My Lady Vixen

by Connie Mason

  Then his lips replaced his hands at her breasts and Alexa stiffened and arched as he drew first one and then the other into his mouth, his tongue working wetly in ever widening circles. Moving downward he nipped at her rib cage, lapped at her navel and the smooth surface of her stomach. Lower still, to the crisp nest of ebony curls which he parted with his tongue, searching for and finding the tiny bud of her femininity.

  Alexa gasped, tugging at his hair. “Oh, God, Adam, don’t do this to me!” No answer was forthcoming as Adam’s fingers found her moistness, as his mouth continued to plunder.

  Alexa was panting now, crying out, begging. “I can’t stand it. Adam! Stop! Please! You’re torturing me!”

  But Adam was relentless, enjoying her helplessness, reveling in the knowledge that he was driving her wild with desire. Unable to control her response. Alexa exploded in a million pieces, writhing, shuddering, crying out mindlessly. And then she felt herself stretching as Adam reared up and shoved himself inside her.

  “I’ve forgotten how good you feel,” he groaned, feeling her tighten around him. And then words were forgotten as his own passion took over and he thrust, withdrew, thrust again, moving smoothly into her welcoming flesh.

  Alexa moaned as she felt herself responding again in a way she never thought possible. It had been so long since she had been made love to, since she had been touched with love, if Adam’s angry passion could be construed as love, that she felt herself grow tense and finally disintegrate once more, melting inside as he stroked her to another climax. A few moments later Adam allowed his own passion full reign and he cried out harshly, joining her in her ecstatic journey.

  Alexa was allowed little sleep that night. Adam seemed unable to get enough of her, using her repeatedly, forcing a response from her by employing his hands and mouth in ways that drove her to the very brink of insanity. With ridiculous ease he had her writhing and moaning beneath him time and again, despite her resolve to remain unmoved. Morning found her exhausted, her violet eyes smudged with dark circles, her body stiff and sore.

  The sun was already high when Alexa awakened to find Adam sleeping peacefully beside her. With his brow smooth and relaxed he looked so young Alexa almost forgave him for treating her so shabbily. Almost, but not quite. If only he would listen to her and believe her. Alexa thought miserably. If only there was some way to persuade him that she loved him. Though he professed to hate her. Alexa had to admit he hadn’t hurt her, at times making love to her most tenderly. But then, she remembered the Adam from old whose very nature cried out against physically abusing a woman. He had no need for violence for he was an expert at finding other, more subtle means of punishment, and would not hesitate to use them.

  Alexa’s ruminations were halted unexpectedly when the door to her room opened and Bertha entered bearing a breakfast tray. “You overslept this morning, my lady,” the elderly woman said cheerfully, “so I thought you’d like your breakfast in bed for a change.”

  Alexa sat up so suddenly the sheet fell away, baring her breasts to the astonished woman, vivid purple bruises clearly visible on her otherwise flawless flesh. When Bertha’s eyes fell upon Adam still sleeping peacefully beside her mistress, the tray clattered noisily to the floor from her nerveless fingers, scattering food in all directions. Startled by his rude awakening. Adam reared up, exposing a nude, well-muscled body to the thoroughly confused woman.

  “Oh, my lady!” she gasped, eyes bulging dangerously. “I’m so sorry! I did not know!” Embarrassed beyond bearing for disturbing her mistress and her lover, the poor woman threw her apron over her head and wrung her hands helplessly.

  “It’s all right, Bertha,” Alexa soothed as she quickly donned a robe and Adam fell back into bed covering himself with a sheet. “This is Lord Penwell, my … my husband.”

  Slowly the apron descended. “But … but … I thought … we all thought …”

  “I know, Bertha, everyone thought Adam was dead but as you can see he is very much alive. Go back to the kitchen and I’ll come down later and explain everything to you.”

  Slanting a furtive glance at Adam’s amused face, Bertha retreated after quickly retrieving the tray and removing most of the spoiled food from the floor. The rest would have to wait until later.

  Alexa fumed beneath Adam’s sardonic grin, challenging him with hands resting on her slim hips. “You nearly shocked that poor woman to death. Adam Foxworth!”

  “She’d better get used to it,” he drawled lazily, “for I intend to move in. This is much more comfortable than my present quarters.” And if that wasn’t enough, he added, “And this place is so large I think I’ll invite Mac to join us.”

  “Mac is in London?” asked Alexa evidently overjoyed by the news.

  “Aye,” said Adam sourly as his cold eyes narrowed in speculation. “You appear inordinately happy to learn Mac is in London.”

  Alexa flushed. “Mac is my friend.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Not after what you did.” He bounded out of bed and began gathering his clothes, walking about nude and totaly unconcerned. Alexa towered her eyes, thinking no man had a right to be so beautiful despite the scattering of scars over his muscular form.

  “I’ll have Bertha prepare a room for you,” Alexa said, her eyes straying to his masculinity so boldly displayed.

  “This one will do fine.” Adam smiled obliquely. As if sensing her eyes upon that certain part of his body he began to grow hard before her eyes. Alexa gasped and raised her eyes to his grinning features. “Are you still hungry for me, Alexa?” he asked. “Charles must have been gone a long time to make you so greedy.”

  Alexa gasped. “N-no, Adam, I was just …” Just what? she chided herself, turning crimson.

  “Don’t play shy with me, my love,” he warned, eyeing her dangerously. “Either get back in bed or stop looking at me like that.”

  “Go to hell!” Alexa shouted angrily. “You’re a conceited bastard, Adam Foxworth!”

  “And you’re an insatiable vixen!” He laughed, grabbing her about the waist and falling with her into the rumpled bed.

  Another hour passed before Adam finally dressed and left the house, telling Alexa he’d be back later that evening with three dinner guests, Mac and two others he failed to name. Alexa’s vile curses followed him out the door.

  Alexa spent half the day explaining to Bertha and Owen why they couldn’t tell Adam about Davie, and the other half hiring a crew of servants to staff the house and prepare for guests. She wasted little time wondering who besides Mac Adam was bringing to dinner. She was much too busy for that. She sent off a hasty message to Maddy explaining the situation at Ashley House and begged her to care for Davie until she knew what Adam intended for her.

  If she had to, Alexa was prepared to take Davie and go someplace where Adam could not find them. Especially if he continued to humiliate and debase her. Still, she was his wife and from all appearances it looked as if Adam intended to exert his husbandly rights. Evidently her wealth meant a great deal to him and he had no intention of letting it slip through his fingers no matter what it took to keep it.

  Oh, why did she love him so? Alexa wondered miserably. One day, she hoped, he’d listen to her, really listen, and understand that she acted as she did to save his life. If only Charles hadn’t taken himself off to India she might have persuaded him to speak in her behalf and tell the truth. The coward! Her threats must have frightened him to make him go away so suddenly.

  Sometime during the day Adam’s trunks, along with Mac’s, arrive, and Alexa had them carried upstairs. She smiled impishly as she directed Adam’s to be placed in a room at the far end of the half, knowing full well he would not like it. The thought gave her a small amount of pleasure as she went serenely about her duties. At least, she sighed gratefully, she no longer had to worry about Billy Ashley and his nefarious scheme to bilk her out of her inheritance.

  23

  Mac arrived late in the afternoon, and Alexa, happy to see his mer
ry face, threw herself into his arms. “Mac, it’s so good to see you!” she cried warmly. “I’m glad you’ll be staying with us.”

  If Alexa noticed that Mac’s greeting was less than exuberant she said nothing. After all, she surmised. Mac was still under the impression that she had left Adam to die an ignominious death. “This wasn’t my idea. Alexa.” Mac said, shrugging. “I had no idea you and Adam had … er … resolved your differences. When I returned to my room at the inn this afternoon I learned my trunks had been sent here and I was expected to present myself at supper. What’s this all about, Alexa?”

  “You’ve not seen Adam today?”

  “No, he didn’t return to the inn last night and I left on business before he returned today.” He paused, searching her face intently. “Was he with you last night, Alexa? What did you say to change his mind about you? For months he could not tolerate the sound of your name.”

  Alexa felt her face grow hot. “He hasn’t changed his mind, Mac,” she said with bitter emphasis. “Adam still hates me. What he did was to realize that I am suddenly extremely wealthy. That alone persuaded him back to me.”

  “Can you blame him, Alexa?” Mac accused sourly. “Not once did he hold you responsible for wishing to save yourself, but it was cruel of you to let him know you had already become Whitlaw’s mistress.”

  “I know it sounds damning, Mac, but it’s not all what it seems.”

  Mac looked doubtful. “You didn’t order Adam’s death?”

  “How could you even think such a thing?” cried Alexa, angry as well as terribly hurt. “You of all people know how much I loved Adam!”

  Mac watched the play of emotion upon Alexa’s lovely features, thinking it was time to discover the truth for himself. “I think you’d better tell me about it, Alexa,” he said gently, leading her to a chair. “I want to believe you but the facts speak for themselves.”

  “I tried to explain to Adam, but he refused to believe me. Why are you any different?”

  “It didn’t happen to me, I can afford to be more objective. Now start with that night the soldiers came for you and Adam.”

  Though still somewhat reluctant to bare her soul. Alexa told Mac everything up to the moment Adam knocked on her door the night before. The one thing she was careful to omit was the fact of Davie’s birth. But Mac knew her better than she knew herself. For several poignant minutes he stared at her, digesting all she said. To his way of thinking her story lacked some essential part. It was as if Alexa had deliberately omitted an important piece of the puzzle.

  He startled her when he finally asked, “What aren’t you telling me, Alexa? What have you left out? I know you. The Vixen would never allow a man like Charles to bend her to his will. She would have run him through and taken her chances on escaping with the man she loved.”

  Alexa sighed wearily. “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you thought, Mac.”

  “So Adam would have me believe,” Mac replied dryly. “Will you please tell me, Alexa, how Charles managed to keep you under his thumb for so long?”

  You win, Mac,” Alexa conceded. “I would never have fallen in so easily with Charles’s plans if I … I hadn’t a good reason.”

  “The reason, Alexa… ?”

  “I … was pregnant.”

  “You were carrying Adam’s child!”

  “Aye! And I had to protect it, no matter what. I thought Charles would hold to his bargain and allow Adam to go free as he promised, otherwise I would never have agreed to his terms.”

  “He threatened to turn you in if you didn’t submit, the bastard!” Mac said, comprehension dawning.

  “Aye, I would do anything to protect Adam’s babe. But I never became Charles’ mistress! Never!”

  “You told all this to Adam?” asked Mac, astounded. “I can’t believe Adam would continue to feel as he does after he learned about his child. Is it a girl or boy?”

  “A boy,” Alexa smiled fondly. “I named him Davie. And … and I never told Adam about his son.”

  “Not told him! My God, Alexa, are you crazy? You can’t keep something like that from Adam!”

  Alexa’s chin rose belligerently. “I can and I will!”

  “But why? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It does to me. What if Adam decides to take his son away from me? He has the right, you know. I told you he hates me.”

  “Did he spend the night with you, Alexa?”

  “Aye,” she admitted grudgingly.

  “Then he can’t hate you that much, can he?” Alexa stared at him dumbly. “He did make love to you, didn’t he?”

  “Aye, but he’s a man.” Alexa replied tartly, as if that explained everything.

  “Tell him about his son. Alexa.” Mac urged gently.

  “No, Mac, not yet. I will, but not until I can make him love and trust me again. I won’t take the chance of losing my son. He can have all I own, but not my child. Davie is all I have.”

  Mac shook his head, thoroughly disgusted. “Do you want me to tell him?”

  “No, Mac, please, you must promise me! Let me do it in my own way!” Alexa pleaded, her sudden pallor alarming Mac. “I’d die if Adam took Davie from me! I’ll tell him, truly. Just give me time to convince Adam I love him and never meant him any harm.”

  Alexa became so distraught that Mac was forced to agree, albeit reluctantly. “All right, Alexa, but if this gets out of hand I swear I’ll tell Adam myself.”

  Shortly afterwards both Mac and Alexa retired to their respective rooms to dress for dinner. Adam had not yet returned and Alexa suddenly recalled that she had forgotten to inform Mac about the other dinner guests Adam had invited. She wished that she had remembered so she could ask him who they might be.

  Alexa appeared in the dining room to find Mac already there though Adam was still curiously absent. “You look enchanting. Alexa.” Mac complimented, his eyes dancing appreciatively over her trim figure clad in apricot silk. The gown, which bared her neck, throat and shoulders, was caught up at intervals around the skirt with maroon rosettes to reveal a maroon petticoat deeply flounced with apricot. Loose puffed sleeves displayed dimpled elbows and slender arms.

  Alexa hoped that Adam would concur for she had gone to great lengths to look her best tonight for him and his friends. Thinking about those mysterious guests, Alexa was about to ask Mac if he knew who they might be when she heard voices in the hallway.

  “Ah, it seems your errant husband has finally arrived,” Mac said, turning expectantly toward the doorway.

  Adam chose that moment to grace them with his presence and Alexa knew immediately he was not completely sober. He still wore the same clothes he had on last night and he looked thoroughly rumpled. He slanted an oblique look at Alexa, a look that told her nothing. Ignoring her, he addressed Mac. “You received my message, I see,” he drawled lazily, careful not to slur his words. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

  “You left me no choice,” Mac intoned dryly. “I returned to my lodging to find you had all my trunks sent here.”

  “I trust my wife made you comfortable?” His icy eyes slid to Alexa, widened slightly when he noticed for the first time how fetching she looked, then turned toward the door where two women poised uncertainly on the threshold. “Come in, ladies.” He smiled charmingly.

  Mac groaned aloud. “Oh, no, Adam, how could you?” He shifted his gaze to Alexa who stood rooted to the spot, a statue made of cold marble, and just as beautiful.

  Gallantly escorting the women into the room. Adam announced rather smugly, “Alexa, I’d like to present Lucy and Fannie, both well-known to theatergoers about London. Ladies, you already are acquainted with my good friend. Mac. And this,” he gestured expansively, “is my wife, Lady Alexa.”

  “Your wife!” squealed Fannie, dismayed. “But you never told me you had a wife!”

  “Does it matter?” Adam shrugged carelessly. “Has it ever mattered to you?”

  Fannie’s China blue eyes grew wide as she looked from Ada
m to Alexa. What she saw in Alexa’s steady gaze must have soothed her ruffled feathers for she immediately snuggled close to Adam, smiling up at him in a flirtatious manner. After all, half the men she took to her bed were forced into loveless marriages they didn’t want. She made their life more bearable by providing what their wives could not or would not. “No,” she cooed silkily, “It matters not at all, luv, else why would you have brought me to your home?”

  Alexa finally found her voice. “This is my home and I strongly suggest. Adam, that you take your … er … friends elsewhere to dine. I refuse to entertain your doxies.” With a flip of her hair and a tilt to her chin she prepared to leave the room, but Adam’s steely grip upon her arm prevented her.

  “This is my home, Alexa, and these are my friends. Now sit down so we can enjoy our meal.”

  Mac thought to intervene but found no need to when Alexa drew herself up to her meager height and said with all the contempt she could muster. “Go to hell, Adam!” In a froth of swirling silk she was gone, leaving only the tantalizing scent of her perfume.

  The moment Alexa exited the life seemed to have gone out of Adam, leaving him totally deflated. After that he became surly to the point of rudeness, relying on Mac to carry the conversation despite his friend’s rage at Adam for playing the fool.

  Adam barely touched his food, but it did not stop him from imbibing freely. He was angry. Angry at Alexa for refusing to remain and be humiliated by him, and angrier still at himself for bringing the whole mess down on his own head. In the beginning it seemed such a good idea. He meant only to hurt Alexa as she had hurt him. He never really wanted Fannie. During the interminable meal he could not help but contrast her coarse beauty and overblown figure with Alexa’s refined loveliness and petite form, and the actress fared poorly.

  He had thought it would amuse him to watch Fannie and Alexa eating at the same table, knowing that they shared the same man. But it hadn’t worked the way he planned. A wry grin lurked at the corners of his mouth when he remembered the way Alexa’s eyes had spit violet fire at him. So like his Vixen. His Vixen! Bah! His and Charles’s, and how many others? he asked himself, his thoughts turning sour.