Free Wicked Desires (Wicked Affairs, Book One) by Eliza Lloyd

away. Again.
    The sound of a door snapping shut brought her back to awareness.
    Michael had left her tied to the bed.
    * * * * *
     
    Clarissa jerked on her dress.
    Madame DuPuis had arrived in her room a few minutes after Michael left. The woman didn’t react, only bent to the task of freeing Clarissa from the bed and assisting her into a proper robe.
    A few minutes later, in Madame DuPuis’ sitting room, she finished dressing.
    “What did I do wrong?” Clarissa asked, once she deemed herself presentable. Madame DuPuis pursed her lips and in her grandmotherly wisdom said nothing.
    “He doesn’t want me at home. He doesn’t want me strapped to a bed doing everything that so obviously pleases him. What does he want?” Clarissa jerked on her gloves.
    The madam raised her brows. “He is still deciding.”
    “Deciding?”
    “Deciding whether he is going to choose a whore over his wife.”
    Clarissa had humbled herself, performing unheard-of acts, standing nearly naked in a room with another man, allowed that same man to touch her intimately, all to seduce her husband.
    And all to no avail.
    “What do I do now?”
    “Nothing. As he left, he said he would not be back.”
    “So this was all a waste? I’ve humiliated and degraded myself for nothing?”
    “You had to try.”
    “Yes. I suppose I did.”
    “Your livery is waiting.”
    At the door, Clarissa turned to face the sanguine Madame DuPuis. “What would you have done?”
    “I’ve never had a man I wanted to keep.” Alice smiled and her round cheeks dimpled.
    “This isn’t over yet,” Clarissa said.
    “I’m glad to hear it. It’s been an entertaining and profitable evening. Hopefully, more so in the future, should we continue our alliance.”
    Inside the carriage, Clarissa rocked to the jolting rhythm and listened to the clickity-clack of the horses along the cobblestones. Somehow she had to find a way to get through to her husband.
    She marveled at his restraint. When they were younger, it took much less to excite him. Why did she have to work so hard now? Ridiculous men like Martin DeLacy panted after her to the point of bother. She’d slapped him once for stepping over the bounds of propriety, but Michael was nowhere to be found when she needed him to defend her or see the incident to know that she was still desirable to other men. Michael seemed immune and indifferent of the attention other men paid her, and it would be childish to attempt to make him more than nominally jealous.
    Clarissa vowed to entice him in her home, and if that failed, at Madame DuPuis’. She now knew first-hand what he liked and she’d use every underhanded trick to get him to realize she’d enjoy the same things. As long as it was with him.
    She also understood his obstinacy in refusing to discuss their lack of intimacy. She feared his reaction to confessing what had happened tonight. And if Clarissa had heard about such activities from her husband, she might have never understood.
    Having experienced the desire and pleasure firsthand, she was more sympathetic.
    And more determined.

Chapter Five
     
    Michael stared through the ornate window of their front sitting room, facing the street as the nondescript hackney approached the house. He stood to the side, near the curtain. The room was dark, only a small crackling fire kept him company.
    His wife exited the carriage quickly and hurried up the stairs. He didn’t move as he heard the footman at the front door, a few words of greeting and his wife’s furtive steps up the long staircase.
    He’d had several drinks already, but had the presence of mind to avoid yet another while he waited, imagining the very worst scenarios. He calmed himself with a few deep breaths, reminded himself she should at least be able to defend herself before he made wild accusations and then solemnly followed her to their joint bedrooms a few minutes later.
    Entering his room, he walked to her door and knocked. Immediately, he regretted not