Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love (Scandalous Seasons #4)(57)

She recoiled at his fingers upon her person.

“Your brother owes me a small fortune.”

“That is not my business.” Albert’s mistakes were his own. She’d not pay the penance for his crimes.

She stiffened as the baron made a sudden movement, but he was only reaching into the front of his jacket. He pulled out a small bag and held it out to her. Juliet glanced down at the drawstring bag. “What is this?”

“Go on,” he urged and pressed it into her hand, the contents heavy in her palm.

She opened the bag and gasped.

“Familiar, Miss Marshville?”

Her throat worked. The emerald and diamond earbobs and necklace that had belonged to her mother. Her bastard of a brother had wagered them away to this fiend. Was nothing sacred with Albert? Then, if he’d sell her virtue to settle his gaming debts, what should small tokens which had belonged to their mother matter?

He took the bag from her numb fingers and pulled out the necklace.

“What…?”

He stepped behind her and looped the bauble around her neck. The cool metal and weighted diamonds and emeralds somehow damning. His breath fanned her skin and she shuddered. She made to take a step backward, but it only brought her into closer contact with his body. Her back thumped against his chest. “There will be more, Juliet. If you but let me, I’ll shower you with the finest jewels.”

“Go,” she begged. Please leave, and let me live my life.

He continued to run the back of his knuckles over her cheek. Back and forth. Back and forth. “And what? You’ll remain Sinclair’s whore?” Lord Williams may as well have driven a dagger into her heart. “Tsk, tsk, did you think I’d not find out the details of your arrangement? Albert is quite livid with you.” Juliet took a step forward and backed away from him. He remained rooted to the spot, eying her through hooded lashes. “I’m not at all pleased you gave yourself to Sinclair. Not when I wanted to be the first to lay you down and make love to you.”

Nausea churned in her gut at his words. She bit back the denial that sprang to her lips. She would not defend her virtue to this lecherous bastard. “I want you to leave. I’ve nothing to say to you.” Juliet hesitated a moment, then reached up and loosened the clasp at the back of her neck. With her free hand, she caught her mother’s necklace before it tumbled to the ground. She eyed it in silence; this one small link to the woman who’d given her life. A woman she no longer remembered. Her throat worked reflexively. She couldn’t remember the shade of her mother’s hair or the sound of her voice, but she believed she could say that her mama would never have wanted her daughter to sacrifice her virtue for the small, albeit precious keepsake. She handed it back to him. “Go.”

“You know you don’t want that, sweet,” he said coaxingly. “Why do you continue to fight me?" His tone bore the same satiny edge of a cool, metal blade.

“Just leave.” Her sharp cry sent the kestrel in the tree branches above into flight. Juliet stilled as a familiar figure appeared just beyond Lord Williams’ shoulder. Never before had she been more grateful for the timely appearance of another soul.

Jonathan caught her gaze; questions reflected in the blue depths of his eyes. Then, he leveled a hard stare on Lord Williams. “I believe the young lady asked you to leave, sir,” he said in clipped tones.





Jonathan stared stock-still, his gaze fixed on the bastard who’d dared put his hands upon Juliet’s skin. When he had started after her earlier that morning, he’d imagined stealing a private moment with her, away from the suspicious eyes of his mother and sisters. He had not thought to encounter this…nameless fiend, who didn’t have the sense to realize Juliet belonged to Jonathan in every sense of the word.

Tension thrummed through Jonathan’s body as he took in the panicky glitter in her eyes, and he looked once more to the other man, fashionably attired in fawn-colored breeches and blood-red jacket.

Jonathan had come upon Juliet, conversing with the gentleman a short while ago. The actual words of their exchange had been lost to him. He’d hovered on the edge of the wooded copse, torn apart by an unholy jealousy of the other man’s nearness to her tall, willowy frame. The man’s positioning and low tone had hinted at a familiarity between the unlikely couple. A woman of her general warmth and kindness would never have dealings with the hard-mouthed, sneering gentleman. Then Jonathan had registered the horror in Juliet’s terror-filled eyes.

He flicked a cold stare over the gentleman. The stranger gave a curt bow of his head, and with a final, lingering glance in Juliet’s direction, walked a wide path around Jonathan, and took his leave.

The fluttery dance of the leaves overhead and Juliet’s harsh breathing was the only sound in the still area.

“Did he hurt you?” For if he did, by God Jonathan would drag the bastard back to this secluded spot at the river and rip his entrails through his coward’s throat like the animal he was.

The clipped question yanked her attention back to him. She shook her head. “No.” That one word utterance, so firm, so unwavering from his beautiful warrioress. She folded her arms across tight to her waist as though chilled and in need of warmth.

“Who was he, Juliet?”

She wet her lips. “I don’t...”

He stalked over to where she hovered at the edge of the river. “Do not.” Jonathan forced himself to take a deep calming breath, and he leaned close. “Do not,” he said again, in a hushed, angry whisper.