Marissa clenched her hands into fists. If she needed any proof that Anthony must be kept away from Antonia, this was it. The loving boy she had known was dead, and a cold-blooded monster had risen in his place. God only knew what he would do if he ever found out he had a daughter.
“Why must you do this?” she challenged. “You’re successful now. You can have anything you want.”
All traces of cold-blooded amusement disappeared from his features. His eyes glittered with an anguished fury that wrenched the breath from her body. “Your family forced this on me. They ripped me from the life I was meant to have. The one thing I truly loved and wanted, your father and brother denied me. As did you, Marissa.” He flung the words at her. “But now you have the chance to atone for that by finally giving me what I deserve. If you don’t, I’ll see every last one of the Joslins rot in hell.”
His words sliced through her like shards of broken glass, his pain so raw and immediate that it became her pain, too. She swallowed a sob and a vital part of her — the one that had never ceased loving him — reached out, yearning to heal the wounds that marked his soul.
“I never meant to hurt you, Anthony,” she whispered.
He surged up from the desk with lethal, masculine grace. Big hands curled around her shoulders and he pulled her straight up from her chair.
“I think you lie,” he growled.
He looked wild and dangerous as fury blasted through his shell of cynical detachment. But in those golden eyes she saw his grief and longing — saw him, the Anthony who her father had torn away from her, leaving her alone and incomplete.
She let her hand drift across his tanned cheek. “No, Anthony. You weren’t the only one who was hurt,” she murmured. “I longed to go after you … I was desperate to find you. But Father kept me locked away in my room, and he continually threatened to beat me. He said he’d send me to live with strangers if I didn’t marry Richard.” Her voice broke as his fingers dug into her arms and his gold-shot eyes searched her face. “I missed you so much, but I was still a child,” she pleaded. “I didn’t know what to do.”
A different kind of heat, forbidden and dark, flared in his eyes. His big hands moved down her arms and slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him. She gasped at the feel of his erection pushing hard against her belly.
“But you’re not a child any more, Marissa. And I’ve waited for this for too damn long.”
She clutched at his waistcoat as he swooped to capture her mouth in a punishing kiss. Her head fell back and his tongue slipped between her lips to plunder her mouth. She whimpered, giving him everything he demanded. There was no resisting him — no resisting the passion he’d ignited. The passion unleashed for both of them after years in solitary exile.
His bold tongue tasted her, stroked deep inside to claim her with a searing hunger. Marissa had forgotten the fierce beauty of Anthony’s kiss. But now everything came back in a blazing rush. The heat, the wet slide of a greedy, open-mouthed kiss, the feel of his strong hands moving over her body.
She stretched up on her toes, winding her arms around his neck. A raw need throbbed deep within as her body came alive to his touch. Her breasts grew full and heavy as she rubbed against him, her nipples pulling tight with a prickling ache.
Anthony murmured a low growl of approval as his hand drifted down to squeeze her bottom in a kneading grip. Gradually, his kiss grew softer, and his tongue slowly traced her lips before slipping back into her mouth. It was sweet and hot and reckless — just as it had always been.
As she slid into total surrender, he broke the kiss. Marissa murmured a confused protest, and his hand came up to hold her chin. She panted, struggling to shake off the confining grip, eager to taste him again. His fingers tightened on her jaw.
“Open your eyes,” he ordered in a husky voice.
She did. His face was flushed under the bronzing of his complexion, and sexual hunger flickered in his rapacious gaze. But she saw something else in those golden eyes, something wary and very determined.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“I want your decision, Marissa. Of your own free will. Do you agree to be my mistress, or shall I send word to your brother that I intend to collect the fifty thousand pounds he owes me?”
For a moment she froze, stupefied, then she wrenched herself free of his grasp. Anger and shame flooded her body in equal parts. “Go to hell,” she blurted out.
His lips curled back in a predatory grin. “Most likely I will, but I don’t care. As long as you do what I ask. You have until tonight to make up your mind. I’ll send my carriage to Joslin House to fetch you. Eight o’clock, shall we say?”
She snatched up her bonnet and reticule and stumbled to the door.
“I’ll be waiting,” he said.
His mocking laugh followed her from the room.
Berkeley Square, London
It had taken her thirteen years, but Marissa finally acknowledged how much she hated her brother.
Edmund lumbered across his richly appointed study, his jowly face red with ill-contained fury. He halted before her, smelling of port, snuff and outraged dignity.
“I will be ruined, I tell you,” he blustered. “Forced to sell everything if that bloody bastard calls in those loans. This is your fault, Marissa. You should have been able to talk him out of it. He was your lover.”
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “Do you want everyone in the house to know that?”
He gave her a sizzling glare but his voice subsided to a dull roar. “Father should have killed Barnett years ago, when he had the chance.”
Marissa dug her nails into her palms. “You almost did. You and Father. And for what? The only sin Anthony ever committed was to love me.”
“Is that what you call it?” he sneered. “I never understood how you could let him touch you, much less rut on you like a barnyard animal. You, the finest catch in London during your first season. What a fool you were, to have debased yourself with that country bumpkin.”
She itched to slap him, but refused to sink to his level. “I loved him, and he loved me, Edmund. Anthony was the only person who loved me after Mother died. God knows I never had a tender word from Father or you.”
“What did you expect after you behaved like a whore? If Father hadn’t acted decisively, no respectable man would have married you. As it was the damage was done, but at least it was too late for Paget to do anything about it.”
He cast her a black look, then flopped into a leather club chair, which creaked ominously under his weight.
“Not that it did us any good to marry you off to Paget,” he whined. “I still have to support you and your daughter. And now I stand to be ruined, all because you succumbed to your craven lusts.”
Marissa thanked God there were no pistols within reach, because she likely would have added murder to her list of sins. Edmund had flung these horrid accusations at her more times than she could count. They had always made her sick with shame and regret, beating her down until she almost believed them herself.
But not any more. She was done with shame — and with her brother if he didn’t own up to his own failings, and the mess he had made of the family finances.
“What do you intend to do?” she asked. “Anthony wants an answer by tonight.”