The Ruthless Heir

Judge’s [POV]

The threat of the doctor does its job. Mercedes eats, and she manages to keep it down for the next few days. It’s raining again, the ground sopping after a week of unrelenting rain. It’s so bad I won’t even ride. I don’t want the horses to injure themselves on the soft ground.

I get home late in the evening and head toward the kitchen, where I hear Lois and Miriam talking. Neither of them notices me.

“You’re spoiling her if you ask me,” Miriam tells Lois.

I stand just outside and listen.

“She needs a firm hand, that one. All this sulking around,” she says.

“She’s depressed, Miriam. You just leave her alone.”

“But it’s my job to look after her.”

Lois snorts.

“She’s an attention seeker, that’s all. She’ll get over it. Just needs a firm hand to give her a shove.”

I don’t miss the ugly turn at the word shove. I clear my throat, and Miriam startles, almost spills the coffee she was bringing to her lips.

“Ladies,” I say as I study Miriam. She pushes her chair back loudly to stand. I almost expect a salute from her.

“Sir,” Miriam says. She bows her head rather than saluting.

“Well, you’re late tonight, Judge,” Lois says. “You must be starved. Come on, sit down. It’ll just take me a minute to warm up your plate.” She wipes her hands on her towel and moves to where a covered dish has been set aside.

“Thank you, Lois,” I say, taking the scotch from the cabinet and pouring myself a glass.

“I’ll be off to bed then,” Miriam says and brings her coffee cup to the sink for Lois to set in the dishwasher.

“Stay a minute,” I say.

She looks nervous but nods and sits opposite me.

Lois brings over my food and returns to cleaning the dishes.

“How has Mercedes been?” I ask her.

“Same,” she says. “Refuses to touch any food I bring her. Gives me an evil look whenever I offer to help her with anything.”

“Hm. Lois?”

Lois is watching us from the counter. “I think she’s doing a little better. Eating a little more. The boys are good for her. That Pestilence can nudge a smile out of anyone.”

“I’m glad. Where are the hounds?” I notice their place is empty.

“She took them out for a little walk,” Lois says proudly. “Her idea.”

“That’s good to hear.” It is an improvement although the time is concerning. I hope she’s not doing something stupid like looking for an exit. I check my watch. “How long ago?”

“Fifteen, twenty minutes. She took an umbrella and a warm jacket. Said she’d check on the horses too. They’ve been cooped up in their stalls what with your busy week and this weather we’ve been having.”

“You know what, I’ll go see if I can’t catch up with her.” I get up, switch out my shoes for an old pair of riding boots I reserve for just this weather, and grab my Barbour from the rack by the door. It’s perfect for this weather. “I’ll eat when I’m back. Don’t worry, I can heat it up again myself. You two go to bed.”

“Are you sure? I can stay,” Lois says almost at the same time that Miriam murmurs a good night and disappears.

“Go on, Lois. You’ve been putting in a lot of hours with Mercedes as it is, and I appreciate it.”

“It’s no trouble. I love that girl like she’s my own.”

“You should tell her that. I’m not sure she hears that often enough.”

“I have. I’m not too shy to share my feelings.”

“Good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I step outside just as the rain seems to pick up and open my umbrella. I glance around and whistle for the dogs. But if they’re at the stables, they may not hear me over the rain, so I head in that direction, hurrying my steps. I’m about halfway there when I hear barking. I pause to listen. Rain comes down heavy, but there it is again. Barking. It’s getting closer, and I start to run toward the sound because something feels wrong. And I have a feeling of dread in my gut like I’ve never felt before.

Would she hurt herself? Is she so far gone that she’ll hurt herself?

I’m almost to the stables when Famine and War come charging toward me, barking their warning. I stop dead, my heart pounding heavy against my chest.

“What is it? Where is she?” I ask them when they reach me, barking their warnings, their panic.

“Mercedes!” I call out over the rain as I hurry toward the stables where the lights are on and the door is open. “Mercedes!”

I rush inside, Famine and War at my heels, and my heart drops to my stomach when I see the open door of my horse, Kentucky Lightning’s, stall. His saddle hangs where it should be, but the bridle is gone.

“Fuck!”

The dogs whine, and Temperance neighs as I open the door to her stall. I slip her bridle on. I don’t bother with the saddle. There’s no time. She shouldn’t be riding at night and in this weather. In her state. And she should definitely not be riding my horse. She may be experienced, but he’s too big. Too fast.Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“Where is she?” The dogs leap out ahead of me barking and charging in what I hope is the direction she went. I call out to her as I ride hard, my torso laid over Temperance’s back to hurry her into the woods. Why would she go into the woods? Rain soaks me, pouring through the collar of my jacket. I can only imagine the state she’s in, and just when panic is setting in, I hear the other dogs. Hear the thundering of Kentucky Lightning’s hooves as he rides fast, too fast.

And then I see them. They’re in a clearing coming up to the creek. He’s used to the jump, but the ground is too muddy, too slippery.

“Mercedes!” She turns her head so I know she hears me. But she’s determined. I can see it from here. Body laid low over the back of the horse, hands tight around the reins.

When I’m close enough, I whistle my command to Kentucky Lightning to stop, but she urges him on.

“It’s too wet! You can’t make the jump!” I yell, but I’m too far for her to hear, or maybe she just doesn’t want to listen.

The dogs are going wild, circling, howling, anticipating. And Mercedes keeps riding like the wind.

It’s what I wanted, right? The old Mercedes back. The fierce woman I know.

I’m almost to them. If I can get close enough, Kentucky Lightning will obey my command. I can stop this. I whistle, and when the horse hesitates, she glances back at me, eyes bright in this darkness as she tugs on the reins urging him on.

But I’m close enough now. And I only have a moment before the jump. Either he’s going to stop and throw her, or he’s going to jump it and lose his footing in the mud. Either way, at least one of them is getting hurt, if not both.

I bring Temperance up alongside Kentucky Lightning, and he slows just enough at my presence, giving me the moment I need to leap onto his back. Mercedes screams as she almost topples over the other side of the giant beast, and Temperance neighs as we leave her behind. I wrap one arm around Mercedes’s waist and take the reins from her, whistling my command for Kentucky Lightning to slow to a stop, rain pelting us as the dogs bark and whine around us, confused.

“Get off me!” Mercedes yells, pulling at my arm to free herself. “Get off!”

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” I yell over the rain as Kentucky Lightning slows to a trot, and I guide him around, whistling for Temperance to follow as I grip Mercedes hard and lead the horses back to the stables.

Paolo runs out as we approach, coat half-zipped, boots muddy, hair soaked.

“I heard the commotion,” he says as I slide off Kentucky Lightning and carry Mercedes down, hauling her over my shoulder and slapping her ass hard when she won’t stop fighting.

“Can you take care of this?” I ask.

He looks at us and nods. “I’ll bring the dogs in. Go. Take care of her.”

“Thank you.” I hurry back to the house, Mercedes pounding at my back, legs kicking. It doesn’t matter how much she fights. Her strength is nothing compared to mine, and I’m as determined as she is. I get her into the house and set her on the kitchen counter. I’m so angry, so fucking angry that I can’t speak as I rip off her boots then mine and throw the muddy things on the floor, discarding our jackets on top of the boots before I scoop her back up and carry her up to my room. She still fights me every step of the way. Still screams bloody fucking murder.

But I don’t care.

I don’t give a single fuck.

Because what the fuck was she doing out there? Trying to get herself killed? Maim my horse?

“Are you fucking insane?” I finally spit as I walk into my bedroom through to the bathroom and stand her up in the shower. I switch on the spray, and she yelps at the initial splash of icy water. Again, I don’t care.

I strip off her clothes, ripping them to shreds, then I strip naked and step into the shower with her. We need to warm up and get clean.

The shower stall is big enough for two with two showerheads, but I crowd her, looming over her. Even as tall as she is, she’s nothing next to me.

“Answer me!”

“Get away from me!” She shoves at my chest, energy burning in her black eyes. Making molten lava out of them.

Rage.

Fucking rage.

I’ll take it over catatonic any day.

“No!” I grip a handful of hair and force her beneath the flow. “When was the last time you washed your hair?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Your business is my business, little monster.”

“Fuck you, you asshole.”

I tug her head backward and bring my face to hers. “Be careful what you ask for.”

Her eyebrows come together, but then she glares. The shower steams around us. “I should whip your ass.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“You could have been killed.”

“Like you care.”

“And if you’d made it, you could have maimed Kentucky Lightning.”

At that she stops. No smart-ass comment. I wonder if she’d thought about that. But it’s only a moment of silence before she’s slapping at my chest and shoving to get around me.

“You want to fight? Do you?”

“Yeah, dickhead. I’d love a fight.”

“You got it. Maybe this is exactly what you need.” I switch off the water and lift her off her feet, hauling her over my shoulder as soon as I step out of the shower.

She kicks. I slap her ass once, twice, three times, the sound of my hand on her wet cheek reverberating off the walls as she pounds against my back, nails digging in to scratch rivulets into my skin.

“I’ll give you some fresh scars to go with the one you’re trying to hide,” she tells me when I throw her onto the bed.

She bounces twice, and before she’s up on her elbows, I’m on top of her. I fist her hair. She buries her fingernails in my chest, digging mercilessly.

“What did you want out there? Tell me.”

“You don’t get to know what’s in my head. You’ve more than proven you don’t give a fuck about me! Besides, what are you afraid of?” She asks as I tug on her hair. She winces, hands coming to my forearm to pry me off. “That you won’t get your payday if I’m dead? Or that you’ll have to answer to my brother? Because he will fucking kill you if you hurt me!”

“Is that it, then? You wanted to kill yourself?” I release her hair and sit back, keeping my weight on my thighs as I straddle her to keep her pinned.

“Like I said, you don’t care!” She slaps my chest. I let her. A look of surprise crosses her features when I don’t stop her, and she does it again, then again, then again. “Fight me, you bastard!” She slaps my face this time, but it’s hesitant.

“Stop, Mercedes.”

“Fight me!” She slaps harder, making my cheek sting.

I catch her wrists, grip them in one hand, and lay on top of her, my weight partially on the bed, partially on her.

“Fight!” she screams, and I look at her, seeing the sadness of it all, the truth of it. She would have hurt herself. Worse. That’s how far this has come.

“No,” I tell her. “Enough fighting.”

She struggles beneath me, eyes wet with hurt and tears and hopelessness.

“Mercedes.”

“Hit me!”

“Mercedes. Quiet.”

She shakes her head violently, tears unleashed.

“I do care about you. Don’t you know that?” I cup the back of her head and hold her to me. When I release her hands, she presses against me, slapping my chest, but it’s half-hearted. She’s spent.

“Quiet now.”

A sob breaks from her throat. And I just hold her for a long, long time. And then… and then… I don’t know what happens next. We’re so close, both of us naked, wet from the shower, from exertion, and I don’t fucking know, but I’m kissing her. I’m kissing her, and it’s like something inside my chest quickens, my heart faltering. She’s soft and inexperienced and yielding, and there’s a sudden stopping of time.

But I don’t stop. I can’t.

I kiss her again and feel her breath, the warmth of her. Her taste salty with tears. Tears that belong to me.

Her hands curl around my shoulders, and I slide one of mine down over her stomach until it’s between her legs. I draw back to look at her as I close my hand over the mound of her sex, and then my fingers are opening her, feeling her warm dampness. The stiff, swollen clit. She stares up at me, eyes wide, mouth open, and I watch her as I play with her, fingers sliding through her folds to dip inside her, to carry that moisture back to her clit. I listen to her sharp intake of breath and watch her pupils darken.

“Judge… I…”

I find I’m holding my breath, and I pull back, dip my head to her breast, and lick then take her nipple into my mouth.

She gasps and clings to me, hips arching into my hand as I close my teeth around the hard nub and draw it out, then release it to do the same to the other. Her hands move into my hair, clutching it, and I take her clit between my thumb and forefinger and draw back to watch her.

Mercedes bares her neck, biting her lip hard enough that a drop of crimson appears. She pushes herself into my hand and closes her eyes.

“Open them. I want to see you. I want to watch you come.”

She does as she’s told, and it’s moments before she’s panting, legs squeezing around my hand as she whispers my name, closing her eyes again and pulling me to her with the last of her orgasm.

I’m still hard as a fucking rock as I take my wet fingers from between her legs, and when her small hand wraps around my shaft, I capture it to halt her, groaning with my need. Battling with my duty.

“Mercedes…”

“I don’t… know how,” she says, her voice uncertain and quiet.

I open my eyes to look at her, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her so vulnerable. So beautiful. So fucking perfect. And as wrong as I know this is, as much as I know I am betraying my best friend to do it, I find myself pressing my cock between her folds before letting her wrap her hand around it again and closing mine over hers.

I make a promise then. An oath.

One time.

Just once.

This will happen exactly once. Because I think we both need this.

But I will leave her pure. Untouched.

One time. That is all I’ll allow the beast inside me.

I repeat it like a fucking mantra as I guide her hand. Her eyes are locked on mine in wide fascination, and when I feel her slide her free hand between her legs, I am undone.

“Fuck. Mercedes. Fuck.”

My breath is ragged when I come, hearing her surprised gasp as I cover her with ropes of come. I watch her slide her hand from between her legs to scoop it up and then return it to her clit, smearing my essence into herself.

I kiss her. My little monster is a dirty, dirty girl.

She does it again, and I groan, gripping her tight as I empty the last of it, and she shudders beneath me, coming again.