The Viscount's Addiction (14 page)

“The smell of it was making me sick,” he groaned without opening his eyes. “You should drink—”

“I don’t want any fucking tea!”

Jessie silently set about picking up the broken shards of porcelain. “Can we get you anything else, lad?” William asked.

“Yes,” he moaned, “a bullet for my head.” He lifted a shaky hand, pointed at his temple then dropped his hand in his lap.

They left him sitting there in the dark.

William shook his head as he shut the door. “If it gets much worse, I may have to tie him to the bed before he does himself some harm. Don’t know if I have the strength, though. He’s bound to be mighty powerful even in this condition. In Newgate he received a beating that would make any grown man fall to the ground whimpering like a babe. Not

Blackwood. He even managed to give the unsuspecting guard a few good licks before they knocked him out cold. I know I won’t be able to control him by myself.”

Jessie felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t know if she had the courage to see him through this. When he’d yelled at her about the tea, she’d had to swallow back tears.

Soon Ryder was in the full throes of withdrawal. She could hear him pacing the floor most nights. And when he would give in to sleep, his moans could be heard throughout the upper chambers. He’d told William that when he closed his eyes he had vivid, grotesque dreams. The room had been cleared of anything which might have a deadly use. And yet he still managed to do damage. His knuckles were scabbed because he’d put his fist through the wall twice. He had not been able to keep down any food or drink. Jessie worried that he might succumb from lack of fluids.

As she did every morning, Jessie brought up a fresh ewer of water and splashed it into the basin. He sat at the edge of the bed, his fingers tensely gripping the coverlet. He was coiled tight, anxious to resume his pacing. She dipped the cloth and swiped the perspiration from his forehead.

“Stop bloody nursing me,” he said and sprang to his feet. He stalked across the room, his fingers continually raking through his hair.

What had she been thinking to agree to this? Her lack of experience was putting him at risk. One wrong step and it seemed he would shatter into a million pieces. “Let me hire someone from the village who is better able to deal with this.”

“No!” His voice was raw. He returned to the bed and brought her hand, which still held the cloth, back to his face. “I’m an intolerable bastard, I know. But please don’t leave me.”

Though they were words she longed to hear, they seemed more a cry from his soul than his heart.

After she changed the sweat-soaked linen, she managed to get him into bed. His eyes remained open, staring at the ceiling. He repeatedly curled the fingers of his right hand into a fist then splayed them flat against the sheet. The heartbreaking thought that had plagued Jessie for the past few days haunted her. She was certain that once he was well, he would no longer need or want her. He would return to his life among the elite. Then he could court whichever woman he pleased and find a real wife. Despite his fall from grace, there was no shortage of women anticipating his return to society. Perfumed letters were already arriving with the post.

And soon the mansion would be restored to its original splendor. William and several other rather surly looking men had begun work on the façade.

Jessie could not bear the thought of leaving him. Her gaze glided over his face again, handsome even drawn and pale as it was. She cursed herself for falling in love with the man.

Besides taking care of Ryder’s needs, feeding William and his hungry crew and giving Henry his trays, Jessie tried to keep up with the rest of the chores. But for all her efforts the garden was being overtaken by weeds and poor Titus was beginning to look like a neglected animal. And she worried about Lucy. She had not been able to pay a visit to the tavern since Ryder had begun his ordeal.

Jessie made up a meal of eggs, toast and beef tea and trudged up the stairs. She stifled a cry of surprise at finding Henry in the room. He hovered over Ryder, his malevolent shadow flickering on the wall behind him. Ryder was sitting up in bed staring into a wooden box he held on his lap. Neither of the men seemed to notice her presence.

Henry stroked one gnarled finger on something inside the box. “Your father was the very same sort. Indulged his vices. And they crushed him. Blue ruin was more potent than his love for your mother…for you. Guzzling gin by the quart and pouring himself into bed at night.”

Ryder put his hand inside the box and pulled out the object of their fascination. The polished metal gleamed in the candlelight. He weighed the pistol in his shaking hand. His violet-tinged eyes had a haunted look as he examined it. He hadn’t been able to sit still long enough for Jessie to cut his hair or give him a shave. With his gaunt face, snarled hair and thick beard, he looked dangerous.
No
, she quickly revised,
he looks like a man who could do danger to himself
.

She strode toward the bed, making her presence known. Henry stared at her as if she were an apparition.

Shifting the tray to one hand, she put her other hand out for the pistol. “Let me put that aside for a bit. I’ve brought you something to eat,” she said, struggling to keep the panic from her voice.

Guilt mingled with defiance in the glare he aimed at her. “A splendid gift, is it not?” Ryder fondled the pearl handle.

Her heart in her throat, she flung the tray to the floor and lunged for the pistol. He quickly shifted it above his head. She fell forward, sprawling atop his chest. He placed a restraining arm around her so that she was held fast. As weakened as he was, she was still powerless against him.

She lifted her head. His crisp black beard brushed against her cheek. “He wants to see you do yourself harm.”

“And you?”

“I want you to give me the bloody gun.” She strained to reach the pistol. “And what will you give me?” he growled softly in her ear. “Anything.”

“Now
that
is a deal I can’t pass up.”

He placed the gun in her hand. She scrambled off his chest and locked it back in the

box.

Ryder climbed out of bed and in seconds he had his uncle by the lapels. “There was

no hunting accident. You gave that same gift to my father.”

“I helped him. He wanted out of his misery. He couldn’t give up the bottle.” He clawed at Ryder’s arm. “You should thank me. I saved the estate. I squelched all rumors of self-murder. The crown left your lands untouched.”

“No doubt you would have managed to keep my suicide a secret as well. To make certain that you inherited.”

Jessie pressed herself against Ryder’s naked back. His body trembled with rage. “Do you wish yourself back at Newgate?”

With a violent oath he dropped his hands from Henry’s coat.



That night she heard Ryder’s restless steps downstairs. With trepidation she went to investigate. After his uncle’s sinister visit, she and William had scoured the entire house clearing it of all obvious weaponry, but a man as clever as Ryder could be inventive. A succession of thumps brought her to the library door. She pushed open the door. Candles placed atop the reading tables produced a mellow glow in the spacious room. Books littered the floor.

A thin black cheroot was clamped in his teeth. A sardonic smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I can’t seem to find anything to entertain me.” He gave her an accusatory look as he dropped another book to the ground.

How, she wondered, was she responsible for his agitated boredom? She strode over to the books and picked up a volume. “Let me read something to you.” The gilt writing was faded, but she could make out the title:
Flora and Fauna of the Lake Regions
. “Perhaps not this one,” she said and returned it to the tottering stack. She drew her finger down the spines, checking for a more intriguing title. He kicked the pile over and she jumped back. Her gaze traveled up the length of him.

He was thinner than he’d been weeks ago, but he was still shockingly handsome. The dark rings under his eyes actually added to the intensity of his violet stare. Though the room was cold, his linen shirt clung to his body with sweat.

“Believe me, woman, having you read was the last thing I wanted. Unless you could manage it naked and all fours. Perhaps if you’d stop nursing me for a moment you might recall your duty as my wife.” He caught her staring at his erection pressing against his trousers. “It probably defies all known science. I should not be suffering this while shaking off this evil, and yet I am.”
And it is all your fault
, his glare suggested. He took a long pull of his cheroot and exhaled a plume of smoke.

Something had definitely changed. For so long he had been in such a state of misery that the suffering seemed to be all his mind could cope with. Had he turned the bend? She prayed that he had. Even his harsh demeanor at the moment did not dampen the spark of hope.

“Must I beg, Jessie?” He was more intimidating than usual, with his strong jaw shadowed with dense black stubble and his mouth pulled into a sneer. His eyes expressed such desperate need it shook her.

Clearly, he was breaking free of the dark chains that had held him captive even outside of Newgate. He was taking control again, and she was relieved. Jessie was weary of always having to be the strong one, and how she had missed the intimacy.

The thought of him looking at her naked again made her breathless. Her rapid pulse echoed in her ears. She began removing the sash to her robe then parted the satin garment. Her bared nipples pebbled instantly in the chill air.

His jaw clenched and his whole body appeared tightly coiled as if ready to pounce. “I may be rough. I may be relentless. Are you still willing?”

Suddenly feeling a little less brave, she hesitated. A feral groan escaped him. With a deep breath, she let the robe slither off her shoulders and fall to the floor.

He threw the cheroot into the cold hearth and began removing his shirt as he strode across the room. He tossed away the shirt and stepped out of his trousers. She ran her hands over his hot, damp skin. He smelled of sweat, tobacco and the sandalwood soap he’d scrubbed with in the bath today.

“Always so compliant. Yet I know you wish me to hell.” Clearly, he believed she gave in to his desires for some cunning reason. His callused fingers tugged at her nipples, pulling her so close that she trod on his big feet. “I am too desperate to question why you are always so willing.” He licked a trail over her collarbone as he cupped her bottom with one hand and squeezed. His other hand slid between her thighs, his fingers brushing through her curls to stroke her already wet cleft. He groaned. “You are a sinful indulgence.”

He plunged his finger with devastating deepness inside of her. She clutched his shoulders, lifted herself onto her toes and swept her tongue along his full bottom lip. His beard felt rough and foreign to her. With a low throaty growl, he wrapped his hands around her waist and plunked her atop the reading table. He positioned her so that her bottom was at the edge of the table.

The frigid air felt shocking against her hot, wet quim as she parted her legs. He braced his hands on the table on either side of her. They both watched as his rigid shaft entered her. “Do you enjoy being fucked?” he asked as he penetrated with exquisite slowness.

“By you,” she said with a breathy whisper. She lifted her gaze to peer into his face.

His heavy-lidded eyes regarded her with suspicion and desire.

“Clever wench, replying with the only acceptable answer,” he drawled. He drove hard and thick into her core. He
was
relentless. He set up a fierce, driving rhythm.

He thrust so deep a soft, surprised mewl escaped her lips. With a predatory gleam in his eyes he scooped his big hands under her bottom. “Hold onto me,” he ordered, his voice raw.

She circled her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs tight around his hips. Still buried inside her with his hands cradling her bottom, he carried her to the Persian rug. He pressed his heavy body atop her and his mouth clamped over hers, his tongue as demanding as his cock. She was lost in the heat of him. Feeling as if she were spinning

out of control, she dug her fingers into the muscles of his arms and held tight as he rocked her into a shivery, dazzling body-consuming climax.

The candles had burned down to stubs by the time Jessie pulled on her robe. She took careful steps toward the door. She felt tender, almost raw.

He watched her with a sated smile on his face. He looked like the big, bad wolf lounging on his side on the lush rug. “I warned you,” he said.

God, but she loved him. He may have warned her about the sex, but he’d given no warning about how completely he would steal her heart.



“Woman!” He refused to use the bell she’d provided him. He preferred bellowing. She blew away the wisp of hair hanging in her eyes and, with the aid of the banister, pulled herself up the stairs.

The weeks of withdrawal had taken their toll. His belly was concave, his trousers hung low on his hips, but he had an adorable smile on his face. He looked down at his prominent rib cage then glanced back at her.

“I think I’m hungry,” he said flashing her another heart-stealing smile.

“Finally.” He’d been slowly returning to his daily activities, even spending an hour or two each morning balancing his ledgers. But all the time, his appetite had lagged. “There’s some ham and kidney pie.”

“Actually, I thought I might have a bath first.” Sweat beaded on his upper lip though the room was frigid since he’d refused a fire. His overheated state was a lingering consequence of quitting opium. But his body’s temperature would soon align itself with its environment, Jessie was certain. He stared at her face for a long moment. “You look weary, Jess. Perhaps William could fill the tub for me.”

“William and his band of industrious friends are working hard on the manor.”

“Is that what all that pounding was? I couldn’t discern between it and the endless hammering in my head. I really thought I was going mad. Speaking of mad…has that vicious old bastard behaved himself?”