That was the thought uppermost in his mind as he kissed the breath out of Martha Lord, who clung to him with the desperation of a woman in love. Through the kiss, he smiled at her naivete. She believed in him.
She would do anything for him.
And he would do anything... for himself.
His smile widened as he put the dark-haired witch from him just far enough to plant a slash of annoyance in her eyes. He knew just how to work her, how to get what he wanted. He cupped her shoulders and stroked the tension out of them with seductive fingers.
“So what are you going to do now?” he asked as if he were there totally for her support.
“I’m going to move in, of course.”
He laughed. “Your Sydney will be pleased.”
Martha’s dark eyes narrowed unflatteringly. One day he would have the pleasure of telling her how truly unattractive she sometimes made herself. But not today.
“She’s not my Sydney and I don’t care what that tramp thinks,” Martha said, her mouth setting in a pout. “That’s my home now that Kenneth is dead. Everything is mine.”
“And soon it will be ours,” he murmured, kissing her again.
Little did Martha know that he had more of an interest in Sydney than she. Little did she know that she was playing right into his hands. When Martha melted against him in complete surrender, he freed her lips.
“Unless you’ve changed your mind. Perhaps you’ll be bored with me once you have your hands on all that money.”
“Bored? Never. We’ll find new ways to keep ourselves amused with Kenneth’s money.” An expression of doubt crossed her narrow face. “The photographs... they could ruin everything. If that tramp–”
”Sshh.” He put a finger to her lips. “Don’t even say it. Nothing is going to be ruined. Not while we’re together.”
He’d taken care of the photographs just as he had the marriage certificate. He would have it all... and Sydney Raferty would rue the day she’d crossed him.