A Carnal Agreement (Regency Intrigue Book 1)

by Silvia Violet

  He fumbled with his pants, like a clumsy lad of fifteen about to couple with an overeager village lass.

  Finally free of all clothing save his shirt, he pulled Cassandra to the floor and laid her out on the thick fur rug. She smiled at him drunkenly, still caught in a whirl of sated passion.

  “Look at me.” He positioned himself above her.

  “Mark, please.”

  “I want to look in your eyes as I enter you.”

  She looked at him then. Her eyes had darkened from golden brown to rich chocolate, and they shone like polished marble.

  “Tell me again. Tell me you want me.”

  She lifted her hips to him, and the head of his cock slipped inside her. He saw the pleading in her eyes, but he wanted her confession. He wanted her to want him because her body cried out for it, not because it was a duty she had to perform.

  He pulled back. “Tell me.”

  Cassandra opened her mouth to speak but her words were lost when one of the huge windows shattered. She screamed as a man leapt through the window with a pistol trained on them.

  Mark lunged toward him, catching him in the chest, forcing him back against the wall. The pistol went off, but the shot went wild.

  Mark grabbed the man’s wrist, slamming it against the wall. His weapon clattered to the ground.

  The intruder pushed back, throwing Mark off balance. They both fell to the floor, rolling and grappling with one another.

  ***

  Cassandra sat paralyzed, watching the struggle as if in a dream. Fleetingly she thought how beautiful Mark looked, how graceful his movements, how his near nakedness did not slow him down.

  Then she spotted a large, ivory figurine on the mantle. Her mind cleared, and she leapt into action.

  The intruder momentarily gained the upper hand, rolling on top of Mark. She leapt forward and brought the figurine down on his head. He slumped against Mark, who stared at her with wide eyes.

  She held up her makeshift weapon so Mark could see it, and he smiled at her as he shoved the intruder off of him.

  Mark pushed the man onto his back and removed his mask. Cassandra gasped and took a few steps back.

  “I assume you recognize him.”

  She nodded. “He’s one of the groom’s from Reddington Abbey. His name is Henry.”

  Shock overwhelmed her. Henry had been the one to saddle her horse for the ride to Northamberly. Had he tried to kill her?

  Mark cursed then looked up at her. “You’re pale. Why don’t you get dressed and have a seat?”

  She looked down and blinked in amazement. She had completely forgotten her nakedness in her haste to protect Mark.

  “Cassandra? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, just shocked I think.”

  “I’ll pour you a brandy as soon as I tie him up. I hope you don’t mind donating your stockings to the cause.

  “Stockings?” He held up the articles in question. “Oh, fine. Yes.” Shaking all over, she walked to the settee and located her chemise and her dress.

  By the time she was dressed, Mark had tied Henry’s wrists and ankles. He poured two drinks, handed Cassandra a snifter, and slipped his pants and boots on before sitting down next to her. “As soon as he wakes, I’m going to question him. I need you to tell me everything about him and his connection to Reddington.”

  “Loring sent me a note this afternoon.” She should have told him earlier. Now the information was vital.

  “Loring?”

  “Reddington’s valet. He’s been my greatest ally since my marriage. I think he only kept his position to protect me. He knows my true reason for being here.”

  Mark’s eyes narrowed. “What did the note say?”

  Cassandra swallowed and attempted to still her shaking hands. “I was going to tell you at dinner, but you behaved so insufferably I decided not to, and then I—”

  “What did he say, Cassandra?”

  “Someone ransacked my and Reddington’s rooms at the Abbey. Loring couldn’t tell if anything had been stolen. He and some of the footman went after the intruder, but the man escaped.”

  Mark’s face turned a deep shade of red. “When did you receive this note?”

  “It came this morning, but I didn’t read it until mid-day.”

  “You could have told me any time since I returned from my ride.” Cassandra was saved from having to respond by a groan coming from Henry.

  “Tell me what you know about him,” Mark said. “We will discuss your appalling judgment later.”

  “There is nothing more to discuss. You know everything I do now and—”

  “Cassandra.” Her name came out as a growl.

  “Henry came to work at Reddington Abbey nearly a year ago. Reddington took him on in London and brought him to the country when we returned after Christmas. Henry seemed a trifle odd to me, but I have always found him kind.”

  “Odd how?”

  “Unsure of himself. Too distracted to be good as this job, jumpy around me. I assumed he was inexperienced and nervous.”

  Mark stood, but she laid a hand his arm. “He knew I was riding out yesterday. He saddled my horse.”

  “And he could have followed you?”

  “Yes.”

  She watched Mark shake the young groom, trying to wake him. It sickened her to think Henry could have shot her. She always wondered what the staff knew or didn’t know about Reddington’s nefarious dealings, but she’d never suspected any of them of being deeply involved.

  Henry groaned again. Then he opened his eyes and began to struggle.

  Mark put a booted foot on his abdomen, pressing down until he stilled. “Who sent you here?”

  The young man’s eyes widened, but he shook his head. “I ain’t got to tell ya.”

  Cassandra gasped when Mark pulled a knife from his boot and pressed the point against Henry’s throat.

  “I would like very much to kill you. However, I might refrain if you cooperate.”

  “My boss’ll kill me anyway when he learns what I’ve done.”

  “Who do you answer to?”

  Henry didn’t respond. A small trickle of blood ran down Henry’s throat where Mark pressed the knife in harder.

  “Do you wish to die?” Mark asked.

  Finally, Henry spoke again. “Some Frenchie. I don’t know his name. Claims he killed Lord Reddington, and he’s come for his cargo. Said I best work with him if I knew what was good for me.”

  “What cargo?”

  “I don’t know.”

  More blood flowed from Henry’s throat. “Something about girls. I’m guessing he meant some whores.”

  Mark turned to face Cassandra. She simply nodded in acknowledgement. Reddington owned at least one brothel, but what would that have to do with transporting women to or from France?

  “Why did you come here? Did you think I had this cargo?”

  “No!”

  “Then why are you here?” Mark pressed harder with his boot. “Tell me!”

  Henry remained silent. Mark dropped the knife and wrapped his hands around the man’s throat, squeezing until Henry struggled for air. Mark only let go when Henry began to turn purple.

  The groom sucked in air and rubbed his throat.

  “Ready to talk now?” Mark asked.

  Henry looked at Mark as if he were a monster. “He told me Lady Reddington knew too much.” Henry paused to gasp for more air. “He told me to get rid of her and search her room for information.”

  “Did you find anything?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know anyone else who might know about this cargo?”

  “No.”

  “Did you shoot Lady Reddington yesterday.”

  “No.”

  Mark’s hands closed around his throat again.

  “Yes,” he croaked.

  Mark punched him then. Once. Twice. Three times. Until Henry fell unconscious.

  Cassandra watched with a combination of awe and horror. “Is he de
ad?”

  Mark reached out and touched the young man’s throat. After a few seconds, he shook his head. “No, but I could arrange for him to be.”

  “Mark, we can’t murder him.”

  “Why not? He wanted you dead.”

  When Mark turned to face her, the anger in his eyes frightened her, though she knew it wasn’t directed at her.

  “What would you have me do with him then?” Mark asked.

  Panic rose. When her life should be improving, her whole world threatened to crash around her. “I don’t know.”

  “He’ll hang for attempting to murder a lady.”

  “If we tell the authorities, we’ll have to reveal Reddington’s death,” Cassandra said

  “You would let him go free to preserve your precious secret?”

  It sounded so wrong when Mark said it that way. Perhaps she was a fool, yet she knew she couldn’t waver. She would not risk losing everything she had worked for. “Mark, please try to understand what my life has been like. With Reddington’s money, I won’t be at anyone’s mercy.”

  “You would rather die than remarry or go back to your family?”

  She paused to think. Would it be that bad? If she married another man like Reddington it would be. Her father had sold her away. She would never take his money again. “Yes, I would.”

  He glared at her. “Fine. We’ll play this your way for now. Andrews will turn Henry over to the authorities, mentioning only the break in and assault—”

  “But Henry may tell people Reddington is dead.”

  “I’ll have Andrews make sure he does not.”

  “Can he do that?”

  “If you don’t believe he can, you are welcome to kill Henry instead.”

  Mark picked up his knife and held it out to her.

  Was he serious? Would he sit by and watch her kill a man? She studied his face. Yes, he would.

  She sat down again, shaken. Mark put the knife back in his boot.

  “You’re going to have to trust me to handle this. But understand, whether you wish it or no, your life comes first. If I must reveal your secrets, then I will do so before I let you die.”

  She looked up at him. His shirt hung loose, and his hair stood out wildly. He looked like a predator, ready and eager for the kill. She wanted to ask again why he cared, but this was not the time to push him further.

  He gathered her shoes and the petticoat she had omitted in her haste to dress and held them out to her. “Go on up to bed. I will join you as soon as I can.”

  She turned and fled.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Cassandra pulled her nightgown over her head and began to unbraid her hair. She stood near the fire, but even its blazing heat could not take away the chill Henry’s appearance had given her.

  Henry had worked at Reddington Abbey for over a year. How could she have misjudged him? Were other servants involved?

  Henry’s words took her right back to what had previously been the most terrifying night of her life. The night she learned her husband kidnapped young women and forced them to pleasure the male guests at his parties. She could still see the frightened faces of the girls as they were auctioned off to those odious man.

  Was he now attempting to sell women in France too? Whatever the reason, those responsible had to be stopped. Whether Mark agreed to help her or not, she was going to put an end to their operation.

  The creak of the door connecting her apartment to Mark’s made her jump.

  “Cassandra! Where the hell are you? I thought I told you to—” He stopped speaking when he saw her. His hands clenched and a furious fire came into his eyes. She feared he intended to rip the gown from her as he had the last one.

  “This is the only other night rail I brought. I will not have you destroy it too. Surely you do not wish to take me to bed after what has happened.”

  “I have, against all I feel is right, let a murderer live. I did this because you wished to give your precious plan a chance to succeed. Now you act surprised that I intend to follow through with said plan?”

  She took another step back. “It’s only that… after what happened, I did not think you would be in the mood. You seemed rather angry and…”

  “I assure you my anger in no way prevents me from wanting you. In fact, anger and passion are closely linked.” He took a few more steps toward her. “You have put me through hell today. I intend to take some pleasure in compensation.”

  He now stood close enough to touch her. She forced herself to stand still, keeping her hands folded across her chest.

  “If you are serious about keeping your lovely garment intact, you’d better remove it immediately.”

  Cassandra was surprised when his words sent a thrum of desire through her. The sight of Mark looking at her like he intended to devour her was annoyingly alluring. She gathered her night rail in her hands, and, in one movement, pulled it over her head and dropped it to the floor.

  “Are you still sore?” he asked, clasping her waist with his hands and pulling her to him.

  “No.” Lying would have gotten him to leave or at least to take her gently, but no matter how the force of his desire unnerved her, she did not want that.

  “Good.”

  His low voice made her shiver.

  He took her hands and brought them to the lapels of his coat. “Undress me.”

  She slid her hands over the smooth fabric of his shirt and pushed his coat from his shoulders. He hadn’t bothered to put his waistcoat on, so she began to slowly pull his shirt up.

  He grew impatient and yanked the garment over his head. It joined his coat on the floor.

  Now that he was naked to the waist, she ran her hands over his chest, reveling in the feel of hard muscle. Breathing deeply of his musky scent, she leaned forward and let her tongue play over one of his flat nipples.

  “Cassandra,” he groaned.

  Liking his response, she suckled the hardened bud. The crisp golden hairs of his chest tickled her face, and the salty taste of his skin made her want to bathe his whole body with her tongue. She sucked and nibbled her way to his throat.

  He pushed her hands down his abdomen to the top of his breeches. “Tell me you aren’t a witch come to enslave me.”

  “I rather fear it is I who am enslaved.” Later Cassandra would regret revealing her vulnerability, but at that moment, she floated in a dream world where nothing she said was real.

  Her hands slipped lower and made contact with his hardness. “You make me feel as if I am starving for you,” she confessed, “as if I can never have enough.”

  She traced the line of his cock. His eyes closed, and he rubbed against her hand. When she freed him from his breeches, she was surprised by the softness of the skin covering the hard shaft.

  He took hold of her wrist and jerked her hand away. “Enough!”

  Startled by his harsh tone, she looked up. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, my little witch. Feral desire shone in his eyes. “But I will spill my seed in your hands if you don’t stop. Climb on the bed.”

  He followed her, grabbing two pillows and pulling them to the center of the bed.

  “Turn over.” As she did so, he placed the pillows under her belly.

  Then he leaned over her. His chest brushed against her buttocks as he nipped at the skin of her back. His bites created spirals of pleasure that ran down her body to coalesce with the fire at the juncture of her thighs.

  He pulled her hair back and whispered against her neck. “Tell me if I hurt you, though God knows how I’ll manage to stop.”

  Before she could ask him what he intended to do, he sat up and pulled her hips back to meet his. After testing her with a finger, he pressed slowly into her.

  Shock had her gasping for air when he began to move. She whimpered and pressed back further, gripping the bedclothes to keep herself from sliding forward with the force of his thrusting. Her surprise was quickly forgotten, the pleasure too intense for anything else to matter.<
br />
  This position allowed him deeper access than he’d had the night before. Never had she imagined feeling so filled, so stretched.

  Her hips pressed against the pillows, and the soft fabric rubbed against the place where all her hungers commingled. She squeezed his shaft with her internal muscles, trying to draw him even further into her. At the moment when he reached the top of his thrust, his sac slapped against her, teasing her swollen lips.

  Mark groaned, and his thrusting grew furious. She levered herself onto her hands and clutched at the thick bedspread. Her fingers ached from her effort to keep herself from falling, but she pushed her hips back to meet every stroke.

  Their coupling was even wilder and more primitive than the night before. Desire controlled her completely, leaving her unable to speak, unable to do anything but concentrate on finding her release.

  Mark sensed how close she was. Her body clenched him fiercely, trying to hold him inside. She thrust against him so hard, he struggled to stay on his knees.

  He reached around her, forcing his hand between the pillow and her belly to find her swollen pearl. With only the smallest pressure from his hand, she exploded with a cry of his name.

  ***

  Mark nearly bit through his lip in an attempt to keep himself from finishing. Simply breathing made him nearly lose control. He forced himself to remain still until her body quieted, and she lay limp across the pillows.

  Then he began to slide in and out at a painfully slow pace. “Remember when I touched you earlier, in my study? Remember how you begged for more?”

  Her only answer was a moan.

  “I intend to give you much more.”

  “Mark,” she gasped.

  “Feel it building again? You already need more of me, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, her face buried against the bedspread.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. Your need is beautiful.”

  He pulled out long enough to turn her over. He’d loved taking her from behind, but he wanted to watch her face the next time he made her shatter.