Cruel Hearts: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Knights of Templar Academy Book 2)

by Sofia Daniel

  A futile effort—I know, but I kneed her between the legs. A breathy moan reverberated in the back of Elizabeth’s throat, making terror goose-pimple across my skin. She probably thought it was foreplay. My heart pounded against my ribcage with both fists, screaming at me to get us out from under Elizabeth’s maw.

  With all the leverage I could muster, I rocked us to the left. Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered closed, and she let me roll her over. “Lilah.”

  Jerking away, I left her lying on the frost with her lips puckered. Fuck, the girl was so deluded, she probably thought I was trying to take control of the kiss.

  I scrambled to my feet and bolted toward the fence at top speed on my trembling legs.

  “Lilah!”

  Her voice squeezed a palpitation out of my heart. I picked up my pace, not daring a glance over my shoulder. The sight of her might turn me into a pillar of salt.

  At the edge of the field, I hurdled over the fence and stumbled down the driveway. Cold wind howled in my ears and froze my sweat-drenched skin, but fear kept my limbs pumping at maximum capacity. The paddocks on my right and the hedges on my left blurred as I sprinted toward Mr. Burgh’s house.

  I wasn’t ashamed to admit that I was freaked the fuck out by that encounter. Had this been a Wank night and a girl other than Elizabeth coming onto me, I might have given it a try. Goodness knew my luck with men was crap. But no way would I get anywhere close to that psychopath.

  Behind me, something crashed on the ground. I yelped and glanced over my shoulder. It was just a branch that fell off a tree.

  This was so messed up. If hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, what would she plan for me now that I had kneed her in the pussy and left her panting and wanting on the cold ground?

  I passed the first metal posts surrounding the headmaster’s quarters. At the gates, I flung myself across the gravel courtyard and up the stone steps, not stopping until I opened the front door, stepped into the warm entrance hall, and slammed it shut.

  “What was that?”

  The surface of my skin tingled with the sudden change in temperature. I slumped on the tartan seat and gulped several mouthfuls of air.

  As I calmed myself, pieces of the puzzle that was Elizabeth fitted together. It made sense in a twisted sort of way. If she kept the best-looking guys in the academy fawning after her, then she was free to pursue any girl without competition.

  I shook my head. That couldn’t be right.

  The grandfather clock in the living room chimed twelve in time with the clocktower, breaking me away from those thoughts.

  What if that kiss was some kind of intimidation tactic? Something to keep me freaked out and off-balance? Elizabeth probably did it because I’d mentioned the stolen collection money.

  I pushed myself off the chair and pulled off my coat. A piece of paper fluttered to the ground like a sycamore seed.

  “What’s this?” I picked it up.

  WILLIAM MORRIS: UK

  YOUR BETTING SLIP

  16:55 Hamilton Park

  Lady Chatterly 28/1£ 20,000

  TOTAL STAKED£ 20,000

  TOTAL RETURN£ 300,000

  Please retain this betting slip.

  You will need it to collect your winnings.

  All payouts are at starting odds.

  At the bottom of the slip was today’s date. I narrowed my eyes and grinned. If that horse won, she’d come crawling to me on her hands and knees, and I’d be ready to extract a confession.

  Chapter 15

  The horse fucking won.

  I closed the laptop and stared at the ceiling of my room. Three hundred grand was a fortune, even for a spoiled heiress like Elizabeth. She had to be fuming right now. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Gideon, saying he was on his way back from Glasgow.

  My fingers hovered over the screen. So much had happened since I’d last seen him—far too much to discuss in a text message. I told him to drop by for a cup of tea and sent Kendrick a photo of the betting slip.

  He texted back, saying he would arrive in a few minutes.

  I stared at my phone. Which twin had I just texted? The only reason I had Kendrick’s number was that Maxwell had pretended to be him.

  My answer came two minutes later when I opened the door. The real Kendrick arrived with Orlando at his heels. With my heart sinking into my stomach, I glanced down the darkened courtyard for signs of Maxwell, but he clearly hadn’t come.

  Kendrick’s cold eyes roved down my form. “You called.”

  Stepping aside, I let them in. “If sending a photo of a betting slip makes you come running like a sheep dog, I’ll be more careful with how I communicate in the future.”

  Orlando stepped through the threshold and leaned into my side, bringing with him an intoxicating, masculine scent. “I’ll come running any time you need me. Just whistle and I’m yours.”

  Clenching my teeth against the onslaught of arousal, I said, “Get inside. You’re letting in the cold.”

  Kendrick remained on the doorstep, looking like someone had stuffed a pair of Elizabeth’s moldy old knickers under his nose and jammed a broom-handle up his ass.

  I gave him my filthiest glower. “What are you waiting for?”

  He sniffed. “An invitation.”

  “Are you a vampire now?” I snapped.

  Orlando chuckled from further down the hallway. “Get inside and stop being a dick!”

  After wiping his feet on the welcome mat, Kendrick smoothed down his lapels and crossed the threshold. I stepped back, not wanting to get a whiff of his aftershave or a feel of his body heat.

  “What did you find out from those boys?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” He strode down the hallway. “By the time I reached the fifth years’ dorms, they’d all left on the coach to Glasgow.”

  “Right,” I groaned. “It’s the final Sunday of term.” I followed him into the living room, where Orlando had already seated himself at the dining table.

  Kendrick sat next to him and gave me an expectant stare. “Are you going to explain why Mr. Burgh attacked Father Neapolitan?”

  I scowled. Just because we’d both witnessed Elizabeth steal the collection money, it didn’t mean we were allies. Or that I would tell him family secrets. I stood at the other end of the table, keeping as much wood between me and the boys, and recounted what happened after my narrow escape from Father Neapolitan’s car.

  When I got to the part where Elizabeth assaulted me with her lips, Kendrick slammed his palm on the table.

  “Where?” he barked.

  I rolled my eyes. “On the lips. Where do you think?”

  Orlando leaned forward, his jaw slack. “Then what happened?”

  My lips tightened. From the glimmer in his hazel eyes and the excited flush on his perfect skin, the blonde fucker thought this was a prelude to a story involving girl-on-girl action and a bit of scissoring. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “Elizabeth wouldn’t kiss you,” said Kendrick.

  I pulled the betting slip out of my pocket. “Do you think I’m making it up?”

  Kendrick shifted in his seat. “I believe you both scuffled, but you’re exaggerating to make yourself look more interesting.”

  “Really?” I folded my arms across my chest.

  Orlando raised his broad shoulders and grinned. “Girls do it all the time in clubs to attract male attention.”

  Kendrick gave his friend a sharp nod. “You clearly want us all salivating over you.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?” I leaned across the table, giving him my best Detective Chief Inspector glower. “Salivating over me?”

  His cheeks reddened. “That’s preposterous.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What would I find if I slipped my hand between your legs?”

  Orlando snorted.

  Kendrick’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He whispered, “How dare you.”

  Even though this was a completely different boy to the one I had fucked las
t week, the memory of that long, thick erection pushed itself to the front of my mind. It was probably straining against his pants, waiting for me to ease it out.

  Shit. The thought of that stuck-up, uptight dickhead pumping his clenched fist over that hard shaft made a thrill of excitement trickle between my legs. “Stand up, then.”

  His face turned white. “What?”

  “Show us you’re not hard.” My tongue darted out to lick my lips.

  Orlando shook his head. “Leave it. Everyone around this table knows Kendrick’s got a hard-on.”

  “I most certainly do not,” he snapped.

  Orlando tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows in a don’t-lie-to-me look.

  With a scowl, Kendrick dipped his head. The horny fucker.

  I clapped my hands together. “Why would a girl who stood to win three-hundred grand on the horses steal from the church? Those boys probably have the answer or a clue that will lead us to what Elizabeth is trying to hide. As soon as term starts, I want you to put pressure on those boys and find out what they know.”

  “Fine.” Orlando stood. “I’ll also do some digging around and find out who owns Lady Chatterly.” He turned to Kendrick, who remained seated. “Are you coming?”

  “One minute.”

  Understanding flashed in Orlando’s eyes, and he left the room. Not wanting to endure an interrogation about Mr. Burgh’s attack on Father Neapolitan, I slid the betting slip back into my pocket and headed for the door to see him out. Kendrick would follow when he realized I wouldn’t tolerate his snooping.

  “Alright, I admit it.” Kendrick’s voice filled my ear.

  I turned around, nearly bumping into his broad chest. His seawater and rosemary scent filled my nostrils, and the muscles of my core fluttered. How had he moved so quietly?

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I find the thought of you kissing another girl arousing.”

  It took every ounce of my willpower to drag my eyes upward instead of letting it drop to the promised erection. “Good for you.”

  I continued toward the door, my gaze skimming over Mr. Burgh’s crystal tumblers of malt whiskey. Maybe a shot or two would blot out my impure thoughts about Kendrick’s cock.

  “Well?” he snapped.

  I glanced over my shoulder and cast him a withering look. “Do you want a round of applause?”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  As I reached the doorway, a harsh laugh bubbled up to my throat. “Are you looking to have your first kiss, Kendrick? Is that what this is?”

  He stiffened. “Of course not.”

  My nostrils flared with annoyance. He wasn’t leaving the bloody room. This had to be a twin thing—my brother got to shag you and now I’m entitled to the same. Clenching his teeth, Kendrick glowered down at me with anticipation in his hard eyes.

  The pulse between my legs pounded. It wasn’t fair that this dickhead could rock gorgeousness with being uptight and skittish. If I got within arm’s reach, would Kendrick grind me against the wall and give me a feel of that sweet dick? Curiosity-tinged lust burned through my core.

  I took a step toward Kendrick. “Go back to the academy.”

  He stepped closer, his breaths quickening and that sculpted chest straining over his cream sweater. A kaleidoscope of emotions glinted in his gray eyes. Resentment. Desire. Hunger. I wanted him to unleash all that pent-up frustration in a kiss that would curl my toes. But I wouldn’t give Kendrick the satisfaction of my making the first move.

  With my next step, Kendrick’s chest heaved, and his hands curled into fists. “You want me.”

  “Do I?” I edged close enough to feel the heat of his blood.

  A ghost of his erection skimmed against my belly, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

  “You’re the one crawling over to me.”

  My teeth clenched hard enough to crack the enamel. Shit. Why hadn’t I made the asshole walk over to me? Now Kendrick thought he had the upper hand.

  “I know what you did with my brother and I know your type,” he growled. “You’re never satisfied.”

  “What would you know about satisfying a woman?” My libido thrummed between my legs and urged me to throw him down and teach this not-so-little virgin not to play games. “Apart from what you learned from wanking over your brother’s conquests?”

  His face twisted into a scowl. “I wouldn’t touch you if you were on fire.”

  My gaze dropped down to the oversized erection straining through his pants. It was long and thick and straight, just like Maxwell’s. “But your dick would.”

  Kendrick scowled. “Girls of your caliber are beneath me.”

  I stepped back. “Ah yes, you like them cold and twisted like Elizabeth.”

  “I don’t—”

  “The whole school saw you fawning over her. Everyone knew you desperately wanted to become the next Lord Liddell.”

  “It was to please my parents.”

  “If she apologized to Maxwell and crooked her finger, you’d run to her feet like a salivating dog.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “No,” I snapped. “You’re lying to yourself. And it wouldn’t surprise me if you’re not sitting here gathering information for her.”

  His face dropped. “You think I would spy for her after what she did to my brother?”

  “Some guys are so desperate for a girl that they would betray their own—”

  Kendrick grabbed me by the back of the head and pressed his lips onto mine. Sparks exploded where our flesh touched, and my heartbeat skyrocketed. I leaned against his body, and his erection ground into my belly. I’d never in my life had hate-sex, but if he continued at this intensity, we’d soon be fucking against the wall.

  His tongue delved into my mouth, the kiss more like a battle than an exchange of lust. Desire rippled through my core. I clung to his muscular shoulders and moaned.

  “I was right about you.” Kendrick pressed hot kisses along my jawline, down my neck, making my skin itch against the wool of my dress. Too many barriers lay between us. I needed to be naked. Needed to strip him of those clothes and taste his flesh.

  “What are you talking about now?” I whispered.

  He drew back, panting as though he’d just run across a paddock. A triumphant smirk crossed his features. “You’ll take whatever you can get, even from someone who shares the face of your betrayer.”

  The sting in his words made me flinch, and I swung at his smug face.

  Kendrick caught my wrist in a tight grip. “You were the hot commodity last term.” His warm breath fanned over my face. “Now, you’re just a means of getting at Elizabeth.”

  My insides quaked with impotent rage. I should have walked away and ordered him out of the house. But I’d let Kendrick take advantage of my weakness for that face and body. Baring my teeth, I snarled, “You’re as sick as her.”

  He stepped back. “Stay away from my brother.”

  “Hey.” I cleared my throat to smooth the tremble from my voice. “You’ve practiced your mind game for the day, now go home and polish your axe like a good little psychopath.”

  His nostrils flared. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Fuck off before I stick a poker up your ass.”

  Raising his nose in the air, Kendrick headed for the door. “I’ll let myself out.”

  I followed him out, glowering past his broad back at Orlando, who stood by the door. “Feel free to break your neck on the way down the stairs.”

  Orlando opened the door. This time, the cold, juniper air that blew down the hallway was a welcome relief from the heat and tension of my encounter with Kendrick. The two boys stepped out into the night.

  Before either of them could get the last word, I slammed the door shut and rested my head against the wood. “How the fuck did I let that wanker get the better of me?”

  If I didn’t keep my libido under control and focus on revenge, I’d face even
more humiliation than that blasted police raid.

  Chapter 16

  Mr. Burgh returned and apologized for losing control with Father Neapolitan. There was nothing to be sorry about. If I had a man’s strength, I would have kicked his ass already.

  Over the next week, I pushed out thoughts of that frustrating encounter with Kendrick and threw myself into practicing the techniques in Miss Martin’s manual. Elizabeth’s betting slip lay under my mattress, where it would remain until she gave me what I wanted: a confession, a groveling apology, and an opportunity to rub some humiliation in her smug face.

  On Christmas morning, pale sunlight streamed in through the gauzy curtains of the living room, and a fire kept the vast space nice and toasty. I sat on one of the champagne-colored sofas, snipping some French darts behind the seams of the bolero jacket I wanted to give Gideon when he returned from spending Christmas with Francesco and Lachlan.

  The doorbell rang. Since Mr. Burgh was downstairs, making hot chocolate, I set the jacket aside, headed for the door, and pulled it open.

  Maxwell stood on the doorstep, holding an unmistakable book-sized, forget-me-not blue package, wrapped in a white bow. White flakes settled on his mahogany hair and broad shoulders and melted into droplets. Behind him, thick snow blanketed the entire courtyard. All that white brought out the eggplant purple of his bruised face.

  Suppressing a pang of sympathy, I snapped. “What do you want?”

  “To wish you a happy Christmas.” He thrust the package at me. “This is for you.”

  A frigid gust of wind blew into my face, freezing the top layer of my skin. I folded my arms. “What is it?”

  “Open it and find out.” He offered me the package again.

  I stepped back, my gaze falling onto the Tiffany box. “If you think you can buy my forgiveness—”

  “That’s not what I wanted,” he said. “Please, take it.”

  My mouth dried. No one had ever bought me jewelry before, not even Sammy. He had given me a roof over my head when I had needed one, a gorgeous sewing room, and a car. He was a practical man, until he decided to give me the opportunity for a threesome with my best friend.