2Rakehell (3 page)

“I meant to take my time but I can wait no longer to assuage
my lust,” he mumbled.

Need-fueled heat raged everywhere his fingers touched her
and when the tip of his cock nudged her opening she found herself tilting
upward, willing him inside her. Her thighs opened as he settled himself between
them. At that moment, she thought she’d die if he didn’t claim her.

Adam
…

Oh Adam
…

In one powerful thrust he was inside her.

“Adam!” The involuntary cry tore from her lips as the warmth
of desire twisted into white-hot, stabbing pain.

His hands left her flesh. His cock disappeared. A cold chill
racked her and she shuddered from the loss of his body heat as he sat back on
his knees. In shock and dismay, she whirled.

He stared down past where his shirt fell open to reveal his
sculpted chest to where his pants gaped to expose his blood-smeared, dwindling
erection.

Primrose sucked in a sharp breath as realization sank to her
toes. She wished the bed would open up and swallow her whole.

His eyes grew flinty as they lifted and bored into hers. “A
virgin?”

She wished she had a robe, something, anything with which to
cover herself. “I…”

“Explain yourself!” he boomed.

“My lord…please…”

“You lied? You entrapped me?” His eyes narrowed into vicious
slits. “My father’s physician confirmed that you’d been sullied.” Realization
settled into his chiseled features, creating lines and creases she’d never
before noticed. Then he let out a laugh so chilling Primrose hugged her arms
across her body.

Shrinking, she twisted her head away on the pillow.

“He knew?” Adam questioned her savagely.

Tears welled, burning her eyes. She reached with her toes
for the coverlet at the foot of the bed, half expecting him to rail at her when
she ensnared it and dragged it up. She caught it in her hand and pulled it
across her.

“I asked you a question, wife! Did the earl know?”

Oh why did he say wife with such bitter contempt? She
trembled anew. “Yes, yes,” she admitted. “They both knew. I heard them
discussing it in the hallway after I was examined. I tried to tell them. I
tried to explain that—”

But her apology fell upon deaf ears—or rather upon Adam’s
back. The bed shook as he got off. Tension radiated off him and Primrose feared
admonishment but instead he silently stormed toward his room. He stopped only
to pound his fist into the wall before he wrenched open the door and slammed it
in his wake. It seemed as if the entire wing of the house reverberated.

Pressing her knuckles to her lips, Primrose stared at the
closed door. She should have borne the initial penetration better. She should
have been prepared. But how could she have known? Still smarting, she shifted
and lifted a knee. No one had ever taken the time to educate her properly in
the duties of a wife.

Hopeless, she heaved a sigh.

A little over a month ago she’d had no idea she’d so soon
become a wife! She’d been a green debutante who’d only just put away her dolls.
Explanations and excuses filled her head but it was too late now. She had not
the courage to go to him.

Besides he’d made it abundantly clear he hadn’t wanted to
marry her. He’d done it out of duty and honor. And if one little shred of him
had done it to protect her reputation then she deserved to be miserable and
alone for the part she’d played in deceiving him.

However, one question remained that until now, Primrose had
been too caught up in the whirlwind to examine. Scarborough Hall was hardly one
of those estates that barely scraped by. So why had Thorley been so intent on
deceiving his son?

Scarborough Hall

Present Day

Slowly consciousness came back to him.

At first all Adam knew was that he lay in the most
comfortable bed in the entire world. A fire crackled in the room and he felt
its warmth on his skin. Fingers—feminine fingers—brushed sympathetically
through his hair. He breathed in the scent of cedar and old wood, the fragrance
of rainwater in the chimney and something else familiar…

Something that eluded him…

Until it all rushed back in a nauseating wave.

His eyes snapped open and he blinked, attempting to focus
through the last vestiges of his opium-induced haze. An angel…

His focus sharpened on a pair of wide blue eyes and parted
pillow-soft lips.

Her!

“You!” he bellowed at the woman he’d wed five years prior.
He bolted upright in his bed at Scarborough Hall. Something bit into his ankle
and he jerked his leg only to discover it had been chained to the bedpost.

His eyes widened in utter disbelief. “What the devil?”

Primrose stood back, just out of reach. She swept her deep-navy
skirts back lest he make a grab for those. His fingers curled, aching to twine
their way around that pretty little neck of hers.

“What is the meaning of this?” Anger chased away the lull of
the drug and something inside him clawed for the last elusive traces of bliss.
Damn his head throbbed.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Primrose lifted a pitcher and
poured some water into a crystal glass.

He debated refusing it. He smacked his lips against a
wickedly awful dryness he simply had to appease. Gingerly she offered the
water, staying judiciously out of reach. He snatched the glass from her hand,
heedless of the liquid splashing onto his chest and the sheets. He downed the
contents and thrust the glass back toward her. “More. More, dammit!”

She stepped forward and refilled the glass but then quickly
returned to her safe position.

He consumed the water again and dragged in several lungfuls
of air before he was able to form coherent words. “Why have you brought me
here? Why do you have me chained like an animal?”

Her expression remained infuriatingly calm. “How long have
you been partaking in the opium dens?”

He snarled. “What year is it?” he asked snidely.

Her delicate brows lifted. “1898.”

“And what year did we marry?” He said the word as if he were
referring to a prison sentence instead of a marriage.

“1893.” She blinked owlishly.

He burrowed one hand into his hair and squeezed his temples.
Wouldn’t anything stop this infernal pounding? “Five years then to be exact,”
he said spitefully.

A muscle in her porcelain-fine cheek twitched. “That’s what
I thought,” she said in a clipped voice. “I’ll release you when this…this
poison is out of your system. Until then—”

“You’ll release me this instant. I command it.”

Her lip dared to tremble in amusement. “No.”

Venom fired through his veins. The glass shook in his hand
and he released it for fear he might fling it instead at her in anger.

Alarm flashed in her eyes and she jumped back but she made
no motion to release him.

“Do you mean to keep me a prisoner in my own home?”

At that, her chin lifted. “Your home? Your home? I beg to
differ, my lord.”

He gaped. She was hardly the simpering virgin he’d left
behind. But what did she mean she begged to differ? Did she know the truth?

“You left Scarborough Hall. You left me. You left your
father. And whether welcome or not your presence is required here.”

He wanted to fling barbs at her, to ask if she’d stayed up
all night practicing that pointed little sermon. But right now his head felt as
if three blacksmiths were beating out horseshoes on it. With a smidgeon of
remorse he glanced at the glass he’d thrown to the floor. He sighed. He’d have
to reason this out with her later. Right now he only wanted to rid himself of
this headache. “More water.”

Her chin lifted and her knuckles whitened around the handle
of the pitcher.

He growled. “Please. Please may I have some more water…Primrose?”

At the mention of her name her blue eyes softened and
something inside him sparked despite the racking pain in his head. So she could
still be seduced. Good to know. He looked up at her piteously. “Please?”

Heaving a sigh, she seized the glass and refilled it before
handing to him. He gazed into her eyes as he slid his fingers over hers in the
exchange. Her breathing hitched and she withdrew her hand quickly.

Oh yes. He offered her a tiny smile of gratitude before
drinking the water. “Now. Primrose.” He waited until he saw that light spark in
her eyes again. “Let’s be reasonable about this. Take this ridiculous chain off
my ankle and we can talk.”

Indecision flickered in her gaze. She bit her bottom lip,
her eyes darting to where the chain linked to the bed and then back. Adam held
his breath, waiting. Desperately hoping.

“I…I can’t.” The softness fled from her features and in
spite of those plump, sweet-looking lips and those innocent wide eyes, her
hard-edged resolve returned.

He bit back his anger and stared down into his glass to keep
from lashing out at her again.

She put the pitcher back on the bedside table. “The chamber
pot is under the bed. Your…chain…will permit you that much movement.” She
gestured toward the bellpull. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ring.”

“You’re leaving me here? Without telling me why you’ve
suddenly figured out that you desire my presence?” In spite of all his efforts
he couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice. Or the double entendre he full well
intended to rattle her to her chaste little core.

She inhaled and folded her arms over her chest. “I suppose
you deserve as much of an answer for being brought here as much as I deserved
on the day you left without a word. Our wedding day to be exact.”

“Wasn’t it obvious why I left?” He pointed an accusing
finger at her. “You lied to me.”

She had the decency to flinch. “I was young and naive.”

He grinned and raked her with a leering gaze. “Most
definitely young. Most definitely inexperienced. But I greatly doubt you were
all that naive. The earl’s personal physician examined you.”

“He possibly made a mistake.” She wrung her hands, a gesture
that proved to Adam she had something to hide.

“No one is that inept.” He snorted. “You tricked me. I don’t
know if you paid the good doctor or promised him sex or money but you ultimately
got what you wanted didn’t you? A title? Position?”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. Her fists clenched at her
sides. “I am not a fortune hunter.”

“Oh most certainly not! No American debutante comes to
England to secure a titled husband does she?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Tell me,
darling wife. Why did you resort to chicanery to wed me?”

She trembled. “You want to know why I brought you here?” A
sardonic smirk pulled at her lips. “I want a child. An heir.” Her cheeks
colored a very pleasing pink, accentuating the line of delicate moles in the
shape of Orion’s Belt along her jawline.

Adam’s cock tightened at the images her declaration brought
to mind. He laughed heartily. “A child? Is that all?”

“Is that all?” she asked, obviously outraged. “A child is everything,
my lord.”

An heir.
Primrose still had no clue. An heir wouldn’t
solve anything for her. He sighed. “You might as well unfetter me, my dear.
You’ve married the wrong man if you want an heir to all this.” He gestured at
the room.

“Are you not capable? Did one of those fallen women who were
mollycoddling you give you the pox?” She obviously missed his point.

He chuckled. In spite of this devil of a headache and the
fact that he was chained to his own bed, he had to admit that he admired this
feistier side of his wife. “Oh I assure you, my dear, I’m quite capable. Am I
willing? That’s the question.”

She didn’t seem to know how to respond. Her foot tapped the
carpet and she cocked her head slightly. “As long as I have you captive it
doesn’t matter who fathers the child, now does it?”

Anger flared in Adam’s chest as if someone had put a bellows
to it. “You’d give a bastard my name?”

“If I’m forced to do so.”

He glared. “You will not!” The chain rattled as he struggled
against it.

“Then behave as a husband should,” she spat back, fists
balled at her sides. She fumed for a moment and then huffed out of the room.

Alarm fired through his veins, consuming him in a cloud of
dread. He couldn’t let her leave without releasing him. “Wait! Primrose!” he
called in vain.

But the door closed with finality behind her. Blowing out a
harsh breath he fell heavily back on the pillows.

He’d vowed to never set foot in this godforsaken place
again. And for what? Because she wanted a baby?

Adam snorted. He’d assumed she wouldn’t want a damn thing to
do with him after their farce of a wedding night. He’d flown into a rage when
he’d seen the bloodstain on his cock.

At the time he’d been hurt by betrayal, wounded by
deception. Not now. He’d shut off feeling anything the first time he’d been
lied to.

He spat out a laugh.

His whole life was a damned lie.

They’d all lied to him including his mother, God rest her
black soul.

He shook as old memories came creeping back like ghosts
stealing down the chimney. His mother’s deathbed confession pierced his heart
and he brushed it away as he would a spider’s web.

He’d never expected deceit from Primrose—his innocent little
bride who’d led him to believe he’d behaved abominably. That in itself hadn’t
taken too much convincing. He fully deserved his reputation as a debauched rake
who seized every chance to sink his cock into lovely willing women—willing
being the linchpin word.

Not once had he claimed a woman’s maidenhead. Until that
night.

Nausea roiled at the remembrance of how he’d so carelessly
plunged into his bride. Remorse swamped him even now because had she been a
willing conspirator in Thorley’s scheme she still hadn’t deserved to be taken
as if she were the prisoner of a Viking marauder.

Ashamed and shocked that not only his wife but the man who’d
raised him as his own had betrayed him, he’d left Scarborough Hall and its
duplicitous inhabitants behind to rot.

After all by blood, none of it truly belonged to him anyway.

Tenuous memories slipped back over him. In the den, she’d
mentioned something about the earl. Was the old man dying? Something malignant
and dark seized hold of his heart and squeezed it in its claws. He didn’t want
to think about it. He didn’t want to consider the possibilities.

Not now. Not with this riotous pounding in his head.

He closed his eyes. He’d sort this out later. Right now he
just wanted to sleep.

* * * * *

When Primrose walked into the kitchen, the servants who sat
round their table shot to their feet. The males inclined their heads and the
maids curtsied. “Lady Black,” she was greeted somewhat in unison.

“Please sit. I only stepped in to inquire if Lord Black has
rung.”

“No my lady. He has not,” said a maid.

She pressed a finger to her lips. It had been hours since
their rather terse confrontation. “You don’t suppose he’s…gone?” Escaped was
the word she wanted to use.

“No ma’am. One of us would have surely seen him had he come
down the servants’ stairwell.”

“Very well. Thank you,” she said. Something wasn’t right. It
didn’t make sense that he wouldn’t have at least rung for food. Besides, she’d
given the servants explicit instructions that she was to be called if Adam
rang.

After all it wouldn’t do for the servants to be gossiping
about the heir to the earldom being chained to his bed.

“Good evening,” she murmured to the staff as she crossed the
kitchen and took the back stairs up to Adam’s chambers.

She quietly pushed open the door. The fire had dwindled to
nothing more than glowing embers. Squinting, she peered into the murky
darkness. Where was he? “My lord?” she whispered.

A low moan came from the middle of the room.

Panic seized her and she raced to the bed. It was empty. She
skirted the side and found him crumpled in the floor. He’d managed to drag half
the covers down onto his naked form.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, kneeling beside him and running
her fingers over his mussed hair. His forehead was hot to the touch and clammy
with perspiration.

He moaned.

“You’re burning up,” she said.

His fingers curled into her arm and he squeezed with a
strength that surprised her given his febrile state. “Help…me…”

“Can you stand?” she asked, cradling his head in her lap.

A violent spasm of shivers racked him and she leaned over
him, holding him tightly as if she could stop his pain. “Adam…let me help you
back into bed.”

Somehow she managed to guide him off the floor. He fell over
the side of the bed. Primrose heaved one heavy leg onto the mattress and then
with great effort dragged up the other one. As quickly as she could she
gathered the covers around him, tucking them in around his shoulders. “What’s
the matter? Are you ill?” she asked.

“Need…laudanum,” he mumbled. “Whiskey.”

Realization crept over her. She’d heard of men and women
losing their minds over want of a drug, but she’d never before seen it with her
own eyes. “I’ll be back momentarily. I’m going to fetch the physician.”

Again his hand grabbed hold of her arm and he squeezed,
preventing her from leaving. “No. No doctor. Stay…don’t go. So…cold …”

Common sense railed at her to wrest free and run to ring for
Thorley’s physician. Her compassion wouldn’t allow her to leave Adam’s side for
an instant.

She climbed onto the bed and gathered him against her,
drawing his head to her shoulder. His arms twined around her. His knee pushed
between hers until they were in an embrace that threatened Primrose’s
determination.