Mistletoe Menage by Molly Ann Wishlade Read Free Book Online

lift, and his horizon would not brighten. In all honesty, there had been a
permanent cloud there ever since he had returned from Kent to London to find
Ann already married to that aging merchant Blackburn. Why, oh why, had she done
it? Even after all these years, the pain was still sharp as a thorn in his
heart.
    A gentle knock at the door
disturbed his thoughts.
    “Yes?” His voice was gruff and
unwelcoming.
    “May I come in, sir?” He
recognized the voice of the young wench he’d seen downstairs.
    The door swung wide and she
peered around it. He watched as she stepped nervously into the room, a lamb to
the slaughter. He sat up and swung his legs over the bed.
    “Mr. Wickes asked if you’ll be
requiring anything else this afternoon.” She bobbed a curtsy and he eyed her
small breasts which were exposed at the neckline. The fuchsia nipples were
visible each time she inhaled as they strained at their tight covering,
threatening to burst out at any moment. A deliberate female
trick, no doubt. He considered the prospect of taking her and easing
some of his pent-up frustration with her slim, young body, but he knew it wouldn’t
suffice. She would be insignificant and fucking her would only feed his hunger,
not dull it. He had no real use for women like her, none at all, because they
were not Anne, the full-bodied, chestnut-haired heartbreaker that she was. It
was Anne he longed to bed, not some scrawny wench without curves or a brain. He
wanted one woman only and no other would do. Yet he knew that when he did take
Anne to bed, it would not be tenderly or with love, but with a dark passion
that would punish her for her betrayal. But he was convinced that it would make
him feel better. It had to. Something had to ease his pain.
    “No. Tell him to serve supper for
two after eight this evening when my man arrives. Until then, leave me in
peace.” He waved his hand at the girl, gesturing for her to leave the room.
    Relief washed over her features and
he felt a flicker of pity. The poor girl was probably accustomed to being
thrown into the arms of the gentry that stayed at the inn. No doubt, the
landlord of the inn had torn her from some small farm where her family couldn’t
afford to feed her or provide a dowry, and instead she’d been haggled away for
a basket of apples or a bag of corn. Such was the way for the poor.
    He thought of the people upon his
own lands for a moment then frowned. He hadn’t been back there for years,
leaving the running of the estate to his younger brother. Their parents were
long since dead and though he missed his mother, he didn’t miss the iron hand
of his father at all. That man had sought to rule all around him, including his
wife. Edward couldn’t understand how a man could marry a woman then treat her
so badly. It made his blood boil to think of it and to recall how ineffectual
he had been as a smooth-faced youth trying to defend his mother from his
father’s beatings. His stomach clenched. Surely his mother had done nothing to
merit such ill treatment. Unless…maybe she had been like Anne and broken his
father’s heart in some way. But even then, there was no excuse for physical
abuse. When Edward had stood up to his father, he’d been black and blue for
weeks and sent away to “travel” around Europe until he learned how to behave.
During the years of his absence, his mother had passed and when he’d returned,
he’d found his father an old man, much changed. Edward had absented himself
from the family home and thrown himself into the social world of London where
he had gambled and whored with his peers—until he’d met Anne and everything had
changed.
    There was a short rap at the door, then Guy walked in.
    “Where have you been?” Edward
snapped as he sprang to his feet.
    Guy laid his hat and jacket on
the chair on top of Edward’s then offered a conciliatory smile. “I have begun
to seduce her, as you wished.”
    Edward stared at the younger man.
His face was flushed