The Mammoth Book Of Regency Romance Part 17

"After he beat me half to death, your father threw me out of the house without a shilling to my name. Thank G.o.d the housekeeper took pity on me and gave me some coin to make my way to London. Her brother was a clerk at Nightingale Trading. She said he would find me work if he could, or at least give me a few days' shelter while I looked for means to support myself."

"Was there no one else you could turn to?" she asked, looking miserable.

"I had no friends who could be of a.s.sistance. As for relations," he said dryly, "that would be your family. The Joslins were the only relatives I had left in the world after my father died. Not that the Viscount had wanted me. He only took me in because your mother insisted."

She gazed down at her lap. "I'm truly sorry."

Anthony paused, surprised by the heartfelt sorrow in her voice. Perhaps she did regret betraying him after all.

But he hardened his heart. Marissa had always been able to twist him around her little finger. He wouldn't let that happen again, not when he was inches away from his vengeance against her and her pig of a brother.

He resumed his pacing. "I made my way to London some of it on foot, by the way. From Yorkshire."

She winced, but he kept ruthlessly on.

"I came to Wapping, and to the housekeeper's brother. He found work for me on the docks. It wasn't steady, but it gave me enough to rent a garret and to eat. Not often, mind you. And never enough. But I had something else to keep me alive. Something to give me hope that things would get better."

With a quick step he moved in front of her, reaching out to grasp the back of her chair, caging her in with his body. She gasped and shrank away in startled retreat.

He lowered his head until he could stare directly into those amazing eyes. Her pupils dilated, her breath coming in rapid pants. She smelled sweet, like sugar plums and mint.

"Do you remember your promise to me?" he whispered.

Her lips opened on another gasp, and he watched fascinated as the tip of her pink tongue slipped out to wet her lips. His groin took notice, as did every other part of his body.

Soon, he promised himself. He would take her body and soul and slake his never-ending thirst.

"I know you remember," he breathed, hovering just inches from her pretty mouth.

She ducked, sliding out from under his arms. In a flash, she was by the door to his clerk's office, her ridiculously large reticule clutched in front of her like a weapon. Which, given how heavy it was, it very well could be.

He let out a reluctant laugh. She had always been as quick as a lark spiralling over a meadow in springtime.

"Obviously, you do remember," he said. "You made a promise a vow that you would never abandon me. That we would never abandon each other. No matter the separation, you would find me, or I, you." He paused, waiting for a response. But her face was a blank, revealing no emotion. "I waited for you, Marissa. For months. Certain you would find me. I worked like a slave, putting away every shilling I could against that day. I thought that when you finally found me, we would leave England for America, where we could start a new life."

An acid taste rose in his mouth as he thought of the idiotic boy he had been.

"There was nothing I could do," she replied in a bleak voice. "Father made sure of that. I didn't know where to look. What to do. And then . . ." She trailed off.

"And then you married Sir Richard so you could be the pampered wife of a wealthy baronet, didn't you? Only four weeks after I was run off like a mangy cur. But I didn't hear of the wedding until six months later. Six months spent slaving on the docks, going hungry, saving every coin I earned for you for us."

The old sense of loss rushed in on him, squeezing his chest with iron bands. Suddenly, he found he had backed her into the corner of the room.

Her back stiff and straight against the wall, Marissa tilted her head to meet his gaze. The coldness in those blue depths thrust leagues of distance between them.

"What would you have me say?" she challenged. "That I'm sorry? Of course I am. More than you'll ever know. But I can't do anything about it, nor can I erase the terrible things that happened to you."

He shrugged, feigning indifference. "No, you can't, and thank G.o.d for it. When I heard you were married and had been for months, I realized what a fool I was. That I meant nothing to you. All those expressions of undying devotion were meaningless just smoke in the wind."

This time she did flinch, turning her head away. He waited for her to say something, but her lips remained pressed together in a thin, unforgiving line.

Anger and an odd sense of disappointment pulsed through him. What had he expected? That she would profess her undying love for him? After all these years? Disgusted with himself, he retreated behind his desk and sat.

"Don't you want to hear the rest of the story?" he asked, affecting a bored voice.

Without a word, she walked to the chair and sat down again. Her weary eyes seemed full of shadows and ghosts.

After a short struggle to repress a stirring of pity, Anthony resumed his tale. "After I learned of your marriage to Sir Richard, I had no more reason to stay in London. I signed up as a deckhand on one of Nightingale's ships. Oddly enough, I discovered I had an apt.i.tude for the sea, and I moved up quickly. The company made me captain of a frigate by the age of twenty-six their youngest ever. Nightingale Shipping prospered, especially during the war years. By twenty-nine, I was rich, and able to buy out Thomas Nightingale when he was ready to retire."

He turned, looking out the window at the sea of masts on the river. "Those beautiful ships are mine," he said with intense satisfaction. "And Nightingale is one of the finest trading companies in all of England."

Her soft voice held a wistful note. "You've done well, Captain. I'm happy for you."

He swung around, putting her directly in his sights. "But that's not the best part, My Lady. As you can imagine, I never forgot what your family did to me. To my regret, your father died before I could settle with him, but your brother will stand in quite nicely. After all, it was he who betrayed us to your father in the first place. Because of him, I lost everything."

She stiffened, her lovely face now wary. "What do you mean, 'settle'?"

He smiled, showing his teeth. "You didn't think I would forgive and forget, did you? I have thought of all of you constantly since I was driven from Joslin Manor. Two years ago, fate and circ.u.mstance showed me the way."

He opened a drawer and pulled out a sheaf of notes, tossing them on to the polished desktop. "Edmund never did have a head for commerce, did he? After your brother came into his inheritance, he invested very poorly, particularly in high-risk trading ventures."

"Which I'm sure you knew all about," she interjected in a hard voice.

He bowed his head in silent acknowledgment, enjoying the furious snap in her ice-maiden eyes."Edmund's financial b.u.mbling forced him to take out substantial private loans to cover his losses. I won't trouble you with the details. Suffice it to say that I'm now the sole holder of those notes."

He waved a negligent hand over the papers on his desk, as if it were not a great matter. As if it had not taken months of horse trading, greasing palms, and one or two carefully applied threats of business reprisals to get his hands on every last note. But it had been worth every shilling, because it gave him what he wanted most control over Marissa.

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 cas.e.m.e.nt 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 h.e.l.l 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 h.e.l.l 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d, 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. G.o.d 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 amus.e.m.e.nt 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 h.e.l.l."

His words sliced through her like shards of broken gla.s.s, 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.