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“It is not natural.”
“It is natural for us,” he soothed, drawing her toward him. “I hunger for you. We hunger for you. Tell me you do not feel a similar desire for both of us. Tell me you only feel it for Max, and I will leave.”
“I am petrified by what I feel,” she confessed softly. “But it is not for Maxwell alone.”
Suddenly he understood the fear so much better. She was petrified of her body’s needs. Of what he made her feel. Of what Max made her hunger for.
“We only want your happiness, your pleasure, to fulfill all your desires. There is no shame in what you feel with us, Emmeline,” Marcellus said, his voice low and filled with sensual promise.
“It cannot be right. What will people think?”
“It is no one’s business. You will marry one of us but live with both of us.”
“That is the most ludicrous notion I have ever heard. How will that escape the notice of everyone that I am with the both of you?”
“Are all your worries about people’s opinions?”
“Aren’t you? What of our children? The scandal and destruction that could arise if it is ever let out—we would have to be very circumspect. My God, our children! We would never know who the father is. Even now I could be pregnant, Marcellus.”
“Maxwell and I are well-adjusted. My father and Grayson are well-adjusted.”
Her face whitened. “I beg your pardon?”
He released her and stepped back, giving her some space. He knew how forceful he could be, and he did not want to pressure her. He stared at her, unflinching. “My father warned us from when we were youths that there would come a time when we would want the same woman, and we would both love her. We scoffed, finding the idea ludicrous. We understood fully after we met you. That is how it is with Mother, our uncle, and Father. They are both hers.”
He noted the shock that glazed her eyes and dilated her pupils. He refused to go to her, forcing her to understand what he spoke of.
“Mother married Father, as he is the eldest, securing the title for her sons. They have both been hers for thirty-two years. Maxwell and I could be sons of our father or Uncle Grayson. It matters not who donated the actual seed.”
He chuckled without feeling amused when her mouth gaped.
“They both raised us. They taught us honor, and it was under their love and firm discipline we are the men we are today.”
She swayed on the desk, gripping the edges with whitened knuckles.
“Tell me, Emmeline, for I cannot bear not to know any longer. Do you love me? Do you need me?”
Marcellus seemed to freeze in front of her. His face shuttered, and everything about him appeared still as he waited for her answer. Emily realized on a surge of pure love that what she felt for him was of such importance that he was bracing himself for words that would hurt. What showed in his eyes broke her. It crashed and suffocated the fear, the anxiety, and the dread. Love, hot and debilitating, blazed from him.
She slithered off the desk and stepped toward him. He tensed in expectation.
“I love you so much I sometimes fear for my sanity. I question if it is possible to adore you so much even while I hunger for Maxwell.” She inhaled his scent, and sharp pangs of arousal sliced through her veins.
A slow smile tugged at his lips, unfreezing him, and she felt ridiculously pleased to see it.
Her gaze clashed with the savage brilliance of his.
“You will know nothing but joy and pleasure with us,” Marcellus promised. He dipped his head and claimed her lips. He was so gentle he surprised her. The intensity he vibrated with belied the softness of his lips on hers.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she assured him.
“There are times when Max and I will take you together. Not all the time but it will happen.”
“All right,” she said, weak with the sensations that tightened in her chest.
“Max can feel the relief and the urges that are bombarding me now. He will be here in the next few minutes.”
