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caring about him. «Can’t you just hold your tongue for once,

woman?»

«There’s no need to be boorish.»

«Yes, there is—if it will make you stop chattering.»

Jane held his gaze, her hazel eyes full of concern. «Blaize, are

you quite sure you are all right?»

«You’re not my mother, Jane, now leave me alone.»

«I am, however, your wife.»

«A wife I don’t want and don’t need.» Damn her, what did he

have to say to make her stop? «I’m tired because I spent the night

fighting and fucking other women. Is that what you wanted to

know? Does that make things clear enough for you?»

170 /
Kate Pearce

She bit her lip and color flooded her cheeks, but her gaze

didn’t falter. «I wondered if you wanted to accompany me to the

Earl of Millhaven’s memorial service.»

«Why would I want to do that?»

«Because he was a friend of your father’s?»

Why did everything come back to his father? Why couldn’t

the bastard just leave him alone? Minshom gripped his cup so

hard that he thought it might crack into a thousand shards.

«In truth, I’m glad when any crony of my father’s dies. I hope

he rots in hell.»

Jane nodded and wiped her mouth with her napkin. «Then I’ll

go by myself.»

Minshom regarded her for a long tense moment. «Why won’t

you fight with me today, Jane?»

She sighed. «Because I know you’d like me to and I’m not

stupid enough to give you what you want.»

«You usually do. You usually beg for it.»

«And today I’m not going to.» She stood up. «Have a good

day, my lord.»

He waited until she left the table and frowned into the silence.

The scent of lavender and buttered toast lingered. He would’ve

enjoyed a quarrel with Jane this morning, would’ve found a way

to bring her to her knees and preferably his cock into her mouth.

Sex with Jane always made him forget his problems and he

certainly felt beleaguered at the moment.

He studied the bruised and bloodied knuckles of his right

hand, remembered Robert’s closed expression when he’d helped

him clean off the blood last night. Suddenly there were no

certainties in his life, only a reemergence of a past he had striven

hard to suffocate.

Ruthlessly Minshom shoved all his turmoil aside. He had

another appointment with his solicitor in less than an hour and

he desperately needed to bathe and change. Where the hell was

Robert?

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Half an hour later, assisted by a tight-lipped Robert, Minshom

was dressed and presentable. He ran lightly down the stairs and

through the already-open front door to where his carriage stood

waiting. His butler followed him out breathing heavily.

«My lord? Lady Minshom asked if you might take her as far as

Lady Millhaven’s house. She will be down in a moment.»

Minshom sighed. «All right, I’ll wait, but she had better be

quick about it.»

He strolled to the front of the carriage to inspect his horses, a

new team he’d recently purchased from Tattersalls. At his nod,

his coachman got down and engaged him in conversation about

the prowess of the matching chestnut horses. A woman laughed

to his left and he looked up expecting Jane, but it wasn’t her.

Minshom couldn’t help himself. He walked toward the two

women and bowed. The older of the two smiled and held out her

hand.

«Lord Minshom, what a surprise! I came to view a vacant

property on the other side of the square with my friend, Mrs.

Larksham. Her husband is thinking of resettling here after he

retires from the army.»

«Mrs. Larksham. A pleasure.» How ironic if it was Thomas

Wesley who had inadvertently sent the Larkshams here.

Minshom then bowed to the smaller lady. «Lady Ellis.» He kissed

her gloved hand. That was all he could manage to get out. She

looked as beautiful and serene as ever, and definitely more at ease

than he was.

She lightly touched the dark head of the boy standing slightly

behind her. «Michael, make your bow to Lord Minshom. Michael

is home early from school after contracting the measles.»

Minshom swallowed hard as the boy straightened and

indifferent pale blue eyes met his. God, it was hard to look away.

He dragged his attention back to Lady Ellis. «He is a fine-looking

boy.»

172 /
Kate Pearce

She met his gaze without faltering. «Yes, he is, isn’t he? We are

all very proud of him.»

«My lord? Did I keep you waiting? I’m sorry, but I couldn’t

find the veil for my bonnet.»

Jane’s voice behind him. God, no, not now, not like this. He

instinctively turned to face her, tried to shield her from the sight

of the woman and child behind him. She stopped walking, her

eyes fixed on the boy and then she brought her hand to her

mouth and retreated back toward the house.

Minshom spared only a second to apologize to the trio and

then sprinted after his wife. She wasn’t in the hallway or in his

study. He ran her to ground in her bedchamber and stood against

the door fighting to catch his breath while she ripped off her

bonnet and gloves. She kept her back turned to him even though

she must have known he was there.

«He’s your son, isn’t he?»

«Yes.»

«He has your eyes.»

«Yes.»

She turned to face him, hands clenched at her sides. «How old

is he?»

«I believe he is almost twelve. He was conceived well before

our marriage.»

She advanced toward him, her face as pale and fragile as the

simple lace trimming on her black dress. Jane in a rage was a

riveting sight. He’d known she was capable of deep passion but

not such scalding wrath. «And you think that makes it all right?

You think that makes it better?»

«No.»

Pain resonated in her fine eyes as she came even closer. «Did

you ask her to come here?»

«Of course not.»

She slapped his face and he accepted the blow, did nothing to

stop her or hide from the sting of her words.

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«She just happened to turn up?»

«Yes.»

She tried to slap him again but this time he caught her wrist

and held it tight. «Stop it.»

«It’s not surprising that you didn’t care about Nicholas. You

always had this in reserve, didn’t you?» Jane whispered. «Another

son, another child to love.»

«No.»

Tears slid from the corners of her eyes but she seemed

unaware of them. He’d only seen her break down completely

once before and had run from her to stop himself from ever

having to witness such devastation again. She wrenched her hand

free from his grasp and thumped both of her fists into his chest.

Eventually he managed to grab hold of her wrists again.

«Stop it. This won’t help.»

She glared at him through her tears, her whole body shaking,

her nails digging into his flesh as she fought to get free again.

«You wanted me to fight you this morning, Blaize. Why aren’t

you fighting back?»

«I don’t want to.»

«Because you can’t, because you know you are a lying,

cheating bastard.»

He tried to contain her struggles without hurting her, used the

lessons he had learned as a youth to stand passively beneath her

barrage of blows. He hoped in his soul that she would soon wear

herself out and give in to the tears that were already threatening

to disarm her.

«Jane...»

Her nails scraped his cheek and he recoiled, his head hitting

the door panel. He moved away from the door, swung her

around with him into the center of the room. Her hand closed

around his cock and balls and squeezed hard.

«Is this what she did, Blaize? Did she have to hurt you to get a

rise out of you, to get you to fuck her?»

174 /
Kate Pearce

«Stop it.» He tried to wrench her hand away but she gripped

him even tighter and he felt himself respond to her violence, to

her need to hurt him, to the familiar cycle of abuse. «God...

stop.»

«Is this what it takes to get you to fuck me too, Blaize? Pain?

Because, by God, I’ll hurt you, I swear I will.»

She walked backward until she came up against the side of the

bed, her fingers tangled in the waistband of his breeches, ripping

and tearing at the buttons, exciting him even further. He stifled a

groan as her questing fingers met his hardening cock.

«Jane... don’t make me do this, don’t...» His words dried in his

throat as she toppled backward onto the bed, bringing him down

over her, his cock nestled between the vee of her thighs. She

tangled her other hand in his hair, twisting it painfully as her

teeth bit down hard on his lower lip.

Despite himself, his hand dragged up her skirts to expose her

sex and he didn’t stop her positioning his cock at the entrance to

her slick channel. He had but a second to stare down at her, to

resist the temptation, to be the better man, but he couldn’t do it,

couldn’t resist driving his cock home and hearing her scream his

name into his mouth.

And then there was nothing except the tight clasp of her flesh

around his, the urge to possess, to subdue, to own, to fill her

with his seed. He drove into her like a man possessed, enjoyed

the way her feet curled up over his buttocks and kept him deep,

the heels of her boots marking the tempo of his thrusts as surely

as the urgent thump of his heart. He kept his mouth over hers

and plundered it as he fucked her cunt, even as she fought and

bit to get closer. He caught every cry and moan as she climaxed

around him and followed her, pumping deep inside her, each hot

spurt feeling as if it were wrenched from his soul.

Silence, apart from his harsh breathing and the unsteady

thump of his heart. His head rested on the bed next to hers, his

cock was still inside her. He managed to raise himself up onto

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one elbow and looked down at her. She met his gaze, her eyes

wide, and her trembling mouth swollen with his kisses. He

wanted those lips around his cock.

He slid an arm underneath her torso and unbuttoned her

dress and then unlaced her corset. She didn’t resist him as he

pulled everything over her head and threw it to the floor. He

took his time taking the pins out of her hair and settling it around

her on the bed. His cock was hard again and eager so he slid back

into her now-wet cunt and fucked her again. She didn’t stop him,

her body as languid and liquid as any well-satisfied woman.

He closed his eyes as he pumped into her, so amazed to be

inside a woman again, so different from a man. And yet why was

he surprised? God had fashioned woman from Adam’s rib. She

was made from him and for him.

Jane awoke from her half-sleep to find Blaize fucking her

again, his arms wrapped around her, her left foot balanced on his

now-naked hip bone as he slid into her from behind. His endless

lovemaking had blended into a series of connections she couldn’t

separate. Every time she woke, he was either inside her or about

to be inside her or climaxing, his cum filling her until she was

overflowing with his seed.

She couldn’t stop him, couldn’t seem to find any words other

than to beg him to make her come or to move faster or harder.

And she was too exhausted to fight him, too grateful to be in his

arms and forget what she’d seen in the blur of his passion, to

drown her pain in his lust.

A clock chimed somewhere in the house. Was it three in the

afternoon or the morning? Where had the rest of the day gone?

Blaize’s fingers skimmed over her clit and she forgot about the

time as she came for him again, felt him come alongside her.

She turned restlessly in his arms to face him, put her hand up

to his face and felt the burr of his stubble. «Blaize?»

«Ssh...» He kissed her forehead. «Don’t think, go to sleep.»

176 /
Kate Pearce

Obediently she closed her eyes as he gathered her closer in his

arms. His scent surrounded her and she cried silently against his

chest, cried for her lost son, for the shock of finding herself face-

to-face with her husband’s image, an image she had no part in

creating.

«Don’t cry.» Blaize whispered as he pushed her onto her back

and spread her thighs wide. «Don’t think.» He slowly entered her,

his hands under her buttocks holding her tightly into his

languorous thrusts. She put her hands on his shoulders and held

on, desperate to feel his flesh, something whole in the turmoil of

her mind.

She must’ve slept again, as he no longer lay on top of her. She

turned onto her side and searched for his warm muscular body

with her outstretched fingers, felt nothing but damp sheets and

his elusive scent. She opened her eyes and knew he had gone.

More tears filled her eyes as she curled herself up into a tight ball.

Would she ever stop crying?

She had to be strong. She had to get out of bed and face her

husband. In her anger, she’d used every weapon she possessed to