Chapter twenty
He hated her. No that word could not even justify what he was feeling as she looked at his eyes and continued her little scheming game, hestitating as if she didn't want a viscount wealth, rob him and leaving his aching soul, because that was what he meant to her. Anger boiled him up as he roughly tore his cravat and threw it on his desk, with a quick stride he brought out the bottle of whiskey and didn't bother to pour it in a glass, he chuged from the bottle and felt the burning sensation in his throat. He slumped back in his king sized chair, already feeling quite tipsy he continued drinking to oblivion.
The ball did not fall according to his plan, he had not thought of ravishing her In the carriage, had not thought of feeling possesive over the fact that men including his blasted cousin only had her for a dance. Yet his whole body betrayed him of feeling such a strong anger, yes, he wanted to punch any man coming twelve feet close to her. He did not want to think of what that meant, because she still had the nerve to play coy as if she did not beam with happiness inside of hearing him ask to court her.
The feel of her lips and soft skin was unforgettable, her eyes filled with lies and yet looking like there were some truth deep within had him ragiging, just what was her game? He was already going insane wondering what his revenge had gotten him.
It hadn't preperad him for her, that he still could feel something just by her excistince, how arrogant of him to think she couldn't affect him, that he wouldn't feel anything by her drugging kisses, her sweet mouth. He did and that frightened him to core, he needed answers. Anything to make her disapear, yet he couldn't.. he wouldn't let her go that easily, when he hadnt even made her pay for what she did. She ruined him. And she was back again to destroy him. But she would not succed because he would uncover her secrets one by one.
And watching her face tremble whenever he called her Stephane made him satisifed for now.
Rolling the bottle in his hand he felt his body aching with arousal. Swearing in a guteral tone of frustration he slammed the bottle down on the desk. He wanted a woman. He'd never been so desperate. Trying to ignore his hammering pulse, Malcolm cast his mind back to when he'd last slept with a woman. Not since before the ball has been prepared. He felt he owed his fidelity to the woman who he would be forced to marry at the end. He'd thought a few months of celibacy wouldn't have kill him. Idiot, he told himself savagely, Idiot.
The only resulution he had was to go over to places that could solve those problems for him, but the thought to seek pleasure from courtesan made his mind recoiled from the notion, it would bring him some measure of relief of course. No. that wasn't what he wanted. She was what he wanted.
What the hell is wrong with you? Malcolm asked himself iritatedly and leapt up from his chair and started striding to the washbasin set on a tripol stand, he poured some cool water and splashed it on his face. His thoughts had been muddled for days, ever since she came back in his life, now as a lady, to expose her out was on the verge of his tongue, in the past he had never allowed himself to think what had happened to her when he threw her out six years ago. He did not think if she lived or died, because it did not matter, she betrayed, decieved and lied to him. The vivid memory so strong in his mind. And now she was here, how did she bloody dare!. With all that she had done to him if only he could ease the fire inside of him. If only he could think clearly.
The alcohol did set his throat on fire, but it did nothing to leave the aching arousal, no he needed a woman in order to forget her. Malcolm strode from the bedroom. He went through the columned hall that connected the east wing to the grand central staircase. His steps slowed as he heard the betraying creak of one of the steps. He stopped and titled his head, waiting in the darkness. Creak. There it was again. Someone was descending the stairs, and not doing their best to be discreet. He fumbled at the small porcealin wood table in the entrance hall, where a lamp was always kept and turned it to a soft glow. He ventured in the direction of the person, the flow of brown locks and curve of body gave it out. He knew exactly who it was.
A grim smile crossed his face. Now was his opportunity to catch Mabel or if that was ever her name after all, she would perhaps steal one of the furnitures or meet a lover at this time. He would use that excuse to throw her out of the house and threaten to expose her. With her gone, things would return to the way they had been before.
Stealthily Malcolm made his way to the side of the blaustraded corridor. He caught a glimpse of Mabel below in the domed central hall. The hem of her nightgown trailed gently behind her as she drifted across the marble floor. She was going to meet a lover. Gracefully she wandered in what seemed to be a mood of dreamy anticipation. Malcolm was concious of a bitter sensation seeping through him like poison. He tried to identify the feeling, but its precise nature was obscured in anger , it was an antic of murder, the thought of what mabel was about to do with another man made him want to punish her.
Malcolm went to the staircase and Froze.
What was he doing? He should had ride astride on his horse and be In a warm embrace of a woman who had no strings attached, but no, the viscount of london, renowned for his moderate, sensible ways, sneaking around his own house in the dark. Nearly wild with raging jealousy--- yes jealousy—over the antics of a little wench and her midnight trysts.
It must be the effect of the alcohol, it has muddled his brain and senses.
To hell with it all! To hell with everything. He was going to stop her, Over his dead body that she was going to hace her pleasure tonight. As he passed the library, the sound of whisper floated through the door, which had been left ajar. Malcolm's brow lowerd I fury as he heard Mabel murmuring something that sounded like "No... No.. Mike.. no"
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The Vicious Viscount
Historical Fiction# 2 The Vicious Viscount Mabel & Malcolm's story Lady Mabel is a bastard, once upon a time Mabel was poor, she lived with her aunt , they struggled to earn money and did not have it easy, but in that though time she was the happiest, she had a secr...
