Page 25 of Wicked Games

Jack straightened as if slapped.

Richard cleared his throat.

“Elizabeth, we do not address those beneath us by their Christian names,” he admonished, as he nodded to Jack who continued to pour me the unwanted glass of wine. “We are ready for the first course, Hutley.”

“This evening Cook has prepared quiche d’arboath smokie et poireaux,” intoned Hutley as a footman put a small blue and gold Sevres plate in front of me.

I heard the word quiche although I didn’t recognize any of the other ingredients.

I watched as Richard selected the fork furthest from his plate out of a line of five different styled utensils and began to eat.

At least I knew for certain this dish wasn’t poisoned if he was eating it as well… still I had no appetite.

Clearing my throat, I nervously played with the linen napkin on my lap as I tried to form the words I needed to say. “Richard, I was wondering if after dinner you could arrange for a ride home for me.” Holding my breath, I waited to see his reaction, hoping my less direct approach would not agitate him.

Laying his fork carefully down, he reached for his wineglass and took a long sip before responding. “This is your home, Elizabeth.”

Raising pleading eyes, I tried to reason with him. “Richard, I can’t stay here with you. I have school, friends… a home back in London.”

Carefully folding his napkin and setting it aside, he turned his full dark gaze on me. “I am tiring of these fantasies, Elizabeth. You are my ward and as such I expect you to conduct yourself accordingly. There is no school or home in London. If you cannot curb these histrionics, I will be forced to take you in hand. Again.”

The memory of him holding me down in the carriage and ruthlessly thrusting his cock in deep was so vividly stark, I instinctively fisted my hands and pressed them against my lap between my legs.

“You can’t just keep me here trapped inside this fucked-up fake world!”

Richard stood. “I have warned you about using vulgar language unbefitting a lady of your station.”

Stumbling over my skirts as I quickly rose from my own chair, I took a few steps back. “I am not a lady! I don’t belong here!” I cried, anger rising in my breast and forcing away all reason.

Richard stepped from around the table, circling to my side.

Raising a protective arm up, I warned, “Don’t take another step closer.” My voice was weak and faltering.

No surprise, he ignored my command.

With a cry, I reached for my still-full glass of wine and flung the contents at Richard’s face. Scarlet liquid dripped from his jaw, staining his white cravat. It didn’t even slow his pace.

With every step, his voice became louder and more forceful. “I see you need a reminder of how I expect you to behave under my roof.” I watched in horror as he shrugged out of his coat and tore off his cravat.

The squeak of an uncoiled hinge alerted me to a door opening behind me. A footman entered with some kind of roast beef on a silver serving tray.

“Get out,” growled Richard without taking his eyes off me.

“No! Please, don’t leave me!” I begged as I risked a glance over my shoulder to try to plead with the man. He didn’t listen. With a bow, he hastily left the dining room.

Reaching blindly, I picked up a porcelain serving bowl from the sideboard and flung it at Richard. He easily deflected it with his left forearm, sending the delicate vessel crashing to the floor.

With a cry, I turned and ran, desperately reaching for the brass handle of the double doors I had entered through.

I didn’t make it.

A strong hand fisted the elaborate curls of my upswept hair and yanked me backward. Reaching both arms back, I clawed at his wrists, trying to dislodge his fingers. Swinging my body in an arc, he slammed me against the wall. Two small gilt frames near my shoulder fell to the floor, the glass shattering.

Richard placed both his forearms alongside my head, caging me in.

“Now you listen to me—” he said through clenched teeth.

My mind snapped. It was all too much. I started to scream… and scream… and scream. I didn’t even stop to think about it. I saw it all in slow motion as if it weren’t even my hand. My arm shot out and struck him across the cheek. I felt the hot sting on my palm, as I watched his head twist to the right. Cringing against the wall, I waited for his retaliation.

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