The Third Son (2 page)

Six Months later…

It wasn’t fair, he thought, looking down at the silver mask. It stared at him with gaping black eyes and a twisted hole for a mouth. That mouth smiled at him like a jester, mocking him, reminding him of the irony of his life. It certainly was ironic. He had had everything a boy could ever wish for and then some.
Having
been born to privilege
,
he
should not have had the audacity to want more. Yet he had. He had craved more than he’d been given, wanted it like a starving man. More money, more power, more notoriety
; all were as vital to him as breathing.
His need for more had always made him feel so ungrateful and immature,
but no more. He was the goddamned son of a king and had every right to want for more!

Not only was he the son of a king, he was the firstborn son of that king and as such was due the throne upon his father’s death. That he had been cheated out of this only fueled the fires of his rage. His father had dared to cast him aside, but had not counted on his bastard son learning the identity of his true sire. Upon Adare’s death
,
his eldest legitimate son would take the throne, a throne that was not rightfully his.

He smashed his fist down on the table beside the silver mask, causing it to clatter to the floor.
Kneeling
to retrieve it
, he watched as
firelight flickered over the planes of the mocking face, causing it to glow eerily. He had used the mask as a weapon, a safeguard over his identity. The streets of Cardenas were his.
Ruling
the night as the silver-faced masked man, striking terror into the hearts of commoners and blue-bloods alike
,
h
e studied people and learned their weaknesses, their darkest secrets, and then he turned those secrets against them to gain his own ends
. H
e extorted money from the rich, and then used that money to coerce those who would do anything for that money to do his bidding. He had gained quite a lot of money for himself in the process.

I
t still wasn’t enough. He had lived below the status that was his by right of birth for too long! The time had come to take what was rightfully his. He dressed in his darkest evening clothes, donning his black cloak and black leather
gloves before
cover
ing
his hair
and
sliding the silver mask into place. No one must know his identity. No one would ever know. The time had come for him to use the full extent of his power at last. Adare and his sons would be killed by his design but not by his own hand and once they were disposed of he would finally have his vengeance. No man had a right to what was his and if they were all dead they would no longer be able to possess his birthright.

He lifted his silver-handled cane from its place beside the door and held it up to the firelight. The silver handle had been custom made
. It featured an
eagle straining to take flight, but two vipers had ensnared the majestic bird, posed on either side to strike.
The
piece
had been
created as a reminder
to him
not
to
allow the circumstances of his birth to rule his destiny. He would reach out and claim what was rightfully his and the eagle would do well to beware the viper!

Chapter 1

Davina stretched languidly, relishing the sensation of silk sheets against her bare back. A soft, warm breeze drifted through an open window, rustling the bed curtains and tickling over her naked skin like the outstretched fingers of a lover. She turned to her side, moving her legs slowly across the
luxurious
bed sheet
, shivering at the sensual thrill the simple movement sent through her already aroused body. The sight of the man beside her served to further enflame her.

Prince Damien
was perfect, she thought as she watched him sleeping beside her. She studied his unclothed form, her eyes roaming over the deeply tanned, golden skin that stretched over his rippling muscles. His figure was chiseled as if by a sculptor’s hand and perfectly proportioned, broad in the chest and shoulders, slim in the waist and hips.
L
ong, seemingly endless legs stretched across the bed, a testimony to his six-foot two-inch stature. A mass of golden blonde locks curled to the nape of his neck, a wisp or two tumbling carelessly over his brow. Dark blond lashes rested on high, prominent cheekbones, over eyes that she knew to be green as a blade of summer grass.  

Davina licked her lips as her eyes moved over his sensual mouth
. A
mouth she knew could twist in the most arrogant expression or gift her with the most charming smile or move over her body in the most erotic fashion.

She reached out, slowly trailing her fingernails over his back. He stirred slightly, opening one jade green eye.

“Ready for me again so soon?” he asked lazily as he turned
over
, presenting her with an unobstructed view of his finely formed chest and flat abdomen. She rose to her knees, arching her back and thrusting her large breasts forward, allowing her mahogany brown hair to fall around her shoulders. His eyes roved over her with undisguised interest.

Davina knew she was beautiful. Before she’d become Damien’s mistress, she had been one of the most sought after women in the royal court.
D
ark brown hair and cat-like brown eyes complimented her alabaster skin perfectly. Her berry red lips were often parted sensuously or curved into a mocking smile and her lush figure was enough to drive most men to distraction.

Damien
reached out and grasped her waist, pulling her onto his lap so that she was straddling him. He thrust upward swiftly, burying himself in her completely. She grasped his shoulders firmly and began to ride him, her hips slamming
repeatedly
into his. No naïve maiden, Davina knew how to give and take pleasure and Damien had been her lover for well over a year. She knew exactly how to bring him to satisfaction.

He filled his hands with her hips, leading her, increasing her movements to the pace he desired, lifting his head to draw one breast deep into the recesses of his warm mouth. She screamed and grasped
his shoulders
, shuddering with her release as he suckled hungrily at her breast. He swiftly rolled her to her back, lifting her hips off the bed and pumping into her furiously, his climax imminent. With one last groan of pleasure, he collapsed on top of her, waiting for his breath to slow. He lay there a few moments before he rolled from on top of her.

Damien stood
from the bed quickly, searching in the candlelit room for his clothes. Davina stood and quickly wrapped herself in a red and black dressing gown.

“Must you leave now?” she whined
.
“I thought that perhaps you would stay for dinner. We could have Anne serve us in here. You needn’t even bother getting dressed.”

Damien shook his head at her blatant invitation as he quickly yanked on his breeches. “I have plans for the evening darling and I am already late. Perhaps another time.”

Davina pushed her lower lip into a pout and folded her arms over her chest. She plopped down on the cushioned stool before her vanity. “Won’t you at least come back and spend the night with me? It would be nice to wake up with you here in the morning for a change.”

“I have told you before that I sleep more comfortably in my own bed,” Damien replied distractedly, busying himself with buttoning his shirt and waistcoat. He met her annoyed gaze in the vanity mirror, watching as she pulled a brush roughly through her hair,
pursing her lips into a seductive pout
. He smiled. “I promise to make it up to you. Perhaps I will visit you tomorrow with a surprise, hmm?”

Her face immediately lit up, her earlier irritation with him forgotten.
Davina knew that
Damien could well afford to shower his mistress with jewels and such. It took no more than a new trinket or jewel to cool Davina’s ire and they both knew it. 

“Well, I suppose it will have to do,” she said.

Damien sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his stockings and shoes. He quickly tied his cravat, securing an emerald stick pin within the frothy white
cloth before pulling
on his expertly tailored coat and placed a quick kiss on Davina’s cheek.

“Until tomorrow my dear,” he said before disappearing through the doorway. Davina waited until she heard the front door slam behind him before she stood from the vanity stool. Despite the fact that Damien had never spent the night in her bed in all the time he had been keeping her, Davina could not complain. Damien had purchased the small but elaborate townhouse for her and allowed her to furnish and decorate it herself. He had hired a cook/housekeeper, a few maids and footmen and even gifted her with her own carriage, team and driver.

She was the envy of all of her friends
. T
he mistress of Damien Largess, prince of Cardenas. The youngest son of the king, Damien was a notorious rake, a man known for his indulgences. He was known for his impeccable taste in women, as well as
his
prowess as a lover.
The young prince
was most sought after, and though he could have any woman of his choosing, his eyes had settled on her. She was his longest standing mistress, she knew, having seen several women set aside by him after a few short months. Apparently
,
the prince grew bored very easily
b
ut not with her
,
never with her.

Davina yanked on the bell cord, summoning her maid. “Anne,” she said imperiously when the girl appeared in her doorway.
The tiny slip of a girl clung to the doorframe and watched Davina with large, round eyes that peered out at her from an unremarkable face. Stringy, mousy brown hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck with a few strands falling messily into her
chin
. Davina wrinkled her nose at the unfortunately plain creature.

“I would like a hot bath and I will be taking dinner in my chambers afterwards.”

“Yes my lady,” Anne said softly with a curtsy before disappearing from the room. Within minutes, a steaming tub sat by the fire. Once her maids had left, Davina dropped her dressing gown at her feet and sank into the rose-scented water with a sigh. She studied her opulent chambers as she lounged in the hot bath. Every luxury had been given her in the large room decorated in shades of red and gold
,
b
ut she wanted more.

It wasn’t enough anymore, just being Damien’s mistress. She knew it was only a matter of time before Damien came to his senses and asked her to be his bride. It made perfect sense, she reasoned
. S
he held his interest longer than any other woman
did
, she was more than proficient at pleasuring him and she had an impeccable aristocratic lineage. Yes, she thought with a satisfied nod, very soon she would be a princess.

****

Damien stepped down from his carriage in front of his
favorite club
. Twirling his gilded walking stick, he entered the darkened, smoke-filled club. He spotted his usual group of associates at a card table in the center of the room and made his way toward them.

“Gentlemen,” he greeted them briskly, taking his place at the table. An attendant appeared quickly at his elbow to take his hat and walking stick. A glass of brandy appeared before him, for everyone knew it was the prince’s drink of choice. The decanter was sat beside him, at his disposal.

“We were beginning to think you wouldn’t show,” said the brown-haired gentleman across
from him
. 

“My apologies, Huffington,” Damien replied as he retrieved a slim cigar case from his coat pocket. With an expert flick of a match, he lit the cigar and inhaled deeply. “I was otherwise engaged and could not seem to tear myself away.”

“Otherwise engaged, ha!” scoffed Lord Huffington, placing his cards on the table to reveal the winning hand. “As if I do not know what that means.”

Lords Blackwater and Wingate both handed over Huffington’s winnings grudgingly. Damien swiped up the entire deck of cards to take his turn as dealer.

“Ah, the lovely Davina,” murmured Blackwater, pulling at one side of his long black mustache. “Would that I was so otherwise engaged.”

“I say, Damien,” remarked Wingate, a scrawny eighteen year old newly coming into his fortune. “Never known you to dangle after a female so long.”

Damien frowned as he studied his cards. The little whelp did have a point. He’d been keeping Davina for well over a year now and had yet to even consider other options.
Damien
had never kept a mistress for more than a few months and every lady who entered into such an arrangement knew this from the beginning.
Damien
was known as a roué and a scoundrel
and
often heard the rumors whispered about him
,
he also knew that nearly every one of
the stories
was true.