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Authors: Strictly Seduction
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clawing, panicked desperation in the pit of her stomach refused to relent. She focused on the burn of anger consuming her. That was safer.
Soon, the hall clock struck one in the morning. With a discouraged sigh, Maddie rose and donned her cloak. Brock hadn’t come tonight—or in the last week. But he would; she’d find a way to seduce him into accepting her offer before he destroyed her life.
How she would accomplish this, Maddie did not know. But determination pounded like a hammer in her gut. She would not rest until she had and freed herself from his matrimonial trap.
Then she would have revenge for his abandonment.
That was what her soul had cried for five years ago, what she needed now to purge him from her life and heart for good.
#
After making the trip to Hampstead again, Brock paused at Ashdown Manor’s door. The thought of seeing Maddie once more had his palms sweating.
Each midnight, I will lie here and wait for you, he heard her sultry voice whisper over and over. Her words haunted him during the meetings necessary to finalize details about the railroad, during important analysis of new securities that would earn more money and win new business, during sleepless nights when he craved the feel of her mouth beneath his. Damn! With one sentence, she had managed to shatter his concentration and threaten his future.
He’d always yearned for wealth. That fire to rise above his poverty-stricken boyhood was the only thing keeping him from accepting Maddie’s stunning offer in a mind-melting moment of desire. Sheer willpower had prevailed—so far. He hoped it would last until they made it to the altar.
Drawing in a deep breath of spring air, Brock knocked. Matheson answered moments later.
Within moments, Matheson, stepped aside to admit Brock. “Follow me, sir.”
The butler led Brock back into Maddie’s empty parlor, still somehow cold, despite the warm day. With a bow, Matheson left him alone with his thoughts.
Brock tossed his hat on the nearest table and strolled around the room. April sun poured through the west windows, shedding its golden light on the dust motes slowly winding down to the faded carpet. A rag doll with a smudged face, blue button eyes, and a Cupid’s bow mouth sat in an old chair.
Regardless of the manor’s shabby state, it held a comfortably elegant feel beneath the tall ceilings. Oh, Brock now had a fashionable town house. In Mayfair, around the corner from Park Lane. But he liked the idea of being master in a house in which he’d once been servant. He could see himself living here with Maddie. Raising children with love and laughter.
Shaking off his odd thoughts, Brock wondered if she would request another deferment of her debt. Perhaps offer him her paltry savings once more to postpone the inevitable? Or, dear God, would she offer herself again?
Each midnight, I will lie here and wait for you .
With a curse, Brock pushed the voice aside and sat on the worn sofa, feeling himself sweat. No matter when, where, or how often she lay in wait for him, he could not bed her without benefit of marriage. He must have her connections and her land.
If investors chose to overlook his services because they believed them inferior or unbeneficial to their fortunes, he considered it their loss. If investors refused to visit his offices simply because he had been born without connections or consequence, well...that kind of ignorance he objected to.
He knew he couldn’t change the prevailing attitude of England’s privileged class. Nor was he any crusader. But to have another blue blood lacking the good sense God gave most mutts look down his thin, patrician nose at him was more than Brock could bear.
He needed Maddie to improve his lot, and he was eager to extract a pound of flesh from Maddie, as long as it came with the silken caress of her hand wearing his wedding ring.
Each midnight, I will lie here and wait for you .
God, why couldn’t he get her voice out of his
Soon, the hall clock struck one in the morning. With a discouraged sigh, Maddie rose and donned her cloak. Brock hadn’t come tonight—or in the last week. But he would; she’d find a way to seduce him into accepting her offer before he destroyed her life.
How she would accomplish this, Maddie did not know. But determination pounded like a hammer in her gut. She would not rest until she had and freed herself from his matrimonial trap.
Then she would have revenge for his abandonment.
That was what her soul had cried for five years ago, what she needed now to purge him from her life and heart for good.
#
After making the trip to Hampstead again, Brock paused at Ashdown Manor’s door. The thought of seeing Maddie once more had his palms sweating.
Each midnight, I will lie here and wait for you, he heard her sultry voice whisper over and over. Her words haunted him during the meetings necessary to finalize details about the railroad, during important analysis of new securities that would earn more money and win new business, during sleepless nights when he craved the feel of her mouth beneath his. Damn! With one sentence, she had managed to shatter his concentration and threaten his future.
He’d always yearned for wealth. That fire to rise above his poverty-stricken boyhood was the only thing keeping him from accepting Maddie’s stunning offer in a mind-melting moment of desire. Sheer willpower had prevailed—so far. He hoped it would last until they made it to the altar.
Drawing in a deep breath of spring air, Brock knocked. Matheson answered moments later.
Within moments, Matheson, stepped aside to admit Brock. “Follow me, sir.”
The butler led Brock back into Maddie’s empty parlor, still somehow cold, despite the warm day. With a bow, Matheson left him alone with his thoughts.
Brock tossed his hat on the nearest table and strolled around the room. April sun poured through the west windows, shedding its golden light on the dust motes slowly winding down to the faded carpet. A rag doll with a smudged face, blue button eyes, and a Cupid’s bow mouth sat in an old chair.
Regardless of the manor’s shabby state, it held a comfortably elegant feel beneath the tall ceilings. Oh, Brock now had a fashionable town house. In Mayfair, around the corner from Park Lane. But he liked the idea of being master in a house in which he’d once been servant. He could see himself living here with Maddie. Raising children with love and laughter.
Shaking off his odd thoughts, Brock wondered if she would request another deferment of her debt. Perhaps offer him her paltry savings once more to postpone the inevitable? Or, dear God, would she offer herself again?
Each midnight, I will lie here and wait for you .
With a curse, Brock pushed the voice aside and sat on the worn sofa, feeling himself sweat. No matter when, where, or how often she lay in wait for him, he could not bed her without benefit of marriage. He must have her connections and her land.
If investors chose to overlook his services because they believed them inferior or unbeneficial to their fortunes, he considered it their loss. If investors refused to visit his offices simply because he had been born without connections or consequence, well...that kind of ignorance he objected to.
He knew he couldn’t change the prevailing attitude of England’s privileged class. Nor was he any crusader. But to have another blue blood lacking the good sense God gave most mutts look down his thin, patrician nose at him was more than Brock could bear.
He needed Maddie to improve his lot, and he was eager to extract a pound of flesh from Maddie, as long as it came with the silken caress of her hand wearing his wedding ring.
Each midnight, I will lie here and wait for you .
God, why couldn’t he get her voice out of his
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