Endings and Beginnings: A Risqué Regency Romance (The Gypsy Gentlemen Book 3) Page 5

  “Very well.”

  Hucknall was blustering now, confused by the incessantly flicking whip and trying to dodge the lashes that were bringing more blood from his skin.

  “I see you shot him,” said Gyorgy casually, raising a nasty weal on the man’s neck and making him gasp.

  “Yes I did. But the damn gun threw to the left. I missed his heart.”

  “Pity.” Gyorgy sliced the stained shirtfront and slashed into the skin beneath.

  Hucknall was backed up against a wall now, eyes darting around, looking for a way to avoid the unavoidable. Gyorgy’s whip.

  “The house is empty, Gyorgy.”

  Marie-Claire heard a voice behind her. Mat. Which meant Luk was here too. Some of the tension drained out of her. With such reinforcements, there was no need for fear anymore. Hucknall was finished.

  Hucknall’s face was draining of color as Mat’s words sank home. He darted for his desk, reaching for a drawer.

  “Gyorgy…” warned Marie-Claire.

  “No…no, Hucknall. I don’t think so.” Gyorgy’s whip latched on to the man’s wrist and he pulled back sharply, making Hucknall scream as the leather bit through his flesh to the bone.

  The drawer clattered to the floor and the gun hidden within fell with it.

  “Tsk, tsk.” Gyorgy continued his attack, ignoring the blood and the whimpers from Hucknall as he clutched his mangled wrist.

  “You are scum, Hucknall. You’re not a man, you’re vermin. You don’t deserve to share this earth with your fellows. You do know that, don’t you?”

  Hucknall bared his teeth. “You’ll pay for this, you gypsy bastard. How dare you think you can come in here and do this…”

  “Oh I dare.” Gyorgy’s words were cold as ice. “I dare even more.”

  His whip flicked to the man’s throat and sliced across it, not deeply but enough to scare Hucknall into immobility.

  Gyorgy moved closer. “I dare to suggest that this world will be a damn sight better place to live without you in it.”

  He reached for the gun and Hucknall lunged.

  Marie-Claire bit back a cry of terror as the two men grappled, but Hucknall had the disadvantage of anger and confusion, while Gyorgy was cool and in control. He lightly avoided the bigger man’s attack, and flicked his whip, catching Hucknall’s boots and hobbling him.

  Hucknall fell—heavily…hitting his head on the side of his desk and going down with a mighty crash.

  He didn’t move again.

  “Everybody all right?” Prioshka’s practical tones filled the silence in the room, and like a magician breaking a spell, everyone breathed once more.

  “Yes,” said Gyorgy, bending over Hucknall’s body. “Except for this trash, of course.”

  “Is he dead?” Marie-Claire was shocked that her voice was so steady. Even now she could see him reaching for Gyorgy…feel the terror in her heart that Hucknall would hurt him.

  “Looks like it. Can’t feel a pulse, anyway.”

  Luk walked to the desk and opened the drawers. “He hit his head pretty hard on the corner. Probably snapped his neck.”

  “Find anything?” Mat was running his hands over the bookshelves.

  “Aha.” Luk pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Here. This looks interesting.” The three men ignored the bleeding mess on the floor and bent over to read.

  “His records.” Gyorgy’s voice was hard. “There’s a lot of people on this list who will not mourn his passing.”

  “Good God.” Mat’s eyes opened wide. “Look at these figures…”

  “He did very well for himself with his nasty blackmailing schemes, didn’t he?” Luk shook his head.

  Marie-Claire felt Prioshka’s hand slide into hers. The warmth was welcome, since a chill was beginning to flood her limbs.

  “What do we do now?” Prioshka’s voice was matter-of-fact, and gave Marie-Claire something to hold on to.

  “Yes…” she croaked, her voice failing her now that the adrenaline was draining from her body. “What do we do now?”

  Gyorgy’s head jerked up and he stared at her. He dropped the papers, ignored everyone and strode to her. “We go home.”

  “Home?” She couldn’t drag her eyes away from his.

  “Yes. Home. To Viktor’s right now, then home.” His gaze softened. “Our home.”

  Marie-Claire’s vision blurred, and she felt strong arms gather her close.

  “Take care of things will you?” Gyorgy tossed the words over his shoulder as he picked Marie-Claire up.

  “The usual way?”

  “It will serve best, I think.”

  “Wait…” She had to know. Gyorgy was attempting to carry her away from it all. She had to know it was finished. She had to. “What’s ‘the usual way’?”

  Gyorgy glanced over at his two friends, and they nodded.

  He turned back to her. “There will be a sad accident, Marie-Claire. Francis Hucknall will knock over a lamp and set fire to his study. The house will burn before he can be rescued, since he was overcome by smoke and unable to summon help soon enough.”

  She swallowed. “Will it suffice?”

  Gyorgy snorted. “For one such as him? There’d be a line to strike the first match.” He headed for the door cradling her in his arms. “We’ll await you in the carriage.”

  Marie-Claire let her head rest on his shoulders and closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sunshine on her cheeks as he carried her from the house. “Silly girl,” he whispered, dropping a kiss on her hair.

  “Gyorgy…” she began.

  He stopped her lips with another kiss, this one hot and passionate. “Hush, love. It can all wait. We have time now.”

  He settled her into the carriage on his lap and arranged them both into one cuddled lump. It was as if he couldn’t hold her close enough. And it met with her complete approval.

  “I would have come back for you, Marie-Claire. I never would have left you. You know that don’t you?” His voice was a low murmur.

  “I had to come to you, Gyorgy. I’d sent you away. You’d been honorable and obeyed. It was up to me to come to you. I never would have left you.” She raised a hand to his cheek. “I never could leave you.”

  “You’re not going to. I’m not a rich man, love, but all I have is yours. Be with me. Marry me. Share my life the way you already share my heart.”

  Marie-Claire felt the last drop of ice in her veins melt and evaporate. She let her heart show in her smile. “Willingly. With all that I am. I want to spend my life playing your games, Gyorgy. I don’t care what you have or don’t have. I’m nothing but a base-born French—”

  He stopped her words with his lips, sucking them into nothingness and replacing them with his tongue. He tasted sweet and hot, and Marie-Claire moaned into his mouth as his arms pulled her hard against him.

  “Excuse me…”

  Luk was casually surveying the lovers with an elbow resting on the carriage door.

  Gyorgy raised his head and frowned. “What?”

  Mat’s head popped into sight, grinning at the two of them. “I hate to disturb you, but I think there’s going to be a spot of trouble here soon. Might well be a nasty fire or something.”

  “Oh…yes…” Gyorgy’s eyes refocused on his surroundings, and Marie-Claire laughed.

  Then she stopped, astonished at herself. She’d actually laughed.

  And it felt…wonderful. She looked at the faces around her, and breathed in the first breath of her new life. Then she turned to Gyorgy.

  “Let’s go home.”

  *~~*~~*

  The sound of a distant fire bell clanging across London went unnoticed in the darkened apartments of Fabyan Szabo, as did the smoke that appeared as a vague cloud in the sky.

  All he knew was that he was lost. Lost in the heat of Annabelle and in her loving. They’d slept, awoken, touched and slept again. And when the morning light had peeked between the drawn draperies, they’d finally surrendered to their needs.

 
; He needed to be inside her. And she needed him there.

  And so he was. Her hot slick flesh welcomed him, clinging to his cock as he gently stroked into her sleep-warmed body.

  Her legs had risen to encase him and her hands were even now gripping his forearms. He had no idea that it could be such exquisite bliss.

  They’d loved each other to the edge of exhaustion during the night, but this final claiming set the seal on their passion. As one, they moved towards their final moments, his cock sliding within her, touching every inch of her core, and her inner muscles helping him with honey and heat.

  He wanted to take it slowly, give her time to regain her strength, but he’d been overwhelmed by her touches, and lured by her obvious arousal all over again.

  Neither could hold back—neither wanted to.

  Annabelle panted beneath him, moaning with each thrust and pushing back, urging him with her body to even greater depths.

  Her breasts swayed as she moved, and he could feel her pulse through the walls of her slick passage, echoing the throb of his own heart as he took her with him.

  Neither could last very long.

  Annabelle’s moans turned to whimpers and her fingers dug into his skin. She was coming.

  And so was he. Fire spread from his balls through his groin and his buttocks clenched as he thrust into her soul.

  With a roar, he emptied himself, letting his seed spurt freely into this body…this woman. She spasmed beneath him, massaging his cock, sucking him dry and locking him to her with her thighs.

  It was beyond anything he could ever remember, and in that moment, Fabyan knew he could not survive without this woman at his side.

  Not again. Not ever.

  As his shudders eased, he slid from her, sighing as his cock fell away from her with a soft rush of moisture. “Annabelle,” he sighed, more from the pleasure of speaking her name than any great need to say anything.

  “I love you, Fabyan,” she whispered.

  “And I love you,” he answered. “We must settle this, Annabelle. I shall not let you go again.”

  “I shall never leave you again.” She turned her head on his shoulder. “But what shall we do?”

  “Leave it to me. And my friends.”

  He smiled as he thought of Viktor, Peter, Mat, Luk and Gyorgy. Between them, they had changed so many lives and helped so many people.

  Surely they could work out how to help one more.

  Him.

  Chapter Six

  Viktor and Peter stood on the pavement outside Zentaily House with identical expressions of irritation on their faces.

  Their wives, completely unintimidated, stared right back.

  “No.”

  “Yes, Viktor. I’m going with you. It’s my right. It’s my father we’re talking about here, not some stranger.” Madelyne put her hands firmly on her hips.

  The ‘discussion’ had begun as a messenger had rushed up to Viktor and handed him a note. He’d glanced at Peter and nodded. “All is set.”

  Then they’d tried to dismiss the two women who were adamantly refusing to be sent home.

  And Madelyne knew she was right. “You can’t win, here, Viktor. Admit it. I’m the one who has suffered the most from his actions, and I deserve to be there when he’s ruined.”

  “And she’s not going to be there without me at her side,” chimed in Freddie, moving closer to Madelyne. “What affects one, affects us all. Isn’t that right?”

  Peter looked sideways at Viktor. Viktor looked back helplessly.

  “Accept it, Viktor. We’re with you. Like it or not. We love you, we married you, and we’re not going to be excluded—especially from this. You wouldn’t be doing any of this if it wasn’t for me. Don’t you think I deserve this much?” Madelyne pleaded with him. “Don’t I deserve the chance to see retribution finally catch up with that…that…beast?”

  Peter shrugged. “I don’t see we have a choice, Viktor. Madelyne’s right.”

  “I don’t like it,” muttered Viktor. “Supposing the man turns ugly?”

  Freddie snorted. “It sounds as if he’s been ugly all his life. I doubt he’ll change now. But you’ll be there. It’s not as if we’re going in by ourselves.” She looked at Madelyne and smiled wickedly. “Besides, we have a vested interest in keeping you both whole.”

  Madelyne chuckled back, ignoring her husband’s breathy sigh of resignation. “Yes we do, Freddie. Indeed, we do.”

  “Very well.” Viktor bowed to the inevitable. “But you will both stay quiet and remain behind us at all times. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, milord,” teased Madelyne, dropping him a little curtsey.

  “As you wish, milord,” echoed Freddie politely.

  “They’re going to be the death of me,” groaned Viktor, grabbing his wife’s hand.

  “Yes, but what a way to go,” grinned Peter, slipping his arm around Freddie’s waist. “What a way to go.”

  “Eventyde House,” said Viktor to the driver. “And you’d better hurry.”

  All four scrambled into the carriage and silence fell as they traveled the busy London streets.

  Finally, Peter spoke. “Does he know?”

  Viktor looked over. “That his financial empire has fallen? Maybe. I’m not sure how fast word of this kind of thing travels in his circles.”

  “If not, I want to be the one to tell him.” Madelyne’s voice was surprisingly hard. “I want to look into his face and watch him crumple. I want…revenge, I suppose. I want to know that he is hurting. Perhaps not as much as he hurt me, but it will be something.”

  Viktor stroked her hand. “Sweetheart, revenge is not often worth the effort we put into it. It can’t heal. It can’t obliterate the past. It’s a temporary pleasure that can leave more damage behind.”

  Madelyne’s heart turned over once again as she saw the love and concern in his eyes. “You have obliterated the past, Viktor. I don’t need revenge for that. This will be pure pleasure. Simply a chance to see the wrong a man has done catch up with him. I need this, Viktor. I need to know that evil does not go unpunished.”

  “I know, love,” he answered. “I know.”

  The carriage slowed to a standstill outside Eventyde House.

  Peter and Viktor exchanged glances. “Are we ready?” Peter’s question was firm.

  “We’re ready.” Viktor’s answer equally certain.

  “Then let’s do it,” said Freddie, gathering her skirts.

  “Let’s finish it.” Madelyne spoke the words with finality.

  *~~*~~*

  “The Count and Countess Karoly. Lord and Lady Chalmers.”

  The butler intoned their titles as he stepped through an impressive door leading from the hall of Eventyde House. Viktor could feel the slight shiver in Madelyne’s arm, and he pulled her close to him.

  “Who the devil are they? I don’t know anyone by that name…”

  The huffily outraged tones of Lord Alfred Eventyde were quite audible to the group awaiting him.

  Viktor calmly eased past the butler. “Oh but you do, Lord Eventyde. I am Count Viktor Karoly. I believe you know the Countess?”

  To say that Lord Eventyde was surprised would be an understatement. Viktor watched with a great deal of pleasure as the man’s eyes bulged and his jaw dropped.

  “However, I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Lady Chalmers?” Peter’s voice dripped icicles as he correctly presented his wife.

  “I…uh…”

  “Lord Eventyde. My wife and I felt it appropriate to call on you since you were in town.” Viktor was enjoying this. Every single moment of it. The man deserved all this and more for what he’d put Madelyne through. She stood straight and proud beside him, and his heart warmed at the sight of her.

  “I…uh…well…”

  Good. Words were beginning to form in Eventyde’s brain.

  “I fear we do not, however, bring good tidings.”

  Eventyde blinked. Viktor bit back a smile of
triumph. The man had no idea his world was about to come crashing down around his ears.

  “My man of business informs me that a recent business enterprise I had considered as an investment is now on the brink of bankruptcy. I believe you are familiar with the name…Fair Seas Trading?”

  Eventyde sat down in his chair with a thud. “What? Fair Seas? Nonsense. Sound as a bell.”

  Peter stepped to Viktor’s side. “Sadly, Eventyde, that is not the case. My man of affairs also confirmed that fact this morning. It seems your investors have withdrawn their support. I have no idea why, of course, something must be in the wind—as it were.”

  Eventyde’s expression hardened as he gazed at the two men before him. Not once did he acknowledge Madelyne’s presence. “You are quite incorrect. Why only yesterday—”

  “That was yesterday, Eventyde.” Viktor’s voice snapped coldly through the room. “Today, it is finished. Over. The company has failed. And taken with it a sizeable amount of your personal fortune. Almost all of it, in fact.”

  Now Eventyde’s eyes found Madelyne. “You…bitch.”

  Viktor’s body tensed, but he felt Madelyne’s arm holding him back. “Why, father, how unpleasant of you. And in front of my husband too. I’m quite surprised, since you always took care to insult me in private…up to now.”

  Eventyde’s fists clenched angrily on his desk. “It was you, wasn’t it? Spiteful little whore that you are.”

  Viktor shook off Madelyne’s hand, stalked to the desk and with a solid swing punched Eventyde.

  “Don’t ever use that word to my wife again.”

  Eventyde pulled himself together and reached for a handkerchief to stem the blood that poured from his nose.

  “How distasteful you are,” said Freddie haughtily. “Certainly no gentleman.”

  Eventyde ignored her, his eyes fixed on his daughter. “Does this fine husband of yours know all about you, Missy? Did you tell him of your whorish ways? Does he know he bought damaged goods?”

  Viktor was ready to repeat his earlier actions, but Madelyne held on tightly to his arm this time, stopping him. “He knows, father. And he really doesn’t care. But he has quite a temper you know. I suggest you not provoke him further. You have your own concerns now. Since your business ventures have failed, wouldn’t your efforts be better put into selling up the Eventyde estate to make good on your debts, hmm?”