drug. And his irresistible cache of licking, nibbling, and sucking was always her undoing. Even now, she groaned as he expertly brought her body to life with a simple kiss.

But that wasn’t completely true. There was nothing simple about Reggie or his kisses.

Phillipa’s eyes shuttered closed while he bombarded her senses, his hands skimming over the rise of her buttocks. Then to her surprise, he cupped them and drew her to him so that she felt the hard press of his manhood against her belly. Against her will, she thirsted for more.

Doubtless sensing this, he picked her up and carried her to the desk.

“What are you doing?” she asked when he set her down and pushed her backward.

“I’m going to do,” he said grimly, “what we both want, ma petite fille.” His hands moved over her skirts and lifted them until they rested around her hips. He pulled her legs apart and stepped between. She gasped when he rotated his hips in a stroking fashion.

He continued implacably, “I’m going to make love to you. And then we are going to discuss our honeymoon. I say the South of France on my grandmère’s estate.”

He leaned forward to capture her lips in a kiss, but she placed her hand on his chest to prevent him from closing the space between them. Then she made her voice as cold as she could. “Do you really think that a declaration of your profound admiration of me, a few passionate kisses, and the thickness of your cock will erase the fact that you’ve tarnished my reputation? Do you understand that I have no finer feelings for you?”

The ripping of her drawers kept her from continuing.

“None at all?” he whispered.

She gasped when his hand slid over the mound of tightly wound curls covering her sex and expertly parted them.

“Ah! A-a-all right. M-maybe just a little—” she panted as he slid a finger through her slit.

“I’ve seen marriages start with much less.”

Her eyes widened when he began to unbutton his trousers. She thought, he is really going to make love to me with his secretary only yards away! In a last effort to salvage what was left of her reputation, she appealed to his common sense. “B-b-but you’re barely a boy out of knickers. I can imagine the headlines now. Wh-what are you doing!” she exclaimed when he grabbed both her hands and yanked them over her head. He took advantage of her position to slide his cock against her hot sex.

“I’m forcing you to see reason, Madame. I may be your junior, but as we both know, my prowess in the boudoir is far from the schoolroom.” His cock then drove into her with such force

he almost lifted her from the desk. “Wrap your legs around my waist!”

She did as she was told and was duly rewarded. The new position sent him deeper.

“Do you still see me as a boy in knickers? Am I man enough for you now?” He ground expertly against her sex.

“More… than… enough,” she agreed, panting.

“Do you have other objections to our union?”

When she opened her mouth to answer him, she found she could not. She was too close to the edge for any kind of coherent thought.

But he wasn’t having any of it. His thrusts slowed, and he pulled his length out so that only his tip remained. “Answer me, ma petite fille!” he demanded. “Tell me you forgive me and that you will be my wife.”

She reached out and tried pulling him back, but he stood his ground. Although she hated ultimatums, she hated even more being this close to the edge with no relief in sight. And her head swam with the realization that she could have this pleasure, this love, every night and every day from now on.

“All right,” she cried. “I forgive you, and yes, I will marry you. Now finish what you started before I die and make you a widower!”

As he thrust into her, his laughter mixed with her moans.

Indignant, she asked, “Why are you laughing?”

He halted just long enough to say, “It seems the headline was correct. I have indeed been tamed, and by the merry widow Jones.”