Chapter 19

My heart is forever broken…

~ The Duchess of A

S everin didn't indulge in spirits. He ate only out of necessity. And he certainly, did not sleep.

With a lengthy list of enemies who could be waiting in the shadows, and the recollections of the things he'd done…and not done in the course of his career, a mindless, restful, deep, slumber wasn't a luxury afforded him.

So, he worked.

Cadogan seated at his desk, going over a pile of letters that'd arrived; even his wedding night, proved no exception.

Then, why should it?

Yes, he'd married a spirited, clever, breathtaking beauty who awaited him upstairs. That didn't change anything.

Oh, Cadogan intended to bed Raina. He was neither monk nor eunuch—he'd have to be to resist Raina's charms.

If he sought her out now, if that was his first, or even, second, third, or fourth, order of business, what the hell did that say about Cadogan and the power his wife, a woman who'd connived with her brother, have over him?

He stared darkly at the page in his hands.

Eh, but who are you really hurting though , the devil in his head tempted. Go to her.

Regardless the circumstances around the union, she belonged to him now. Nor would any force be required. She was as hot for Cadogan as he was for her.

Whether he liked it or not—and in Cadogan's case, the latter definitely held true—she was now his .

His to care after.

His to protect.

His to provide for.

His to bed.

Cadogan inhaled slowly.

Now, he needn't suppress his base urges. He was free to both take what he wanted and give the lady what she hungered for.

His shaft again stirred.

Give her what she hungered for?

Cadogan hardened his jaw. After Raina's betrayal, the last thing she deserved was to have him service her. Alas, his career had seen him bring vipers with intent to harm the Crown to the heights of pleasure. If he could bring himself to sate those schemers, he could certainly do the same for his wife.

And you'll enjoy it; you'll enjoy ringing mindless orgasm after mindless orgasm from her, too. Because something in you, no, something about Raina's blend of innocence and uninhibitedness in matters of the carnal, drives you mad with lust.

His body hardened.

Cursing roundly, he shook his head, and focused his attention on the letter in his hands.

My little brother,

"Bloody splendid. A perfect end to a godforsaken day," Cadogan mumbled.

I often hear your name talked about. You have made a life for yourself and I trust you are proud to have your services sought by the most powerful peers in London. Bravo, little brother.

It has been too long

"Little brother," he muttered and crumpled the parchment into a ball.

Nothing to kill a cockstand faster than reading correspondence from one's distant, stranger of a brother.

Knock-Knock-Knock

"Enter," Cadogan called out.

Cadogan's de-facto butler , secretary, and confidante, Mauley, didn't waste time with greetings or pleasantries.

"Per your request, Mr. Cadogan," he said, when he'd pushed the door shut behind him, and started over with a silver tray in hand. "I've sorted the folders by arrival date."

Mauley set the platter down before him.

"I've also organized them by assignment," the other man continued, pointing to each as he spoke. "And as you like them: by level of danger, power of clients, and payment, last, of course."

Of course.

Because having been his secretary and aide, Mauley knew firsthand what did—and did not motivate—Severin.

Wordlessly, he collected the closest stack and while Mauley gave an overall report of the men employed by Severin throughout London, Severin skimmed through the prospective jobs.

Familial battle over property.

Non-peers calling in debts against elevated nobles.

With every request, his frustration mounted, he tossed one after the other aside, the way a real gentleman would cards in a game of hazard.

One gave him pause.

Sightings of notorious, lethal, gang leader believed dead. Confirmation sought.

"Confirmation," Cadogan muttered to himself, and tossed aside the proposition from R. Black.

As long as Cadogan could help it, he'd take an assignment that required not only some investigating on his part but also, one that allowed him to see it through to its conclusion .

Giving his head a shake, he kept on sifting—and then stopped as his gaze caught the opening of the next note.

I'm not above fratricide.

Sitting up straighter in his chair, Cadogan lifted his focus to the detail made at the top of the page in his secretary's hand and underlined several times to grab Cadogan's attention—and interest. Mauley did his job and did it well. He knew the assignments Cadogan craved—and did not crave.

Cadogan carefully read the bold, angry, strokes of the one who'd wielded that pen.

Someone attempted to kill me. I strongly suspect my brother. I will not bore you with the details. Needless to say, I want names. I want every last servant, friend, family, or whoever else, who supported his efforts.

And then, you can…do with him as you see fit.

Mcb

For the first time since he'd been caught with Raina, Cadogan found himself diverted, away from enraging thoughts about the Goodheart siblings.

Now, this was something that resonated—a ruthless family, where one brother thought nothing of taking down the other, only to have the wronged one return, for proper vengeance.

Justice had nothing to do with that, and by the bluntly written letter, this particular client knew as much, too.

"This one," he said, handing the missive to Mauley. "I'll call just before dawn tomorrow, at his residence. That will be all."

His secretary took the note, bowed his head, and turned to go.

Severin's lips quirked in a wry smile. Another dawn meeting. The one he'd take with his mystery client, however, proved vastly different than today's business, and he found himself reminded all over again the maelstrom of events that'd seen him trapped.

With a bride upstairs.

In the bedroom next to his.

At this hour, changed out of a gown that'd hugged her every curve, and into a thin, chemise.

It'd be white. Modestly made for a virgin.

He went hard.

His grin faded.

Cadogan stopped the other man from leaving. "Mauley?"

The stoic secretary turned and faced him.

"Mr. Cadogan?" his secretary asked when Cadogan didn't speak. "Is there something else you require?"

Yes. Cadogan needed to have his bride under him, her legs parted, and his cock buried in her hot cunny. Because his body didn't give a damn about anything other than having what he wanted—and what he'd wanted since the day she'd sauntered into her brother's office, all doe-eyed innocence.

"Not a goddamned thing," he snapped. "I don't need anything. I—"

His secretary's expressionless features managed to say both nothing and everything at the same time.

Bloody hell. She's got me losing control—again.

"Where's…where's…" Mrs. Cadogan. As his wife, Raina now carried Cadogan's name. Something in joining his name with hers set him to squirming.

"The countess?" Mauley helpfully supplied.

"Yes, her ." That title and formality were precisely what Cadogan needed to maintain a distance between himself and the schemer. "The countess . Where is she?"

"She is in the suites next to yours." His secretary hesitated. "And has been there since her arrival. I saw that trays were sent for the afternoon and evening meal, but both were returned."

That gave Cadogan a different pause.

Bold, spirited, unapologetic Raina, who excelled in sneaking about had confined herself to her new rooms? That hardly fit with everything he knew about his bride. Though the circumstances of these past ten or so hours had already proven Cadogan knew less than nothing about her.

"Would you like me to pass word to the lady that you will be joining her for your meal, Mr. Cadogan?"

"If I wanted that, I'd have asked you," he said, frostily.

As annoyed by the idea of Raina cowering in his household as he was by the disapproving glint in his secretary's eyes, Cadogan chose to latch on to the latter.

"Do you have something you wish to say, Mauley?" he asked warningly.

For Mauley's part, well, the man knew his value and worth to Cadogan. It'd take anything short of an ultimate betrayal or act of violence against Cadogan to see the man fired.

The insolent way Mauley inclined his head said he knew it, too.

"Not at all, Mr. Cadogan. Is there anything else you require?"

"No," he said, dismissing the servant for a second time. "That will be all."

And as his secretary took his leave, Cadogan couldn't help but frustratingly note the absolute only one who could meet his current needs at the moment was none other than the little deceiver.

In fact, a visit with sweet Raina was overdue— long overdue.

With a feral grin, Cadogan made to stand and go find his new bride.

Rap-Rap—Rap

This gentle and uneven rapping on the panel came distinctly different than Mauley's assured, one that came as an announcement. For that matter, this delicate cross between a scratch and a knock, wasn't the way a single man in Cadogan's employ would declare their presence.

Falling back into his seat, Cadogan joined his fingers and lay his hands upon his chest. "Enter."

The door opened slowly, and she stepped inside.

His wife.

Raina, attired in the crystal-encrusted gown she'd worn to their wedding , hovered at the entrance. Her artfully arranged pale blonde curls had since loosened so that a number of those tresses hung about her delicate shoulders and trim waist.

And Cadogan despised himself for drinking in the sight of her the way a starving man consumed food.

Raina was the first to move. She drew the door shut behind them.

An unpleasant taste settled in his mouth.

What a moment when his young bride should find the ability to move when he sat lost in the sight of her.

"Wife," he greeted with false joviality. "I trust you are finding your new residence to your standards."

Raina rested her palms on the panel behind her and leaned against the door. "It is…lovely," she said softly.

"And the staff, my lady. Are they seeing to your needs?"

"Undoubtedly so," she was quick to assure. "Your staff has been attentive and courteous."

"Have they?" he asked silkily.

She nodded. "They have seen to my every need."

No, they hadn't. Not a single man Cadogan employed would dare.

"My staff has carefully seen to you, and yet you are here, wife."

She flinched ever so slightly.

An unpleasant sensation—an unwelcome one—pitted in his gut. The sight of her, hurt, no , the sight of her wounded because of him , caused a sharp, twisting sensation in his chest. Like Cadogan had been the one who'd done something wrong and not she and her bloody bastard of a brother.

He silently raged at himself for giving a damn either way that she should appear offended. She was, after all, nothing but a bloody skilled actress.

That reminder firmed his resolve and chased away all sense of misguided guilt.

"Why are you here, Raina?" he asked quietly.

That way, he needn't have to look at those big, hurt-filled eyes or the pain bleeding from those azure depths.

"What is it you've come to say?" The sooner he knew, the sooner he could send her away. "What exactly is it you need or want?"

She spoke in those dulcet tones that had fascinated him from the start. "I thought we might talk."

" Talk ."

His wasn't a question, but Raina nodded, anyway.

"I understand you did not wish to marry me, Severin," she said calmly.

A muscle rippled along his jaw. How easily and naturally she wielded the Christian name his own parents and siblings hadn't.

Raina stepped away from the door and started forward. "I know you are a man who doesn't have a place for a family," she went on, continuing her approach, "and your love and devotion is reserved for your career."

She stopped several steps away from his desk and searched her gaze over his face. "But Severin, whether you like it," she grimaced, "or not, we are married."

His blood boiled by several degrees. "And? We are married, Raina. Just what is that supposed to mean? How is our being married in any way relevant to—"

"We are to spend the rest of our lives with one another, Severin," she cried out, her calm of moments ago, breaking.

"Wrong." He surged to his feet. "We are to spend our lives sharing a name and nothing more."

She recoiled. "You hate me so much?"

Hate her?

For the love of the Savior and Satan's armies combined. The fact that she'd worked her way past his defenses and left him knotted up was proof that she'd some kind of bloody hold over him.

That hold was what he hated.

He started to drag a shaky hand through his hair, caught himself, and let his arm fall to his side.

Raina's eyes grew sad, once more. The fight slipping from her being.

"I see," she said, tiredly, taking his silence as confirmation.

She did a search of his office.

No one had stepped inside these hallow halls, and now Raina stood here; this woman, who would share the same walls and staff and name—

You share more than a name, the voice of reason within, reminded Cadogan. They shared a life. Raina belonged to him, in name, and body. As he'd pointed out to her brother when attempting to avoid marriage, Cadogan's past, was now Raina's present and future, an idea that left him nauseous.

Sick at the prospect of the potential peril she, through her connection with him, had inherited. A detail, which when he'd been bent on self-preservation, had been secondary.

His stomach churned as it had during his first passage across the Channel.

Raina clasped her hands and stared down at the interlocked digits. "I'd just thought—"

"What did you think, sweet wife ?" he asked, an edge of something very like desperation creeping in. "That I'd settle happily into a bucolically blissful married state with you as my bride?" He didn't allow her a chance to answer. "That we'd, what? Live some goddamned happily ever after?" A bitter laugh tore from his chest.

Raina's lower lip quivered.

Bloody hell. Even with the treachery her family carried out against him, the sight of her sadness cut him to the core.

Fake. It was all…

Then it hit him.

He stormed out from behind his desk. "My God, you did."

Raina tripped with the speed with which she bolted away from him.

His nostrils flared. "Do you think I'd hit you?" he snapped, somehow even more annoyed by that than…than…any other bloody part of this hellish day.

"N-No." Her eyes shimmered.

Oh, shite. Don't look at me like that. All wounded and hurting.

Her tears. They were a flimsy weapon, but to Cadogan, they were somehow his blasted Achille's heel.

That's precisely what'd landed him here.

Had he not, time and time again, let himself be weak for Raina Goodheart, she wouldn't be standing before him as Raina Cadogan, Countess of Killburn.

Cadogan chuckled. "Fearing your new husband hardly denotes the happy union you speak of."

"I d-don't fear you."

Even with that slight tremble, her avowal came so passionately, he could almost believe her.

"You're a shite liar." Which made it all the bloodier infuriating that he'd been so blind as to see what was at play from the moment she'd stepped into Argyll's office with that regal crown.

Raina drifted closer. "I don't . I—"

God, she would not quit.

"Let me spare you time and suffering, wife," he snapped. "The happily-ever-after's you're clearly in search of? They don't exist, and they certainly don't exist for jaded souls," of which he was, "and liars and schemers." Of which she—and he—was.

Not for beasts such as Cadogan. Not for anyone. He was just one of the few who realized as much.

"I know you likely believe that because of the things you've done, Severin," she said, beseechingly. "And maybe that is why you are so resistant to the idea of us—"

His coarse laugh cut over the rest of her ridiculous utterance. "The idea of ‘ us' ? Jesus , Raina."

A blush burst upon her high, radiant, cheeks, but she was unrelenting.

"You are so accustomed to being alone, the thought of you letting anyone close, terrifies you. It doesn't have to be that way, Severin. Our relationship, it's all been rushed, but there is nothing saying we cannot, at least, find peace, and maybe even…happiness."

There it was again.

Happiness .

He drew back as it hit him like a full ton of weight.

Shock chased away his anger. "You truly do believe all that."

Unflinching, Raina tipped her chin back and nodded.

He whistled. "You've somehow convinced yourself you and I can have some loving future together."

This time, her beautiful features, wavered.

"Why can't we, Severin?" she whispered.

Then, Raina lifted her smooth, unblemished palms up, as if in supplication.

It was her hands.

Cadogan fixed on those flawless, pure, lily-white hands, which, unlike his that'd been made for killing and done just that, hadn't seen an inch of hardship in her almost twenty years.

Incapable of words, Cadogan stared at her. After the way she'd colluded with Argyll to ensnare him, she was still na?ve enough to think Cadogan would welcome a future with her.

The air sizzled and seethed with tension; and the silence stretched on so long, Raina's hands fell.

Her throat wobbled. "Won't you say something?"

"You want me to say something?" he repeated. Cadogan paused, not trusting himself to speak. "Did you truly believe after being trapped into marriage, I'd embrace a future with you?" he asked when he'd gotten himself calm.

Raina winced.

An odd expression settled over her face, and she shook her head slowly. "Poor Severin."

Cadogan stiffened.

He'd have to be deaf to fail and detect the irreverent quality of those otherwise soft murmurings.

"You, who doesn't believe in love and doesn't want to marry and who doesn't make love to women," she continued, icily, "but, who—how is it you referred to it?— fucks them, now finds yourself stuck for life with me, because we were discovered in flagrante delicto."

Raina trained an impressive glare on him, breathtaking in her fury.

"Need I remind you, Severin," she jabbed a finger at his chest, "you were an all-too-willing and eager participant, not only last evening but many times before."

With every word she'd spoken and vision she'd laid out, his anger, frustration, and fear built until it all exploded to the surface. Damned if in her challenging him, he didn't find himself wanting to drag her into his arms.

"Are you done?" he asked silkily.

Raina's bow lips formed a perfect bow. "No. No, I'm not. Your wounded party act, Severin? Is both tiresome and juvenile ."

The air sizzled and crackled with tension.

"Tiresome and juvenile," he whispered, taking a step closer.

She gave a shaky nod, that sent the remainder of her ethereal blonde tresses cascading about her shoulders.

The sight of her, all indignant rage and pietistic hurt, shredded the last of his self-control.

"Wounded party act, Raina? You paint me as the irrational one and not say… you . You who casually waltzes in here as if there's nothing unordinary about our marriage and the circumstances of our being together is born of mutual consent and not coercion ?"

Another harsh laugh exploded from him; this time one borne of actual ironical mirth.

Raina flinched. "I didn't coerce you," she spoke, her voice barely audible.

"No," he conceded. "Your brother did that part all on his own. Argyll attempted to bring me in as a partner and head of security of his bloody iniquitous club." He seethed. "I'd sooner make a widow of you than have anything to do with Argyll."