The Awakening, Zuleika and the Barbarian Read Free

foolish you made him look? An old man panting, and drooling after a chit, just out of the schoolroom, damnit!"
    Marguerite shook her head sadly. "You never understood, did you, William? You father and I loved one another. The years between us meant nothing. They were meaningless. Please, I beg you, if you choose not to honor your father's wishes, keep your monies, but do not take my home from me. Emilie and I must have a place to live. All of our memories are here. Your father is even buried in the village churchyard, William. Take whatever else you wish, but leave us this house," she pleaded with him.
    "The house is sold," he told her coldly. "The new owners will arrive tomorrow to take possession of it."
    "But my things!" she cried.
    "You have nothing, madame," he insisted. "The house was sold furnished. I have turned the servants off. The new owners may want to hire some of them back, but I do not intend paying further wages."
    "Your father—" she began.
    Lord William Abbott slammed his fist onto a table by his side. "My father! I am sick unto death of hearing your praises for and laments about my father, madame! What did he have that I do not, pray? I have been told my entire life that I am his mirror image, yet you never noticed me that season in London. No! You only noticed Charles Abbott, but not William. Why? I will tell you why. It is the plain truth that he had the money, and I did not. You never saw either of us. You only saw what my father could give you. You did not see that I wanted you. You only saw my father's wealth." William Abbott's face was beet red with his anger, and his frustration.
    "That isn't so, and you are horrible to say so!" Lady Abbott cried, astounded by his revelation. "Loving your father had nothing to do with his wealth, or his features, William. I loved him because he was loving, and kind, and gentle, and amusing; but how could you understand that? Your whole life has been driven by your self-interest!"
    "Was he a good lover, madame? Was my father able to make you scream with pleasure? Or did you please him with the whore's tricks you learned from your aunt?"
    "You are disgusting," she returned coldly.
    "He must have stuck it to you at least twice for you bore him two brats. Or did you have a lover? Or perhaps a series of lovers to sate your appetites?"
    "I do not have to stand here and listen to your revolting speeches," Marguerite Abbott said, the tears beginning to come. "I loved your father, and I was faithful to him always, William. Let any say it otherwise, and they will lie!" She turned from him to go.
    "Bitch!" he snarled, and reaching for her, he yanked her back against him. "Before we are through, madame , and I throw you back into the gutter from where you came, you will give me what you gave my father! I will fuck you until you beg for mercy, whore! You will come to know what a real man is!" His hand ripped at her bodice. There was spittle on his lips, and his eyes were wild with his lust for her.
    Marguerite struggled within his grip. An anger such as she had never before felt rose up in her breast. This man! This evil creature who looked so like her beloved Charles would not have her. She felt a strength such as she had never known pour into her. With a shriek she clawed at his face, her nails raking down his cheeks, drawing blood. Her knee came up as hard as she could bring it into his privates, and his ensuing howl brought a satisfied smile to her face, especially as his grip upon her loosened and she was able to pull away.
    "Cochon! You are a pig, William, and you will never have me! Ever!" Then she laughed bitterly. "You are surprised that I know how to defend my honor, eh? Well, the nuns who raised me taught me, you monster! Even at my English school we were taught such little tricks." There was no pity in her eyes as she looked at her tormentor, now bent over with his pain. "You have taken everything from me that you could, William. But you will have neither my honor, my