The Sweetest Revenge (7 page)

The looming question, still, was why had they captured him? And what did they intend to do with him?

A large hand curled over his shoulder. “The ladies are ready to see you, monsieur.”

“What time is it?” he asked groggily, sitting up.

“Near dark.” Hercules rounded the chaise, captured both Leo’s hands in one of his own massive ones, pulled them together behind his back, and looped the rope around his wrists. Then he tied the strip of linen over Leo’s eyes. Leo groaned, but he didn’t have it in him to struggle.

He stood and blindly faced the door.

The ladies entered in a flurry of rustling gowns and sweet-smelling perfume, with a hint of something else beneath. Food, Leo realized. Finally. He’d gone hungry since the bit of bread at breakfast.

“We’ve brought you your dinner,” Mistress Jane said, her voice cheerful, a contrast to the wickedly erotic anger from last night.

He sketched a bow. “Good evening, ladies. Thank you for dinner. I am afraid, however, it will be difficult for me to eat without use of my hands.”

Mistress Jane clapped her hands. “I am so happy to see the improvement in your disposition, Leo.”

“I have had a tranquil day,” he said smoothly. Too tranquil, in truth. This much tranquility would soon drive him mad. “In fact, I wonder if you might be so kind as to provide me with a book to read during the quietest hours. That is, of course,” he added, “unless you intend to release me tonight or in the morning.”

“Oh, I doubt greatly that you’ll be leaving us so soon,” Mistress Jane said.

“I will be happy to loan you a book,” Lady M said in her gravelly voice.

“Thank you.” Leo realized that the shy mouse hadn’t spoken yet. “But where is the lovely Miss Juliette this evening?”

“I am here, my lord.” Once again, her whisper came from near the foot of the chaise.

He turned to her and bowed again, presenting her with a roguish smile, but then his gut clenched in warning. What was he doing? He had dreamed of
her
for the first time in years, awakened stiff with need, and now, hours later, he blatantly flirted with one of the villainous females who had kidnapped him.

After what had happened last night, he must be losing his mind. His smile faltered, and he turned away.

It was all Mistress Jane’s fault. She had teased him too much, aroused him, and now all he could think about was sinking his body into soft, welcoming female flesh.

Mistress Jane took his arm and tugged him down on the chaise beside her, virtually sitting on his lap. Her thigh pressed against his, and his cock stirred, the damned impetuous beast.

“Since you do not have the use of your hands, poor dear, I shall feed you,” she said.

“That is deuced charitable of you, Mistress Jane.”

He felt, rather than saw, her smile. Good. He’d charmed her. It was what he did best, after all. As long as he didn’t allow her to gain the upper hand as he had last night, he would be safe.

“We cannot offer the variety of dishes you might be accustomed to, Leo, but Lady M’s cook has prepared a wonderful roasted chicken, just for you.”

Chicken sounded agreeable enough. The way his stomach was collapsing in upon itself, anything would suffice.

“It sounds charming. I hope it is a very large chicken.”

“You may have as much as you wish.” Using her fingers, she pressed a bit of meat to his mouth.

It was the driest, most tasteless morsel he’d ever consumed. He chewed and swallowed, and debated whether he ought to advise Lady M to search for another cook.

Then he realized they had done this deliberately. They’d probably skinned the damned thing, stuck it on a spit, and kept it there all day until every last bit of juice had dripped out of it.
Just for him.

He wouldn’t complain. He would eat it gallantly. His stomach, after all, wouldn’t care that the wretched bird tasted like tree bark.

He opened his mouth for another bite. Mistress Jane readily complied.

He’d eaten worse. Surely he had. He racked his brain, trying to remember when.

“You are looking awfully disheveled, Leo. Why are you unshaven?” Lady M asked.

“I had no desire for a gigantic Frenchman to maul me with a deadly weapon, my lady.” He opened his mouth. This time he brushed his lips against Mistress Jane’s fingers as he took the meat. “And”—he turned pointedly to Miss Juliette—“Miss Juliette did not offer to shave me today.”

“Don’t be daft. The Frenchman would not harm a fly,” Lady M said.

“Perhaps you have forgotten the damage he did to my face?”

“Well,” she conceded, “there was that. It was purely defensive, however.”

One of Mistress Jane’s hands meandered up his thigh.

“Defensive? I was unaware that turning one’s body to view what is lurking behind oneself is considered an act of aggression.”

“Your actions could have been a prelude to an attack.”

“They were not.”

Lady M sighed. “Have you thought about what we asked of you, Leo? Have you thought about why you might be here?”

After the long pause required to chew and swallow another tasteless morsel of leather-chicken, Leo said, “Indeed I have.”

“And?”

“I spent some time contemplating the matter and have come to the indisputable conclusion that you cannot have a legitimate reason for this.”

Lady M, who stood right in front of him, released a breath with a hiss. Mistress Jane patted his thigh. “Then I hope you are comfortable here, Leo, because you will be here for a very, very long time.”

“Are you saying you will not allow me to leave until I somehow deduce what this is all about?”

“And deduce accurately,” Mistress Jane said.

“Not only that,” Lady M rasped, “but you must also understand the evil of your deeds and repent.”

“Repent what?”

“Your deeds, of course,” Mistress Jane said.

“My deeds would be simpler to repent if I knew what they were!” Leo exclaimed in rising frustration.

“Think of all the women you’ve had, Leo,” Lady M said.

He tensed. Some part of him had known it would come to this, but still he could not fathom why. “What of them?”

“Where are they now?”

He took a gamble. “I have a strong sense that three of them are here in this room.”

“And the others?” Lady M asked tightly.

She confirmed he knew all of them, including Miss Juliette. But how could that be true? She was so different from any of the women he knew. Struggling to contain his reaction to this revelation, he shrugged. “How would I know where any of them are now?”

The atmosphere in the room condensed, thickened. He sensed the women’s anger in the edgy movements of Mistress Jane’s arm, the hostility emanating from Lady M. Even Miss Juliette’s silence seemed somehow altered.

Miss Juliette finally spoke, her whispering voice filled with disappointment. “Do you not care about what has become of them?”

He released an annoyed breath. He used women as they used him: for temporary gratification. When it was over, he ceased to think of them, and he was certain they forgot about him, although his vanity secretly desired that they held on to some pleasant memory of the encounter.

In the end, of course, there were certain things even he would always remember. Images flashed through his mind: the gentle graze of teeth over his earlobe, erect little nipples stained with berry juice, crimson lips panting his name over and over:
Leo. Leo. Leo.

“Yes, I care what becomes of them,” he said gruffly. “Of course I do. But our liaisons have little impact on their lives.”

“That is a convenient way to liberate yourself of responsibility, Leo,” Lady M said dryly.

“It is so easy for you, isn’t it, Lord High-and-Mighty?” Mistress Jane said, her voice full of scorn. “You flit from one woman to the other like a dissatisfied bee, but are you truly so naïve as to think it is as easy for us?”

“Well…ah…” In truth, he had never put much thought into the fates of the women he’d bedded. This entire conversation was highly irregular. Never would he have envisaged himself in this odd position: bound and blindfolded, nearly naked, speaking to strange, angry, unknown ladies of his previous acquaintance about the women he’d possessed carnally. “I am careful,” he finished lamely.

Lady M snorted. “Careful of what?”

His face burned. He had a sudden urge to dump the basin of water over his head.

“I am careful not to spread disease nor plant my seed. I am selective in my choice of ladies. I would not deliberately bed a virgin, for instance.” He swallowed, hoping they had no evidence to the contrary.

“But you have.”

Damn
. He ground his teeth. “Accidentally. And only twice.”

It was a small lie. The first time he had bedded a virgin was not an accident. The second time was a terrible mistake. After that, his guilty conscience had produced extreme measures of vigilance, and he had not touched a virgin since.

Silence stretched, as thin as the most delicately blown glass, and Leo loathed shattering it. What would they demand from him next? He felt soiled by this conversation, by this humiliating situation as a whole.

“You are lying to us,” Miss Juliette said softly.

Lady M’s shoes clapped dully against the flagstones. “You destroy women’s lives without regret, without even a thought. You cause unhappiness, grief, shame. Are you so utterly muttonheaded as to be unaware of it?”

He hesitated. An unsteady anger rose from the pit of his stomach. He was only
slightly
lying. He never caused unhappiness, grief, or shame. Most important, he was not muttonheaded.

He shifted away from Mistress Jane. He could not lose his head in the presence of the three of them as he had yesterday; to do so would risk them leaving him. He released a measured breath. “You are wrong. I give women pleasure.”

“But afterwards, you walk away. You take, Leo, you do not give!”

“What would you have me give them?”

After a brief, chilly silence, Lady M said, “Your name.”

“Oh, that’s rich! Last I heard, polygamy was illegal in England.” He pictured himself with a harem of wives. All the women he’d ever bedded, crowded and naked, overflowing a sumptuous eastern palace, its gold-domed turrets glinting in the desert sun. The image brought an unbidden smile to his lips.

“Do you believe you are being witty, my lord?” Lady M asked, her voice ice cold. “Clearly you have never considered monogamy.”

His smile slipped a notch, then turned bitter. “You are wrong in that, my lady.”

He had considered monogamy, but society itself, at once his only solace and worst enemy, had driven him from it. Young as he was, he’d been unable to stop it. God knew he’d tried. But he’d failed. He’d been too late in coming for her, and she’d died.

He shifted his body and fought the urge to rise to his feet. The blindfold weakened him. He had never considered the significance of the use of his eyes before, but now he realized he was missing the subtle nuances of this situation, the emotions and expectations shared by an expression or a bit of body language. He could lower a woman’s defenses with his eyes, ultimately controlling the more vulnerable of the sexes with suggestive glances. By blindfolding him, they had taken away not only his ability to judge his enemies but stripped him of his most effective weapon.

Why did he engage in this conversation at all? Who were these women to try to delve into his mind, coating his actions with their vile interpretations? It was one thing for society to view him as a dissolute rake—that was something he could ultimately take pride in, after all—but these women suggested he was guilty of a far more sinister crime. He could not abide these allegations.

He liked who he was, damn it. Most of the time.

He sat very still. “You asked me to speculate on the reasons behind your malicious attack and my subsequent imprisonment. You want me to admit to my misdeeds and repent. Very well. I commit a great offense against all the women I take to my bed. I pleasure them so thoroughly, they never forget me. I am a contemptible monster. I vow never, ever to bring pleasure to a woman again. I shall live like the most ascetic monk for the remainder of my days.” He twisted his rigid lips into a smile. “There it is. Please release me now.”

Mistress Jane chortled.

“I unfortunately forgot to add that your repentance must be genuine,” Lady M said gravely.

“Of course it is genuine.”

“It is not. In your heart, you believe you have done no wrong.”

“I haven’t.”

“But you have,” Mistress Jane said.

His fists, painfully bound behind his back, curled. He wanted badly to punch something…someone. If he were free, he’d saddle his horse and ride to Jackson’s to spar with a few brawny fellows.

But that was not possible, not now. He’d have to control himself.

“I have never taken a lady by force,” he ground out, disgusted—no,
sickened
—by having to defend himself like this. “I have never given a woman anything but what she wanted, what she asked for—”

“Vanity,” Mistress Jane murmured.

“—and I reward her generously for her favors. What more could a lady ask?”

He paused. If Lady M said “give her your name” again, he
would
punch someone. Somehow.

They did not speak, so he continued. “I never feign to be something other than what I am. I do not falsely offer everlasting love—”

A soft snort came from Miss Juliette’s direction. Forcing himself to ignore it, he continued, “I do not disguise myself as a scrupulous, monogamous lover. They all know me, know what I offer, know what they want. And they get it.”

“Arrogance,” Mistress Jane said.

He turned on her. “They get what they ask for. No more, no less. Did you not get it when I bedded you, Mistress Jane?”

She stiffened beside him. “It does not signify.”

“Doesn’t it? Well, the women I bed want exactly what I want, a moment of pleasure, a night of release. They do not want everlasting love or even marriage. Otherwise, why would they give themselves to me? Everyone knows I would never limit myself to a single woman for the remainder of my days.”