He shifted in the bed until she felt the length of him on her. Opening her eyes, she could see his face in the faint light. If a man can look pleased and hungry at the same time, he did. A small smug smile was on his lips, but his eyes were more intense than she’d ever seen them.
“I want you now, Ella.” He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips. “Do you understand what that means?”
“I want you too.” And she did. More than she’d wanted anything in her life.
“You have to let me in.” His lips hovered just over hers.
“What?” She barely got the word out when he pressed his hard length against the apex of her thighs, which were clamped shut. “What do I do?”
“Wrap your beautiful, long legs around me and relax.” He nibbled at the corner of her mouth, tickling her skin and making her giggle. With the sound, the tension flowed out of her and she did as he’d said. Cinching her arms and legs around him, she waited, trusting him.
He pushed into her, gently at first sliding in and out. It felt wonderful, but she wanted more. She tightened around him, trying to move him deeper as her body called for him.
“Patience,” he whispered, nipping at her shoulder and neck, but thrust deeper into her, changing to a faster rhythm. She felt frenzied with desire as he raised himself up slightly and plunged fully into her. A twinge of pain passed through her, but disappeared quickly under his kisses and the tightening in her stomach as he continued to push in her, increasing and varying the tempo until she felt like a top unwinding set free to dance.
His body shook with release before he collapsed onto her. Holding her close with his mouth near her ear, she fought against the fog that encased her to hear what he murmured. “I love you, Ella. I’ve loved you for so long.”
She wanted to say the words to him, but for once in her life, words failed her. By the time she could formulate speech, his slowed, steady breathing told her he was asleep. She kissed his cheek, snuggled closer into him and surrendered to sleep. In the morning, she’d be able to tell him how she felt.
****
Dawn coldness enveloped Jim as he left his cottage and took the short cut to the works. He stomped through puddles, covered with fragile layers of ice and vaulted over low fences. He focused on each step, each breath of frosty air pulled into his lungs because he couldn’t think about waking in Ella’s bed with her warm, sensuous body against his.
Couldn’t think of how he slipped out of her room and the cottage before she could wake.
Couldn’t think what he would say to her later today.
Couldn’t think about what he had said to her after they made love.
He’d marry her, of course. He wanted to marry her, to come home to her every night like he had lately, to make love to her in their bed. The joy those thoughts brought evaporated under the reality that he’d ruined her. He’d bound her to a man who didn’t even live under his own name, to a man not in her social class. Her brother would deny her the dowry and fortune she deserved. And she’d come to hate him for all these things.
A muffled sound behind him gave him a second’s warning before hands descended on his shoulders in an attempt to push him down. The first rays of dawn hadn’t penetrated the darkness in the narrow alley between old warehouses. In the dimness of the morning and his own thoughts, an assailant targeted him. Jim whirled around, barely keeping his footing on the slippery road. He expected a single thief, looking for an easy target, but there were three men posed to charge him.
He punched the closest in the throat, dropping the man to the ground while the others rushed him, knocking him back against a building. He braced himself and lunged off at the larger of his two assailants. Together, they rolled on the ground, landing punches at close range. Jim could handle one man, but he struggled for a glance at where the other ones were. The first was getting to his hands and knees, but the other wasn’t visible.
His opponent landed a solid punch to his kidney while Jim was distracted. He had to end this. Grabbing a large stone from the road, he bashed it against the head of the man he wrestled and scrambled up. A swift kick in the rising man’s stomach dropped him back into a mud puddle where he stayed.
The last of the three closed in on him, circling like a boxer in a ring. Predictable, Jim decided. With the others down, he could wait, catch his breath, until this man worked up the courage to fight. The fist came exactly when he anticipated it. Sidestepping, Jim punched the man’s gut, landed an uppercut on his chin, and had the satisfaction of watching him sink to the ground.
With the three down, Jim wiped the blood from his mouth with a handkerchief and scanned the area for anyone else. In the aftermath, he heard the shuffle of someone trying to walk quietly away. He sprinted toward the sound, rounding the edge of a building in time to see a bright green coat disappear. He knew that coat and color. Spencer.
Not bothering to give chase, he returned to where he’d fought the thugs. Two had gotten to their feet and were stumbling away. The last one was just rising. Grabbing him by the collar, Jim yanked him up.
“Who hired you?”
“Nobody,” the man said, spitting out a couple teeth with the word.
Jim shook him. “Wrong answer.”
“Careful,” the man whined. “Some rich bloke, fancy accent, nice clothes.”
“Description,” he demanded and then listened to the injured man give an accurate representation of Lord Spencer. With a shove, Jim pushed the man away, waiting for him to lumber down the street and around the corner.
No one else was around. His distraction over Ella had kept him from watching his surroundings, something his father engrained in him as a kid in London. Fortunately for him, the objective hadn’t been to kill him or he’d be dead. Fighting off three unarmed men was possible, but a gun or knife would have changed the outcome. He vowed not to be so careless in the future.
He didn’t give a damn about himself. The world would function just fine without him. But his death would leave Ella in an even worse spot than he already had. He swore loudly in the empty alley, listening to his curses reverberate off the old buildings.
Chapter Seventeen
“Mr. Jim sent these for you,” Sam said, pulling two packets from under his dripping rain slicker. Just before noon, dark clouds rolled in off the channel, bringing slanting rain and roaring wind. “Said to tell ya that he wouldn’t be back tonight.”
“Until late?” Ella took the packets, placing them on the dining room table where she already had a collection of papers and several open ledgers. Although disappointed to wake alone this morning, she hadn’t been surprised. She’d spent a few glorious moments in bed re-living the night before rising to collect her nightgown so her maid wouldn’t find it discarded on the floor.
“Not coming,” the boy reported, his face serious.
“Do you know why?” She had a suspicion that something was wrong and Sam needed her to ask what it was.
“Dunno, other than he got beat up this mornin’ on his way to the works,” Sam revealed. His intelligent eyes watching her face keenly.
“Was he hurt?” She kept her tone level, reluctant to give away more than the messenger already perceived, but inside her stomach clenched tight.
“Little bloody, but not too bad,” he paused, “since there were three.”
“Three men attacked him?” So much for control, her voice rose to almost a shriek.
“What I heard.”
The street-savvy boy would know the story, probably more than he was saying, but she’d learned enough. “Go to the kitchen and ask Mrs. Meeks for something warm before you start back. I’ll have papers for you to take in a few minutes.” She dismissed him, wanting to be alone.
The boy slurped in his wet clothes toward the kitchen. She waited until she heard the faint conversation between the housekeeper and Sam, and then she sank into her chair and let the weight of what the boy said settle over her.
Jim was right about the sabotage e
scalating, but she hadn’t expected the perpetrator to target Jim. Stupid of her. Of course, Jim was the target. As the chief designer and engineer, the ship wouldn’t launch without him. She took in a deep breath when the edges of her vision got hazy. She was not one of those women who fainted, but the blanket of fear descending over her was almost suffocating. She thought she loved Jim when he left her in London. What she felt then was nothing to how she felt now. But he was cut off from her. He wasn’t coming home and she couldn’t go to him.
Maybe he sent her a note. She broke open the packets, dumping their contents onto the table. The usual invoices and requisitions formed a heap, but a small, carefully folded and sealed note caught her attention. Smoothing it out, she read Jim’s neat handwriting.
Dear Ella,
I wish to offer my sincerest apologies for last night. I had no right to do as I did, and I fear you will be the one to pay the price for my actions. I will, of course, do what is right, but I’m sorry to have put you in such a position. I will write to your brother to formally ask his permission although I will be clear there is only one choice in the matter. My work will keep me busy over the next few days, but I beg you to stay at the cottage where you are safe.
Your most devoted,
Jim
Devoted? Apologies? The worst love letter ever, Ella decided, unsure whether to laugh or to cry over it. He’d marry her, but where were the words of love he whispered last night? Did he think she hadn’t heard him? Was it just the moment?
She clutched the note between her fingers, staring out the window into the rain-soaked garden. She’d already planned the improvements to the garden she’d make in the spring when she was mistress of this house, but she didn’t wish to be an obligation to Jim.
“I see you’ve heard,” Edmund said from the doorway. His clothes were damp and his usual smile gone. Ella jumped up and ran to him, burying her face in his shoulder. She wouldn’t cry, but she wanted the comfort of someone who understood.
“Is he all right?” she asked, stepping back.
“He’s fine,” Edmund assured her. “I don’t know what the other guys look like, but it’s probably not good.”
“I want to see him. Sam said he’s not coming home tonight.” Too many emotions competed for her to process. She needed to see Jim to tell him how she felt and ascertain that he loved her, that he wanted to marry her.
“His hourly countdown for the ship started this afternoon.” Edmund removed his wet coat, draping it over a chair. “I doubt you’ll see him until launch.”
“Hourly?”
“Jim’s precise.” Edmund led her back to her seat. “He has every minute planned from now until the Admiralty arrive on Friday.”
“But he has to sleep.” She raised an obvious objection while not voicing her real one.
“He’ll sleep at the works unless I force him to leave.”
“Can you do that?” Her voice sounded hopeful, like a child asking for an extra helping of rice pudding.
“Normally, yes, but I think he has another reason to avoid coming here.” He rested a hand over hers in a brotherly manner. “Out with it.”
“I…” She tried to speak, but couldn’t find the words. Not only was Edmund her brother-in-law, she’d known him since they were children. Normally, she could say anything to him so she tried again. “We…” She started and then raised her hands in the air.
“I think I understand based on Jim’s reaction and yours. Your face is the color of a pomegranate. Jim will hardly look at me and he’s stalking around, yelling at anyone who crosses his path.”
“What do we do?”
“You marry Jim. Isn’t that what you wanted from the beginning?”
“Yes, but I wanted him to want to marry me. Does that make sense?”
“Perfectly. Who says he doesn’t want to? Did he tell you that?”
“Well, no, but—” She held up the note for Edmund to read.
He quickly scanned the letter and laughed. Slumping into a chair, he continued to chuckle. “The note is so Jim. You’ll have to get used to that when you marry him. I don’t think he can write love letters.”
“I’m sure he can if he wants to.” She defended her lover. He was capable of great tenderness and passion if last night was any indication.
“You’ll have to wait until after the launch,” Edmund said, returning to her earlier question. “I’ll attempt to force him here in the next few days so you can speak with him, but I can’t promise anything. Since Annabelle arrives tomorrow night, he’ll assign me house duty and stay at the works.”
“House duty?”
“We’ve put a guard on the cottage, but Jim and I agreed that one of us should be here nearly around the clock.”
“Why?”
“From this morning’s attack on Jim, we know that the saboteur isn’t afraid to make this personal. Anyone who has seen you with Jim knows that hurting you will hurt Jim. The same goes for Annabelle because of me.”
“So I’m a prisoner?”
“Don’t think of it like that,” Edmund grinned, “imagine it as a house party with rules.”
December 14, 1858
Edmund’s conception of a party didn’t match mine in the least. I’ve stayed in the house or garden as instructed for two days without seeing Jim. He continues to send work, which I return through Sam, but he’s made no other effort to contact me. No notes, not even messages through Edmund when he makes his once daily trips to the works. Oh, the frustration.
The only bright spot was a letter from Richard yesterday announcing the birth of a boy. Mary and the baby are doing well, and Richard seems delighted with a son. Every man wants a son. I assume that includes Jim. I’d be happy to discuss marriage and children with him if he’d take the time to see me.
I sound peevish. A trait I dislike in others. And I’m not wishing for Jim to lay prostrate at my feet for hours, inundating me with compliments (although that does sound nice). I simply want a ten-minute conversation in which he proposes and tells me he’ll love me forever. Considering the circumstances, this is not too much to ask.
At least Annabelle arrives today so I have something to look forward to.
Ella wandered in the garden beside the cottage, waiting for her sister to come. When the carriage pulled up, she waved to her sister and started forward to greet her, but Edmund swept Annabelle off her feet, kissed her, and carried her into the house.
Lingering in the garden in the cool sunshine seemed a good idea while the couple re-united. She sat on a bench imagining where she’d plant pansies in the spring, how she’d train the rose bush to climb an arbor like the ones at her brother’s estate, and what kind of fountain would grace the center of the garden.
The kitchen door snapped closed while she mused, breaking into her thoughts. The guard Jim assigned to the house was getting a late breakfast from Mrs. Meeks. Ella was alone and unwatched for the moment. An idea she genuinely hadn’t considered for days surfaced in her head. She could walk to the works. Since she was already dressed for the weather in her woolen cape and heavy boots, she could start now. Jim wouldn’t like it, but he couldn’t change what was done when she got there.
With one glance toward the cottage, she slipped out the side gate and raised her hood to shield her face. She cut through the small section of woods near the house, making for the short cut to the works. No one would recognize her garbed as she was and it was broad daylight. What could possibly be the danger? Getting lost was a more likely possibility than being threatened, she decided, picking up her pace. She’d traversed this way once with Edmund last summer and hoped her memory would guide her through the alleyways.
Fearing nothing, she found the entrance to the short cut and walked quickly between the empty buildings. A few people lingered in the streets, but the cold had driven most inside. The alley narrowed, cutting between dilapidated houses, as it approached the main street.
Only a quarter mile to the works remained when a door to her left o
pened. Her hood cut off any visibility from that side so she hurried forward within sight of the alley’s end. A sharp tug brought her to a stop as her cape tightened at the throat. Instinctively, she reached to her neck but was pulled back by someone holding onto the fabric.
With a scream on her lips, hands turned her violently and clapped over her mouth. More hands closed around her waist, lifting her off her feet. She bit and kicked at her unseen attackers. A few grunts told her she’d made contact, but it wasn’t enough. She was dragged into one of the houses.
Inside, strong arms pinned her hands to her sides while someone else yanked her hood back. The one window in the room was covered with thick paper, allowing little light to enter the dingy space. Wherever she was, it wasn’t a good place. She had to get back out the door. She twisted, throwing her weight from side-to-side, but against two men in an unfamiliar place, she was forced back.
“Sit,” a voice ordered, shoving her down into a chair. She pushed back up, almost making it to her feet when a hand shot out smacking her cheek. Her head jerked to the side and her face stung with pain. She rose a second time, fright giving way to fury. When they forced her down this time, they tied her to her chair with leather straps. She immediately tugged against them, but they only tightened. Out of breath and with her hair hanging in her face, she tried to calm herself.
“Got her, boss,” the man who’d slapped her called.
“You may wait in the other room. I’ll call when I need you,” a voice answered. A voice she knew. Lord Spencer entered the room in his ubiquitous green coat.
“Hello, darling,” he greeted her, grabbing her chin and forcing a kiss. She tried to shake him off, but couldn’t. His fingers undid her cape and lingered on her neck where the clasp had dug into her skin in the fight.
“What do you want, Lord Spencer?” Habit made her use his title, but it didn’t hurt to remind him of his position in society regardless of how far he’d fallen.
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