by Diana Bold
* * * *
Vanessa pressed her forehead against her bedroom window, staring through the pouring rain at the dark street below. More than a fortnight had passed since Prometheus had last come to call, and she’d lost hope of seeing him again. She wasn’t sure why she felt such an aching sense of loss. She didn’t even know what he looked like, had only shared a few hushed conversations and that one amazing kiss, yet the loneliness she’d sensed in him had touched her in a soul deep way.
For those few minutes she’d spent in his company, the loneliness in her own soul had briefly subsided. Perhaps it was the danger that surrounded him, but he’d made her feel alive. Hardly a moment had passed in the last few weeks that he hadn’t been on her mind, always lurking in the corner of her thoughts, even when she was on stage.
Discovering his identity had become an obsession.
Unfortunately, she had very little to work with. If he didn’t return, her desire to find out who he was and explore a further relationship with him would be in vain.
All she really knew was that he was tall, a bit over six feet. His hair was a dark, sable brown and wavy, brushing his wide shoulders, and his eyes were blue or green. Of late, she’d found herself focusing on the mouth of every man she met, because if there was one physical characteristic she knew she’d recognize, were she to see it again, it was his mouth.
She closed her eyes, remembering the way he’d kissed her. Such passion and promise…she couldn’t imagine going the rest of her life without experiencing that again.
A nearby thud startled her out of her reverie, and she opened her eyes to find a hooded figure standing on the ledge outside her window, staring at her through the rain and glass. She lifted one hand to her throat, her pulse racing with excitement. Had she summoned him with her longing, or did he feel it too? For a long moment they just looked at each other, and then she hastened to open the window and let him in.
“What were you thinking?” she exclaimed as he clambered through, bringing the scent of rain and wet wool with him. “You shouldn’t be leaping across rooftops in the rain. You’re lucky you didn’t fall to your death.”
He closed the window and then leaned against it, the faintest hint of amusement gracing that beautiful mouth. She realized she’d never seen him truly smile. “Does this concern mean you’re pleased to see me?”
Stepping forward, she brushed her fingertips along his jaw, skimming across his cold, rain-slicked skin. He caught his breath, and she jerked her hand back as though she’d been burned. “I half-feared you were a dream,” she told him, explaining her actions with a shaky laugh. “I was staring out the window, wishing you’d come back…”
“I like the thought of you dreaming of me, Vanessa,” he said softly. “I like it very much.”
She dropped her gaze, embarrassed. “I’m very pleased you’re here. It’s been weeks. I thought I’d seen the last of you.”
“I tried to stay away,” he replied, and his big body convulsed in a shiver. “The last thing I want is to drag you any further into this, but tonight I lost the battle.”
His words warmed her more than she cared to admit. How gratifying to know she wasn’t the only one gripped by this overwhelming attraction. She loved the thought of him battling the urge to see her and losing.
“You’re freezing,” she chided gently. With businesslike efficiency, she divested him of his wet cloak and spread it across a chair to dry. Then she took his hand and led him to the small sofa in front of the fireplace. “Sit down and I’ll get you a blanket.”
As he obediently did as she’d requested, she went to the wardrobe and found her heaviest quilt, along with a clean towel. When she returned to his side, she tucked the blanket around his shoulders and briskly toweled his soaking wet hair. He gave her a look askance, and then pressed his fingertips to his mask, holding it in place.
Disappointed in his continued wish to keep his identity a secret, she contented herself with letting his silky hair slide through her fingers as she dried it. Was there anything about the man that wasn’t utterly beautiful?
“Thank you,” he murmured roughly as she stepped back. “No one has fussed over me that way in longer than I can remember.”
“I enjoy fussing over you.” In truth, he inspired a domestic instinct she’d never known she was capable of. “Would you like some hot tea?”
He settled back upon the sofa, stretching his long, muscular legs toward the fire. The damp fabric clung lovingly to every inch of his powerful body. She felt his gaze upon her, although the infuriating mask obscured all but a glimpse of his eyes. “I’ve been told you make the most fantastic chocolate,” he said with a hint of humor. “In fact, I’ve been assured you just might craft the most amazing hot chocolate in the world.”
She laughed. “You’ve been talking to Gabriel.”
He nodded. “He thinks the sun rises and sets on you, Vanessa.”
“And I him,” she replied, unbidden tears flooding her eyes. “It kills me not to be able to have him with me all the time.”
“You have a big heart.” The admiration in his voice took her by surprise.
Blinking away the tears, she headed for the kitchen. “Two cups of the world’s most amazing chocolate coming right up,” she called over her shoulder.
As she filled the chocolate pot with water and milk and gathered the other ingredients, she tried to make sense of her jumbled emotions. She couldn’t believe she was entertaining a masked man in her bedroom in the middle of the night, dressed in naught but her nightgown, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps she should be frightened, or at the very least offended by his repeated visits, but they were far past that.
If he’d wanted to hurt her or take advantage of her, she figured he would have already done so. The fact that he’d remained a perfect gentleman, given the circumstances, spoke very highly of him. Besides, he spent his time rescuing innocents, and according to Fiona he funded the orphanage as well. If anyone’s morals were to be questioned here, it was probably her own, because deep down she hoped he would not be such a gentleman this evening.
Taking a deep, calming breath, she returned to her bedroom and knelt before the fire, setting the pot above the flame as she grated the chocolate into it. She felt him watching her and offered him a smile as she revealed her secret ingredients. “Cloves, cinnamon, and, most importantly, cayenne pepper.”
“Cayenne pepper?” he inquired, leaning forward, obviously intrigued.
“My father spent some time in South America,” she replied. “He learned this recipe there.”
“He was a traveler and an actor?” he asked, obviously remembering what they’d discussed on his last visit. “Sounds like an interesting man.”
“Oh, he was interesting, all right,” she replied darkly. “He was very charming, when he wasn’t drinking.”
“Did he hurt you?” Something in his voice made her glance sharply at him. Something that said he understood what it was like to be hurt by the ones who were supposed to take care of you, the ones who were supposed to love you the most.
“Not too much,” she answered evasively. “I was pretty good at hiding when I realized he was in his cups. I kept my head down until the coast was clear.”
“Smart girl,” he said, seeming relieved. She wondered what ghosts of his own he battled and decided they must be fearsome ones, given the risks he took to save those who couldn’t save themselves. Her admiration for him grew.
A comfortable silence fell between them while she finished the chocolate, and at last she settled beside him on the sofa. She watched expectantly as he took a sip from his steaming mug. “What do you think? Was Gabriel right?”
He closed his eyes, savoring the fragrant brew. “Mmm,” he murmured. “Delicious, Vanessa. Even better than Gabriel led me to believe.”
She beamed at him, ridiculously pleased by the compliment. She so seldom had a chance to show off her domestic skills, and she truly had enjoyed making it for h
im. “I’m glad you like it. Are you warm enough now?”
He nodded. “It wasn’t raining when I left Brookhaven. When the deluge started, I knew I should go home, but I figured I was going to get wet either way, and I really just wanted to see you again.”
“Why did you stay away so long?” she asked softly.
A frown skated across his lips. “I worry that I’m putting you at risk by coming here. Or worse, that I’ve put the children at risk by trusting you with my secret.”
“Surely you know how much I admire what you’re doing,” she told him, stung. “Brookhaven is such an incredible place. What you’ve done there is truly exceptional. I would never do anything to jeopardize all your hard work.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” He set his mug of chocolate aside and grasped both of her hands, angling his body to close the space between them. “I do trust you, Vanessa. I just don’t know why, and it scares the hell out of me. I’ve been so careful for so long, but with you I’m tempted to throw caution to the wind. I’m tempted to take off this mask and expose myself to you in every possible way.”
He was close enough that the light from the fire caught his eyes. They were definitely blue, the deep color of a cloudless sky, framed by impossibly long dark lashes.
“I would never betray you,” she breathed. “I just want to see you. I want to know everything about you.”
“Not tonight,” he told her in a pained voice. “Perhaps next time?”
“Next time,” she agreed, determined not to let her disappointment show. She knew how much he risked. If he were to reveal himself to her, she could easily trade the information to Scotland Yard. Trust had to be earned, and she was determined to earn his.
They were sitting so close, their knees touching, his hip pressed against hers. Very improper, but wonderfully intimate. He smelled of the rain and something far subtler and masculine. She longed to simply turn her face against his chest and breathe him in.
“Do you trust me?” he asked gently, cupping her face with his hands and gazing deeply into her eyes.
“Yes,” she whispered, excitement ricocheting within her. Was he going to kiss her again?
“When you were making the chocolate, I had a sudden, vivid memory of my mother and father. I was just a child when he died, but I remember how much they cared for each other. In the evenings, they would cuddle up together on the sofa while she read aloud and he rubbed her feet.”
“Do you want me to read to you?” she asked hesitantly, surprised by his request.
He nodded emphatically. “I can think of nothing I’d like better than to sit here with you for a while, listening to the rain and the sound of your voice.”
“And you’ll rub my feet?” she asked daringly, charmed by the picture of domestic harmony he painted. She’d never imagined married people doing such sweet, mundane things together.
“Of course.” He grabbed the novel she’d been reading earlier in the evening off the table and handed it to her. “This will do.”
She took the book with a nervous laugh. “All right. If you’re sure.”
“I’ve never been so sure of anything.” He reached down and grabbed her feet, swinging them up into his lap, turning her a bit so that her back was against the arm of the sofa and she was facing him. Her bare feet settled against his slightly damp trousers, but she could feel the heat of his body beneath them. Desire flared deep within her. She’d only had one lover in her life, and it had been a dreadful mistake. But somehow she knew that if she were to let this man in her bed, he would never disappoint her.
His warm hands closed over her left foot, and his thumbs pressed deep against her arch, making her emit a small, inarticulate sound of pleasure.
“Read,” he reminded her, as he continued his exquisite torture.
The words swam before her on the page, but she somehow managed to make sense of them. She would never remember what she read. All she could focus on was the warm, insistent pressure of his hands on her skin. The man truly was a magician. She’d never imagined how decadent a foot rub could be.
On Chapter two, he switched to her other foot. On Chapter three, his hands strayed to her calf, massaging the muscles as he worked his way up her leg an inch at a time. She became very aware of the fact that there was nothing to hinder his continued exploration, and also that he was monstrously aroused.
Her voice trailed off as her gaze settled upon his erection. If she moved her foot just a few scant inches to the left, she could press her sole against it. Obviously realizing what she was staring at, he made a soft, tortured sound. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but from the moment I touched you, I couldn’t control it. I want you, Vanessa. I want you so damned bad.”
“I want you, too,” she admitted, feeling as though she stood on a precipice. “It frightens me.”
He released her foot and scooted back, putting a bit of space between them. “The last thing I wanted to do was frighten you.”
“It’s not you who frightens me,” she hastened to reassure him. “It’s me. I’ve never felt like this before, not about anyone. But I don’t even know your name, and until I do, I can’t give myself to you. Not fully.”
His hands lifted to his mask in what seemed an involuntary movement. But instead of taking it off, he fastened it more securely. “I’m sorry. And I understand. I honestly do.” He started to move off the sofa, and she surprised them both by stopping him with a hand on his chest.
“You can kiss me,” she said, amazed by her daring. “Please kiss me again before you leave.”
A husky laugh escaped him, and the sound struck a chord deep in her heart, because she knew how seldom he let himself feel happiness. She wanted to hear him laugh again. She wanted to make him laugh all the time. “Let’s make it count then, shall we?”
Before she could answer, he bent forward and scooped her into his arms, arranging her across his lap so that she faced him with a knee on either side of his hips. He was still hard, and she melted as she pressed against him, imagining how wonderful it would feel to have him inside her. She bit her lip and stared down at him dizzily. “I love this,” she whispered. “I love the way you feel.”
Putting his hands on her hips, he rocked against her, making a soft, sexy sound. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed. “I’ll never forget the way you look at this moment, with your hair tumbled across your shoulders and desire in your eyes. You are my every erotic dream come true, Vanessa.”
“And you are mine.” She bent toward him, brushing her lips across his with aching tenderness.
He groaned and buried his hands in her hair, deepening the kiss with wild abandon, holding nothing back as his tongue danced intimately with hers. She drowned in the taste and feel of him, never wanting the kiss to end.
For a long time, it didn’t. One dizzying kiss led to another, and then another. She began to feel light-headed, and she couldn’t help but move against him, struggling to get closer, wanting to be one with him in the most primal way.
As last he broke away, thrusting her away from him with a muffled curse. She pulled her knees to her chest, staring at him, struggling to catch her breath. The first thing he did was readjust his mask with trembling hands, but not before she noticed the edge of a pretty significant scar on his left cheek. She immediately dropped her gaze, not wanting him to know he’d given anything away, but she filed that little piece of information away in her mind, along with all the rest.
“Ah, Vanessa,” he said at last. “Words cannot convey how much I enjoyed that. How much I’ve enjoyed all of this, just being here with you.”
She hesitantly lifted her eyes to his, loving the intensity of the emotions he stirred within her. “Will you come again?”
He pushed to his feet, and then bent down to press a sweet, chaste kiss to her forehead. “Nothing in the world could keep me away, ’Nessa.”
Chapter Six
Adrian entered Madame Mamie’s with a heavy heart. Over three weeks had passed since h
e’d rescued Gabriel, and it was long past time for Prometheus to make another appearance. In order to do that though, he first had to do a little reconnaissance and find someone in need of rescuing.
His spy inside the current Earl of Winters’s empire of whorehouses and low-rent properties had assured him that Madame Mamie’s was his stepbrother’s newest venture, so Adrian had come to patronize the horrid place. Hopefully, tonight he’d find all the information he needed to shut the place down within the week.
“Mr. Strathmore, I believe?” the woman he assumed was Madame Mamie purred silkily as she opened the door. “We’d hoped you’d find your way to our little establishment.”
Adrian frowned, unnerved by the fact that the woman had called him by name. He supposed his scars were unmistakable, and he’d done his best to establish himself as a pursuer of wide and varied sexual appetites. The denizens of London’s seedy underground sex pits considered him one of their own, yet for some reason this woman’s fawning welcome gave him a shiver of apprehension.
Uneasily, he wondered if Roger had begun to put the pieces together, if he’d realized that his establishments were targeted far more often than any others. If he had, he might have begun to wonder who had a vendetta against him, and if so, his thoughts would naturally turn to Adrian and his brothers. He cursed his scarred face, which kept him from going anywhere incognito.
Shaking away his fears, Adrian followed Madame Mamie into a lushly decorated parlor, the red velvet and satin eclipsed only by the varied array of young girls who lounged around the fine furniture in revealing lingerie. He winced internally when he saw how young they were. Not one of them had probably seen her sixteenth birthday.
“See anything you like?” Madame Mamie asked, as he ran what he hoped was a dispassionate eye over her merchandise.
His gaze caught and held on a tiny, dark-haired girl in the corner, whose fear rolled off her in a tangible wave. “What about that one?” he asked lazily. “Is she new?”
“Ah, good eye,” Madame Mamie replied with a mercenary smile. “That one’s a virgin. Just arrived this morning. You’ll have to pay extra, of course, if she’s your choice.”
