Tough Prospect

by Laura Strickland

  “Well, but,” Tessa said, “then what would you do with this one?”

  Mitch made a dismissive gesture, and Tessa switched her gaze to him.

  “Pack it away somewhere, I suppose,” he said. With the rest of the things he’d given her, beautiful dresses, jewelry she never wore. Damn it, he should just have bought her a real dog, or cat. Truth was he had no idea which she preferred.

  Emotion kindled in her eyes. “You mean you’d just treat it like it’s nothing?” she asked bitterly. “I should have known.”

  Mitch stirred in his chair, losing a bit of his casual air. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Never mind.”

  “No, Tessa.” He sat up straight and clasped his hands together. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, have it out.”

  “Have what out?”

  “Don’t play dumb. You’re not dumb. I’m talking about how you act toward me, how you feel toward me.”

  She gave a hard laugh. “I should think that would be obvious.”

  Yeah, it was. Real obvious. But it couldn’t go on much longer before Mitch snapped.

  He said, trying to sound patient, “We’ve been married two weeks. You’re gonna have to reconcile yourself to it.”

  “Am I?”

  “Well, yeah. We live in the same house. We should be sharing a bed. What’s it going to take?”

  Tessa bared her teeth in a grimace. Tears filled her eyes. “It will never happen.”

  “What?”

  “The deal was I should marry you. Only that.”

  For an instant, Mitch felt totally helpless, a condition he didn’t tolerate well. Indeed, he’d worked hard since his days back in the orphanage to guarantee he’d never feel that way again.

  And now here came this woman with her hands on his heartstrings, hating him.

  “But…” he began.

  She leaned forward in her chair and lowered her voice even though no one else in the house could hear. “I know what you are, Mitch Carter. A tough. A brute, a lowlife. You may have blackmailed me into marriage. That doesn’t mean I’m ever going to like it.”

  Mitch’s reaction hit him like a blow to the gut. For an instant, a voice inside him wailed: Why not? Why can’t you love me? It sounded an awful lot like the voice that, back in the dark days, used to ask similar why me questions while he cried himself to sleep.

  That had been long ago and far away. He’d vowed never to listen to that voice again. But he wanted this woman the way he’d never desired anything.

  So he swallowed his pride. It went down in a lump because he had a great deal of it.

  “Look, Tessa, you’re my wife. That isn’t going to change. We can make the best or the worst of it.”

  She said nothing.

  Mitch leaned forward in his chair. “If you’ll just make your mind up to it, we can have a real good life together. I think I’ve shown you you’ll never want for anything. And in time, I believe you’ll come to care for me.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  This time it felt like a slap to the face. “What?”

  Tessa surged to her feet. The little mechanical dog, still staring into her face, raised a paw to her knee. She caught the unit up in her arms.

  In a hard voice she said, “If you think I’m ever going to reconcile myself to this sham of a marriage—ever going to love you—then you couldn’t be more mistaken.”

  “Why?” The word crept out of him this time.

  “Because”—she raised her head high—“I’m in love with another man.” A pained smile twisted her lips. “No, you didn’t think of that, did you? Never considered it when you hatched your nasty scheme—when you trapped me. All your money, your gifts—your fine house—won’t make one bit of difference. I’ll never give you my heart because it already belongs to someone else.”

  Mitch sat where he was, stunned, while she gathered up her skirts and prepared to sweep from the room. He could feel his face turn into the well-practiced mask he so often wore. It did not protect him when she loosed her final barb.

  “So now you know the truth,” she seethed, “you can stop giving me presents and keep away from me. Just keep away.”

  Chapter Three

  Tessa hurtled from the parlor and ran up the stairs so quickly she nearly tripped, still clutching the mechanical dog in her arms. She made blindly for the one refuge she possessed, the grand bedroom that, so far, had remained hers alone. The detestable Mitch Carter had not bulled his way in here.

  She feared what she’d be forced to do when that day came.

  Though maybe he wouldn’t bull his way in, now that she’d told him. Told him about Richard. Told him this sham of a marriage would always remain just that. Maybe he’d leave her alone and they could live separate lives. She could see Richard on the side.

  She set the mechanical dog, which wiggled in her arms the way a real dog might, on the bed. It sat down in the middle of the green satin coverlet and continued watching her as she moved around the room.

  She had no idea why Mitch Carter had wanted to marry her in the first place, or how he’d expected her to accept him—in her life or in her bed. Perhaps he was mad as well as ruthless.

  One couldn’t force affection; the heart went where it chose.

  “That,” she said aloud to the dog on the bed, “is a lesson the dreadful Mr. Carter needed to learn. Hopefully I’ve taught it to him.”

  The dog cocked its head at her, and its ears twitched as if it listened. Its burnished metal finish shone almost white.

  Just like Mitch Carter to bring her such a thing. As if he supposed it might make a difference in how she felt about him. All it did was demonstrate what a cold, unfeeling bastard he was. Why not go out and get a real dog if he wanted one in the house? Rescue one off the streets or from the Buffalo Animal Refuge over on Niagara Street.

  But no, he wouldn’t think of that. Her husband never considered such trivialities as feelings.

  The little dog on the bed whined as if it sensed Tessa’s distress. She gave it a thoughtful look, her heartbeat—wild with distress—beginning to decelerate.

  She wouldn’t let that man make her cry. She wouldn’t.

  The bedroom door flew open.

  Tessa spun about and the mechanical dog gave a short, sharp bark of alarm. Smart dog.

  Mitch Carter stood in the doorway, his face—no longer expressionless—like thunder. Tessa’s poor heart once more sped up, on a shot of panic.

  “What do you want?” she demanded. He’d never done this before, intruded on her in her stronghold. And the look in his eyes terrified her.

  “Who is he?”

  “What?”

  “Who is he, this other man? The one you say you love?”

  Belatedly, Tessa realized what she’d done. Placed Richard in danger, that was what—oh, what a fool she’d been to expose him to this man’s wrath! For she knew enough about Mitch Carter to understand he had resources. A great many people in this city feared him. He had means, when he set out to enforce his demands and settle scores. He’d made much of his money in property, yes—it was whispered he also engaged in the protection racket.

  Carter could crush Richard like a bug—if she, Tessa, further endangered him by revealing his name.

  Wildly, she shook her head.

  “Tell me.”

  “No. There’s nothing you can say or do that will make me.”

  Mitch entered the room and shut the door behind him. “No?”

  Panic spiked, rendering Tessa breathless. But she managed to croak out, “No.”

  “I can find out, you know. He must be someone in your circle.”

  “No. Please. He has nothing to do with—with our marriage.”

  “Hasn’t he?” Mitch smiled grimly, terrifyingly. “Seems he’s right here in the middle of it.”

  Tessa shook her head still more wildly. “You’re wrong.”

  Mitch advanced toward her; she retreated till the backs of her legs hit th
e bed. An unfortunate move.

  Mitch reached out and seized her shoulders between his hands. Up till now, he’d barely touched her; his hands felt hot, and with the contact something searing and dangerous flared in his eyes.

  “Have you given yourself to him?”

  “What?”

  “Have you made love with him?” The words sounded like a growl; Tessa tried to shrink away and failed.

  “No.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you. If you can accommodate him, you’ll take me also. I have the right.”

  He pulled her into his arms, up against his body. Shock raced through her like the kiss of lightning.

  “No, I—”

  She wanted to tell him she’d never been with any man. Unfortunately, once her lips parted to speak he took advantage. His mouth covered her mouth, his arms enfolded her, and his tongue mounted an invasion. Horror suffused her from the point of entry outward.

  She’d never dreamed of such violation. In the past, when they were alone, Richard had kissed her, soft chaste kisses that teased, warmed, and titillated. Nothing…nothing like this.

  She stiffened, she resisted, she fought to free her arms, and when one hand escaped, she struck Mitch in the side of the face. It didn’t make him stop kissing her, though—if a mere kiss this could be called. It smacked of something else—pure male domination and desire so hot it might burn her up.

  She struck him again and wiggled; they fell together onto the bed.

  Another unfortunate move surely, surely—for the rhythm of his assault and the movements of his tongue changed, became slow and languorous, a blatant caress.

  Oh, God, oh, God, he was going to have his way with her right here. At last.

  She made a sound in her throat, the closest she could manage to a scream. The mechanical dog, now right beside them, barked again.

  Mitch Carter stopped kissing Tessa and raised his head. Not far—his lips hovered right above hers when he said, “You’re so beautiful, Tessa. He can’t want you as much as I do—whoever he is.”

  She could feel Mitch’s heart pounding against her breast—proving he had one after all. She clenched her teeth together in case he tried to kiss her again and said, “Get off me.”

  Instead his intense hazel gaze inspected her face before he said, “Give yourself to me. Give yourself to me, and maybe I won’t hunt him down.”

  “Hunt him down?” Tessa’s heart thumped still harder. “You won’t. Not if you want to keep my good opinion.”

  “You don’t have a good opinion of me. That’s pretty clear.”

  “You won’t ever win it through coercion.”

  “Do I have a chance in hell of winning it?”

  He kissed her again, this time a gentle contact of lips on lips, a single sweep of his tongue. “Seems I might just as well demand my rights.”

  “You do, and I’ll hate you forever. Let me up.”

  “Not sure I can.”

  She attempted to heave him off, putting every bit of her strength into it, but he was all muscle, hard beneath his fine clothing. A brute in a suit, her bemused brain quipped madly. She knew then she lay at his mercy—he could truly take what he desired.

  Disregarding her efforts, he said, “All this time we’ve been married, I’ve barely had a chance to touch you. I haven’t even seen you naked.”

  “You won’t.”

  “No? I could strip you now.”

  Tessa supposed he could.

  “Bury myself in you.”

  Tessa had a pretty good idea what that meant. Her cheeks flamed.

  “You’re mine. My wife.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can rape me.”

  “Wouldn’t be rape. I’ll make you want it.”

  “Never happen.”

  “Never say never.”

  He dove for her mouth again. From beside them on the bed came a flurry of movement; Mitch withdrew hastily and grabbed his wrist. “Ah! That damn thing bit me.”

  “Did it?” Good dog.

  “Damn it! I should throw it against the wall.”

  “Don’t you dare.” His weight withdrawn from her, Tessa gathered the mechanical dog into her arms and retreated to the head of the bed.

  Mitch glared at her. “I suppose you like that thing now?”

  “Yes.” She dropped her gaze to his arm, where a spot of blood showed. Good, good dog!

  “Just so you know, if it gets possessive of you, it’s going. And know this too, Tessa—there’ll come a time when I’ll walk back in through that door and you’ll welcome me.”

  “I’ve a word of advice for you, Mitch Carter: don’t hold your breath.”

  He went out, and Tessa sagged, her fragile defiance flown. She cuddled the mechanical dog in her arms and told it, “I suppose now I need to name you. No men welcome here, so that means you’re a female. You need a strong name—the name of a warrior. I’ll call you Valerie.”

  Chapter Four

  Mitch went back downstairs and made straight for his office at the back of the house, where he rang for a servant. One of the mechanicals hurried in.

  He employed two human servants—one of them the chauffeur and the other the cook—and three automatons. All the mechanicals were high-quality, silver models, none of the hybrids for him, though the hybrid automatons in the city, as it was now rumored, had started producing their own.

  The one that rushed in had been created to act as a housemaid. It had blue glass eyes in a burnished, vaguely sculpted face.

  “Bring me bandages and iodine,” he told it.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ve cut my wrist.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh, and get me a scotch.”

  “Sir.”

  The automaton hurried out, and Mitch gazed around his office with distracted eyes. He’d situated it here at the rear of the ground floor where his men could come and go through a separate entrance, taking care of business without disturbing the workings of the household.

  Now he suddenly realized the place looked like a tip. He wasn’t much with paperwork—never had been. Accounts were even worse. But he knew how to rake in a buck.

  He always thought of this room as the heart of his kingdom. But at the moment, his kingdom looked a little tarnished.

  What had he done? What, upstairs in his wife’s room? Frightened her? Spoiled his chances? Lost her for good?

  No, he hadn’t lost her. You could only lose something you’d once had; he’d never had Tessa in the first place.

  Now he knew why.

  She loved somebody else. Another man. She’d come to him with her heart already engaged elsewhere.

  He’d never had a chance.

  “Damn it.” He pounded his hand on the desk, behind which he sat. That only made the bite hurt more.

  Somebody might have told him that before he married her. Her blasted father might have—if he knew. Or Tessa herself might have.

  Would he have cared? Honestly, he doubted it. He’d wanted her from the first, and the fire had only built from there.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her like that, upstairs. But he’d seen red when she said she loved somebody else. He’d wanted to show her—

  What? That he was the brute she already believed him? That he loved her more than anyone else ever could?

  Now he had choices to make.

  He could let her go. No, that would never happen.

  He could continue waiting for her to come around and want him. Which might never happen either.

  He could find out who this man was, the one she said she loved, and off him, thus eliminating the competition.

  Yeah, he liked that option best. Of course if Tessa found out, it would make her hate him forever. Which just meant he couldn’t let her find out.

  The mechanical came back in with a basin and some bandaging. Mitch submitted himself to her cold touch, thinking all the while of his wife upstairs. How hot and sweet her mouth had tasted. How it felt when she flexed her body bene
ath his. The thrilling feel of her breasts touching his chest, even just through their clothes.

  Only imagine when he had her naked and willing, crying his name in demand.

  It would happen. He always got what he wanted, however impossible. He just had a few obstacles in the way this time.

  On one thing he’d insist—when it happened he wanted her to want him.

  After the maid left, he went and summoned one of the fellows from the yard. A few always hung around back there, runners and agents, in case he needed anything.

  Tiny came into the office, his flat cap pushed to the back of his head, the stub of a cigar between his teeth. Tiny had a wizened look, a result of growing up in Carter House with the rest of them. A wonder how Mitch had grown so tall on the poor fare provided in that hell hole—except he’d got out first and started providing for himself before he could ransom the rest of them. And he’d perfected the art of stealing food long before that.

  Tiny had little, pale blue eyes in a face like a monkey’s and wore a perpetually worried look.

  “Yeah, Boss?”

  “I’ve got a job for you. Strictly on the Q.T.”

  “Fair enough.” Tiny’s standard response to most things. Roll an old man for a penny? Fair enough. Steal a carriage? Fair enough. Blackmail a policeman? Sure!

  “Nobody can find out, mind. I’m trusting you.”

  “What is it, Boss?”

  “My wife,” Mitch began and got no farther before Tiny’s expression set. None of the fellows had approved of him marrying Tessa, as he well knew. A few, including Tiny, had even said so.

  You can do better, Boss. Those had been Tiny’s words, as he recalled. Find a real woman.

  Tessa was a real woman. Having just felt her body beneath his, he could testify to that.

  “I want you to find out something about her, about an acquaintance of hers.” He corrected himself carefully. “Former acquaintance. There’ll be a man, one who has…engaged her affections.”

  Tiny’s eyes bulged. “You don’t say?”

  Mitch silenced him with a glare. “I just want you to discover the man’s name, nothing more. You understand?”

  “She been two-timing you?”

  Mitch didn’t know, but he wouldn’t admit that. He shook his head. “I just need his name. And where to find him. He and I may need a talk.”