In Service to the Senses Read Free

with it.
    He stared out over the immaculately landscaped gardens. It might be beautiful, but he wouldn’t miss a single part of the estate when he left. Not the land or the building, at least.
    “Marham? What on earth do you think you’re doing here?”
    He turned. Lady Atherton was standing at the far end of the gallery, exuding effortless, green-clad superiority. He looked back out to the lawns.
    “Taking some time.”
    “You are not permitted here.”
    “His Lordship asked me to find a book for him. I came looking for it, my lady.”
    “My husband hasn’t read a book since he was thirteen. You are a terrible liar.”
    “Only to you, my lady.”
    She came and stood beside him. “It’s spectacular, isn’t it?”
    “S’all right, I suppose, my lady.”
    “A man like you could do a lot worse. You have a good position.” She spoke with the disdainful contempt which came naturally from her breeding. “You should consider yourself lucky.”
    He turned on her, his face twisting spitefully. “You think I’m going to waste my life cleaning up your husband’s piss and shit? You think I’m going to spend the rest of my days like old Brewer—bitter and wasted away? Oh no. I’ve got plans, me. This is just for starters. I’ve been savin’, and when I’ve got m’self a nice bit stashed away, I’m gone. America. New life. I’ll be richer than yer husband one of these days.”
    Her eyes flickered dark for a brief second. “And how do you intend to do that, Marham? You? The son of a farm labourer? Don’t be ridiculous!”
     
    For a moment Isabella was fearful. Edward’s face hardened and he stared into her coldly. His strength and dominance sometimes overwhelmed her senses. But then he relaxed into a smile. “Oh, I have me brains. Self-taught, me. Worked hard to learn to read early. I were readin’ all the classics by the time I were twelve. Earned me beatings by my father, it did, but I didn’t care. And…I have me looks, my lady.”
    “You intend to sleep your way to the top, do you?”
    “Well…” The smirk deepened and he took a sauntering step towards her, letting his eyes linger on her supple breasts. “It’s worked so far.”
    She slapped him. She hit him so hard, square across the face, that the sound resonated off the high windows of the Long Gallery like a pistol shot. But Edward’s face showed only momentary shock, shock which quickly turned to ferocious intent. He brought his hand up as fast as lightning to grip her across the chin, his fingers and thumb digging into her tender skin. Her eyes widened in alarm as he moved in, heated and malevolent.
    “Oh no, my lady.” He leant down, his eyes searing into hers, his hot, sweet breath dangerous against her lips. “You love yer fury, don’t you? You crave all that rage and passion. You might live in this grand house with all yer fine clothes and yer fine pretences, but inside you’re as hollow as a shrivelled nut shell. You need me to shake up yer stagnant, grey little life. And you don’t want to lose it. You can’t bear the thought of me leaving you all alone with that great stinking bastard you call a husband. You wanted to see what it was like, didn’t you? The sting on yer palm when you strike.” With that he spun her around with brute force. “Lean on the desk. Palms flat on it.”
    “Not here. Damn you, Marham. Someone will see.”
    “They’re finished here for the day. Now shut yer mouth and wait.”
    He threw her skirts up over her hips, revealing a naked backside—she wore no drawers at his behest. And he made her wait. For long moments, minutes even, he simply stood in silence while she lay before him, hands flat on the table, her rump exposed, waiting for his touch.
    “Does Violet know you dispense with your drawers the minute after she’s got you into them? Tut tut. After all the trouble she goes to to set them out for you.”
    “Edward…”
    She was expecting the sting, longing for the burn, but instead there