Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

“ Y ou were quite the beast tonight, Your Grace” Maria panted, still sprawled out and exhausted on her bed. “More so than usual. What has gotten into you?”

Her words came out in slow, uneven breaths; her depleted body still trying to recover from what Ezra had done to her. He had been ruthless with his possession of the paramour’s body in every way possible. They had paired before and when he had walked up to her in the gaming hell hours earlier, her eyes had lit up with desire. She knew what he wanted and had all but pleaded with him to take it from her.

Pulling his black shirt back over his muscled shoulders, Ezra looked over at Maria and agreed that she deserved an answer to her question. Normally he left a few marks on her buttocks and breasts, yes, but this evening had been different. His red, defined handprints marked the flesh of her backside, inner thighs, and breasts. His fingerprints had left a ring around her plump, now obviously sore throat and her wrists and ankles were red and bruised from the restraints.

“I overdid it,” Ezra stated matter-of-factly, but Maria laughed at him softly and let her head loll back among the pillows once more, her tight black curls springing everywhere.

“That is not what I asked, Your Grace,” she responded, writhing on the bed like a cat as she smiled up at him. “You know that I enjoy the… firmer side of things, especially with you.”

“But?” Ezra asked, more out of politeness than interest.

Maria nibbled her poor, bruised lower lip, marked by his teeth and other parts of him.

“It is just, you are normally not this…passionate about it.”

Ezra arched a brow.

“Excuse me?”

“You are ordinarily so distant, like a physician performing a procedure. Cold. Detached. But this evening you were…you were like a wildfire. Consuming. Scorching. You burned me from the inside out as though you wanted to etch a permanent brand upon me.”

She rolled over until she was on her stomach, propping her chin on her forearms. Her dark eyes, framed with heavy black lashes, looked him up and down hungrily.

“Do it again.”

The invitation was plainly spread out for him, but he ignored it. Amusement and a smidge of relief flowed through Ezra as he dared a twitch of his lips; the closest thing he would ever offer as a smile. Though grateful for her proposition, Ezra donned his jacket and retrieved his billfold from his inner pocket.

“I need to get to work,” he stated, pulling out a fifty note. “This is for a week of rest and eating. Red meat will make the bruises go away faster.”

He pulled out another fifty note and handed it to her.

“This is for your discretion.”

Though Maria had accepted his first payment gratefully, she turned her nose up at the second and flung it back at him in a crumbled ball. She got up from her bed, her heavy, bruised breasts bouncing as she stormed to retrieve her robe and cover herself.

“You disrespect me by doubting my discretion, Your Grace, and I take your payment as an insult. This hell provides protection for all of us working girls, and I would never divulge a client.”

“It seems I am set on offending all women today,” Ezra muttered, so low Maria did not hear him as she continued to dress with loud huffs of irritation. Knowing his time with her had ended, Ezra straightened his jacket and let himself out of her room. In truth, he was relieved to end things this way.

Maria had been right, he had been different tonight, which meant that they could never be together again. Now, though, her anger would at least make her feel as if it had been her decision.

He was both annoyed and amused that his fascinating interaction with Lydia had driven him to the gaming hell he and Ambrose operated together. He’d not gone to gamble or box, but to lose himself in sex. The only problem was that this time, there was no black void staring back at him as he released his carnal rage. There was only Lydia, with her glittering eyes, innocent freckles and long, flowing hair that made her look simultaneously wild and pure.

He had asked her to disrobe, and although he had expected her to refuse, it had stirred a startling response within him when he observed her mulling over his request before he let her off the hook. It impressed and aroused him to witness her willingness to save her sister from his supposed monstrous claws by contemplating such a degrading act. Then, before he’d realized it, he had offered her an alternative option.

“Ezra.”

Ambrose’s voice sounded curt and annoyed as he approached Ezra from behind. Ezra stopped and turned to see his friend and business partner march toward him wearing a deep-set frown.

“Evening, Ambrose,” Ezra greeted blandly. “How is Barbara and the babe? You named him Titus, did you not?”

“Do not even try to dissuade me,” Ambrose snapped back, his dark blue eyes nearly silver with annoyance. “What is this I hear? That you are pursuing Alice’s youngest sister, Juliet?”

“Why the concerned frown, brother?” Ezra replied mockingly, slapping his hand lazily over his heart. “Surely I thought one of my fellow orphans would love me enough to see me as a man and not the monster everyone believes me to be. Would she really be so horribly off married to me?”

Ambrose’s dark gold brows drew down as he huffed out a breath and crossed his arms.

“Do not do that, Ezra,” Ambrose warned. “You are our brother in every most important way and we accept you for who you are. You know that. But Juliet is…she is off limits, do you hear me?”

Who I am, Ezra mused silently. You have no idea who I am. I have no idea who I am. Perhaps I am not a man at all, but the demonic creature everyone already believes me to be.

“Are these your orders or Duncan’s?” Ezra asked, “Because if they are yours, you have no authority in this matter. Barbara is the Knight sisters’ friend. Not family.”

“It is an order from both of us,” Ambrose growled, snatching up Ezra’s collar.

Ezra gripped a firm hand over Ambrose’s and tilted his gaze in a silent challenge. As hotheaded as the four of them were, it was not a rarity that they would go at one another in the boxing ring, and Ezra was wondering if this was going to be a similar occurrence. Suddenly, he realized he hoped it would be. With thoughts of Lydia still springing up randomly in his head, perhaps he could use this moment as another outlet for his frustrations.

“Shall we have a round in the ring?” he asked with a wicked grin. “You have been opting out of practice lately and I think it’s because of Barbara and the babe, yes? But that rage, that darkness you keep pretending is gone? It is still there. And you better let it out to play before you take it out somewhere else.”

Ambrose let go of his collar as if suddenly disgusted, but he did not step away.

“My darkness is gone, Ezra,” Ambrose stated, giving him an honest look. “What I have with Barbara…what she has brought out in me, what she has healed in me…It has driven all such darkness and rage away. As Alice has achieved with Duncan. I know you and he were the “twins of darkness” for a while, but he has become someone else. Something better.”

The truth sliced through Ezra like a dagger, but the only thing in his demeanor that changed was his wicked smile. It dropped back to a thin, unreadable line. Better. Yes. Duncan had gotten better, and he had not.

“You also deserve a woman who can chase away that darkness from your mind and soul,” Ambrose went on with a weary sigh, “so, pick someone else, Ezra. Someone uniquely suited for you. And as for my status, Duncan might be Juliet’s brother-in-law, but I also carry some weight in this game. Do not forget that I am your business partner here in this gaming hell I can change that whenever I please.”

Ezra bristled at the only threat that ever hung over his head. Last year, Ambrose had toyed with the idea of shutting down the hall when he began to fall in love with Barbara, but Ezra had talked him out of it. Ezra took on more control over the hell so Ambrose could spend more time with his new family. But even in his increased role, Ambrose could still kick him out.

“You do not come in here for months, allowing me to take on the sole responsibility of this place, and then you threaten to withdraw me from it?” Ezra asked, steepling his fingers together calmly. “That’s not very brotherly of you, Ambrose.”

Ambrose’s eyes darkened once more, and it was clear he was finished being toyed with.

“You want me to be brotherly? Then heed my words, brother. Stop pursuing Juliet.”

“Do not forget how I earned my moniker, Ambrose,” Ezra warned, his voice low and deadly. “You may have your connections, but it is my reach into the lowest levels of humanity and the highest levels of royalty that has kept this establishment well-hidden and well-serviced.”

Ambrose’s nostrils flared as he took another step back from Ezra, but Ezra was not finished. He afforded his friends a longer leash than most when it came to threats, but it was clear Ambrose needed a reminder of just how vicious he truly was.

“I can have this and three more of your businesses shut down within the night if I wished,” he continued.

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

“Like that.”

“Ezra,” Ambrose said warily, slowly raising his hands, “Stop. This is not about business. You are right. I was wrong to tangle it up with family matters. But the fact remains, brother, that…”

“The remaining fact is that this discussion is over,” Ezra stated, cutting him off.

He drew in a deep breath and allowed his customary blank calmness to cover him once more.

“Your words are noted, Ambrose. Now, follow me to the ring and go a round with me the bloody way, or trot off to your business.”

Ezra watched Ambrose grind his teeth so hard that his jaw clicked, and he wondered if he would start the fight without delay. Suddenly, without a further word, Ambrose stormed off. Ezra silently watched his friend take his leave, more angry now that Ambrose had refused the fight than his earlier threat to his business.

Walking to his office alone, Ezra kept his face a mask of pure boredom as the impact of Ambrose’s words began to wound him. He had expected his friends to be caught a little off guard upon hearing the news, but their absolute disapproval of his choice was a surprising blow. None of them, he realized, truly saw any good in him. Perhaps there was no good to see.

Good or evil, Ezra still had an objective to fulfill. One way or another, he was going to marry a Knight daughter.

“I came into your room late last night to talk to you,” Juliet whispered. “But you were not there.”

Lydia looked up from her embroidery, scanning the sitting room for any sight of her father or his servants. When she saw only their handmaids accompanying them, she laid down her embroidery and gave a warning look to her little sister. Juliet, too, set down her embroidery, and the two sisters rose and opened the glass door to the patio.

“I was remedying your situation,” Lydia explained quietly, despite the added privacy. “I believe I have found a solution.”

Juliet’s face, wrought with worry lines, eased into its smooth, youthful beauty once again as her entire body sagged with relief.

“Do not make me wait,” Juliet urged, starting to bounce on her feet. “Tell, do tell!”

Lydia felt her cheeks heat as she thought of Ezra and his request that she disrobe. She had hated it. And yet, something in her had become enticed by his suggestion. The opportunity to meet his challenge and stand, proud and bare, before him. Little had she known that by refusing his dare she had earned his respect, whatever that was worth.

“It is best not to share the details until the contract is sustained by both parties,” Lydia replied, forcing a placating smile as she pushed the thoughts away, “but I shall need your assistance.”

Although Juliet was a bit reluctant at first to relinquish hearing the details, she eventually abandoned her questioning and adhered to what Lydia had instructed. One hour later the missive from Ezra had arrived, and Lydia had snatched it from the butler’s hands. After making an excuse to Juliet, she quickly left and opened it. Disappointment rose in her as she saw it was simply a name. Lady Poppy Ferris, Countess of Charmaine. She knew the young lady and had even played cards with her at a few ladies’ events.

She was soft, pretty, and a bit skittish. Someone, Lydia realized, would be terrified of Ezra. Of course, you would not make this easy, Lydia thought as she tucked the small card into her sleeve and retreated to her room to prepare.

“Lydia,” Owen said from behind her just as she reached her door.

Lydia froze, the small card in her sleeve burning into her wrist like a brand of guilt, then turned toward her father. She smiled as prettily as possible as she met his suspicious gaze, and begged her cheeks not to turn red.

“Good day, Papa,” she replied as pleasantly as possible, “How are you?”

“Annoyed,” Owen stated flatly, holding up a card that looked identical but larger than the one hidden in her sleeve. “The Duke of Frampton has sent word that he has canceled today’s visit. You’d best tell me you had nothing to do with this, girl. This match is the ticket for our family. Not one, but two daughters married off to powerful dukes.”

Anger replaced Lydia’s bashfulness, and the woman she truly was, the one who had proudly raised her younger sisters on her own with little to no help from her father, smiled back at him as she batted her eyes.

“Oh, yes, Papa, I was meaning to tell you about that,” Lydia replied calmly, taking her father’s arm as if he were harmless. “The duke had mentioned wanting a chance to dance with Juliet, and we had discovered that the three of us would be attending the Earl of Leeds’ Mayfair estate ball, which as you know is just down the street and to which we’d already been invited. It is tomorrow evening, so he suggested that we meet there. He did mention that he was going to tell you on his way out, but I do suppose as busy as he is, he simply forgot. Apologies for worrying, you, Papa, but all is well.”

Lydia watched Owen’s annoyed expression dissolve into happiness as she spun him her pretty half-lie.

“Well, then, that would explain a lot of things,” Owen grumbled, letting the hand holding Ezra’s card slowly fall to his side. “Tomorrow evening, though, I must be elsewhere. You will need to keep a sharp eye on your sister, understand? Do not let her nervousness destroy this opportunity.”

He paused, scoffing as he shook his head.

“Absolute little bird of a thing. Nervous as a newborn mouse.”

Only around certain men, Lydia thought, but replied confidently, “I shall see that everything goes perfectly, Papa.”

His business concluded, Owen merely nodded before turning and walking away, already mumbling to himself about something else he had to do. Once he’d turned the corner at the end of the hall, Lydia let herself into the room, burned the missive from Ezra, and flew to her closet. She would have to be brilliant and elegant tomorrow evening. Her shine would have to cancel out all of Ezra’s darkness, and that would be a difficult task indeed.

Lydia’s hands paused on her dresses as her mind jumped from formulating a plan to something she had avoided thinking about all night and day for more than a few moments at a time: Ezra’s touch. The sensations she’d experienced the night before bloomed inside her, making her heart throb and her skin tingle with longing.

Lydia did not realize her hand had slipped from the array of dresses to her own neck until she felt her fingertips slide directly over where Ezra’s had been. Something strange had happened to her when he’d touched her. Where had it come from? She squeezed her neck slightly, trying to make it reappear, and disappointment welled in her as she felt nothing.

She should be afraid, she knew, that a man, Ezra, of all men, had held her throat and yet here she was, trying to recreate the sensation he’d awoken in her.

“What am I doing?” she whispered aloud to herself as she flung her hand away from her neck.

“Gather yourself, woman!” she continued to scold aloud to herself as she returned to her tasks. “This is not what we need to be thinking about. Juliet. Juliet is what matters.”

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