The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance (21 page)

She grew still, as understanding dawned. “How much does my brother owe you?” she asked in a hollow voice.

“Fifty thousand pounds.”

She took in a huge breath, working to pull the air into her lungs. Her eyes seemed to blur, as if she couldn’t focus on anything but the thoughts in her head.

Anthony drank in the moment he had worked so long and hard to achieve. Marissa
would be
his, and she was now beginning to realize it.

A full minute, measured by the casement clock, ticked by. Neither of them broke the silence.

Then she stirred, an alabaster statue coming to life. “You want your revenge against my family for what they did to you.”

He hesitated, puzzled that she didn’t include herself with the rest of the Joslins. Then again, why did it matter?

“Revenge is an ugly word, Marissa. I prefer to call it justice.”

“As I said, I did not give you leave to call me by my first name,” she snapped. “You will not do so again.”

He smiled, sprawling back in his chair. Anger made her even more beautiful — driving the blood to her face. It made her flushed and ripe. Within a few days, he would be taking all she had to offer, and then some.

“You’ve given me leave before, Marissa. In fact, you gave me a hell of a lot more than that, as we both know.”

In her frustration, she actually bit down on her plump lower lip, like an actress in a melodrama. He became hard thinking of all the ways he was going to put those lips to good use.

“I prefer not to recall the past,” she said in a haughty voice.

He let out a harsh laugh. “Indeed. So would I, but that luxury has been denied me. There is, however, one thing I don’t mind remembering, and you know what that is.”

She glared back, refusing to respond.

“How you felt beneath me,” he purred. “I remember your naked body squirming in my arms. You were slick and hot, and so very tight. All softness and silk, and begging me to take you.”

Perspiration misted her face. She turned from him, pressing a gloved hand to her brow. “Anthony, please,” she said in a suffocated voice.

A sharp wave of pleasure took him at the sound of his name on her lips. “Ah. That’s better. You actually brought yourself to use my name.”

She jumped up from her seat and slapped a hand on his desk. “Enough of this! What do you want from me?”

He rose slowly, feeling the power uncoil within him. She would be his war prize — his by right — and he would no longer be denied. “I thought it was obvious, Marissa. I want my revenge, and I want it now.”

Marissa had never forgotten Anthony’s eyes. How could she? A pair exactly like them gazed up at her every day. Her daughter Antonia had eyes like Russian amber — golden and full of fire.

Antonia had Anthony’s eyes. Her father’s eyes.

Eyes that could blaze with emotion, as Anthony’s were right now. His gaze swept over her, burning so fiercely Marissa half expected it would scorch the clothing from her body.

Tamping down her frustration and fear, she answered him in the same calm voice she used with her daughter. “Perhaps I misunderstood you, Captain. I thought you were seeking justice, not revenge.”

He strolled around the desk, closing the distance between them.

Ignoring the urge to flee, she held her ground. Anthony had always been tall, but now he was also brawny from his years at sea. A man, when she had only ever known the boy. And this particular man — with his dark hair, rough-hewn features and broad shoulders — was so intensely masculine that it made her tremble.

“In this case, justice and vengeance are one and the same,” he answered, his voice a dark, menacing purr.

She shivered, sensing his implacable will, but was irresistibly drawn to his sensual power. That hadn’t changed. As a young girl she had been madly in love with Anthony, willing to do anything to be with him — even turn her back on the family and elope with him.

If only she had.

Marissa took her seat, keeping her spine straight and her hands folded neatly in her lap. If a long and unhappy marriage had taught her anything, it was how to mask her emotions. And ever since Anthony’s note arrived yesterday, Marissa had been trying to hide everything she felt — from Edmund, from Antonia, even from herself. But deep inside she could hardly breathe, swamped by waves of emotion she had repressed for years, and secrets long stashed away.

Too many secrets, ones Anthony would never forgive. Not after all he had suffered and lost.

Her insides twisted with anxiety, but she calmly met his gaze.

“Again, what do you want from me?” she asked.

He loomed over her, his face a grim, brooding mask. It hurt to look at him, for no trace of the sweet boy who had loved her remained. Her father and brother had destroyed that boy’s life, just as they had destroyed hers.

“I want you,” he growled.

Her heart lurched. “I … I don’t understand.”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “If you consent to be with me, I will extend Edmund’s loans until such time he can afford to pay me back. You have my word on it.”

She gaped at him. “You’re saying you want to marry me?”

He laughed so harshly she cringed.

“You’re such a romantic, Marissa. Why would I want to leg-shackle myself to you for the rest our lives? No. I want you in my bed — for as long as I want, and in any way I want. Do that, and the Joslins are safe.”

Her stomach cramped and, for a moment, she thought she would be sick. She tried to think, but her mind was stuffed with cotton batting. “You’re not making sense,” she finally managed.

“It’s quite simple. You live with me as my mistress, and I will not call in your brother’s debts.”

“But … but everyone will know,” she stuttered. “Think of the gossip. We couldn’t possibly keep such an arrangement a secret.”

He snorted. “Of course not. That’s the point. I will escort you to the theatre, the opera, the Royal Academy … whatever amuses me. You will be my companion, both in public and private. I’m rich now. Very few doors are closed to me, and with you by my side I might be able to open a few more.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she blurted out. “The scandal will ruin me.”

He shrugged, as if he didn’t care.

She could barely speak past the panic and anger clutching at her throat. “I have a child. If I’m ruined, I won’t be able to provide for her.”

“You can’t provide for her now. That’s why you moved back to Edmund’s house after your husband died, isn’t it? You were Paget’s second wife. His estate was almost entirely entailed to his oldest son, leaving only a small widow’s portion to support you and your daughter.”

Anthony didn’t know the half of it. Her husband had drastically reduced her portion after their first year of marriage when he finally realized Antonia wasn’t his child. It left Marissa poor, completely dependent on her brother’s support.

She closed her eyes, trying to get past the fear, searching to find a way out. If not for Antonia, she might have agreed to Anthony’s demands — if for no other reason than to atone for her family’s sins against him. But she wouldn’t give up on her daughter. Not for him. Not for Edmund. They could both go to hell before she would sacrifice Antonia.

She opened her eyes. “Yes, that’s true,” she grudgingly acknowledged. “But I must still protect her.”

He remained grim and silent, his mouth pulled into a tight line. “Very well,” he finally said. “I’ll not make your daughter a victim of your brother’s arrogance. She’ll be provided for. I’ll draw up the necessary contracts, giving her a generous allowance and stipulating that Edmund must always provide a home for her.”

Marissa gasped. She had to clutch the seat of the chair to keep her balance. “Absolutely not! You will not separate me from my child.”

“Then she can live with us,” he said impatiently. “You may be certain I will provide for both of you — you have my word. But either way, Marissa, you will come to me, or see your family in ruins.”

The room spun in a dizzying whirl, dark and cold. She took a deep breath, allowing the rage to clear from her mind. Somehow, she had to fight back. “Tell me, Captain, would you have forced me to be your mistress if my husband were alive?”

He frowned and slowly shook his head. “No. I may be a devious bastard, Marissa, but I wouldn’t have made you betray him.” His mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “One betrayal in a lifetime is more than enough. And this is so much better. I’ll have you without the annoyance of any minor scruples, and I get the added benefit of shaming your family. Your brother will be in my debt and, at the same time, he’ll suffer the knowledge that his sister is in my bed. Without the benefit of clergy.”

Marissa clenched her hands into fists. If she needed any proof that Anthony must be kept away from Antonia, this was it. The loving boy she had known was dead, and a cold-blooded monster had risen in his place. God only knew what he would do if he ever found out he had a daughter.

“Why must you do this?” she challenged. “You’re successful now. You can have anything you want.”

All traces of cold-blooded amusement disappeared from his features. His eyes glittered with an anguished fury that wrenched the breath from her body. “Your family forced this on me. They ripped me from the life I was meant to have. The one thing I truly loved and wanted, your father and brother denied me. As did you, Marissa.” He flung the words at her. “But now you have the chance to atone for that by finally giving me what I deserve. If you don’t, I’ll see every last one of the Joslins rot in hell.”

His words sliced through her like shards of broken glass, his pain so raw and immediate that it became her pain, too. She swallowed a sob and a vital part of her — the one that had never ceased loving him — reached out, yearning to heal the wounds that marked his soul.

“I never meant to hurt you, Anthony,” she whispered.

He surged up from the desk with lethal, masculine grace. Big hands curled around her shoulders and he pulled her straight up from her chair.

“I think you lie,” he growled.

He looked wild and dangerous as fury blasted through his shell of cynical detachment. But in those golden eyes she saw his grief and longing — saw
him
, the Anthony who her father had torn away from her, leaving her alone and incomplete.

She let her hand drift across his tanned cheek. “No, Anthony. You weren’t the only one who was hurt,” she murmured. “I longed to go after you … I was desperate to find you. But Father kept me locked away in my room, and he continually threatened to beat me. He said he’d send me to live with strangers if I didn’t marry Richard.” Her voice broke as his fingers dug into her arms and his gold-shot eyes searched her face. “I missed you so much, but I was still a child,” she pleaded. “I didn’t know what to do.”

A different kind of heat, forbidden and dark, flared in his eyes. His big hands moved down her arms and slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him. She gasped at the feel of his erection pushing hard against her belly.

“But you’re not a child any more, Marissa. And I’ve waited for this for too damn long.”

She clutched at his waistcoat as he swooped to capture her mouth in a punishing kiss. Her head fell back and his tongue slipped between her lips to plunder her mouth. She whimpered, giving him everything he demanded. There was no resisting him — no resisting the passion he’d ignited. The passion unleashed for both of them after years in solitary exile.

His bold tongue tasted her, stroked deep inside to claim her with a searing hunger. Marissa had forgotten the fierce beauty of Anthony’s kiss. But now everything came back in a blazing rush. The heat, the wet slide of a greedy, open-mouthed kiss, the feel of his strong hands moving over her body.

She stretched up on her toes, winding her arms around his neck. A raw need throbbed deep within as her body came alive to his touch. Her breasts grew full and heavy as she rubbed against him, her nipples pulling tight with a prickling ache.

Anthony murmured a low growl of approval as his hand drifted down to squeeze her bottom in a kneading grip. Gradually, his kiss grew softer, and his tongue slowly traced her lips before slipping back into her mouth. It was sweet and hot and reckless — just as it had always been.

As she slid into total surrender, he broke the kiss. Marissa murmured a confused protest, and his hand came up to hold her chin. She panted, struggling to shake off the confining grip, eager to taste him again. His fingers tightened on her jaw.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered in a husky voice.

She did. His face was flushed under the bronzing of his complexion, and sexual hunger flickered in his rapacious gaze. But she saw something else in those golden eyes, something wary and very determined.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“I want your decision, Marissa. Of your own free will. Do you agree to be my mistress, or shall I send word to your brother that I intend to collect the fifty thousand pounds he owes me?”

For a moment she froze, stupefied, then she wrenched herself free of his grasp. Anger and shame flooded her body in equal parts. “Go to hell,” she blurted out.

His lips curled back in a predatory grin. “Most likely I will, but I don’t care. As long as you do what I ask. You have until tonight to make up your mind. I’ll send my carriage to Joslin House to fetch you. Eight o’clock, shall we say?”

She snatched up her bonnet and reticule and stumbled to the door.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said.

His mocking laugh followed her from the room.

It had taken her thirteen years, but Marissa finally acknowledged how much she hated her brother.

Edmund lumbered across his richly appointed study, his jowly face red with ill-contained fury. He halted before her, smelling of port, snuff and outraged dignity.