Invitation to Ruin (25 page)

She shuddered against the seat. He knew she enjoyed being pleasured by mouth. He didn’t mind. She gave far more than she got. The image of her lips on his hard, aching shaft made him bury his head between her legs and lick, suck, and bite until she shattered on the squab above him.

He moved back to his side of the carriage. The lamp threw light on her glistening wet thighs. Now she was a purring cat, much easier to manipulate.

He began unbuttoning the front of his trousers. “I am not completely without gratitude. I have bought up all your
debts. They are now mine.” He gave her an evil smile. “I own you.”

Her satiated expression turned to one of fear. He could smell it in the air. Thick, thrilling, and satisfying. His erection sprung free of his garments. He leaned forward and gripped her hair, pulled her up so she was forced to straddle his lap. He freed himself, and lifting her hips, slowly slid her down until he impaled her on his straining erection.

“If you please me”—he gasped as her tight sheath closed around him—”you will be at my personal beck and call. You will do anything and everything I tell you. If you behave”—he let out a moan as he plunged deeper into her heat—”then I shall never call in your debts.”

He gave over to the ministrations of his new toy. He owned her body and soul. It was a long carriage ride; he did not wish his fun to end too soon.

To keep from succumbing to her tight ride, his mind wandered to the information he’d collected on the new Countess of Wickham. If you paid the most money or applied the best threat, information was easily obtained. He learned from a source in the Earl’s household that Wickham did not sleep with his wife. What a fool …

Rothsay knew why. He’d been there the day the late Earl had forced his son to do what Anthony considered an evil act. He’d heard the words Anthony had flung at his father. He’d sworn Tony’s legacy died with him. There would be no children. He would not carry on the Wickham name.

Wickham would not sleep with his wife. He did not wish to have a child with her. Once Rothsay had that knowledge, his revenge fell into place.

His orgasm built. His balls tightened, and he surged more forcefully into Cassandra’s wet folds, thinking of Anthony’s wife … of Anthony’s helplessness.

Revenge … how absolutely delicious.

M
elissa busied herself preparing the tea in the drawing room of Craven House, her new home, swallowing the emotion welling inside at Sarah and Theresa’s reunion.

“I hope you will be happy here,” Lady Albany said to Theresa. Detangling her arms from around Theresa’s neck, she wiped a tear from her cheek. “But I shall sorely miss you.”

Once Melissa had filled three cups, she sat back on the settee, waiting for Sarah and Theresa to take the chairs opposite.

This was her favorite room in the house. She glanced at the small touches she’d added to the room, a vase of blood-red roses on the mantel, a small miniature of Sarah on her writing desk, some of her favorite gothic novels strewn on the side table. This had been Anthony’s mother’s receiving room, and Melissa drew comfort and strength from the soft red and gold furnishings. The fireplace, with its marble mantelpiece, dominated the room. Yet the petite French furniture ensured the room’s femininity.

Sarah turned a grateful gaze her way. “I know you’ll look after Lady Wickham. Is Lord Wickham at home? Before I leave, I’d very much like to thank him for aiding in securing Theresa’s freedom.”

“And Alice’s,” Theresa interjected. “Alice thinks he’s her savior. A true saint.”

Melissa gave them both an acutely uneasy look. “His lordship is not in at present, but I shall pass on your thanks when I see him.” Sarah and Theresa looked at each other. Melissa shrugged. “He is busy. His business affairs take up a lot of his time. Do you take sugar, Sarah?” she asked, to distract them, and her, from the topic that plagued her every waking thought. Anthony’s absence from her life—from her bed.

“His lordship has been absent far too much if you ask me.” Theresa turned accusing eyes her way. “And it isn’t purely business that is keeping him busy, now is it? He is never home, especially at night.”

Melissa’s cheeks flamed under her knowing gaze. As her maid, Theresa knew very well that Anthony had yet to share his wife’s bed.

Sarah sat and took her cup of tea from Melissa’s outstretched hand. “I don’t understand. If I remember correctly you thought Lord Wickham was, and I quote, the ‘most handsome man in all of England.’ “ Her mouth curved down. “Unlike me, you were looking forward to your husband’s attentions. Lord Wickham is reputed to be the most amazing lover.”

Melissa’s blush deepened.

Theresa raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to confess.

Sarah continued on, oblivious to the silent communication between Theresa and Melissa. “I must admit I was surprised to receive your invitation to tea this morning. I would have thought a man of his appetites would not have let you out of bed for at least a week.”

Unforgivably, Melissa slurped her tea at her words.

“Well,” Theresa urged.

She put her cup down with a clink. “Since we married, he has not come to my bed. It would appear I am not to my husband’s taste,” she informed them defensively.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Most men would sell their souls to get you into bed.” Sarah paused. “There isn’t anything wrong with the man? I mean, his reputation isn’t a carefully
developed cover is it, and he in fact prefers the company of men? I have heard of that sort of thing …”

Melissa laughed. “No, I’m quite sure; from my experience of the night he thought I was Cassandra, women are his definite preference. Just not this woman,” she added unable to hide the hurt in her voice.

“Perhaps he’s simply giving you time to get used to him. He’s being considerate of your feelings. You are, after all, virtually strangers.”

“Oh, Sarah, how sweet. But remember he compromised me. That’s why I’m his wife. I’d say we know each other well enough in the bedroom department. Besides, he’s the Lord of Wicked.” She nodded vigorously. “No, it’s me. He prefers other women to me. I am not who he wants. Up until a week ago, he only had eyes for Cassandra.”

Sarah settled her cup on the table beside her. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“Do?”

“I know you want a proper marriage, children, love! I allow Charles his mistresses because I’d rather not have him in my bed. If I wanted him, there would be no way I’d tolerate his other women.” She leaned forward. “Have you told Lord Wickham how you feel? Have you shown him you desire him?”

Melissa scoffed. “He doesn’t give me the opportunity.”

Theresa sighed. “There’s your problem, my girl. You sit back and let him dictate how you’ll live your lives.”

Lord Strathmore’s words echoed in her head.
“Don’t let him dictate …”
Could Theresa be right? “You’re right. I know what I have to do. I’ve even been studying the topic. But I’ve been a coward. I’m scared of rejection.” She lowered her head and softly said, “I’m not sure I could stand it if he turned away from me. I so want a child.”

Sarah stood abruptly and pulled on her gloves. “Well, there is no time like the present.” Turning to her former maid, she said, “Theresa, I suggest you make yourself scarce this afternoon. If his lordship returns, Melissa, I forbid you
to let him leave this house before he’s performed his husbandly duties.”

“Duty! I was hoping he’d not think on it as a duty. I do have my pride.”

“Silly girl. Seduce him, and he’ll take care of the rest. With a reputation like his, the Lord of Wicked, I assure you, will find his pleasure. He won’t ever think of bedding you simply as a duty!” Sarah was already at the door. “You have a chance to shape your marriage into something you want. Don’t let fear stand in your way. “

Melissa bit her lip. Sarah was right.

“I’ll see Lady Albany out.” Theresa stopped in the doorway and gave her a wink. “From what I’ve seen of his lordship, the way he follows your every move like a drunkard stumbling across a barrel full of fine French brandy, I don’t think you’ll have to try very hard to seduce him into your bed. I feel certain he’ll be more than happy to oblige.”

Melissa turned as red as the roses in the vase and smiled weakly. “I hope you’re right. The rest of our lives together as strangers seems a very long time.”

   Melissa’s inner tension rose to the screaming point as the afternoon dragged on. She shrugged, noting she’d read the same page three times but had not taken in a word. The afternoon silence of Craven House was driving her to distraction. At least here in the library, amid the books, she felt a little measure of comfort.

She knew Anthony had not returned until nearly dawn last night, because she’d laid awake listening and planning. She hugged her pillow tight. Where had he been and with whom? She let a single tear slide down her cheek. Why did he not come to her bed?

It was all very well for Sarah to issue directives, but it was a totally different matter putting them into practice. He didn’t want her. Newlyweds, on their supposed honeymoon, did not avoid each other. She hung her head. But they were not a couple in love.

He liked her, of that she was certain. He smiled and conversed with her and politely asked after her and her day. He was attentive when they were together, except he never let the attentiveness go past a chaste kiss on her cheek or lips, and worst of all, he ensured he was not at home when darkness fell.

What happened to the man who gave her such pleasure in the garden before they wed? Where had he gone? What had she done to drive him away?

She closed her eyes and inwardly winced. She could no longer deny it. She had rationally thought through his behavior. It could mean only one thing. He did not find her desirable. Having tasted her passion, he preferred other women. He likely thought her not skilled enough. Yet, he’d given her no opportunity to use the teachings from her book. She prayed her new skills would be enough to enthrall the Lord of Wicked.

Last night, she’d been too miserable to sleep. She’d rubbed at the ache in her chest. He was a man whose notoriety for sins of the flesh was legendary. If he did not want her, who did he want? Who was he sleeping with? A man of his virility did not enjoy abstinence.

Which was why leaving her each evening made it so much harder to bear. She longed for him to hold her, to come to her bed and satisfy the longing rumbling inside her. If Anthony was intent on living his life as he wanted, then at the very least he could give her the one thing she desired—a child.

Last night after dinner, he kissed her good night, wished her sweet dreams, and disappeared into the night.

Instead of sleeping, she re-read Madame du Barry’s book. It contained sound, descriptive advice. But if her husband never came near her room, near her bed, how could she seduce him?

She sniffed into her handkerchief. A persistent voice in her head kept whispering,
“Go to him. Didn’t Madame du Barry stipulate that men enjoyed women who took the initiative?”

But making love in the afternoon as Sarah suggested …?

Yes, men were visual creatures. Even Melissa understood their passions rose when they saw even a flash of ankle.

She remembered the way Anthony’s eyes had darkened and how his shaft had lengthened and thickened against her stomach, once he’d feasted on her naked breasts.

She jumped to her feet.
Fool! You have sat back like a ninny, letting him ignore you. Well, no more
.

She crossed the room to the bell pull and summoned Stevens, his lordship’s butler. She walked up and down the Persian carpet chewing on her fingernail.

“You rang, my lady?”

She swung around to meet the impassive features of Anthony’s butler. Stevens had been with the Cravens since a young boy. Stevens thought his lordship walked on water.

“Has Lord Wickham returned home?”

“Not yet, my lady.”

“When do you expect him back?”

“He did not say, madam, but given the heavens have opened up and he is on Dark Knight, I would say soon. I have already informed Thompson to get a hot bath ready.”

She nodded in agreement. “Good. I don’t want him to catch a chill.”

“Did you wish me to give his lordship a message, my lady?”

Melissa hesitated. What did she want? She needed to think this through. Ignoring Stevens’ question she asked, “Is his lordship dining in this evening?”

Her face flamed as she saw the flash of pity in the butler’s normally stoic eyes. “Indeed, I think not.”

Her lips suppressed into a grim line. That meant she had limited time to enact her plan. She bid Stevens leave her and sat down before the fire, her hands absently stroking the material of her gown. Could she do it? Could she play the temptress?

She looked at her hands, took in her gown. Not dressed like this she wouldn’t. Her drab and faded-blue day dress had seen better years. It was unlikely to tempt even a yokel
farmer. However, she knew exactly what she would wear. She had the sheer silk, scarlet in color, negligee, so appropriate for the task. Sarah had bought it for her as a wedding gift. Her note accompanying the gift burned in Melissa’s memory:

   How Sarah had found such a saucy piece of attire, Melissa hated to ask, but it was perfect. Perfect if she had the nerve to wear it. Even if she did, how did she get Anthony’s attention? She could not very well flounce around the house dressed like one of London’s best courtesans.

She drew in a deep breath, willing herself to calm down.
Think, damn it!
Her happiness might depend on this defining moment.

As peace descended over her, the answer became obvious. A devilish smile played upon her mouth.

   Stevens greeted Anthony at the door, taking his sodden coat and passing it to a servant before he had time to flood the tiled entrance hall. His boots would need packing, they were soaking wet.