Wicked Sinner

by Carole Mortimer

  At the very least, the fact her mother had never actually asked if Angelique wished to marry Stonewell showed a lack of love and concern for her daughter’s happiness.

  “None,” Angelique finally answered his question regarding her nervousness on her wedding day, the humiliation of learning of her mother’s duplicity merely adding to the ones Angelique had already suffered today. “I wish to go to my own bedchamber,” she stated, glancing up at Stonewell when she received no answer. “With your permission?” she added somewhat resentfully.

  Her husband had treated her with little politeness since his arrival and a definite lack of respect once they were alone in his bedchamber, even if she had been unable to stop herself from physically responding to his fierce lovemaking. But if she was to receive that thrashing with a strap later today, then she needed some time alone first in which to gather her composure. Even though she knew Nik had the ability to strip that from her as easily as he did her clothing.

  His jaw tightened before he nodded abruptly. “I have estate business to attend to this afternoon. But we will meet again this evening at dinner.”

  “I would prefer to eat in my room—”

  “Nevertheless, you will join me in the dining room at eight o’clock this evening.”

  A silent war of wills ensued as green eyes battled with steely blue. Nik won, of course, as he always did, when Angelique could no longer withstand his coldness and her gaze dropped from meeting his. “Are you determined to make me hate you?”

  He gave a snort. “I no longer care one way or the other regarding your feelings. On any subject.”

  It was as if a sword had pierced Angelique’s heart to hear Nik actually say those words, even though, after today, she could now be left in no doubt as to his lack of feeling toward her. “Did you ever?” she came back bitterly.

  Nik did not like the accusation he could hear in Angelique’s tone. She could have no idea, no concept, of the hunger he had felt for her both before and during their marriage. The sort of hunger which had kept him awake at night before their wedding, and which had become insatiable afterward. It still was, he had discovered earlier, that single explosive release not even having touched the deep well of desire he felt to once again claim and own Angelique.

  A desire that now urged him to deny her even a moment’s respite from his demanding passions.

  But Nik had more control than to give in to that need. Angelique was now completely alone here with him, and at his mercy, and before they traveled back to London, he would ensure he slaked all and every lust for her that had plagued his waking and sleeping hours these past celibate months.

  “No,” he answered with deliberate cruelty. “Do not use my distraction this afternoon to attempt to leave,” he warned. “You will regret it if I am forced to hunt you down like a wild animal.”

  “You are the one who has behaved like wild animal!” She hurled the words at him like a weapon before turning on her heel and hurrying from the room.

  Nik waited until Angelique had left his bedchamber and slammed the door behind her before his shoulders slumped and he allowed the cold mask to slip from his features. His feelings of inner despair were overwhelming. He fully deserved Angelique’s accusations.

  Angelique seemed so…genuinely bewildered by his harsh treatment of her. So innocent.

  How was he to continue to withstand the pleading in those beautiful green eyes? The emotional trembling of Angelique’s lips? The hurt expression on her beautiful face?

  Because it was a feigned innocence and hurt, Nik reminded himself with a determined tightening of his jaw. A ruse to distract him, while she no doubt considered how and when she could make arrangements with her French contacts to remove herself from Stonewell Park, possibly even from England itself.

  Nik made a note to make discreet enquiries as to whom Angelique had visited or been visited by since her arrival in Kent, his intention to arrest any other French spies who might be in or living in the area.

  Nor had it been an idle threat on his part. He would hunt Angelique down if she attempted to leave. To the very gates of Hell, if he had to.

  His attention was caught and held by the gown she had removed and discarded on the floor. He bent to gather up the brocade gown before lifting it to his face and breathing in deeply. The heavy material carried Angelique’s unique smell: wildflowers and tempting female musk.

  A haunting perfume, and a woman Nik had no idea how he was going to live without.

  Angelique was outwardly controlled, at least, when she joined her husband in the small family dining room at eight o’clock that evening, relieved to see there was a fire blazing merrily in the hearth. She felt a coldness deep inside, one she knew was not solely due to the winter weather outside.

  Her appearance in a gown of deep green velvet and her hair arranged in fashionable curls upon her crown at least gave a veneer of composure.

  Inwardly, it was a different matter.

  She had bathed earlier and washed away all evidence of Nik’s sticky release over her body. Afterward, she had pulled on her robe before lying down on her bed and falling into an exhausted sleep, only to wake some hours later to be instantly beset with the memories of Nik’s callous behavior and her mother’s duplicity.

  They were both betrayals of the unforgiveable kind.

  Her mother, for having taken advantage of Angelique’s kindness all these years, when Lady Jacqueline had more than enough money to support her own modest household.

  Nik, for having abused her previous trust in his absolute control over their physical pleasure. His treatment of her earlier had not been one of their pleasurable games, but a definite punishment. One he no doubt intended to continue later when he administered those four lashes of the strap on her bared bottom.

  To add insult to injury, Angelique’s love for her husband did not seem to have diminished in the slightest. Her heart had begun beating double-time the moment she entered the dining room a few minutes ago. Nik’s dark hair was damp, as if he too had recently bathed, his expression one of smooth politeness, his evening clothes a perfect fit for his tall and muscular body.

  To add to Angelique’s pained emotions, Nik continued to behave with that politeness as Foster served their dinner.

  To add to her confusion, her husband conversed lightly on the coldness of the weather and the doings of the estate during the first course. Their mutual acquaintances in London during the second. Possible plans for the upcoming Christmas Season during dessert.

  Angelique added very little to the conversation, even when Nik told her their friend Lord Titus Covington, Viscount Romney, was soon to marry Lady Prudence Germaine.

  Not because she was not pleased for the other couple, because she was. She had seen how perfect they were for each other a week or so ago on the evening Titus had brought Lady Prudence to dinner at Stonewell House.

  But how could Angelique express genuine pleasure in the match when her own marriage was crumbling to dust about her ears?

  Not that Nik seemed to notice her reticence as he ate a hearty meal. In contrast, Angelique barely managed to swallow a bite of the food that seemed to take on the appeal of sawdust the moment it reached her lips.

  Angelique’s tension increased by the minute and had reached an almost unbearable pitch by the time Foster brought in a tray containing a decanter of brandy and two glasses. It deepened further still once Nik had dismissed the butler and other servants for the night.

  Her breath left her in a shuddering and audible sigh once the butler had left the room. A wary glance at the harsh expression on Nik’s face as he rose to his feet, a full glass of brandy in his hand as he crossed the room to stand beside the fireplace, was enough for her to know he had decided to now dispense with all pretense at politeness.

  “So what happens now?” she prompted quietly.

  Nik’s eyes were hooded as he glanced at her. “What do you expect to happen?”

  She gave a harsh laugh. “Nothing that is in
the least pleasant for me!”

  Unfortunately, Nik knew her statement to be a correct one, although perhaps not in the way she had imagined. But he dare not allow Angelique to see how much he was hating every moment of this. His own harshness. His cruelty. He had never been a particularly demonstrative man where his emotions were concerned, but being forced to treat her so abominably was beyond anything he had suffered before.

  No doubt Angelique would scorn the idea of him suffering at all.

  She would be wrong.

  Nik had spent most of the afternoon and early evening shut away in his study. Not dealing with estate business, as he had said he intended doing, but reliving each and every moment of the events since his arrival this morning.

  The conversation had been minimal, only his accusations followed by Angelique’s denial.

  But the events…

  They had shown Nik how clearly he still wanted her.

  His cock throbbed at the mere thought of once again putting his hands on Angelique’s soft ivory skin. Of then cupping the fullness of her breasts as he suckled each nipple in turn until they were full and ripe as berries. Of exploring and stroking the bareness of her mound until she shuddered and trembled in her release. Of then thrusting his cock inside her hot cunny while his hands cupped and squeezed the twin globes of her ass.

  So yes, suffering was exactly what he had done, and was still doing.

  His sigh was as heavy as Angelique’s had been minutes ago. “Go upstairs, and wait for me in my bedchamber.”

  Her eyes widened. In distress? Or fear? Neither was an emotion Nik had ever wished to see in his wife.

  Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Could I not wait to join you there until after you have dismissed Tilton for the night?”

  Nik shook his head. “I have enough clothes here to satisfy my needs and did not require my valet to accompany me this time. I was in the army,” he reminded Angelique dryly as she looked surprised. “As such, I am perfectly capable of dressing and undressing myself without the aid of a valet.”

  Angelique had assumed Tilton would have arrived separately by coach this afternoon.

  “The maid you share with your mother has also returned to London in the carriage with Lady Jacqueline and Lord Holmes,” Stonewell dismissed.

  Angelique had been aware of Monique’s absence earlier when she had to ask one of the household maids to see to the preparation of her bath and to then help her dress for dinner. But she hadn’t given too much thought to her missing maid. The excitable Frenchwoman often suffered from headaches, which could render her prostrate for several days.

  It was a little disconcerting—more than a little—to realize her husband had arranged things so that, once the servants had retired for the night, only the two of them would remain together in the main part of the house.

  So there was no one close by to hear her screams?

  Angelique had a feeling that might be the case.

  Nik had arranged matters so that she was, to all intents and purposes, his prisoner.

  Chapter 4

  “Once in my bedchamber, take five of the red silk bindings from the chest there and place them ready on the bed,” Stonewell added.

  It wasn’t only fear that now coursed hotly through Angelique’s body. Being tied to Nik’s bed with the silk strips and completely at the mercy of his hands and mouth as he brought her body to peak after peak of pleasure had been a torture she had enjoyed immensely in the past.

  She doubted that was Nik’s intention tonight, his actions now driven by anger rather than a desire to give her pleasure.

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Five?” she questioned.

  He nodded. “As well as your wrists and ankles being tied I intend to secure a blindfold over your eyes.”

  She would be unable to move or see while Nik wielded a whip against her flesh?

  “I have been far too lenient with you in the past,” Nik continued in that hard voice. “It is time you…moved on to new experiences.”

  Angelique knew she would not be feeling half so apprehensive if Nik showed her even the slightest consideration or a softening of his harsh mood. As it was… “I do not like the idea of the blindfold.”

  He quirked a brow. “I do not remember asking for your opinion on the subject.”

  Her frown was pained. “I did not even know what submission was until I married you!”

  His top lip curled upward in a humorless smile. “You still do not know what it is.”

  Her chin rose. “Because you have been more lenient with me than other women who were—are submissive to you?”

  His unblinking gaze met hers. “Yes.”

  A red tide of jealousy flowed up and over Angelique at the thought of her husband sharing that trust and intimacy with another woman. Her chin rose. “I refuse to wear a blindfold.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it is… I do not like the idea of not being able to see as well as unable to move.”

  He sighed his impatience. “That is the whole point.”

  “I do not understand…”

  “When one of the senses is restricted, then the other four become sharper, more intense. As does the arousal. When two are denied, sight as well as touch—”

  “The arousal is doubled.”

  “Exactly.”

  Angelique’s hands were clenched tensely at her sides. “You explained to me at the beginning of our marriage that I would always have a choice.”

  Yes, he had, Nik acknowledged.

  Before taking Angelique as his wife, he had only ever enjoyed his sexual pleasure in clubs specifically designed for and catering to his specific needs, and with women who expressed their boundaries before play began, all of them having a safe word they could use if he stepped over the line of those limits. The same rules he had shared with Angelique from the onset of their physical relationship.

  He frowned. “You have never used your safe word.”

  “Because in the past, I always trusted you not to hurt me.”

  “You no longer feel that same trust?”

  “No.”

  Nik knew the games of power exchange he liked to play were based solely on trust. Knowing Angelique no longer felt that confidence in him was almost more painful than the distrust he now felt toward her.

  His jaw tightened. “You have always been free to use your safe word whenever you choose.”

  “Liberty.”

  He nodded tersely. “There will be no blindfold.”

  Some of the tension eased from her body, her gaze softening, becoming imploring. “Nik—”

  “Go upstairs, and I will join you there shortly.” He turned to look down into the mesmerizing flames of the fire.

  Angelique knew from Nik’s tone and the unyielding stiffness of his shoulders and back that there would be no more reasoning with him tonight. About anything.

  Only a single candle lit the bedchamber when Nik quietly opened the door and entered the room half an hour later. Even so, it was possible for him to see that Angelique was not on her knees beside the bed as she should be, but instead stood in front of one of the windows, looking out at the starlit sky.

  Much as she had the first time Nik had actually seen Miss Angelique Kingston for the beautiful and desirable woman she was. Having been out in Society for at least the previous two years, Nik had, of course, been aware of her existence. He had just never noticed her beyond that outward beauty.

  He still had no idea what had been different about that evening three years ago at the Kennedys’ ball. Perhaps the gleam of Angelique’s red hair in the candlelight, of being able to detect shades of cinnamon and gold amongst that brightness? Or how desirable the creamy expanse of her bared shoulders in a russet colored gown? Or perhaps, as she turned from her contemplations out the window, it had been the innocence in her deep green eyes that captured and held his attention.

  Whatever the reason, Nik had seen Angelique that night, and wanted her more th
an he had ever desired any other woman.

  Lady Jacqueline Kingston’s eager acceptance when Nik made his offer for Angelique several days later had been almost obscene, as had her demand for money. But Nik was not marrying the mother, and for two and a half years, he had believed he and Angelique to at least be content in their marriage.

  Only to now learn that he had been used, as all of Society had been used, to obtain the information Angelique might pass along to her French associates.

  Why she would do such a thing, he still could not fathom. As his duchess, Angelique held a coveted place in Society. The allowance he gave her was more than generous. Their physical relationship had been more satisfying than anything Nik had known before her, and Angelique had never tried to hide her own pleasure in their lovemaking.

  But perhaps the reasons why Angelique had betrayed him, and everything he believed in, did not matter. Only that she had.

  The red silk ties now lay upon the bed as Nik had requested, and Angelique had once again stripped down to her corset and drawers. Her hair was a cascade of loose and silky red waves down her spine. But the stiff set of Angelique’s shoulders and her failure to kneel told him she accepted no further obedience to his control.

  Nik had already realized, as he lingered in the dining room to finish his glass of brandy in the hope of regaining that control over his own emotions, that it would be far too easy for him to allow his anger and disappointment in Angelique’s treacherous behavior to rule his actions. He liked control, dominance over his lovers, but he had never willingly, or unwillingly, physically hurt a woman, no matter how high his passions might be.

  He continued to watch Angelique as he threw off his jacket, waistcoat, neckcloth and shirt, sitting down on the bed to remove his shoes and hose before standing again.

  He picked up one of the red silk ties and approached her, only stopping once he stood behind her and could see his own reflection in the window beside hers. He stood at least a foot taller than her smaller stature, the musculature of his bared shoulders also clearly visible behind her much slighter form.