Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Look at you,” Benedict cooed.
Cold chills raced down Ellen’s back as she heard her cousin’s voice. Chills that struck her stomach and flooded it with nausea as his gaze dropped slowly down her body.
“Could not stay away, could you, Sweet Ellie?” he asked, his eyes lingering on the swell of her cleavage.
The tip of his tongue swirled around the top row of his teeth before he slowly drew his bottom lip between them. Disgust shuddered through Ellen’s body, threatening to make her vomit right then and there.
“You miss me?” he asked, his voice suddenly husky as he finally flicked his eyes up to hers. “Come to your senses and ready to come home to me?”
Ellen drew in a shaky breath, not at all sure if she could play the part intended for her, and looked away from his intense gaze.
Her heart began to slam harder into her ribs when she looked over the staircase railing and found that Solomon and Laurence were not there anymore. Where did they go? They promised!
Tears flooded into her eyes at once as she began to tremble. Her breath suddenly felt too difficult to catch. She was going to faint!
Then a touch—soft and brief—passed along her knuckles.
She did not turn, but glanced in the direction of the touch.
Breath slammed back into her lungs as she saw not only Solomon, but Laurence, subtly making their way up the stairs behind her.
They stopped, only a few steps above where the wholly oblivious Benedict stood.
She squeezed Laurence’s kerchief in her fist as she drew in another calming breath, and then Laurence’s green gaze found her.
His eyes, as usual, held that studious sharpness as he stared up at her. Those lips that were so soft to kiss were set in a hard, determined line, and his chiseled jaw was tight. His nostrils flared subtly as his gaze stayed on her. Benedict was their prey, and he could sense the oncoming struggle.
Laurence gave her a single, curt nod. A small promise that his claws were sharper than Benedict’s. Suddenly, power snapped into her veins, eating away the fear and anxiety Benedict had put there, and she knew she could do what needed to be done.
“I am married now, you know,” she answered.
Ellen was caught off guard by the smooth, confident tone of her own voice.
“It was a shame that we could not invite you to the wedding, but after what happened between you and my husband, I did not think it was appropriate,” she added with a cool shrug of her shoulders.
Benedict’s left eye twitched as he began to work his jaw back and forth in silent rage.
“Do you do that often?” she asked, not giving him a chance to say a word about her marriage. “Take women you hold affection for to that awful place?”
A smirk twitched over Benedict’s lips as something dark entered his eyes. “I do not have to hold affection for them to take them there,” he replied smoothly. “In fact, every woman but you has loved the experience of that place.”
He cocked his head. “Whatever could be so wrong with you that you would not have as much amusement as them?” he all but purred.
“What twisted, dying, lonely thing inside is so afraid of company that you shudder at the experience instead of leaning into it?” He was trying to goad her; Insult her, make her feel weak and alone.
It was not going to work. Not now. Not when she had two large, dominant men looming behind Benedict, hanging on every word he said. Laurence was right. She had a family now, and she was not going to be alone again.
“I am curious,” Ellen said, her tone light and playful as she took a step toward her cousin. “Who did you want to me home that night and ‘teach’ me a lesson? Was it the decrepit old man? Or the rather rotund one—the one you were speaking to just a few moments ago?”
Benedict’s left brow quirked. “Either would have sufficed,” he replied with quiet rage. “I know both. They have similar…tastes when it comes to training their winnings.”
Ellen’s lips threatened to draw back in a sneer of disgust, but she willed her expression to remain only slightly intrigued.
“Training that you could not give me yourself?” she asked, cocking her head slightly to the side as she looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.
“Careful,” he murmured. Benedict’s nostrils flared wide as a sneer contorted his lips into an uneven line.
“What are their names?” she pushed on, ignoring him. She made a show of glancing around the party, as if searching for them. “Maybe I could speak to them about this ‘training’ myself. I would be most curious to see what they could do that you could not.”
She glided her tongue over her bottom lip as she let her gaze fall back on him, and just like he did to her, she let her eyes wander down his body.
Only instead of appearing impressed when she was done, she made sure her disappointment was evident.
When she finally reached his eyes, though, she jolted.
The sneer she expected to still be on his lips had shifted into a smug, wicked grin.
“Is your husband not ‘training’ you well enough?” Benedict countered.
Ellen’s cheeks flushed at once. She had made a mistake trying to lure him into talking about the auction, and now he had fodder to attack Laurence.
“I am not surprised,” Benedict chuckled. “He would not know what to do with a spirited woman; could not break them. He certainly could not break his sister.”
It was Solomon who moved behind Benedict. Solomon, with his murderous gaze after that comment. And it was Solomon who Laurence had in his grip. Panic began to rise anew as Ellen watched her husband whisper something into Solomon’s ear, and the man stared daggers down at Benedict’s head.
Ellen’s cousin had no idea how close to death he was. No idea that just behind him, as he chortled at Ellen’s silence and no doubt thought he’d won their little tête-à-tête, the man he was shaming was saving his life. She had to find the upper hand again, and quickly.
“Who was Nigel?” Ellen asked. “He seemed to hold the most power there. Perhaps he would be better at giving me lessons.”
Benedict froze, then once more that sneer replaced his grin.
“Nigel,” he said. “Is nothing compared to me.”
“Really?” She asked, raising a curious brow. “It did not seem that way to me. In fact, it seemed you were taking orders from him.”
Benedict’s chuckle was low and purely wicked as he looked down at his shoes and sucked hard at his bottom lip.
“That is because you know nothing, you sweet, dimwitted girl,” he cut out. “Your father allowed you to take on too much. You have no idea what a man in power actually looks like.”
“And you do?” she asked, batting her lashes innocently. “Because from what I saw—and, do keep in mind that I am, as you say, a sweet, dimwitted girl—it was you who ultimately had to obey Nigel’s word, not the other way around. It was you who lost me that night.”
Benedict slowly lifted his head, revealing the rage and lust sparking in his dark eyes.
“I did not lose you,” he said, shaking his head. “I will never lose you, Ellie.”
He lifted his hand, moving toward her with a slowness that seemed more aggressive than the slap he’d once whipped across her face.
“Any time I want to have you back, I will,” he swore, his breaths coming out ragged and distorted as his hand drew close to her neck.
“You. Are. Mine.”
Fear flooded through her veins. It was so quick and consuming that Ellen held her breath and closed her eyes, her body tensing to painful rigidity as she waited for those cruel fingers to land on her throat.
Then she heard a grunt and a low snarl before a whoosh of air passed over her face.
She forced one eye open slowly, too curious not to see why he had not touched her yet.
Then the other snapped open, and both grew wide as she saw Laurence standing directly behind Benedict, so closely that his broad chest was pressed into Benedict’s back.
As he was taller than Benedict, he had to lean down so that his snarling lips could reach the other man’s ear.
“Remember what happened to you the last time you thought such a thing?” Laurence’s voice was nothing but a low, feral growl in Benedict’s ear.
Benedict struggled against him, but did not get very far. Ellen blinked, then looked down, and saw that Laurence’s hand was wrapped like a vice around Benedict’s wrist—the very same one that was attached to the fingers that he had been reaching toward her throat only seconds ago.
“You would cause a scene here?” Benedict gritted out, his narrowed eyes looking at Laurence’s threatening expression, but instead at the grip he had on him. “Put your pretty new wife’s reputation at stake when it is already so precarious?”
A blush stole into Ellen’s cheeks as she swept her gaze around the room.
Below, on the dance floor, the other guests were far too distracted with themselves to notice.
However, as she swept her gaze up to the balcony above, she caught a few furtive glances darting their way.
Nothing lingering yet, but if things grew worse…
“Laurence,” she whispered, shifting her gaze back to his still feral expression.
He flinched. A small, almost unnoticeable thing.
“Laurence, my love,” she whispered again.
It was a lie. He was not her love. She was not his.
Yet as she said it, Laurence’s bestial expression settled into something far more human, more calm, and as he gave a subtle shove away from his grip on Benedict’s wrist, he took two steps down until he was standing beside Ellen, and wrapped both arms possessively around her waist from behind.
He dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder. His lips brushed against her flesh and sent a skittering of sparks throughout her, and even though others were now watching, she could not help but lean her back into his chiseled chest and take comfort in his embrace.
A small huff of a chuckle left Laurence’s throat as Benedict glowered at them.
“The next time you raise a hand to my wife, Page, I will remove it,” Laurence stated, his deep voice now void of all emotion.
Again, Benedict’s eye began to twitch as he silently fumed, his lips pressed together firmly.
They stood there a moment, waiting to see if he would say anything remotely resembling a threat.
Instead, silence stretched between them as Benedict slowly reached for his bruised wrist. Ellen watched as he rubbed at it with his good hand and tried to take a step up and backward.
“Watch it, Page,” Solomon snarled into his ear as he came to step down beside Benedict, revealing himself.
He flinched and grew pale as Solomon came into view.
“You might have eyes on her,” Laurence mused blandly as he stared at Benedict, “but we have eyes on you.”
“More than you realize,” Solomon added with a cold smirk. “Watching. Waiting. Reporting on every move you make.”
Benedict’s eyes narrowed as he took in the three of them, and a small sneer had his lips drawn back as he took another step up the stairs and away from them.
“You will beg me to rescue you, one day,” Benedict warned as he took another step up the stairs. “You think you are with good company, my Sweet Ellie. But you are wrong.”
Benedict’s gaze raked down again. Not over her this time. Over Laurence.
“The ones that try to appear so very good are often the ones with the most despicable tastes,” Benedict bit out with clear disgust.
Behind her, Laurence grew stiff. She could feel his rage vibrating through his being.
Then his arms tightened around Ellen’s waist, and he pressed another soft kiss, this time to her temple.
Ellen tilted her chin up and coolly replied, “I would rather keep company with a pack of feral dogs than keep company with you, cousin.”
Laurence’s chuckle was low and approving behind her ear as she felt him trail the tip of his nose up the nape of her neck, and she could not help the smug smile that drew across her lips as she stared challengingly at the man who’d once abused her.
“Come along,” Laurence murmured into her ear, giving her a gentle tug. “This weak man has wasted enough of our time, and I want to dance with my wife.”
Benedict’s expression shifted to one of pain as Ellen took an obedient step back, and as she turned her back on him to follow Laurence, she wagered she’d never felt more satisfied—or terrified—of how she had just acted.