by Cheryl Bolen
It truly appeared he was a man who did not overlook slights and she’d more than slighted him. She’d cut him to the bone.
“Well?” he asked the menace evident in his tone. It was a challenge of sorts and one that would reveal just how desperate for his help she was.
“I thought you despised me. I cannot believe you want me in your bed?”
He held her stare and his mouth curved into a cruel smile. “I do despise you, but…” and he let his eyes roam insolently over her clothing as if stripping her bare, “I’m also a man and as I said, I want what you dangled and teased me with all those years ago. I’m sure once I’ve had you I’ll soon forget you. As easily as I forget every other woman I’ve ever slept with.”
She drew a steadying breath at his blatant insult. He’d made it perfectly clear this was about revenge. She was simply another woman to bed before he moved on. She was no one special, merely a woman with whom to slake his urgent desire for retribution and nothing more.
Never again would she see him smile at her with tenderness and devotion. The thought of it sent pain coursing through her. Over the years she’d learned to shelter her heart from loneliness, with her son, Alfredo, giving her only the will to live on. But to give herself to Marcus, the man she loved, knowing it meant nothing to him, that if anything it was his means of revenge, a way to punish her for the past, would be almost too much too bear.
“You must hate me so very much,” she offered in a quiet voice.
Marcus shrugged his shoulders. “I hadn’t thought of you at all until today. Why so reluctant? You don’t have to behave like a chaste virgin. I doubt you were one when we first met and I’m positive, Lady Sabine Orsini, you aren’t one now. Sharing my bed will bring you pleasure. I’ve learned a few things since I last knew you, as I’m sure have you. Unlike ten years ago, neither of us will be satisfied with just a few kisses.”
She refused to rise to his taunt. She was a virgin when they first met. But none of it mattered now. All that mattered was making Gower pay. She was determined to exact revenge for the lives that were stripped from her, Marcus and her parents, by this one evil man.
She would get her revenge, she vowed silently. She’d sworn it as she lay next to her elderly husband and shriveled up inside each time he had touched her. A man she did not love but to whom she belonged. A man who knew how she felt but still came to her bed. Not only that, he was a man who had tried to make her love him—and had failed. For that she felt forever guilty. Roberto Orsini had been a good man. He was a man who had deserved more.
“I have a son.” She saw him blanch at her words and he moved uncomfortably in his seat. His gaze lowered. She went on, determined to make him understand. “Alfredo, the future Conte Orsini. I don’t want any scandal. I have to protect him until I return to Italy.”
Marcus’s eyes glinted with triumph as he returned her stare. He lent forward in his chair. “I assure you I can be very discreet.”
“Like you were tonight, slipping away with the hostess of the ball,’ she said sarcastically, claws slipping free of her self-imposed sheath.
He ignored her barb. “So, other than safe-guarding your reputation, you have no objections? You accept my terms then?” His voice held a hint of victorious excitement.
She nodded but her show of bravery faltered. “I accept your wager. After this we will be even. I hope it gives you the peace you seek. My brothers will be turning in their grave at your behavior,” she said flatly.
His eyes filled with respect. “Touché!” Then in one swift move he was on his feet pulling her into his arms. “Good, then we will seal out wager with a kiss.”
She placed her hands on his chest, feeling the heat of his body through the thin linen of his shirt. Panic flared and she pushed at his chest. “No! You have not earned my favors yet.”
CHAPTER FOUR
It was too soon. She couldn’t… her stomach plummeted sickeningly. Sabine swallowed hard. She couldn’t let him overwhelm her in case she gave far too much too soon. He had to win the wager first. Besides, she didn’t want her first taste of him to be in Lady Somerset’s bedchamber, where he’d been about to bed that wanton woman. He could not expect her to simply walk into his arms as if the past had never happened. But then he didn’t know her true feelings. He thought she’d tossed him aside as callously as a farmer shoots a cart-horse with a broken leg.
Her legs suddenly felt weak. They wouldn’t support her weight and the room swam. Two strong arms gripped her tightly for support.
“I didn’t realize my touch held such revulsion for you,” he said harshly in her ear.
“It’s not that. Whatever you may think of me, I am not a courtesan used to kissing men I don’t know on command. It’s been ten years, Marcus. You no longer know me and I certainly no longer know who you are.”
He didn’t release her as she expected, instead he stroked a finger slowly down her neck.
A seductive smile curved his mouth and he arched an eyebrow at her. “Then by all means let us be reacquainted. If I recall, you loved it when I nibbled your ear,” and he bent his head and she felt the soft press of familiar lips against the skin of her neck as he nuzzled closer to her ear lobe. She couldn’t stop an inhalation of breath. A familiar sensation streaked across her skin and her heart suddenly seemed too big for her chest. She breathed deeply and his scent flooded her lungs. Dark and spicy, it was intoxicatingly unforgettable.
His words mirrored her thoughts. “You smell just like I remember,” he murmured against her skin. “You’re trembling. I remember that too. How you pushed against me in your eagerness. We both know that I could have taken you many times in the garden where we used to meet.” His hands roamed down her sides and her body quivered in his arms. He cupped her bottom and drew her in tight against him. “I was a fool not to. Then I would not have spent the last ten years dreaming of how you would feel with me buried deep within you.” His words were said with such derision she gasped with suppressed pain, awash with regret at what they’d lost all those years ago.
She could feel his erection bulging against her stomach. She’d dreamed of him-of this moment-for many years but in her dreams he’d wanted her because he’d forgiven her, vowing that he still loved her.
She’d never dreamed he’d want to make love to her to satisfy his thirst for revenge, nor that his desire was driven by hate. She knew hate was as strong an emotion as love. She knew hate intimately.
Marcus’s lips moved down to the hollow at her throat. She tried not to allow it, but her body sought comfort from his. She pressed closer. He growled against her skin. He seemed to want to punish her. He didn’t need to. She’d been punished enough.
She’d wished for his arousing touch almost every day. However, she hadn’t expected him to ever want to make love to her, and especially not this evening. Not here. Not now.
Make love, at these words her heart clenched. This was not making love. She felt a tear slip from the corner of her eye. But even so, her body craved the idea.
He drew back suddenly and wiped one of her tears from his face. His eyes opened in astonishment, “If anyone should be crying over the past it should be me.” His voice held a wounded tone and she longed to tell him the truth and appease his pride.
Then the image of her gorgeous boy, Alfredo, stopped her.
She’d allowed Marcus to fall in love with her—and then she’d broken his heart.
Could she make him fall in love with her again and this time perhaps they could find their happy ever after? It would be dangerous to think so. The only person who would be devastated by her failure was herself. Could she face that kind of loss yet again?
For a chance of winning everything she desired—maybe she could.
“I’m not as cold hearted as you believe. I was, for a moment, overcome by memories. It has been a long time since I have wanted a man’s touch.”
What an actress she would have made. She could have been on the stage with conviction like that. Yet
he bit down on the inside of his mouth to stop his tender response to her words. Were they perhaps the truth? He suspected she lied. But then bitter-sweet memories flooded his mind. He’d fallen for her sweet entreats once before. He wasn’t sure he could ever believe anything that passed between her lying lips.
But with her standing this close, the light fragrance of lemon filling his nostrils, her skin soft under his hands, he did not have the strength to turn and walk away.
He should have known the effect Sabine would have on him. Not only was she the most desirous woman he’d ever met, she was the only woman who had ever left him. She was the one who, without hesitation, brought him to his knees, before coldly casting him aside. No other woman had denied him anything before or since.
He gazed into her eyes, their irises big and dark, her desire not faked, it would seem. She reached out and touched his face, the simple gesture a stronger aphrodisiac than if she lay naked before him.
He needed to regain control. This repentant Sabine unnerved him.
In a soft voice, so quiet he almost didn’t hear her words, Sabine said, “Do you think that if you take me here and now you’ll be able to move on, and help me avenge my father?”
Move on. She thought one quick fuck would erase the years of pain and longing, the years of not understanding why she had crushed him in every respect.
Was she that callous? Was revenge for her father all she valued? Of course it was. He should have known that emotions, true heart-felt emotions, very rarely entered into her plans.
The painful memories were too much for him. He stepped back to put some distance between them. She was the devil disguised as temptation. He left her standing by the fire, a vision of smoldering sensuality. He turned his back on the sight and struggled to gain control of his fluctuating emotions. For one moment he wished he’d not offered such a wager. He wanted to say no to her request, to reject her out of hand in the way she’d rejected him. Why should he care about her father and mother?
Then a delicate, tiny hand touched his arm. “Please, Marcus. Do you want me to beg? Because, trust me, I will do so, if that is your wish. I will do anything you require….I have only ever willingly slept with my husband. You can believe that or not, but I will let you take me, here and now, if that is what you need in order to help me.”
The reminder of what Orsini had taken from him was too much. She should have been his. He should have been her first and only lover.
He swung around and pulled her against him, taking her mouth in a bruising kiss, trying frantically to block the image her words incited, that of Sabine in the arms of another man.
She stood rigidly but then slowly melted against him. This he remembered well. The taste and eagerness of her, it was if he could smell the fragrant flowers of the garden where they used to meet long ago. His senses flared and his desire bolted as if from a tightly held leash. He couldn’t stop now even if he wanted to.
And he didn’t want to. He held his dream. He held Sabine.
His Sabine. His—only his.
Passion roared in his veins, and all thoughts vanished but his driving need to sink deep within her.
His hands grasped her arms and he pulled her against his hard body. A small squeak of distress escaped her. She tried to still the rush of desire that flamed deep within but it had been too long.
A strong arm curved around her waist, binding her close.
“I will have you. When I win the tournament you will come to me willingly….”
The sudden possession of his mouth took her by surprise. The warmth of soft yet firm lips molding to hers made her raw nerves scatter. The heat rose and it was like being engulfed in fire. As his tongue swept into her mouth she relaxed into the kiss, unable and unwilling to prevent the wild reaction of her passion starved body.
It was different from the kisses she remembered. It was raw hunger coupled with possession and mastery. It was the kiss of a man who knew exactly how to get a response from a woman. Rough fingers trailed down to the base of her neck, where a long finger slid under the edge of her bodice.
A wave of unfamiliar desire swept over her. Her breasts swelled and her nipples hardened, her corset restricting her breath. Sweet heaven! No wonder women fell into his bed at the crook of his finger or the taste of his tongue.
His mouth was like a drug. A drug she’d been without for ten long years.
As he deepened the kiss, it drowned out every aspect of the past. She found herself clinging to him with abandon, while clever, knowing fingers undid several buttons at the back of her dress.
One tapered finger slid its way under her corset, and she gasped as he gently but expertly eased her breast free so that her nipple was exposed. Before she could stop him, he lowered his head and flicked his tongue over the taut bud. Scorching heat flickered over her, and she could not stop the soft cry of delight the moment his teeth lightly clamped on her and suckled at the nipple in a seductive rhythm.
His mouth made her experience long forgotten memories. The taste of him was better than her soul-destroying imaginings. How she’d missed him….
The pleasure spiraling through her body was indescribable. Moist heat gathered at the apex of her thighs. For a brief moment she pictured his hand cupping her there. His fingers delving…
Shocked by the traitorous way her body was behaving, she braced her hands on his chest and tried to break his hold, tried to push away.
His fingers skimmed her exposed breast, palming her sensitive flesh. The touch made her mouth dry and longing gripped her. What would it be like to be Marcus’s lover? Immediately her mind careened to a halt. It would be torture. She loved him while he held her in contempt. Bedding her would simply ease a wound he’d longed to heal. Would he celebrate in victory if she revealed how she felt about him?
Sweet heaven, she needed to keep a reign on her true feelings where Marcus was concerned. If she exposed the truth too soon, all could be lost. Marcus could be hurt more than she’d already hurt him.
She needed to close this wager and flee with what little dignity she still possessed.
Wrenching herself out of his arms, she backed away from him.
His voice sounded hoarse. “Perhaps I’ll not have to wait until after I win the wager to take you. As always you seem eager for the sport.”
The hard edge in his voice raised the hair on the nape of her neck. Yet the icy glint of triumph in his burnt amber eyes held a hint of something else that made her struggle to turn and walk away. Was it regret?
“I can wait to taste your body, for there are plenty of willing women to appease the ache in my cock.”
The shocking words made her gasp, but she refused to comment. Hurt beyond belief, she struggled to hide her pain. She adjusted her clothing speedily. She had to leave. She pulled her dress back into place, as though it were a suit of protective armor, being all the while fully aware of his dark eyes watching her.
If only she knew what he was thinking, he’d be much easier to manage. Manage! Only in her dreams…. Never had she expected him to react like this. Once her clothing was firmly back in place and she was feeling more composed, she lifted her head, only to see him smiling at her, the glow of desire still in his eyes.
She could only stare at him with a sinking feeling of horror as he offered her a knowing smile.
“Are you jealous, my love?”
“No. And I am certainly not your love.”
“True. You never were, were you,” he added sarcastically.
Her senses somewhat restored by his cutting remark, she glared back at him. “Think what you like of me. All that matters is that I have your agreement to help me.”
The desire fled from his gaze and his mouth firmed into a disapproving line. “In three days I’ll win the tournament and then I’ll collect. You will come to my bed, when and where I desire it.” His eyes narrowed and his hands rose to his hips. “You’d better not be thinking of reneging once I’ve won. I’ll come after you and you’ll not like
my anger.”
“If you win, I’ll give you your pound of flesh, and I hope it chokes you,” she retorted and sweeping around him, she made for the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
Marcus didn’t need the forthcoming meeting with his mother to put him in a bad mood. He woke this morning with Sabine’s scent and taste still swirling around him. He hoped that soon satisfying his carnal need for her would somewhat diminish the pain of her betrayal. He could look back on the past and shrug his shoulders, as if her deceit in eloping with another man hadn’t altered his life or persona at all.
Unfortunately, the pleasure he’d found in Sabine’s kiss had not diminished his desire for the vexing French beauty. Rather it had reignited a flame that had refused to die. He’d woken with a rampant erection, desirous of another encounter.
As Parsons, his stoic valet shaved him he made the decision to take Sabine into his bed the night he won the tournament. The sooner he bedded her the sooner he could send her away. He was desperate to extinguish his burning hunger for her. Then, and only then, could he finally move on with his life. Move on. He knew his appointment this morning with his mother was about moving on.
A full fifteen minutes before the requested meeting time, and perfectly groomed, Marcus made his way to his mother’s, Collette’s, drawing room. He knew what the meeting would be about. She wanted an heir for the Wolverstone name, but more importantly, she wanted grandchildren.
He’d learned very quickly that a woman set on grandchildren was a force to be reckoned with, especially when it was his mother, the reigning Dowager of the ton.
Worse, he loved his mother and had terrible trouble denying her anything. He remained a bachelor largely because she had been content to let him sow his wide oats up to now. Dowager Wolverstone had wanted her son to find the right woman. Little did she know that he’d found loads of right women. They were right for bedding, which is all he wanted from any female. He did not trust any of them, certainly not enough to give them his heart.
