Unexpected Pleasures by Mary Wine Page B

contemplated her. He was weighing the amount of gain to be had, peddling her like a moor did a slave girl.
    â€œContinue to tell de Canis no. Let him nurse a swollen cock when you walk by him. Dance with him if he asks and tease him, but refuse him anything further.”
    Justina felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. She drew in a deep breath but knew that it was far too soon to celebrate anything. The viscount was merely attempting to drive up the price before he made a bargain.
    â€œWe’ll see how much he desires your sweet flesh and more importantly how much he will give me to take you away from Baron Harrow.”
    â€œThe Baron Harrow is on close terms with the Earl of Hertford.”
    The viscount made a soft sound of reprimand beneath his breath. He stood up and closed the distance between them. He raised one hand and stroked a single fingertip across her cheek.
    â€œBe very glad that your worth is in your beauty, else I would strike that insolence from you.” His hand trailed down to her arm. “A pity that I cannot even mark you where your clothing will hide it but I will not lament it very much. There are many who will give me a great deal to possess your body.”
    He twisted his fingers in her unbound hair, pulling the strands cruelly. She bent, leaning over while he watched her suffering, his hand never easing its hold.
    â€œYou may fuck only when I give you direction to, my dear Baroness. Do not forget that again. Harrow hasn’t paid for your sweet flesh, so make sure he doesn’t sample it against my will or I shall be very displeased.”
    He released her hair and walked to the door while his groom scurried to arrive there before his master and open it for him.
    â€œMake sure you do not conceive.”
    The door shut with a whisper but still she flinched.
    Conceive? She would never make that mistake again, hadn’t allowed it to happen twice in spite of her husband’s rage over the lack of more sons to brag about to his friends. He’d beaten her for the lack of more children but she refused to allow herself to be caged with any more souls that she loved. It wasn’t hard to keep her womb empty. There were women who knew the way and they sold their herbs, which when seeped in hot water would keep a man’s seed from taking root.
    Justina turned and pushed the kettle over the fire. It was kept in her private chambers just so that she might brew her own remedy for the passions of the nighttime. But today, tears stung her eyes while she dug out the small, cloth-wrapped bundle that she would need. Synclair needed children, just not hers.
    But she couldn’t dispel the feeling that it was a pity she couldn’t allow nature to take its course. Maybe fate would bless her with a babe. At least then she would be returned to the country. But her child would be bastard born and subject to Biddeford’s will even more so than Brandon, because someday Brandon would inherit his title. Any child she conceived out of wedlock would have only her to champion it and the world was controlled by men. Synclair would not wed her; she wasn’t worthy of that.
    She pulled the kettle out of the hearth and carefully poured a measure of water into the wooden mug holding the little bundle of herbs. Steam rose into the air, tickling her nose with the scent of bitterness. She waited just a few moments before lifting it to her lips and draining every last drop. She would not hesitate or give herself time to fail.
    Tears wet her cheeks when she sat the cup aside and she lowered herself into the chair while feeling the hot liquid warming her insides.
    Lament? It was not harsh enough a word for how she felt.
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    â€œHis lordship, the Earl of Hertford, requires your presence.”
    Synclair snarled at the page but the boy didn’t flinch. Instead the youngster looked somewhat bored, his attention straying to the window and the winter landscape visible through