Page 87 of Make Mine a Marquess

His groan filled the chamber.

He showed her what he liked with his hands and his reactions. She learned quickly, dragging out his pleasure until he thought he’d burst.

“Phoebe, I’ll spill.”

“Yes, I want you to. Just like you made me come apart with pleasure.”

He was powerless beneath her ardor. Heart pounding, his orgasm built quickly. He pulled her away and his hot seed spurted across her breasts and the sheets.

He rose and used water from a basin to cleanse her breasts. Then he slipped in bed beside her and cradled her in his arms until her body softened against his, her breath brushing his neck, her thick lashes fans against her cheeks. She slept soundly and he dreaded leaving her. What would he give to stay with her the entire night? To wake with her in his arms.

Tomorrow. The day after. And others?

It wasn’t meant to be. He’d accomplished what he’d started out to do. To seduce his cousin’s betrothed away from him. To steal her dowry from Willard’s greedy fingers. And to ensure his ruin.

She’d break off the engagement. Rather than feel immense satisfaction, he felt hollow.

Somehow, lying here close to her, knowing his plans of revenge were coming to fruition, made him feel guilty of a crime.

He had to collect his ragged thoughts and leave her before the sun rose.

He rose and carefully left the bed, then reached for his clothes and boots. With his coat over his arm, Landon turned the door handle. The letters were secure in his coat pocket and he needed to meet with Aram to plot their course of action. Tomorrow, he would pay a visit to the magistrate.

With one last lingering look at Phoebe, he quietly shut the door.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The voice was as distinctive as the scrape of nails on a chalkboard. Landon turned to face Willard with a calm, collected look. “What’s it to you, cousin?”

Willard glowered at him. “You’re leaving my betrothed’s room in the middle of the night. I demand to know why.”

Landon schooled his expression into one of indifference. Meanwhile, his mind churned. Why was Willard lurking about? Had he intended to enter Phoebe’s room tonight? To force himself upon her? Suddenly, his calm demeanor vanished, and his jaw tightened along with his fists.

The pair squared off in the hallway. The confrontation between them was long overdue. Landon had the evidence he needed to charge into the magistrate’s office in his coat pocket. He no longer had to pretend cordiality toward his cousin. The need to wound his enemy, to give him even just a taste of what the baron had put him through, was impossible to resist.

“Isn’t it obvious, cousin? I’m leaving Miss Dawson’s bedchamber.”

Willard’s complexion turned beet red. “Are you saying that you…that you and she…”

“Yes. She quite willingly fell into my arms. Your neglect was helpful, of course, but a man would have to be blind not to notice her feminine attributes. But then again, you only seemed to notice Malvern’s and Roxborough’s ridiculous antics. I merely took advantage.”

“Bastard!”

“Ha! You’re calling me one? You have no right. Not after you sabotaged the ship, causing a fire to kill me.”

Willard had the audacity to look taken aback. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t try to deny it. You were never a good actor.”

“What do you know? You have been gone for five years and do not know me.”

The spark of hatred flared deep in his chest. “Your greed knows no bounds. You murdered twenty-three sailors in your attempt to kill me. And since that didn’t work, you’ve been plotting another attempt.”

“Your accusations are outrageous.”

“Are they?”

“You have no proof.”