Page 40 of Her Beast

“It will be a few days. I want him to spend some time wondering and worrying.”

“No message for Harlow yet, sir?”

“No, I want him to stew.” Malcolm planned to enjoy watching Tommy Harlow twist in the wind as he tore London apart looking for his daughter and brother-in-law.

“You want us to lay off Sheehan if his arm is broke?” Joe asked. “Or should we soften him up a bit?”

Malcolm’s hands fisted at the thought of being in the same room with Sheehan. He knew he’d not be able to stop with a meresofteningif he got his hands on the man right now.That was a job best left to less personally invested individuals.

“Do whatever it takes to break his will, short of killing him.”

“Very good, sir.”

He watched the big man leave before he drew the drapes that usually covered the large window that looked directly across a narrow corridor into another bedchamber.

Unlike the room where Smith had played with the two whores earlier, this bedroom did not resemble a torture chamber in a bordello.

Malcolm had ordered the room decorated especially with Julia in mind. The walls were hung with cream silk, the floor was a flat, milky white wood covered with ivory and gold carpets. The bed was a true masterpiece, the same milk-stained wood as the floors, the canopy, curtains, and bedding ivory silk that resembled a cloud. All that was lacking to complete the heavenly image was an angel and her harp.

Miss Harlow would be conveniently close so that Malcolm could observe her at all times. And she would never know it.

He told himself that was all he would do: look.

If he wanted a fuck, he had Maisie staying in the usual guest suite.

When Malcolm had first devised this plan, he’d considered going without a woman while he kept Julia Harlow. But the more he thought about her staying just on the other side of the corridor from his own room, the more he knew that doing without Maisie would be foolish and dangerous.

Yes, he had abducted Julia Harlow. Yes, he would spy on her without her permission. But he drew the line at touching her.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had two women staying at the same time. The fifth floor had been arranged to suit Malcolm’s peculiar desires so the corridors didn’t follow the rules of a conventional house and were laid out for his convenience, not his guests. The women would never know that the other even existed.

Maisie had no curiosity about the house or Malcolm. All she’d done during her stay was lounge, consume expensive food and drink, and enjoy her pampering. Malcolm was probably the easiest and most generous client she would ever have. He hadn’t even bothered spying on her after the first few days because she slept more than a cat and did nothing of interest while she was awake.

He suspected that Julia Harlow, on the other hand, would be a different kettle of fish. Given the little he’d learned about her from Joe, she would be curious and would test the bounds of her captivity.

Malcolm had already warned Butkins, Kemp, and Norris to make sure the other servants were especially vigilant about locking doors while she was in the house. The last thing he needed was to have her stumble on something that damaged her for life. A bit of innocent sensual exploration was one thing, but what Malcolm did with the whores he engaged was something else, entirely. Even hardened deviants found some of his activities distasteful.

Norris entered the room on the other side of the transparent mirror and laid Julia Harlow on the bed. Mrs. Kemp, a woman Malcolm employed full-time to wait on his female guests and manage his household, had a quiet conversation with the valet before Norris left.

And then Mrs. Kemp began to undress her newest charge.

If the older woman guessed that Malcolm was watching, she gave no sign of it. Malcolm never knew how much his upper employees had guessed about his proclivities. Oh, Norris knew everything about Malcolm’s insomnia and how he roamed his secret corridors. It was also his valet’s job to keep Malcolm’s erotic playroom clean and orderly.

But what the others—like Kemp or Butkins—knew, he had no clue.

Nor did he care.

They were excellent, obedient servants who kept their mouths shut. In return, he paid them more than the average Harley Street physician made in a year.

Beneath the blanket and heavy velvet cloak Julia Harlow wore a magnificent Worth gown. The gown was a striking high-necked black and white stripe combination that radiated from her impossibly tiny waist, accentuating her hourglass figure.

Her only jewelry was a pair of crystal earbobs and a flimsy pearl bracelet, both of which looked cheap alongside the gown, which he knew for a fact cost more than a butler made in a decade.

Tommy Harlow was a wealthy man and could afford to dress his daughter in the finest. Why he didn’t give her decent jewels, Malcolm didn’t know.

Blood roared in his ears as Kemp peeled off her clothing, layer by layer by layer. He was a pig to watch as the servant stripped her, but he couldn’t find the strength to make himself stop.

Beneath her expensive gown and luxuriant petticoats, she wore simple white cotton undergarments. Malcolm had not seen such virginal clothing since… well, perhaps he’dneverseen underclothing like it. When he’d been younger, most of his lovers had either been working girls, most of whom wore sensual lingerie. Who would have guessed that a white corset and the plain combination beneath it could be so bloody alluring?

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