Tempting a Sinner (10 page)

“Go
away,
Benedict.”

“You don’t think you are good enough.”

She tried to punch him in the shoulder. “I’m not!”

“You’re a survivor, Malinda. How do you think the aristocracy attained their positions? By trampling over everyone else, that’s how.” He rolled away from her. “You’re afraid. You’re afraid that you’d fit in too well.”

She decided not to dignify his ridiculous remarks with an answer, and resolutely closed her eyes. Unfortunately he kept talking.

“I’ll speak to Jenny tomorrow about the maid, and consult with Lady Westbrook about the modiste. She’s sure to know who is currently in vogue with the ladies of the
ton
.”

She pressed her lips together and prayed for patience.

“You’ll like Lady Westbrook. She reminds me of you.”

Which explained a lot. Malinda turned onto her side away from her tormentor and sighed heavily.

“If I know Adam, he’s probably told her all about you.” He paused, but not for long. “What did you think of Adam?”

She flopped onto her back. “Are you ever going to stop talking?”

“Probably not. I do some of my best thinking just before I fall asleep.”

“This isn’t ‘thinking’; it’s rambling.”

He nudged her arm. “But did you like him?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, what’s not to like in a man who is willing to suck one’s husband’s cock?”

“You enjoyed that?”

“Did you enjoy watching Gwen and me pleasuring each other?”

He shivered, took her hand, and brought it down to his cock. “Immensely.”

“Then, of course I enjoyed it.” She left her hand where he placed it. “It was interesting to see how roughly he treated you.”

“Men tend to know how much another man can stand.”

“Do you do that to him?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“With Adam?” He sighed as she stroked his cock. “No, we just share a similar pleasure in exploring the full extent of our sexual natures.”

“Hmph.”

“Adam is more inclined toward men than I am. He prefers to be fucked by a man, whereas I still prefer a woman.”

“Even though we aren’t as strong?”

His hand curved around her neck, his thumb rubbing gently, mimicking the motion of her fingers on his cock. “That’s the best part. Caring for you, giving you as much pleasure as you can take without hurting you.” She gripped his cock hard and he shuddered. “Although women are often stronger than they look.”

He urged her closer until she was on her side, half-lying across him, her fingers still working his shaft.

“Do you remember the first time we tried this?”

She smiled against his shoulder. “I was torn between horror at the monstrous thing you expected me to hold and curiosity to touch you and see what you felt like. Curiosity won, and then I realized that for a few moments you were totally in my power. I learned to appreciate that.”

The low rumble of his laugh surprised her. “And then you asked if you could lick me just to see how I tasted, and I came all over your hand.”

“And my dress.” She sighed. “I had to go down to the river and try to wash out the stain before my mother saw me.” She squeezed his shaft. “But when I did finally get you in my mouth, I enjoyed it immensely. Did you like me watching you with Adam?”

“Yes.” His breathing hitched, and he pushed into her hand.

“I’d like to see you on your knees in front of him one day sucking his cock.”

His hips bucked as he thrust against her tightening grip. “Yes.”

“Is he big?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good.” He started to come, and she let him slide through the tight grip of her fist, wet and slick and hard, until he climaxed. She unwrapped her fingers and patted his lean, muscled chest. “Good night, Benedict.”

He sighed, turned onto his side, and finally stopped talking. Malinda smiled into the darkness. It seemed he still was in her power when she had her hand around his cock.... Some things would never change.

“H
ere we are.”

Benedict took a firm grip on Malinda’s arm as he helped her out of the hackney cab in front of his parents’ mansion in Mayfair. He’d have to thank the Countess of Westbrook. Malinda had decided to wear the gown the countess had sent her and was dressed in a very becoming lavender-colored pelisse with lace at the throat. A pattern of satin leaves went around the hem and marched up the beribboned front. Her bonnet was feathered with an open straw brim drawn back to show her beautifully austere face.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Malinda muttered.

He paid off the hackney driver and patted her gloved hand. “All you have to do is smile. I’ll do the rest.”

The look she shot him was positively murderous. “I’m perfectly capable of engaging in a conversation with your father.”

“I don’t doubt that for one minute.” He stopped at the top of the steps and looked down at her. “I only ask one thing. Don’t let him make you angry.”

“Why not? I’d love to fling my teacup in his face.”

He was beginning to see that not all the animosity in the relationship between his father and his wife sprang from his father. As he doubted either of them were telling him the complete truth, bringing them together might help him understand what the hell was going on—or at least clear the air.

“Please try to restrain yourself.” He raised his hand to the door knocker.

She grabbed his arm. “Benedict, a few days before you arrived at Alford Park, a man turned up claiming he was your father’s land agent and that he represented you. He threatened to give information to the local magistrate and have me evicted if I didn’t leave within a week.”

“So you said. Did he give you his name?”

“I believe it was Spoors.”

“That
is
the name of my father’s premier land agent, an unpleasant bully and one I will have great satisfaction in firing when I inherit the title.” He glared at her. “I repeat, I had no idea about this before you mentioned it. Why are you bringing it up now?”

“Because I thought you were involved and I didn’t think you’d be so foolhardy as to drag me to see your father!” she snapped. “When you turned up, I wasn’t sure if you’d come in response to my letter to Charlotte, or as your father’s representative.”

“Which I suppose you think justifies shooting me?”

“Naturally.” She tried to pull free of his arm. “Now, will you reconsider this stupid notion? If you didn’t send Spoors, it must mean that your father did.”

Drawing her tight against his side, he rapped hard on the door. “Which makes it even more imperative that we confront him.”

Her uncomplimentary diatribe about his character was cut short when a butler in the Alford livery opened the door.

“Master Benedict!”

“Crawley.” Benedict stepped inside. “Is my father receiving visitors?”

“Well, not really, sir. He’s been quite poorly, but I’m sure he’ll make an exception in your case.” The butler nodded at the staircase. “He’s in his suite. If you wish to visit with the marchioness first, I’ll go and see if the master is awake.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Crawley.” Benedict took Malinda’s hand and headed up the stairs. “We can find our own way. I promise I won’t keep him long.”

He ascended the wide, shallow staircase at some speed, hoping the butler would delay sharing news of his arrival with his mother for as long as possible. He couldn’t bear her weeping over him and demanding things he was incapable of giving her.

“Benedict.”

“What now?”

“This house is . . .
immense
.”

“Well, get used to it. One day it will all be mine.” He focused his gaze on the door that led to his father’s suite of rooms. Malinda slowed her steps.

“Is this a portrait of your mother?”

He barely glanced up at the enormous painting. “Yes.”

“She is very beautiful.”

“That’s not why my father married her. He coveted her excellent lineage and large dowry.”

“You are terribly cynical.”

“I have a right to be. They’re my parents, not yours. They barely spoke to each other, let alone to me.”

He was aware that he was being rather short with her, but facing his father was never easy. He halted in front of the walnut and cherry double doors and took a deep breath. Cupping Malinda’s face in his hands, he gave her a quick, hard kiss.

“The dragon awaits us.”

He gave a perfunctory knock on the door and went in. The room was in half-darkness but he could clearly make out the upright figure in the bed, eating his breakfast and perusing the morning newspaper.

“Good morning, Father.”

His father’s hand paused momentarily and replaced his cup on the tray. “Kesteven.”

Benedict came forward and inclined his head an inch. “Do you mind if I open the curtains a little more?”

“Be my guest.”

There was no inflection in the marquis’s voice, but that wasn’t unusual. Benedict had spent his entire childhood trying to earn a note of approval from his father and never succeeded. He drew back one of the heavy curtains, turned back to the bed, and experienced a sick feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut. In the stark morning light, his father did indeed appear gaunt and thin. Despite his mother’s letters, he hadn’t expected that.

Malinda remained by the door, her expression calm, her gaze fixed on him. He walked over, took her hand, and brought her closer to the bed.

“I’m sure you remember my wife, sir.”

“The sergeant’s daughter.”

“My wife.” He met his father’s gaze. “I have given her permission to reside at Alford Park. I do not expect her to be troubled by you, or your underlings, in the future. Am I making myself clear?”

The marquis looked at Malinda. “You agreed not to come back to England.”

“That was many years ago, and the decision of a frightened child.”

“So you decided to come back and try your luck with my son again, did you?” The marquis’s laugh was dry. “I should’ve known a woman of your class wouldn’t understand the concept of honoring her promises.”

“But the promise was extracted under duress and by using false information. I fail to see the honor in that.”

“Yet instead of coming to see me and bringing this matter of ‘honor’ up, you chose to involve my son.”

Benedict gave a short laugh. “Trust me, she didn’t want to involve me, sir. But when you sent Spoors to threaten her, you made it my business.”

“I assumed you’d be grateful for my help. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to step in and save you from your infantile infatuation with her, would it?”

“I certainly didn’t ask you to do anything of the kind then, or now.”

The marquis snorted. “You didn’t need to ask. I know my duty. You need to marry and get an heir.”

“I am married.”

“You are a fool.”

“You are entitled to your opinion, sir, but I repeat, none of this is your business. I’m no longer a child or a young man. You may safely leave the management of my affairs to me.”

“Your life
is
my business, Kesteven. I own you. You are my heir.”

“That last part is true, but I don’t need to dance to your tune anymore.”

“I’ll cut off your allowance if you take up with her again.”

“That’s your choice. I don’t need your money.”

“Because you work for your damned living like a peasant.” The marquis shook his head. “I suppose it isn’t surprising that you choose your women from the gutter as well.”

“You may insult me all you like, sir, but please refrain from speaking of my wife in those terms.”

“She took money from me and ran away.”

Benedict stared steadily at his father. “I don’t believe that’s true. She left because you tried your hardest to destroy everything that was between us.”

“You’re such a romantic fool. Marriage isn’t about
love
.” The marquis made an impatient gesture with his hand. “There was nothing between you. Any man of your class should’ve known that all she was worth was a quick tumble in the hay and a penny for her trouble.”

Benedict took a step forward, but Malinda put her hand on his arm.

“Your son is the most honorable man I’ve ever met.”

“And the biggest fool.” The marquis sighed. “You haven’t told him the truth, have you?”

“And which truth would that be, my lord?”

“The reason you left.”

Malinda went still, and Benedict watched a triumphant smile grow on his father’s haggard face. He stepped in front of her.

“What truth?”

“The fact that her mother was my mistress, and that your darling Malinda is my bastard, and therefore your half sister?”

“Really, sir? If that is the case, surely the shame lies with you?” Benedict bowed. “I reiterate. Malinda is living at Alford Park under my protection. You will leave her in peace. Good day.”

He maneuvered an unprotesting Malinda out of the door. In the hallway she grabbed his sleeve, her face white, her expression anguished.

“Benedict—”

“Don’t speak.” He marched her along the corridor and opened a door into one of the many guest bedchambers, shutting it behind them. He leaned against the door, preventing her escape, and took a long, slow breath as she paced the carpet, her hands clenched together at her waist.

“Please—”

He held up his hand. “Don’t start defending yourself.”

“But I have to explain . . .”

“Give me some credit, Malinda. If you were my half sister, you would
never
have gotten back into bed with me. When did you discover my father had lied to you?”

“When my mother was dying.” She hesitated. “I asked her if it was true.”

“Which explains why you finally thought it was safe to come back to England.”

She nodded. “My mother wrote a journal, which she gave me on her deathbed. After her death, I was able to work out when I was conceived, and ascertain that the marquis was not with the regiment at all that summer so he couldn’t be my father.” She shuddered. “It was something of a relief. I even found my original birth certificate, signed by the army chaplain.”

He tried to imagine how it must have felt for her to be confronted with such a monstrous lie at the age of seventeen.

“I wish you’d told me.”

“How could I? I didn’t want you to know.”

“I could’ve—”

“You could’ve done nothing but ruin yourself and run away with me. That I could not allow.”

“So you and my father concocted a plan to make it seem as though you’d been bought off. Did you actually take his money as well?”

“No!”
She came toward him. “I decided to leave of my own accord. The fact that my mother supported my decision made me think there might be a kernel of truth in what the marquis told me.” She cupped his chin. “I would
never
conspire with your father against you.”

Despite the firmness of her voice, her lips were trembling. He barely resisted the urge to take her mouth in a savage kiss. Instead he eased out of her grasp.

“We’d better get moving.”

“Yes.”

Malinda retied the ribbons of her bonnet and fought to compose her expression. Her whole body was shaking and she felt cold to her bones. Benedict had believed her. She hadn’t expected that. Had expected to have to argue her case and convince him, but he’d simply accepted what she’d said.

He held open the door for her.

Apart from that slight moment, when he’d asked in that incredibly calm voice if she’d conspired with his father, he’d remained in total control. She’d wanted to console him so badly because this, at least, she could say, hand on heart, was false.
This
part of the tangle was a figment of his father’s distorted lies. The rest? She wasn’t ready to share her suspicions about that with anyone yet.

It had taken all her resolve to stand there and not pull Benedict’s dueling pistol from his pocket and fire it straight at the marquis’s sneering face. He shared one thing with his son, the ability to hide his emotions behind an autocratic mask.

“Devil take it,” Benedict muttered.

Coming along the corridor toward them was an angelic, blond woman clutching a lace handkerchief in one hand.

“Oh, Benedict! How could you upset your father so, by bringing
that woman
to the house!”

“Good morning, Mother.” Benedict bowed. “May I present my wife, Malinda? I don’t believe you’ve met.” He turned slightly toward her. “Malinda, may I present my mother, Beatrice, the Marchioness of Alford.”

Malinda curtsied. “My lady.”

She’d guessed who the woman was immediately. The marchioness ignored her and stared straight at her son. “I asked you to come home, but not in this manner!”

“Then rest assured, we will not trouble you again.” He kissed his mother’s slack fingers. “Good day.”

“Benedict!” Malinda winced as the marchioness’s voice rose two octaves. “This is not acceptable! What am I to tell my friends? Why are you doing this to me?”

He kept moving, his hand firmly in the small of Malinda’s back until they swept through the front door the butler held open for them and out onto the street. He hailed a passing hackney cab and had her installed in the seat. Within seconds they were pulling away and turning out of the square.

Malinda turned to study his stern profile.

“Your mother is still very beautiful. You look a lot like her.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She reached for his gloved hand and found it clenched into a fist.

“It’s all right.”

“No, it isn’t. They both behaved appallingly.”

She tried to think of a more neutral topic. It was imperative that she keep him from thinking about anything to do with her or his father. “Why did your father call you Kesteven?”

“It’s my courtesy title. I don’t bother to use it.”

“Why do you need another title?”

His hand relaxed against hers. “Viscount Kesteven is one of my family’s lesser titles. One my ancestors achieved on their relentless drive to the top of the pile and discarded when my grandfather became the Marquis of Alford. As my father’s eldest son and heir apparent, I’m granted the use of his next-highest-ranked title. When I become the marquis, my eldest son will become Kesteven.”