The Sweetest Revenge Read Free Page A

to a bolt in the wall. He’d struggled fruitlessly for several minutes before he’d admitted the truth: he was irrevocably, absolutely, and thoroughly trussed.
    Though only a dim light edged through the linen of his blindfold, he was certain it must be morning by now. His valet must have already found him missing from his bed. Sutherland and Archer would have noted his absence from last night’s revelries and questioned his staff. Half of London must be searching for him.
    The fingernail trailed the line of his jaw in an erotic touch. “Why, my lord, I do believe you need a shave.”
    The words were flirtatious and teasing, as if the lady who spoke them were a debutante at a society ball and they were dancing a quadrille. Before he could stop it, a low growl erupted from his throat.
    The fingernail left his face, replaced by a soft hand cupping his cheek. “ Tsk , Leo. There is no need to become agitated.”
    So it was “Leo” now. Who was this lady?
    She played with him. He imagined her laughing silently, exchanging mocking glances with the other occupants of the room. Rage bloomed in his chest, and he jerked his ankles, making the chain clang against the wall.
    “Let me go, damn you!” But of course his words came out as gibberish through the gag.
    “Shh, Leo. Do be civil. After all, we are not harming you. Yet.”
    A ripple of feminine laughter came from someone standing close by. Leo swung his head toward her. She didn’t speak, but the sound of her laughter made the hair prickle on the back of his neck. Power radiated from this woman. Was she the one who had called to him in the street?
    Fury made every nerve in his body burn, but he clenched his teeth and tamped it down, commanding himself to think logically.
    What had the woman on the street looked like? He remembered shadowy features. She was slender and had dark hair—or was her hair covered by a dark shawl? He couldn’t recall, couldn’t think through the throbbing pain in his skull.
    And why didn’t she speak?
    Another surge of anger flooded him as seemingly random, irrational thoughts tumbled through his mind. Two females. Teasing him. Making light of this…this unspeakable situation.
    The first lady spoke again. “My heavens, Leo. You are as red as a beet. Is it because you are angry, afraid, or embarrassed to have been taken by three weak women?”
    Three women?
    “Ah, I see your color deepens. Yes, there are three of us.”
    “Good morning, my lord,” a third voice whispered from the foot of the chaise, proving her existence. A thrill rippled down Leo’s spine. He sat up straighter, cocking his head toward the sound of her voice.
    This breathless, timid woman was different from the other two, yet he couldn’t pinpoint why. It was something more than the trepidation in her tone, something he couldn’t quite grasp.
    Slowly, he turned to face the woman standing directly before him, the one who liked to talk. Three women, then. The frightened mouse, the silent leader, and the trio’s capricious voice. Who were they? Which one of them could he get to first?
    “There now,” the talkative woman said. She patted his shoulder as if he were a lapdog. “You see? Three helpless women. Why ever would you be angry?”
    Her patronizing tone made him clench his fists behind him. Overwhelmed by fury, his body trembled from toes to crown. Whoever these females were, he would kill them when this was over. He would relish watching their limp bodies hang from a rope. He would have his revenge.
    The gentle sloshing noise of water came from the floor, and a damp cloth swiped over his lip. He wrenched his head away.
    The lady spoke yet again. “Now, Leo, do be good for me. Your nose is a touch swollen, but you will be happy to hear that it is not broken. You are a bit untidy, however. There is some dried blood just here.”
    The soft material stroked his lip. Allowing her to touch him felt akin to admitting defeat, but given the ache in his nose and the gush