The Punishment of Ivy Leavold (Markham Hall Book 3) by Sierra Simone Read Free Book Online Page A

people thought of me, what Esther must have heard about me. In fact, I was almost grateful that she simply came out and asked, rather than letting her unspoken suspicions poison things between us.
    “No, I didn’t kill Violet,” I said, looking her in the eye. “We were unhappy. And I was not the best husband I could have been to her because of that. But I didn’t kill her. The constables saw fit not—”
    “We both know the constables would have thought twice before charging a man like you with murder, Mr. Markham,” Esther said coolly. “So I don’t care what they saw fit to do. But I do care if you are a dangerous man. Because as much as I’ve tried to persuade Ivy away from you, I see now that it’s likely to fail. And I need to know that she’s safe with you.”
    “Let me make one thing clear,” I said, uncrossing my legs and leaning forward, pinning her with my eyes. “I am indeed a dangerous man. I am in no way safe. But I belong to Ivy Leavold as much as she belongs to me, and I will never, ever let any harm come to her.”
    Esther swallowed, and I relaxed a bit, knowing the effect my direct stare often had on people.
    “I didn’t kill Violet,” I repeated. “And while propriety and personal inclination force me not to name the circumstances, Ivy is aware of my alibi for that night and is satisfied of my innocence.”
    “I see,” Esther said slowly.
    I appraised her dispassionately, how her breathing had grown rapid and how she seemed unable to take her eyes off me. She responded to me in the way that Ivy had responded to me the first night I met her. She’s one of us , I thought. She just doesn’t know it yet.
    Hell if I’d be the one to bring her into the fold—there was only one woman who could satisfy me now. But it may prove useful in winning back Ivy. Maybe she should come to the Baron’s party after all. The Baron himself was quite a fan of breaking in the newly converted—or those who didn’t even know they were converted yet.
    “Miss Ivy Leavold,” a servant announced, startling Esther. I stood, turning, and as always, feeling my breath catch. Christ, this woman was beautiful.
    She wore a blue dress—some pale color that set off her rich skin and glossy dark hair. That hair was bound up high, exposing the long elegant neck that I so loved to kiss, revealing the curve of her shoulders. For a moment, I lost myself in remembering what it felt like to push those shoulders down until she was kneeling in front of me. What it felt like to slide my cock past those soft lips…
    I forced myself away from those perfect memories and stepped forward to kiss her hand. I didn’t let my lips linger on her skin, but from the shiver that passed through her at my touch, I knew I didn’t need to. I straightened and looked her in the eye. “Wildcat,” I whispered.
    A wistful smile ghosted across her lips. “Julian,” she murmured.
    God, what she did to me when she called me that. She had no idea, I knew. But she was the only woman who’d ever called me by my name—the only woman I’d ever allowed to call me by name. To other women, I had always been Mr. Markham or Jules or any other number of variations—all of which I encouraged. Let them think that informality and nicknames let them claim some sort of familiarity with me. They were wrong. But to me, there was something so intimate about hearing my Christian name from Ivy’s lips. Like she knew me . The real me. The real Julian.
    Esther coughed politely and the moment dissolved.
    “How about a stroll through Hyde Park?” I suggested, already reaching for Ivy’s hand again. “It’s a lovely day outside.”
    Ivy quirked her head at me, that smile still tugging at her lips, and I knew she was wondering what I was doing, what Julian Markham cared about taking a chaperoned walk through the park, why I was settling for chaste touches when we both knew that I’d rather have her on all fours panting in ecstasy.
    It’s all for you , I