Fury flared in his eyes, and he gripped her wrist so hard that she heard the bones click. "Disgusting, am I?"
She struggled to break free. "Let me go."
"Not until you hear me out, damn you." He paused on an audible inhalation. She saw him fight for control. When he continued, the rage had receded from his eyes, but the lust that replaced it was no improvement. "While marriage is out of the question, everything doesn’t have to end between us. If you stooped to play Bruard’s mistress, why not be mine? I’ll put you up in a discreet house, give you the deeds if you like. Fine clothes. A carriage. A box at the opera. Carte blanche. I’ll keep you in luxury, Selina. No more money worries."
"What about Gerald?" she asked bitterly.
Cecil shrugged, as if her son was of no importance. She realized with a sick feeling that her son had never mattered to the man who had almost become his stepfather. "After this, his mother’s name will be dragged through the dirt. If you think Derwent will keep quiet about Bruard rogering you, you’re more of a fool than I take you for. You’ve lost any chance of a decent match, my girl. Better me than selling yourself on the streets."
Dear God, what a repugnant picture Cecil painted. "It’s not that bad," she said, still struggling to break free.
Cecil sneered. "It is that bad. You’re fair game for any man. If you imagine you might find work, ask yourself who in their right mind would employ Bruard’s cast-off mistress? The question is will you accept me as your keeper and profit from your offenses – or will you battle on in poverty until you end up swiving anyone who can put food in your belly?"
As her reeling brain winnowed his odious proposition, Selina’s heart turned to stone. Cecil was right about so much. She had a nauseating feeling he was right about everything.
"I won’t starve." She heard failing courage in her voice. If she accepted Cecil’s offer, she could put some money aside and use that to build a new life when she left him. A new identity. Emigrate even.
He must have sensed her wavering, becau
se his vicious grip softened a tad. "Say yes, Selina. You know I want you."
"But I don’t want you," she said dully.
She gave a sharp cry of pain when his grip flexed. "You’ll find that hanging out for what you want is a luxury you can no longer afford."
She stared up at Cecil. Agony made spots swim in front of her eyes. "Stop it. The answer is no. A hundred times no."
How could she go from Brock’s arms to Cecil’s? Even the prospect of penury couldn’t make her accept this cruel swine as her keeper. And while he spoke as if he rescued her from disaster, his aim was revenge. If she said yes to Cecil’s opportunistic offer, he’d bully her without surcease – and she’d have no recourse against him. She was also wise enough to understand that he’d never forgive the blow she’d struck when she took Brock as her lover. Cecil would make her pay over and over. In pain and humiliation and misery.
Her dread of what was to come was like a massive avalanche threatening to crush her. But she wasn’t defeated yet. At least not so defeated that she’d crawl into Cecil’s bed.
She watched his face change. Blood suffused his cheeks, and his bones hardened until they presented a terrifying mask.
"Your pride is an expensive indulgence," he bit out. "You’ll be sorry you rejected me."
"Never," she said, straining back.
"Then you owe me this, you lying bitch."
"Cecil, no!" she cried, as he wrenched her higher and whipped his arm around her waist. He released her wrist to grab her hair, pulling it until tears sprang to her eyes.
His mouth, wet and hot and greedy, crashed down on hers. She felt an instant’s relief when he let her hair go. But then he captured her chin in a rough hand. As he tugged until she opened her lips, she struggled to close her teeth against a tongue that felt like a slug in her mouth.
Selina fought, but his hold on her head was unbreakable. She lost the ability to breathe. The world darkened to gray fog. Her head filled with an urgent pounding.
On one last despairing surge of energy, she pushed her arm up from where it was trapped between their bodies. With savage force, she raked her nails down his cheek.
Juddering, he wrenched back. "You little harlot. How dare you?"
He clouted her across the face. Pain exploded through her skull. As she staggered to keep her feet, her vision went black.
Amidst the thunder in her head, she thought she heard the crack of breaking wood. Then through her dizziness, she heard Brock. "You fucking bastard!"
Dazed, she shook her head and sucked in a deep breath. When her sight cleared, she realized that she hadn’t imagined Brock’s arrival.
He was standing over a cowering Cecil. Behind him, the door hung half off its hinges. "I should bloody well kill you. You’d be no loss to the world, you sniveling coward. How dare you raise your fist to a woman?"
An arm slid around her waist, saving her from falling. "I’m here, Miss Selina," Kitty said.