“Do you like it, Emmeline?”
In her elation, words evaporated. Putting the box aside, she leapt from the chair, wrapped her arms around her aunt’s corseted waist, and whispered into her neck, “Thank you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight:
Broken China
The clocks in the darkened halls of Eilian Sorrell’s home tolled one, but the mechanized bells were drowned beneath the laughter of his guests as another round of charades came to an end. Around the feet of the party lay bits of paper from spent ideas and burst Christmas crackers. On the side tables empty teacups and plates waited to be collected again after being endlessly filled and drained throughout the hours after dinner. Eilian straightened his paper crown as he puffed out his cheeks and pantomimed taking a large bite of meat while rubbing an invisible belly.
“Santa Claus?” Emmeline called but was given a shake of his head as he continued to swagger and eat.
“King Henry the Eighth?” The last word trailed from Hadley’s mouth as a stifled yawn.
“Correct!” Eilian glanced over his shoulder at the clock perched atop the mantle and realized it was nearly two-thirty in the morning. “I guess we should head off to bed before sunrise, shouldn’t we? Hadley, would you be willing to show Adam, Mr. Winter, and Miss Jardine to their rooms?”
With a nod, the group clambered to their feet and followed the redhead down the hall as they rubbed their eyes and sighed, suddenly feeling the weight of suppressed fatigue. Emmeline clutched the box containing her coming-out dress to her breast as she blinked and toddled blindly, entering the door Hadley opened for her without a word. She knew she would probably fall asleep before she could even get into her nightgown. Once the youngest guest had been safely deposited in the room beside Hadley’s, she led her brother and Immanuel further into the labyrinth until they reached the two adjacent doors at the end of the hall.
Linking arms with the men, she drew them near and whispered, “I told Patrick that neither of you needed a fire lit in the morning. Merry Christmas.”
With a smile, she was gone, her heels clacking softly as she retreated back to her room at the far end of the corridor. Adam locked eyes with Immanuel as each turned the knob and disappeared into their rooms. His travel bag was lying on the dresser, but when he locked the door and pulled off his jacket, a pang of guilt rang through him. Immanuel was in the next room, far from the prying eyes and ears of his extended family as Hadley intended them to be, yet he couldn’t bring himself to dart back into the hall and sneak into the next room. No, he wouldn’t be caught prowling around his future brother-in-law’s house in the middle of the night. But Immanuel would be expecting him, wouldn’t he? He could picture his companion’s crestfallen face, his two-tone eyes downcast when he realized his lover would not be paying him a visit. Could he resist for both of their sakes?
The dull squeal of a hinge opening roused him. When Adam turned, his gaze met Immanuel’s as his head appeared in the gap between two well-worn tapestries hanging on the wall that separated their rooms. The breath hitched in his throat as his companion lingered between the chambers watching him. Adam took a step forward. Could he let go again? The last time he tried, his sister stumbled upon them in his bedroom, but with everyone on the other side of the house, would they hear them? Would they know they had crossed the threshold?
Before he could act on his discordant thoughts, Immanuel's arms were around him, drawing their bodies together until their lips touched. He planted a series of light, slow kisses on Adam’s lax mouth, letting their lips interlock and linger before pulling away to repeat the process. After half a dozen kisses, he withdrew and rested his head against Adam’s neck, his arms tightly wound around his chest. With a sigh, they stood in each other’s arms with their eyes closed, relishing the simple intimacy of an embrace.
“Are you mad at me?” Immanuel asked, his voice muffled by the redhead’s collar.
“No, why would I be?”
“Because I will be going back to Oxford in a few weeks, and we will not be able to see each other very often.”
Adam trailed his fingers into Immanuel’s curls and cradled his head as their bodies swayed slightly. “I know, but it won’t be for long. You will be back for the wedding, and in the meantime, we could still write to each other. Once in a while, I could come up to Oxford and we could make a holiday of it. Also, once you are done there, you can get a job in London, and we can see each other all the time.”
His lips curled into a smile against the warm flesh of his companion’s neck. “That sounds perfect.”
Swallowing hard, Adam tensed against the succession of kisses that began at the top of his collar and ended at his ear before coming back down again. Immanuel’s hand came up to loosen his tie, but Adam pulled it away and brought it to his lips.
“Is your door locked?” he whispered, hesitating before slipping his hand under Immanuel’s jacket and resting it on his side.
The second Immanuel nodded, Adam pressed his lips to his, drawing him closer until their bodies were flush. Warmth radiated from his core as his tongue darted against the other man’s lip. Ever since their interruption, he had wanted nothing more than to hold Immanuel in his arms and explore his flesh, but he never thought he would have the chance. The taller man’s long fingers tugged his shirt loose before yanking at his tie. When Adam’s tongue grazed his and raced across his palate, his hands faltered, slackening before pawing at the silk with renewed urgency.
It was in these moments when he was with Adam that he felt like his old self, the Immanuel that existed before Lord Rose stripped him of his identity and personhood. Even during the brutality of those days in solitary confinement, he longed to remember the feeling of a reassuring hand on his back and the loving caress of someone who genuinely cared. He dreamed of it so often, but it never felt as good as this.
At the museum when panic stole what little control he had over his faculties, Adam restored him, and he knew then that this man, who had only just entered his life, was not there by chance. Both men were searching for parts of themselves that had been forced into hiding, yet somehow in the intertwining of limbs and the vulnerability of their souls lying bare, they returned to their rightful place, even if only for a few fleeting moments.
Before Adam could try to remove it, Immanuel’s jacket slumped to the floor behind him with a shrug of his shoulders. With trembling fingers, he worked on the buttons of the redhead’s vest, pausing and struggling each time a kiss pulled his attention away. Breathlessly Immanuel broke away from his lips. Adam watched his companion’s fingers slip over the buttons of his waistcoat, unable to grasp them and thread them through the opening, and with each failure, his breaths grew more ragged and strained. Reaching out, he held Immanuel’s hands and kissed the ridge of his clavicle as it peeked out from the edge of his collar until the other man quieted. Immanuel shut his eyes against the frustration burning behind his lids, allowing Adam to lead him back until his legs abutted the edge of the bed. When he finally sat down, a gentle hand lifted his chin and gaze.
“It’s all right,” Adam whispered as his companion’s hands danced in his lap against his will. Slowly, he undid the buttons of his vest and removed his shirt before doing the same to Immanuel’s waistcoat. “Tell me if you need help instead of struggling in silence.”
His eyes clouded, blocking out most of his companion’s body. “I’m sorry. I— I just wanted tonight to be special.”
“There is no reason to be sorry, Immanuel. Tonight already is special.” Resting his hand against his split cheek, Adam stared into his turquoise eyes. For the first time, he noticed how the veins of copper not only aggregated to form half of a coin but threaded through the blue of his iris, terminating at his pupil. He flashed a reassuring grin. “We have the opportunity to be together and we are, but we do not have to do everything this instant. It will be something to look forward to next time.”
“Are you certain? Dr. Hawthorne says I may have tremors for some time
because of the dosage of electricity I received, but I can still— I don’t—” Immanuel sighed as he wrapped his arms around Adam’s torso and pulled him closer until his cheek rested against his bare stomach. “Thank you for understanding.”
Adam’s smile tightened as he swallowed against the tingling and heat rising below. “We can still spend a pleasant night together. Do you want me to bring you your nightclothes?”
“No,” he chuckled as he gently tugged at his partner’s braces.
“Have it your way, but you are going to be cold tonight.”
Slipping his arms through his suspenders, Adam let his trousers drop as he kicked off his socks and shoes. Immanuel stared up at his companion, running his eyes over his firm arms and chest. Much like Hadley, he was sturdy without being muscular or weighty. His breast was dusted with henna hair that trailed down his stomach and disappeared beneath his cotton drawers. How could he let Adam see him?
As the redhead bent down and kissed him, his hands slid over Immanuel’s shoulders, taking his shirt with them, but he stiffened and kept it tucked around him at his elbows. Wrapping his arm around his waist, Adam sat beside him on the bed and deepened his hold with each kiss until he and Immanuel breathed in time, and with a press of his hand, he lay back on the coverlet. When Immanuel opened his eyes a few minutes later, his shirt was tumbling off the edge.
In the dark, Immanuel hoped Adam wouldn't see how he had wasted away since September from starvation and illness. The body he had lived in for twenty-one years was gone and had been replaced by something frail. Like broken china, he had been hastily pieced back together. From afar he appeared whole, but lying beside him, Adam would surely see every scratch, crack, and gap. A hand trailed up his leg, but before his companion could reach for the button of his trousers, he hopped off the bed. If he could get under the covers quickly, maybe Adam wouldn't notice his defects.
Adam climbed onto his knees and watched Immanuel fumble with the button. His heart sank when his eyes followed the sharp outline of his rolling shoulder blades to a field of circular scars etched into his back. In the dim light, they shone against his ashen skin. The monster had held a lit cigarette to his back a dozen times, and for what? He averted his gaze only to have it fall upon the edge of a scar that disappeared around the curve of his torso. What had been done to him in the hell his companion refused to speak of? As Immanuel’s wool trousers finally sagged to the floor, Adam pressed his lips to the lasting reminders of his torment.
Immanuel drew in a sharp breath. His flaws had been found, but with each reverent kiss, the agony from the moment his flesh was incinerated dulled. There was love and goodness in this world, and they were as transformative as wickedness. He would always have to live with the horrors he experienced at the hands of Lord Rose, but Adam had the power to save him from the bitterness and grief of knowing true evil.
Standing behind him with his arms wrapped around Immanuel’s narrow waist, Adam’s lips grazed the stitches on his neck. “Come to bed, Immanuel.”
Silently, he followed Adam beneath the sheets. The redhead’s arms enveloped him as he rested his head on his breast, listening to the steady cadence of his heart. Adam rested his thumb in the dent on the side of his ribs where the bones had not aligned properly and stroked the soft flesh around it with his fingertips. Lying in the security of Adam’s embrace, Immanuel closed his eyes. This wouldn’t be a onetime thing, a fleeting embrace. There was a promise of tomorrows and of a life together that behind closed doors would flourish. Even if the world could never accept who they were, at least they had each other and the knowledge that someone else knew.
Chapter Twenty-Nine:
Nightmares of Devils
Immanuel’s body jerked, curling inward as his fingers gripped the sheets in pain. A cry escaped his lips, but with his mouth pressed into the pillow, it went unheard by his companion. He had to get out. Somehow he had to escape. His eyes flew open and met only the opaque fabric film of a blindfold. Frantically pawing at his face, Immanuel peeled off the sweat-drenched sheet. Relief washed over him, slowing his pounding heart as his eyes trailed over the tapestried wall ahead of him and the mullioned windows to his left. Flipping on the lamp beside the bed, Immanuel sighed. The catacomb was gone and in its place only inches away beneath the coverlet was Adam’s slumbering form. He was safe. The beating was a dream. The man in the mask wasn’t real, he told himself as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, his hand radiating heat. At least this time he didn’t wake up alone.
Inching closer to Adam, he leaned against the headboard but remained far enough away to take in his features in the diffuse light. A scant amount of auburn stubble darkened his jaw and throat, removing what little foppishness was left once he slipped from his fussy attire. The final traces of the offal from the cellar disappeared as he inhaled the faint aroma of Adam’s lavender cologne. With a smile he drew in a deep breath, tasting the subtle spice of his companion’s flesh and hair with its hints of black tea and nutmeg. He hadn’t expected Adam to coax him into bed after the resistance he put up in the past regarding his proclivities, yet he found himself drawn in and made to feel safe. A hand gently squeezed his beneath the sheet.
“What’s the matter?” the redhead murmured, pulling the blanket closer. “Go back to sleep, it’s early.”
“I can’t. I’m overheating.”
Adam’s eyes flew open as he threw off the covers and inspected Immanuel’s colorless skin and flushed cheeks. Sitting up, he put his hand on his companion’s forehead. “You are positively burning up! Are you all right?”
“Am I ever, Adam?”
Catching each other’s gaze, Adam’s eyes softened at the fatigue and spent fear lingering in his companion’s features. The color in his eyes and cheeks rose with feral heat, the same he had seen outside the museum. His skin glistened with cold perspiration, highlighting the peaks of his ribs as they pushed against the confines of his skin with each breath. A part of him wanted to take Immanuel in his arms and hold him until all dread and panic were gone, but the hardness of his eyes kept him from acting.
“It was only a nightmare. I will be fine.”
“Well, whatever frightened you is gone now.” Drawing Immanuel closer, he kissed his cheek. “Would you care to lie with me a little longer? The others probably will not be up for another hour or two.”
He closed his eyes as Adam kissed his shoulder, but the moment he relaxed, the vision of Alastair Rose’s saffron eyes burning behind the devil mask flooded his mind. Biting his lip, he suppressed a shudder. There would be no going back to sleep. A wave of heat flooded his face and neck, and he instinctively reached for the collar that was not there. The tapestries and wood-paneled walls distorted, growing closer with each quickened breath. All thoughts except escape fled his mind when a hand clasped his forearm. Immanuel jumped but forced a smile as he met his companion’s kind features.
“Are you sure you are all right? I can help you get dressed and call James.”
Immanuel swallowed hard between measured breaths. “Really, I’m fine. I just need to step outside and cool down.” Leaning in, he planted a kiss on Adam’s lips and hoped the other man could not feel his mouth quaver. “Sharing a bed with you does not make it easy.”
“Would you like me to accompany you?” he asked with a bright grin.
“No, stay. I shall only be gone a few moments.”
Climbing out of bed, he kissed Adam one more time before gathering his clothes off the floor. In the safety of his room, he wiped away the sweat with the icy water of the washbasin and donned Dr. Hawthorne’s hand-me-downs. Even if today was Christmas, he wasn’t feeling very festive. Lord Rose had cast a shadow over him again, ruining the moment when he awoke at Adam’s side.
Digging through his bag, he pulled out a rolled piece of paper tied with red ribbon. He had run out of money after they went to the opera, but he had to give Adam something for Christmas. Long into the night before they left Wimpole Street, he sketched his compan
ion from memory, delineating the graceful curves of his face and the spark in his blue eyes. Immanuel peeked into Adam’s room and found him sleeping peacefully where he left him. Placing the scroll on the nightstand, he slipped into the hall and headed for the foyer.
As he passed the drawing room, something moving within caught his eye. With soundless steps, he walked back to the door and peered inside. Sitting in front of the Christmas tree was Emmeline Jardine, absentmindedly stoking the fire. Her dark hair was mussed from sleep and hung about her head in a loose braid except in the front where it fell in curled tendrils. Sensing someone behind her, she pulled her quilted, purple dressing gown closer and stared up at him with wide eyes.
“I did not expect anyone to be up yet.”
“Don’t mind me. I was just stepping out for some fresh air.” He was about to leave when he noticed the red rim around her eyes. “Is there anything wrong, Miss Jardine?”
“No, I—” She sighed as she placed the fireplace poker back in its rack. “I was thinking about my mother. This will be my first Christmas without her.”
“I’m sorry you lost her.”
“We have both lost things that were important to us.” Her eyes flickered over the scar on his cheek. “Did you notice them talking about you at dinner?”
Immanuel shook his head. During dinner, he had been listening to Lord Sorrell and Miss Fenice’s recount the tales of their courtship and time in Palestine.
The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Box Set Page 48
