The Viscount's Addiction (6 page)

“Aye, I saw him. A sour old man. Probably wouldn’t recognize him if I were to see him again. I’ve had enough cranky old men to last a lifetime.” She glanced nervously over her shoulder.

“So it wasn’t Lord Blackwood?” She realized she wasn’t truly surprised to hear of his innocence. There had been a glimmer of something honest and real that had shone through his rough exterior. She must stop this. Turning the man into a tortured romantic hero would only make her predicament worse.

Lucy stepped closer to the horse. She smelled of sweat and perfume with an odd candy-like scent. “Is he home, then?”

“Who?”

Lucy put her hand under Titus’s nose and let the animal nuzzle her palm. “Your husband, Lord Blackwood.”

Lucy was the only person she’d told about the marriage. Lucy knew of her stepfather’s cruel coercion, of the forced alliance. It had been a shared confidence between women held captive by brutal men.

“I thought if he were out of prison he could help you. Sarah, Peg and me ran off to London one day when Retscliff drunk himself into a stupor. Truth be told, Sarah helped him along. She put a few drops of a sleeping draught in his ale.” Her painted lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Anyways, we went straight away to the magistrates and told them what we knew. The constable had never questioned us before. Just took Retscliff’s slimy word. Got to put my ‘x’ on an official document,” she said proudly.

It was a daring and magnificent thing Lucy and her friends had done. Jessie wished that Lucy would use that brave spirit to free herself. She forced a smile. “Well done,” she said. “Lord Blackwood has been released.” But Jessie was no safer. And it wasn’t the threat of arrest that worried her. It was the power the man already seemed to have over her emotions.

Lucy bustled off with the bread and returned in moments with the emptied containers. She took Jessie’s hand in hers and turned it palm side up. She pressed her rouged lips against her skin, then, hearing the rattle of Retscliff’s keys through the shabby walls of the inn, she hurried up the rope ladder and pulled herself over the railing of the sagging upstairs landing.

“You there! What the devil are you about?” Retscliff hollered as he slammed out of the kitchen. His lanky legs covered the distance between them in a hurry. “Don’t you distract my girls. They are lazy enough as it is.”

Stupidly, she could not keep silent. Her body quaking with indignation, she did not even take the precaution of backing up Titus before shouting. “You bastard, you can’t own people.”

“I’ll prove you wrong. I’ll own you, missy. If I catch you here one more time you’ll be working for me.” Waving a pistol, Retscliff stopped directly in her path. He was a frightening obstacle, a coward with a loaded gun.

Jessie reined the horse around and kicked him into a full gallop. The four-foot fence that bordered the adjacent woods would not be a challenge for Titus. The eager gelding picked up his pace, seeming all too delighted with the prospect of jumping. Not having had time to tie the baskets onto the saddle, Jessie hooked her arm through the handles of the unwieldy containers as she raced toward the fence. Titus’s front legs went up and over. Despite the danger, Jessie laughed with exhilaration as they flew through the fresh evening air.

A loud crack echoed off the building behind her, and a sudden sharp pain made her tilt. Frantic, she clutched at the saddle and righted herself. Fortunately, the shot had not troubled her steady, sure-footed mount. Jessie rode through the thicket of trees and out of sight of the tavern and its hateful owner. She prayed Lucy would not bear the brunt of his fury.

Heading out of the darkness of the woods, she found the road. Once their pace slowed, Jessie reached back to secure the baskets to the side of the saddle. Blood trickled down her fingers. She shook off the cape and examined the wound. As she’d expected, it hadn’t penetrated her arm. The pain had not been severe enough for that. Rivulets of blood dripped from where the bullet had grazed her.

The house was eerily quiet as Jessie climbed the unlit stairwell to her room. She crept with mouse-like steps through the hall so as not to disturb Lord Blackwood.

Once inside her room, she started a fire and quickly removed her blood soaked garments. Using this morning’s soapy water, Jessie rinsed her arm. After shedding her chemise, she took a plaster from the dressing room cabinet. Pressing it against the shallow wound, she walked over to the fire to warm her skin. She reached for the poker and bent forward to push the largest log back into the heart of the fire.

“Perfect.” The disturbingly deep voice came from a dark recess of the room.

Jessie froze in place for a moment then used her arms to shield her nakedness before turning to face him. She could make out only his silhouette sitting relaxed in her chair. His long legs were stretched out in front of him crossed at the ankles. His hands were clasped behind his head.

“Lord Blackwood I didn’t expect you to be—”

“Conscious?” He supplied the word. “I reduced my dosage. I intend to experience every inch of you to the fullest.”

“Such self-control,” she responded sarcastically.

“Control has nothing to do with it. I have no intention of controlling myself tonight.” He motioned for her to turn around.

She had just missed having a bullet lodged in her back. Parading naked before her husband, no matter how intimidating he was, should not cause her much anguish, yet her entire body shivered. She twirled on her heels, hardly giving him a chance to view her.

“Where have you been,
wife
?” The last word was said with such disdain it was painful to hear.

Jessie struggled to appear nonchalant. “I’ve been visiting friends,” she replied. “Friends?” he asked.

He made it sound like an accusation. She was to blame for this demeanor. She should never have provoked him with that carnal story about the plowmen.

“It was very convenient of you to disrobe, since I intend to take full advantage of my husbandly rights tonight and for at least a month.”

“A month?” she asked. So that was all the time she had to secure a future. If she weren’t successful surely she would find herself in no better situation than Lucy.

“I’m sure I will tire of you by then.”

“I’ve no doubt your unsavory habits will overtake you again and lessen your need for me. Then you will want to be rid of me sooner.” Again her mouth was putting her in peril. Thirty days would decrease to a fortnight if she didn’t hold her tongue. Her slim hope that Lord Blackwood would be more decent than the other Braddock men was quickly shrinking.

“I’ll worry about my habits. You worry about fulfilling your wifely commitments.

Come closer, woman. I want to see you,” he growled.

She hesitated for a moment then willed herself forward. She could see him clearly now. She stared down at her husband’s face, the face of a stranger. His lids were heavy as he looked up at her through a thick curtain of black lashes. His scrutiny of her was merciless. Rather than feeling afraid, her breath quickened with a sudden need to be touched. He leaned over and pried away the hand still clamped over the wound. Only an angry pink line remained.

“What is it your friends do to you?” he asked.

“Anything they want,” she said in a wanton tone, instantly forgetting that he was not a man to goad.

“Let me see that circlet on your ankle,” he demanded.

Balancing on one foot she brought up her knee. He leaned forward, took hold of her foot and set it on his thigh. She felt awkward and exposed. The leg that held her weight trembled. His fingers turned the thin circle of gold around her ankle. “Does some man have a claim on you?” he said, his tone hard and unforgiving.

“It is something I brought back from my travels. I admired the adornments of a native people, and an artisan fashioned something similar for me.”

“You are either a practiced liar or a whore. Or, perhaps, both. I suppose I shall discover the truth tonight.”

His fingers curled around her leg, holding her fast as he reached over with his other hand and stroked her parted slit with the callused pad of his thumb. A frisson of pleasure jolted through her. She nearly keeled backward from the shock of his bold and intimate touch.

He seized her hand to steady her. “The fire is dying. Why don’t you see to it?”

She nodded. As he released her, his fingers lightly grazed the palm of her hand, a simple touch that sent an exquisite shiver up her back. She could feel her nipples tighten, a physical reaction that did not escape his notice. She removed her foot from atop his thigh but slowly, relishing the musculature of his thigh.

A twinge of modesty overtook her and she reached to grab the satin wrap draped over the arm of the chair, but he snatched it first and flung it away. “I want you naked.”

Jessie stood so close she could feel his breath on her skin. His carnal stare was fixed on her breasts.

“Are you cold?” He blew lightly on one of her erect nipples, making her desperate for his touch. Though she was still wary of him, unexpected desire coursed through her. He peered up at her now. His strong, square jaw and firm, well-formed mouth made him the most handsome man she had ever seen. He sat forward, his tongue rasped across her taut nipple, and she nearly collapsed into his lap. “The fire, Lady Blackwood,” he reminded her.

In a daze, she approached the hearth. He’d merely run his tongue across her breast, and she was ready to melt into his arms. She bent over to stoke the fire. Behind her she could hear a moan from the man still sitting in the chair. She felt wanton knowing he was seeing every inch of her in the flesh, but somehow it didn’t matter. She rather liked the feeling. As she hung the fire poker back on the brass rack, she sensed him come up behind her. His hands reached around her, and he began softly teasing her nipples with

his thumbs. She leaned back against him. His chest was now bare, but he still wore his trousers. She could feel his huge erection pressing into her back.

“I want you on your hands and knees,” he whispered into her ear. An erotic thrill ran through her body at his shocking demand. He stopped fondling her nipples and pulled the pins from her hair so that it fell like a shawl over her naked shoulders. He pointed to where he wanted her positioned.

“Obedient, little wench, aren’t you?” he said as she complied with his demand.

Her long hair draped her face, the ends skimming the rug. She turned her head to peer at him, a sly smile on her lips. “What is a wife if not a slave to her husband’s desires?” Acting the coquette was new for her. She was toying with him and enjoying it. He was too exciting a man to deny.

“Before tonight, I’d never thought of marriage as a satisfying enterprise.” His booted foot wedged between her legs, nudging them farther apart, until she was exposed and open to him. With the light of the fire, he could surely see every intimate part of her. “And this exotic little tattoo—” he traced the tiny blue star on her hip, “—is this also a souvenir from your travels?”

“Yes. I had that done in Cape Palmas.” Besides herself and the person who’d etched it into her skin, he was the only person to see it. She had not told her parents about it. “It is the work of a woman,” she added, anticipating his next question. “I doubt that it shall make any difference to you, but I am a virgin.”

“Of course,” he said with a sarcastic laugh.

She jolted when his fingers stroked the cleft of her bottom. “You have a very beautiful arse, Lady Blackwood. I think I will miss it once I kick it out onto the street.”

She sat back on her heels. “I wish you would kick me and this arse of mine out straight away.” She didn’t mean a word of it. His threat riled her. Was he toying with her, as well? Or was he making it clear this was only temporary?

He gathered up her hair, wrapped it around his fist and tugged her head back, forcing her to look up into his face. “As I said, you started this game. But now, I set the rules.” He released his hold, letting her hair slide through his fingers.

She would not allow him to wring tears from her. She would play by his rules—
for a month
. No matter how compliant her behavior, his tone did not soften. It was a mistake to leave herself unguarded. She chided herself for already letting her emotions tangle with this man who so obviously mistrusted her.

After resuming her vulnerable position, she arched her back, pushed her bottom higher and twitched it. “Perhaps, you can have it covered in bronze,” she said. “Then you can have a replica of it when I am gone.”

“Hmmm. The idea has merit,” he said and gave her naked bottom a stinging slap. From the shadow on the wall, she could see he was removing his trousers.

“My knees are beginning to hurt,” she complained.

His response was to press her head down so that her forearms and face rested on the rug and her bottom was angled higher. She heard him drop to his knees behind her. His big hands gripped her bottom, and he ran his tongue across the folds of her nether lips. The most incredible pleasure she had ever experienced rushed through the core of her body. She could not contain her soft cries of ecstasy.

“By God, you taste sweet.” He spread her cheeks and thrust his tongue into her. She nearly collapsed. He kissed her there as he had kissed her mouth. His tongue plunged again and again, licking deep inside her. She thought she might faint from the sheer pleasure of it.

Her legs grew shaky. He stood, scooped her around the waist and brought her to her feet. “You certainly don’t respond like a virgin.”

She could not speak to defend herself. He lifted her into his massive arms. Intoxicated by what he had done to her, her head lolled against his chest. He tossed her lightly onto the bed and brushed the hair back off her face. It was a simple gesture, yet it made her ache inside.
This man despises you
, she reminded herself.
Do not mistake this for kindness.

He kneeled on the bed beside her. “Take my cock,” he said. His erection was a tantalizing reach away. She wrapped her small hand around him and stroked the daunting length of him. Then seeing the little cream at the tip, she scooted down in the bed and angled her neck. Instinctively, she needed to taste him. Timidly, she swept her tongue along the head of his cock.