Silent Revenge (32 page)

“Love me, Simon.”

Jessica didn’t want tenderness or compassion. Their lovemaking was a battle to prove possession. She met and matched every thrust as she struggled to maintain a hold on her husband.

Higher and higher they soared until Jessica leaped from the highest pinnacle, spiraling through the air into a vast abyss of weightless abandon. With a violent shudder, Simon arched his back and followed her over the edge.

He remained atop her for several long minutes, his panting body wonderfully heavy, amazingly secure. When he moved to leave her, she tightened her grip and refused to let him go.

With one arm anchored around her shoulders and the other around her waist, Simon rolled to his back, keeping her against him all the while.

Jessica draped an arm across his chest and snuggled her face into the crook of his neck. She matched each breath Simon took with one of her own until she was positive he had fallen asleep.

“I will not give you up without a fight,” she whispered against his neck as he slept.

A painful tug pulled at her heart, and she blinked back the tears that threatened to roll from her eyes. “Please, do not want to give me up either.”

Rosalind climbed the stairs that led to her bedroom and swung open the door to the sitting room. Her startled lady’s maid jumped in her chair and fluttered open her eyes, then bolted from her seat. She did not react quickly enough to reach the wrap Rosalind dropped before it hit the floor.

Without giving the half-asleep servant time to retrieve the cloak, Rosalind lifted a mass of shiny, black hair from her shoulders and waited impatiently while the slow-wit fumbled with the row of buttons down the back of her gown. When the last button was open and the laces undone, she dismissed the servant with a wave of her hand and went into her bedroom.

A candle was lit beside her bed and the covers turned down as she’d demanded. Even though the temperature was not overly cold, a fire blazed in the fireplace. Rosalind could not abide being chilled.

With undeniable grace, she sauntered to her dressing table and dropped her jewelry, piece by piece, onto a china tray. Then she pushed her black and red satin gown from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Each piece of red satin underclothing slowly, seductively, joined the gown.

When she was gloriously naked, Rosalind lifted a long, tapered leg and stepped over the puddle of satin around her ankles. She stretched her arms above her head and purred like a relaxed, satisfied alley cat. She slowly lowered her arms and skimmed over each vivacious curve of her body.

She smiled. Not a bulge or an extra ounce of flesh anywhere. She ran her hands over the full, hard mounds of her breasts and down to the narrow dip of her waist, then over the perfectly rounded curve of her hips. Her body was still as youthful as ever. More desirable than ever.

With a loud sigh of satisfaction, she reached into her wardrobe and pulled out a robe made of the sheerest fuchsia mesh imaginable. She belted the satin tie around her middle and glanced at herself in the mirror. She could not keep the grin of approval off her face. This gown was so transparent she’d be just as covered if she wore nothing.

“Well, did you see her?”

Rosalind slowly turned her head and gazed over her shoulder at the blond Adonis lounging in a soft chair near the bed. “Have you had an enjoyable evening, my lord?” she asked, lifting her mouth in a smooth, seductive smile.

“You certainly took your time. I thought perhaps you didn’t intend to return home tonight.” The man shifted in his chair. “Did you see her?”

“Yes, I saw her.”

“And?”

Rosalind sauntered closer, concentrating on her lover’s long, muscular legs. He’d stretched them out before him and crossed his ankles in a relaxed pose while slowly turning a half-empty glass of brandy in his fingers.

Rosalind took the glass from his hand. “She’s not at all how you described her,” she said over the rim of the glass. “She’s not the gangly, unattractive freak you remembered before you left.” Rosalind took a sip from his glass and handed it back to him.

“Northcote had her out in public?”

Rosalind remembered the young thing hanging on Simon’s arm, and a violent wave of jealousy heated her blood. She thought Simon’s wife would resemble the wild animal she’d been given to believe she was, but she didn’t. She’d looked whole. Innocent.

Perfect.

“Did she say anything? Did you hear her speak?”

“No. She couldn’t hear a word I said. She stood at Simon’s side and left with him as soon as I arrived.”

He drained his glass, then reached for the crystal decanter and filled it again. “That explains it. I doubt she’s much more than a trained animal. Even bears on a leash can be taught to walk at their master’s side.”

Rosalind lifted her foot and straddled his legs, feeling the heat from his thighs. She reached for his glass and held it to her lips, letting him feast on her breasts, then smiled when his gaze moved lower.

His white satin shirt gaped open to his waist while long tapered fingers clenched on the arm of the burgundy-striped chair.

She loved the effect she had on men. She loved to watch their breathing grow heavy and labored with lust and their eyes turn black with passion. It was a power so few females realized they possessed. So few knew how to use. The knowledge was as heady as anything she could imagine. His voice pulled her back.

“What about Northcote? Did your blood boil when you saw him, Rosalind?”

She smiled a slow, easy smile. She would not let him know just how much she had warmed at seeing Simon again. But she would not let him think she was unaffected. “The earl has not lost his appeal,” she said, slowly running her tongue up the side of the glass to catch a drip. “But London is full of men who have not lost their appeal.”

He leaned his head back against the cushion and laughed. He was in a good mood tonight. As of late, such moods were rare. It was no doubt due to the amount of liquor he’d consumed and the fact that he was already celebrating because he was so close to getting what he wanted.

She knew it would be in her best interest to take advantage of his rare good humor. “How soon before we have the money?”

“Your greed is showing again, Rosalind,” he said, the laughter in his voice harsh. “Don’t worry, there is more than enough. Even you couldn’t spend so much money in a hundred lifetimes.” He took a sip of brandy, his gaze far away as if he were deep in thought. “It will take a little time. I have to make sure everything is perfect. I want to enjoy every second of this.”

She put her hand on his shoulder and ran a long fingernail down his chest. “It’s not just the money. You know that,” she said with a pout on her lips.

He pulled her down, straddling her on his lap, and gripped a hand at her waist. “Be patient, Rosalind. Everything must be in place before Northcote realizes what I’ve done. He has not suffered enough yet.”

“Why does he have to suffer? He hasn’t done anything.”

“You don’t know half of what he’s done.”

She looked into his eyes. There was a strange, evil look there she had never seen before. A glimpse of hatred so strong it frightened her. “All he has done is marry your stepsister to get her money. That’s not so uncommon. Numerous marriages occur for the very same reason.”

Colin dropped his head back against the chair and laughed. “You fool. He didn’t marry Jessica for the money. He married her for revenge.”

Rosalind pushed away from him. “I don’t believe that.”

“Do you think my stepsister was the only marriageable woman in England who came with a dowry? Do you think that the Earl of Northcote wasn’t able to find anyone but a deaf freak to marry to save his precious Ravenscroft? Hardly.” He laughed, and even his laughter sounded strange.

He moved his hand up her body, cupping her breast. He squeezed hard and Rosalind winced. Damn. She would be bruised again tomorrow.

“I’m going to make his life hell. I want him to feel the frustration of knowing he’ll never get back what used to belong to him. I want him to know I own everything that should be his, just like he has everything that should be mine. I want knowing he’s lost everything to eat away at his insides until he cannot eat or sleep or work. I want him to know that all the money in the world will not get him what he wants most—Ravenscroft.”

He moved his hand to her other breast and kneaded it painfully. She sucked in her breath and tried to lift his fingers. Instead, he lowered his mouth and bit her. Rosalind held her breath and waited. He’d done worse.

“When he realizes there’s no hope left, when he realizes he has lost all, only then will I kill him. I’ll put my deformed stepsister away where she belongs, then put a bullet in Northcote’s back and watch the flesh rot from his bones.”

Tanhill loosened his grip on Rosalind’s breast and smiled. “Only then will I be satisfied.”

A cold shiver ran up her spine. Heaven help her, he intended to kill Simon. “Don’t you think perhaps it would be a mistake to harm Northcote? He is, after all, nobility. His death would surely be questioned.”

“My mistake was not making sure he was dead the first time I had the chance.”

Rosalind leaned back, swatting his hand from her breast. “You tried to kill Simon before?”

Tanhill laughed. “Yes. In India. Your noble earl took offense when I raped one of the locals. I didn’t realize she was a member of his household, the youngest of the family that took care of him. Quite a pretty piece, about fourteen or so, and a virgin. That made her quite a prize.”

“What happened?”

“The girl’s screams brought Northcote running. He would have killed me if I wouldn’t have had my sword hidden beside me. Just as he was about to attack, I turned around and slit him open from shoulder to waist. I don’t know how he lived.”

Tanhill closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cushion. “All this could have been avoided if I had made sure he was dead. I won’t make that mistake again.”

The hair stood up on the back of Rosalind’s neck. The game she was playing was terribly risky, but as long as she stayed a step ahead of him, she would be fine. In the end, she would have Simon for a lover and more money than she could ever spend. That’s the way it should have been from the beginning. Simon should have been hers years ago. Marrying his father had been a mistake.

“What’s our next move?” Rosalind asked, ignoring his hands moving over her body.

“You’ll make sure you’re invited to every social event where the earl and his wife are in attendance. There will no doubt be an attempt to prevent me from having her committed, and it may be necessary for you to testify as to her peculiarities.”

“But she didn’t seem peculiar when I saw her.”

“Then you’ll have to make up some instances. We will not worry about that until the time comes.”

“I’m not sure it’s wise to confront Simon again so soon,” Rosalind said, remembering the violent anger she saw in his eyes. “He still carries some absurd suspicions regarding his father’s death.”

Tanhill grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and held tight. “I trust you can take care of him. Nothing can get in our way now. I will not rest until Northcote is dead and my dear stepsister is locked away where no one will ever find her.”

Rosalind thought about the pretty young girl locked in an asylum. She shuddered. But there was no other choice. If she was to have Simon for her own, it could not be helped.

“If I’m to attend all these functions, it will be necessary for me to improve my wardrobe,” Rosalind said, ignoring the rough way his hands touched her flesh. “I hardly have anything to wear.”

“Of course.” He clasped his hands at the neck of her robe and rent the filmy material in two. “You have talked enough,” he said, freeing himself from his breeches. “It’s time you paid for all those gowns you expect me to purchase for you.”

His hands grabbed her around the waist, lifted her, and then brought her down hard.

Rosalind sucked in a deep breath, then closed her eyes and pictured in her mind Simon’s handsome face.

Chapter 20