The Viscount's Addiction (4 page)

His uncle snorted with derision.

She rolled her gaze to the ceiling. “And now I am saddled with a third madman.” “But this madman can do things to a sweet harlot like yourself that you might find

much to your liking. We could even let your husband watch.” Ryder put his hand out to

touch her, and she stepped easily from his reach. Strangely, her rejection angered him. This development did not please him. He preferred a cocoon of numb indifference.

“Oh that would be an extraordinary feat,” she said with a laugh. “I applaud your ambition. From my vantage it seems you could accomplish very little in your state.”

“I’ve been described in many ways.” He sat back in his chair to give her an unobstructed view of his erection. “
Very little
has never been one of them.” He knew his

response was nonsensical, that she really wasn’t sizing him up. But he couldn’t resist the opportunity to make a suggestive comment. The extreme envy he was feeling toward his cousin was a spark of unwanted emotion. The sarcasm seemed to ooze from him.

“I assume you picked up those gracious manners in Newgate.”

“I can’t credit all my elegant conduct to my incarceration,” he responded with a sardonic smile. He couldn’t stop himself from behaving like a beast. The combination of the opiate and the utterly bewitching wench standing in front of him was overloading his senses and diminishing his judgment.

Ryder picked up the apothecary bottle and rotated it, seriously contemplating taking a second dose. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed his uncle trying to slither away. “Where are you going, old man? This is just beginning to be entertaining.”

His uncle peered at him over his shoulder. His eyes had taken on a glassy vacancy. Ryder had a sudden revelation that the man’s mind for this moment was as blank as his eyes. The parallel struck him. Though the narcotic never voided Ryder’s mind of thoughts, his emotions were a different matter. There were times when he felt absolutely nothing. Even now his boiling hatred for his uncle had cooled to a simmer.

Ryder reached lazily across the table for the teapot and knocked the sugar dish to the floor. The crystals on the pine planks seemed to form an elaborate pattern. Obviously, he’d overindulged. Usually he expected only relief from the raw sensation of his nerves being gnawed. But now he was actually experiencing flashes of euphoria.

A petite black boot swept the sugar aside, and he raised his heavy head and stared up at her. He found himself mesmerized by her eyes as his thoughts slowed. The blinking of her heavy lashes seemed in harmony with the speed of his pulse. How deep the dip was in her upper lip. How adorable the light sprinkling of freckles on her pert nose.

His lids grew heavy. “Damn, but you are lovely.” He didn’t feel the words exiting his mouth, but he definitely heard them. It was as though the sentiment had escaped his thoughts. He rested his eyes for only a moment and when he opened them she was gone.

Maybe she truly was only a dream.



Jessie rubbed her tired eyes. The page of the ledger was starting to blur. She blew the ink dry on the last column of numbers and placed the accounts with the invented

calculations atop the stack on the desk before returning the real book to the cabinet. And what had all her hard work been for? She’d managed to keep the estate out of thieving hands only to find that the rightful owner was undeserving. She tucked the key in her cleavage and opened the window to let the morning breeze into the stuffy room.

Heavy smoke erupting from the gatehouse chimney caught her attention. In all the time she’d lived at Tesslyn Hall, no one had occupied the ancient building.

She wondered which of the selection of fine gentlemen stoked the hearth? After all, having the noblest of humans as her housemates—an unscrupulous gamester, a madman, and now a murderer—she could only guess which one was attempting to set fire to the gatehouse.

The wet grass soaked through her slippers as she marched across the lawn. What if she were to find Lord Blackwood inside? Would she have the nerve to enter? The man was uncivilized, almost brutish in his behavior. Not a wonder, she thought, considering he’d come from the same bloodline as Henry.

She paused, took a deep breath for courage, and shoved open the warped door. The room was thick with smoke. Seeing the back of his black head, her resolve weakened.
’Twas better the gatehouse burn than face that searing violet gaze.
Overtaken by a fit of coughing, she attempted to muffle the sound with her hands.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, my hallucination has returned,” he said as he got to his feet. The smoke swirled around him, giving him an otherworldly quality, like an all-too-tempting demon risen from hell. His unfashionably long hair skimmed his shoulders, the gleaming midnight black of it a startling contrast to the white of his shirt. She’d heard rumors that Lord Blackwood was impossibly handsome, but she had no idea that being in his presence would be this unsettling. He was not unmarked from his time at Newgate, though. He was far too pale. And she had no doubt that prison had hardened not only his muscles but his soul.

“It’s suffocating in here.” Jessie moved to open a window. Untouched for so many years, the window would not budge.

“No warmth. Just smoke, I’m afraid. But the fire is dying now.” He held up a bottle of port. “This will soothe your throat.”

She took a step toward him, thinking a drink might be welcome, then stopped short. An array of intoxicating substances was arranged neatly on the table. “I’m fine,” she said with a frown.

His gaze followed hers. “Perhaps you’d like to try something different.” He picked up a clay pipe then smiled wickedly. “From that prim scowl, I’m assuming not.” He set the pipe back down. “I’m not that inclined to share, anyhow.”

Against her better sense she felt the need to confront him. “Surely, it is not becoming for a viscount to indulge in such a base habit.”

He dropped back onto the dusty settee. “Hush. A hallucination should not nag. It ruins the effect.”

“Now that you are home, won’t you consider giving it up?”

He laughed. “Splendid idea. I’ll start tomorrow.” He reached for the pipe and started packing it with a mixture of tobacco and a blackish substance which Jessie assumed was opium.

“’Tis none of my concern. Don’t let me stop you, continue to wallow in your decadence.” In truth, she had the urge to sweep all his substances into the hearth.

“Why don’t you go scold your husband? He has wicked habits of his own. Although considering how sinfully arousing his wife is—” his heated gaze made her feel naked, “—pleasuring her should be more than enough vice. And yet Lewis seems too stupid to partake.”

“We haven’t seen you in two days. I’m surprised you managed to shake off your stupor long enough to know who slept where.”

He tapped the pipe on the table to pack down the contents. “In my defense, it was only a semi-stupor—” and he actually had the audacity to grin, “—and it is amazing what you can and can’t hear in a deathly quiet house. I certainly wouldn’t kick you out of my bed for a few indiscretions.”

Blast Henry and his ravings. Now Lord Blackwood assumed she was wed to Lewis and that she was an adulterer. Jessie didn’t know which of those assumptions she found more distasteful. “What a free-thinking man you are,” she congratulated him. “I wonder if you would truly be so liberal with your own wife.”

“Never given it much thought.” He used his tinderbox to light his pipe. He took a long draw then paused before exhaling. The foreign scent mingled unpleasantly with the musty smell of the room.

“Perhaps you ought,” she said.

Inhaling seemed to take effect faster than drinking. He was already resting his head back against the settee. She waited until he took one more puff before springing the news

on him. Surely he wouldn’t have the energy to throttle her, and she could easily outrun him, if need be. “I’m not Lewis’s wife. I’m yours.”

A deep lazy laugh rumbled from his throat. “First I’m seeing things and now I’m hearing things. I could’ve sworn you said you were my wife.”

Surely this man would have them all arrested for fraud, but it had to be said. “I’m afraid I am all too real and we are legally wed.”

He lifted his head slowly from the settee backrest. His expression sobered for a moment. “How’s that?”

Her gaze flitted to the door and she gauged the distance. She wouldn’t be caught in this sordid tangle if it hadn’t been for her stepfather. Henry had been persistent, pleading with her on behalf of his nephew. Lord Blackwood was desperate for the union. Lord Blackwood feared that his estate would fall into the hands of unscrupulous relations, he’d said. But she had been persistent as well, refusing to tie herself to a murderer. Her defiance was soon met with brutality, and with a heavy heart she’d finally submitted. That was when she realized there couldn’t be more unscrupulous relations than Henry and Lewis.

“We were married by proxy. Your signature is on the certificate,” she said as she began skirting the table.

“Impossible. I would remember signing a marriage certificate.” She raised a disbelieving brow and stared pointedly at his elixirs.

Rather than lunge at her as she’d expected, he slumped back. “Get out,” he said in a chilling tone that sent her fleeing.

Her hands coated in dirt, Jessie swiped the tears away with her sleeve. She sniffled as she ripped out another stubborn weed invading her lilac patch.

A bee flew from the blooms and zigzagged past her nose. She felt it alight in her hair. She shook her head to rid herself of it. That’s when she became aware of him.

Lord Blackwood sat on one of the marble benches shaded by the ancient elm tree. His long legs were thrust out in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest. He had been watching her. And, as if mesmerized, she stared right back at him.

The entrance of this new, dangerous element into her life had jarred her. She was no longer feeling apathetic and wished to act, to shed these hateful bonds. She prayed he would spare her a prison sentence, because being pursued by the law made any future plans frightening to contemplate. But judging from what she’d witnessed so far, there was little chance. It was doubtful that mercy tempered his ruthless heart.

Jessie tried to concentrate on the flowerbed again. In her nervousness, she pulled at a perfect daffodil, leaving behind the stringy weed. “Blast it,” she muttered and got to her feet. With a brusque movement, she brushed the dirt from her hands. It was impossible to even think with that man so near. She decided to take a ride on Titus before she ended up destroying her entire garden.

She took a surreptitious peek at the lounging lord. He was now lying atop the stone seat, his booted feet propped on the second bench. A slight breeze ruffled the leaves of the elm, shaking loose rainwater from yesterday’s storm. The water drizzled down on him and he didn’t stir. A momentary reprieve, she thought, and headed toward the stalls.

Titus greeted her with a friendly nuzzle. He was the only agreeable male on the entire estate. She threw on his bridle and led him out to the sunny field adjacent to the barn. Spring rains had covered the pasture with clover. She gave Titus a few minutes to devour a patch of it before lifting up her dress and springing onto his back. She had a momentary thought to ride off on him and escape her fate.

As they galloped the length of the lawn and back, her hair burst loose from its chignon and fell in soft waves to her waist. In the field, she cantered the huge gelding around in circles. Finally, unable to resist, she glanced in the direction of Lord Blackwood and noticed that he’d shifted positions. He straddled the bench, his forearms resting on his thighs. He’d napped briefly, and now he was watching her again. The ride had helped calm her nerves. She decided she should go and talk to this man, her husband, to find out what he intended to do with her.

Perhaps, if she set him off balance as she had earlier when he’d coarsely pointed out his erection, she could use it to her advantage. Surely, he’d intended to shock her, but she’d seen it as a tiny conquest. Flirting, she decided, might prove useful. But first she would try reasoning with him.



Ryder watched the little trickster striding purposefully toward him as though intent on speaking her mind. Obviously, he’d ruined her plans. And she’d ruined his. Ryder had sought oblivion for the day. It had taken an hour to clear his mind of the haze and absorb the impact of her announcement. He’d been royally duped. And now she was going to be royally fucked. He wondered if she was prepared to suffer the consequences for her conniving.

She and his uncle certainly hadn’t anticipated that he would survive Newgate. Once he’d had his fill of her wifely attentions, Ryder would see all three of them brought before the court.

“Quality horseflesh,” he said as she came within several feet of where he sat. “That animal must have cost a pretty bit.”

“No need to fret, my lord. The money did not come from your coffers.” Her bottom lip jutted out petulantly. “I traded for him. You see, the horse has an aversion to men. He tends to throw off any male who tries to ride him. The man who owned Titus was glad to be rid of him.”

“What on earth did you trade? Or, perhaps, I know.” Her beautiful big eyes blinked at him innocently. He allowed himself a greedy survey of her delicious body. After all, she was his wife, and he intended to have her before he had her put in shackles. Or, perhaps, he would try that in reverse order. Thanks to her scheme, he was legally free to do as he pleased with her.

The innocent façade vanished. Anger now sparked in the depths of her green eyes. “Would you like to hear what I had to do to get that horse?” She stepped closer, and,

with enticing slowness, inched up her dress revealing her half-boots and then her knee—

high silk stockings. The hem soon skimmed the tops of her long, perfect legs. She straddled the end of the marble bench, her spread knees nearly touching his. The soft fabric of her dress pooled between her bared thighs, keeping her cunt hidden from him, but his breath quickened nonetheless.