Becoming Countess Dumont (7 page)

The way he says
that
as if I’m some disease-ridden woman stings, but the way their father wrinkles his nose in disgust guts me. I’m not sure why I’m upset that he is evidently repulsed by my presence, but I am.

Alexander stalks over to me and snakes a possessive arm around my waist. I know he’s acting for his father, but the fact that he has come to my side soothes the pain of their dislike toward me.

“Her name is Edith and I love her.”

Even I can hear the phony tone of his words. I’m scrambling to come up with something that will back up what he’s saying when Jasper steps beside me and slings an arm over my shoulder.

“It’s quite sickening to watch, actually. All they do is ravish each other at every opportunity. Clearly, they’re desperately attempting to rein it in out of respect for you, sir. Hell, the way they’re normally all over each other, I’d be surprised if Edith here wasn’t already carrying his child,” Jasper muses.

Alfred’s eyes carefully examine each one of us before he finally nods. “I’ll see you all at supper. Your mother will be pleased with this news, Alexander.”

He storms off to wherever he came from, but Alcott sends us both a scathing look before motioning for Jasper and Elisabeth to come with him.

Once we’re alone, I turn toward Alexander. “What’s wrong with you?” I hiss.

His dark eyes are liquid fury as he regards me. “I told you this would be fucking hard. You don’t know how those two are. Father would prefer to hand over his empire to Alcott, I’m sure. Stick to the plan and we’ll be just fine.”

“Alexander, I was sticking to the plan. You’re the one who went fanatical. Can’t you just ignore them? Don’t let them get to you. We’re partners. Husband and wife. We can do this, but we need to stop acting like we’re two players with different agendas on the same team. It will have to be us against them. Always.”

His features soften before me, and I sigh. The poor man is so used to holding his ground against his family who are hell-bent on bringing him down. For once, he has an ally. He may be an insufferable arse, but he’s my insufferable arse.

And I’m not going to sit idly and watch those two try to ruin him.

THE FAMILIAR ANXIETY FROM BEING
home begins to infect my veins. There’s a reason I travel so much and stay away for months at a time. My father and brother are intolerable.

“It will have to be us against them.”

Her words find a way into my heart and give me strength. The two of us may be bound by a contractual agreement and a certificate of marriage, but the idea of having someone to combat them alongside me is refreshing. I draw concentration from it.

In the past, I would have unleashed my anger at the two of them in the cellars. The cellar fighting ring I created is a place where young men could take their problems out on another person with as many problems as they had. We had few rules and lived to beat the stew out of the other. I was known as The Beast by the other men. It’s been way too long, and my fists, after having beaten Edith’s lover’s fucking skull in, itch to smash the flesh of another. A memory assaults me and I’m nearly crippled by it.

“You nearly killed him,” Winston snaps, startling me from my daze. I stare up at him in confusion.

“Who?”

“Fucking hell, don’t play the part of a fool. Ten minutes ago, you were bashing that poor fellow’s head into the dirt. He wasn’t an equal opponent for you, Alexander. Why did you go so rough on him?”

Guilt trickles its way through my veins. Darby was his name. The kid home for holiday from university in London. He’d come out tonight to fight and have a good time. Not to get his nose crushed and lose teeth.

“I, uh, I lost my cool,” I grunt.

Winston glares at me. “It’s because of what he said isn’t it?”

I spit into the dirt and run a hand through my soaked with sweat hair. “No.”

“You lie poorly. It has everything to do with what he said.”

A heavy sigh rushes from me as I stare up at the dark night sky littered with twinkling stars. He’s right. Darby set me off and I saw bloody fucking red.

“Everyone in town knows your father hates you.”

He had meant to rile me up. Truth is, everyone in town does know my father treats me as his less favorite of his two sons. The wild card. The son with no care to mold himself after the stoic man. It has always been a tender subject in my family. Darby had no right to rub salt in the wound.

But he didn’t deserve to get killed for it. Had Winston not yanked my arse off of him, I would have bashed his face in until he died. End of fucking story.

And then what would have happened?

Father truly would have had his reasons for hating me then. He and Alcott could have a fucking hell of a time discussing all the ways I never measured up.

“Why don’t you get away for a while? Don’t you have that friend over in London? Perhaps you could spend some time with him. I understand your troubles,” Winston tells me with a shake of his head. “My father is a terror to deal with as well. And had I not gotten Suzette pregnant, I would have already left this small town and headed for the city. I care about you, Alexander. You’re losing your wits about you as of late. Please tell me you will leave before you do something regrettable.”

I shake off the memory as we approach my section of the estate. The next morning after bashing Darby’s face in, I left and chose to travel rather than fester and submit myself to the mental abuses from the terrible twosome that are my brother and father.

“In here,” I say gruffly as I open the double doors that lead to the wing that solely belongs to me. I have a grand living area with high ceilings and a stocked bar. Several rooms and washrooms line the hallways. And my favorite part of it all is the study. Of course, it remains locked and nothing of business goes on in there. But it contains everything that makes me happy.

Weights.

Gloves.

A bag for hitting.

“This is all yours?” Edith questions. “It’s stunning.”

“Ours,” I remind her as I usher her into the master bedroom.

“Right,” she says breathily.

The comforts of my room envelop me. It’s been awhile and I’ve missed this damn place. Especially my bed.

After shrugging out of my waistcoat, I toss it onto the folded blanket on the end of the bed and then unbutton my dress shirt. When Edith sees me undressing, her eyes widen.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

I let my shirt fall to the floor and smirk at her. “We have a bit of time before supper. I thought you could pleasure me until then.”

The look on her face is downright comical as she goes from pleasant to fucking insane. “Did you not hear a damn thing I said on the train?” she snarls. “Behind these doors, nothing happens. Got it, mister?”

I chuckle darkly at her. “If I wanted to force the issue, I would. Luckily for you, I’m not fucking interested.”

Now, her brown eyes moisten, and she looks away from me. “You’re an arse.”

“An arse who, despite your words, you wish lavished you with praise. I’m sorry, Edith, but if I wanted to fuck you, it would be out of your control. You’re lucky to have someone like me to have chosen you. Lest you forget that, just six months ago, you were wreaking havoc on the lives of all of those around you? I chose you because of your lack of morals. Not your beauty. Not your body. Not your wits or your fucking education. I chose you because you’re as ruthless as I am.”

Her head whips over to me, and she loses her damn mind. After rushing toward me with both fists balled, she attempts to beat me with them as if they could actually exact damage on my muscled frame. Easily, I seize her wrists and twist them behind her. A yelp bursts from her as she meets my eyes with a glare that could obliterate anything in their path.

“I’ll be worth something to someone. You may think I’m scum, but I’m not. Someone will love me one day.” Her words carry a vulnerable edge as tears well in her eyes.

I should comfort her and apologize for having said words I didn’t really mean. But my stubborn arse won’t let me. No, I only add fuel to the fire.

“It won’t matter. You belong to me, and therefore, I won’t allow anyone to love you. I’ll kill anyone who tries.”

Her mouth pops open in shock, and I feel the urge to kiss those lips.

“Does that mean you plan on loving me?” she questions, hope lacing her words.

I drop my mouth to hers but hesitate before our lips touch. Her breaths come out hard and fast. She’s so close I can almost taste her.

“I’ll never love you. I don’t have that ability. But, nevertheless, you belong to me, so I won’t be letting some other fool have you, either.”

She struggles to escape my grasp, but I grip her tight enough to bruise her wrists. We both gasp when the door to my master bedroom flies open and Alcott bursts in as if the chump were actually going to bust us out. Not wasting a second, I smash my lips to hers and release her wrists. My wife knows the rules of the game, because her hands slide up my bare chest and around my neck. Even though our kiss is for show, there is truth to it.

Gripping her curvy arse, I pull her to me. I let her feel the reaction our kiss has on me. The needy moan that leaves her only serves to make me grow even harder. If I have to fuck her in front of the idiot, I will.

I groan at the thought of being inside this infuriating woman. She is not even close to the prettiest woman I’ve encountered, yet she allures me more than any other has. She is not sweet or doting or even fucking friendly. She’s borderline crazy.

Yet.

Yet I desire to sink my cock into her.

I know she’s a good lover, because for six months, I had to listen to her moans. Moans other men had drawn from her. Moans that had me coming as I fisted my cock on the other side of the wall.

Then the door slams shut and I grin against her lips. We’ve just won this round against Alcott, and I want to celebrate with my wife. But just as I begin leading her to the bed, she breaks away from our kiss. I’m outraged when she slaps me across the face.

“You’re a monster,” she spits out at me.

I growl in response and toss her onto the bed. “A monster
you
married.”

My hands find the bottom of her frock, and I push it up her thighs. God, her milky white skin needs to be marked. By me.

“Don’t touch me.”

Ignoring her words, I dig my fingers into her thighs and haul her toward me, careful not to touch her where that bastard bruised her. She’s angry, but there’s no fear in her eyes. The woman is a fucking fighter—I’ll give her that.

“The moment I touch you, you’ll melt in my hands, dear wife,” I tell her smugly as I urge her knees apart.

She doesn’t resist and, instead, meets my stare. “You’ll never please me like that of my past lovers,” she taunts. “Victor had a way with his fingers and—”

I see fucking red again at the mention of his name.

Leaning over her, I smash my hand over her mouth to shut her up, and my other hand slides between her legs. I’ll be the best lover she’s ever had. Those men have nothing on me. Fucking nothing.

“Did he touch you like this?” I growl as I stare into her furious eyes. When my hand rubs over her knickers, she whimpers. “That arse had woman hands. Was he soft and gentle when he touched you? Or,” I murmur as I slip my hand under the fabric, “was he rough? Did his fingers feel firm and leathery like mine?”

Her eyes flutter closed, and I watch with smugness as she shamelessly bucks against the way I touch her. When my middle finger pushes into her wet opening, a moan begs to be released from her mouth, which I still have covered with my hand. I want to hear it. Letting my hand slide away, I replace it with my mouth as I fuck her with my finger.

She’s drenched and completely aroused at my touch despite her attitude. Her body clenches around my finger, and my cock aches to replace it—to feel the way she grips it.

“Alexander.” My name on her tongue is a prayer.

The possessive feeling of ownership I have over her fills my soul. I can’t bear the idea of another man even looking at her, much less touching her. She’s my wife.