My Lady's Choosing: An Interactive Romance Novel(84)

“You know exactly what to say!” He grips your shoulders. “If you use your body to do the talking, instead of your blasted mind. Your body knows we are meant to be. Once I knew I wanted you for a moment…but now I know I need you for all time!”

“Well, I don’t know if I need you for all time, for one forbidden evening, or absolutely not at all!”

“I am not my brother. Your wit works less wonders on me than the wonders on display here.” He presses you into a kiss, and to punctuate his desire, he literally rips your bodice.

“Get your filthy hands off her, you odious piece of bodice-ripping trash.” Benedict’s sharp, superior voice cuts through the night.

“Oh, Benny. What a spoilsport.” Cad winks at you, then turns to Benedict, who is glowering at him from the shrubbery. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you, brother, that it’s polite to share your toys?”

An exquisite moment passes in which the men regard each other with unspeakable disgust and you with immeasurable desire. You shake your head breathlessly and watch as the two brothers—one light, one dark, yet perfectly matched—tear at each other with handsome hands, hungry for vengeance. Cad lands several slugs to Benedict’s stomach, which Benedict returns with a deft punch to Cad’s jaw.

“Not the face!” cries Cad. He throws Benedict against a statue of Cupid with such ferocity it makes you wince. Dazed, Benedict staggers to his feet.

“Always so easy to provoke, Benny,” Cad jeers. “No wonder Father preferred me to you! Just like he preferred my mother, his true wife, over your cold, snobbish bitch of a mother!”

If Cad meant to throw Benedict off-balance with his taunts, he could not have chosen a worse way to do it. A strange light that crosses Benedict’s dark silver eyes makes you shiver in both fear and desire.

“How dare you,” Benedict says a little too quietly, his voice like the eerie calm before the storm.

Even Cad seems to sense his mistake. He swings a right hook that Benedict expertly dodges. A fire has been lit under Benedict now, and he comes at Cad with a series of brutal punches that send the other man collapsing to the ground.

Undeterred, Benedict launches himself onto the slumped golden form of his half brother with another volley of blows. As Cad whimpers, you realize with horror that the strange light in Benedict’s eyes is in fact a death gleam. It is up to you to intervene—lest this goosecap, who has somehow managed to touch your heart, does something he regrets.

“Stop this madness at once!” you cry, throwing yourself between him and Cad. The action seems to break Benedict out of his murder daze, and he stares at you in wonder. You stare back, your jaw obstinate and your expression unflinching.

“Do you wish to hang for fratricide?” you say coolly, your voice a bucket of ice water dousing the flames of the fight. Benedict shakes his head and raises himself off the ground. He offers a bruised hand to you and helps you up.

“You are not worth it,” he spits at Cad’s slumped form. The blackguard sits up and has the nerve to grin with self-satisfaction.

“It seems to me the young lady in question threw herself upon me to save my life.” Cad looks at you with an expression both mocking and hungry. He raises an eyebrow.

“It appears I am in your debt. And yet I think that you are perhaps having second thoughts about your allegiance to my brother. You know, sweeting, it is not too late. It’s never too late to make another choice…”





He’s not wrong…you do indeed have another choice!

Do you spit upon Cad’s caddishness and tend to Benedict’s wounds? Turn to this page.

Or do you, upon reflection, want a piece of Cad’s caddishness? Turn to this page.





The best person you can question is Mrs. Butts, and you seek her out presently. You aim to find her in the kitchens, but are waylaid by a manic Manvers.

“You are too bold for your own good, you sly little chit!” he spits at you, his eyes wild with unhinged rage. “You know, if you died here at Hopesend Manor, you would be the second lovely young thing to meet her end under the care of Garraway Craven! The authorities should be quite interested in that, I should think! Quite interested indeed! A-ha! A-ha-ha-ha!” Manvers laughs in the unsettling way of those who are about to commit unspeakable acts of violence, and you find yourself quite eager to flee his presence.





But flee to where?

If you wish to flee Hopesend entirely, perhaps returning to the safety of London, turn to this page.

If you wish to flee momentarily and gather your thoughts in the less-eldritch garden, turn to this page.





              “Finally, Mac staggers out, with Timmy in his arms and Dodger at his heels.”





“I must save the boy!” Mac yells, but you grab him by the collar and hold him back. He shoots you that intense, dare you say smoldering (although that’s perhaps too apt given the circumstances) look, and your temperature quickly rises. The smell of smoke reminds you that, indeed, the orphanage is engulfed in flames. You drag Mac to a nearby water pump, tear his shirt from his rippling chest, and fully drench it.

“What are ye doing, lass? I wasn’t wet enough to save the damn child?” he rages.