She pulled free of his grasp and sat up, the linens falling to her waist, his attention following to her bare breasts before she could snatch the sheets higher.
‘Come here.’ He hauled her into his embrace and exhaled a long sigh. ‘Never shall my future wife be referred to as a tart.’
‘What?’ She couldn’t keep the nervous tremble from her voice.
‘I have a friend who will help us obtain a special licence.’ He chuckled against her hair as he pressed a kiss. ‘A lifetime ago when I attended Eton I came by an acquaintance who now wishes a favour from me. He can repay one with the other and hurry the banns.’
‘You attended Eton?’
He laughed again, this time the rumble in his chest vibrated into her.
‘I suppose we haven’t had a proper courtship and there’s much we need to learn about each other, but I have no doubt I want to take you to wife.’
He turned her by tugging the sheet so she could search his face and understand the emotion, though her head spun and her pulse beat fast. Then before she could formulate any semblance of a reply he kissed her senseless.
But she couldn’t say yes. She couldn’t commit to a man who knew her as a charity case, a needy female who was now homeless and distraught, not unlike the women served by the Salvation Saviours. Or worse, a woman to whom he proposed because he was momentarily amused. A terrible ache gripped her heart. What was she to do? Max cared for her. She didn’t doubt his sincere confession and yet she hadn’t returned his profession of love, no matter that she knew her feelings true.
One tear escaped the corner of her eye and she curled into his shoulder, unwilling for him to misunderstand her conflict.
‘If that doesn’t suit and you need time to consider all that has transpired, I can arrange for you to have your own apartments. I will post men outside the building. A beautiful woman should not live alone, and you can hire a maid or whomever you require, but I’d much rather have you with me.’
‘Like some kind of mistress?’ Shame hushed her words against his skin.
‘It would be temporary, only until a friend, the Duke of Kent, arranges for our marriage.’ His tone took on an impatient quality that fuelled her doubt further. He was planning for an unsure future, based on speculation and shoddy conclusions.
She shook her head in the negative. ‘I’m exhausted from everything that has happened. I think come morning I’ll feel better about the future.’ It was the most she could give him without breaking down.
‘Our future,’ he corrected, releasing his grasp before he rose to collect his clothes. ‘I have to leave.’
‘What?’ Any shred of peace she’d found dissolved as his words registered. ‘Not again…like you do every time.’
He chuckled, that now familiar deep rumble of absolute control that reassured her she had misunderstood. ‘Just for a few hours. I’ll return before dawn. I’ve the Underworld to care for and Cole is alone. Luke left England a few days ago and I’ve already spent too long away from the hell.’
She shook her head, unable to voice what she wished to say, most especially as he closed his shirt and sat on the edge of the mattress to pull on his boots.
He cast a glance over his shoulder. ‘This is not like the other times, Vivi. That’s resolved now. The problems I sought to resolve…I found them and put the men in my past.’
‘Are you sure?’ She couldn’t see his face. Maybe it was better that way.
‘I wanted to hurt them.’ His voice dropped low. ‘To have them feel the pain I experienced when they caused my mother’s death.’
Her breath caught with his admission, his loss worse than her own. Tragic and cruel. She swallowed against emotion and tears and watched his shoulders straighten, his inhalation deep as if he summoned the explanation, though she understood little aside from his deep pain.
‘But I know now my freedom wasn’t bound to their demise. The men who brutalized my mother could never understand a personal loss of that level.’
They sat in silence for several ticks of the clock. A dozen questions arose, anxious to be answered, but the haunted look in his eyes held her quiet.
‘I’ll be back before long. Wait here and sleep. Time passes without contention when eyes are closed.’ He twisted on the mattress and pressed a gentle kiss to her brow. ‘I’ll wake you when I return. I promise.’
She closed her eyes tight and let his words settle, wanting so much to believe him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Max signalled to Cole on the floor and met him upstairs in the office where he poured a glass of brandy and waited. The last day and a half weighed heavily on his conscience and yet he couldn’t feel lighter. Somehow the maddening conclusion of vengeance and expurgating rescue of Vivienne from her stepfather caused a buoyant renewal, almost a feeling of revival for lack of a better description.
‘How are the tables tonight?’ He settled behind the desk with his drink, eyes on the window as Cole entered.
‘Busy, but calm for a change. Everyone has come to play and not cause trouble of sorts.’ Cole dropped onto the sofa in his usual place. ‘You seem on the upswing.’
‘Let’s say things have resolved in a manner that causes me pleasure.’ He took another sip of liquor. That wasn’t accurate. It was more. A sense that his future would be filled with happiness, Vivienne’s smile and laughter, the hope of a family. But he didn’t share this at the risk of inviting ridicule. ‘Which brings me to a request.’ He came around the desk because a question of this magnitude commanded Cole’s full attention. ‘I’ll be marrying soon and I’d like you to stand for me.’
Cole jerked his head up. ‘Married? That’s the last thing I expected you to say.’ He shook his head as if he had trouble accepting the concept.
‘I’d say the same except nothing has ever felt so right and I’ve searched since I was a boy for some semblance of peace.’ He grinned. He couldn’t help it. ‘Vivienne belongs with me as much as I belong with her.’
‘Of course.’ Cole stood and the two shook hands. ‘When will this happen? Luke will be angry if you succumb to the guillotine without his witness.’
‘Unfortunately I’ll have to deal with Luke’s complaint when he returns. I have it in mind to ask the Duke of Kent to arrange for a special licence so Vivienne and I can be wed as soon as possible.’ He didn’t add that he hadn’t convinced the lady as of yet. He had confidence in all things, even this.
‘Kent? I thought you buried that relationship. When did it resume?’ Cole paced the room and back again. ‘Have you met with him recently? I’ve always known you to avoid the knotty uppers like the plague.’
Max returned to his chair and viewed his friend with amused speculation. ‘Whoa, one question at a time. That’s somewhat true. A short time ago Kent and I discussed an issue he’s having with one of his sisters. I agreed to look into the matter. Additionally, Kent has the power to secure a special licence with little protestation. This is one of the rare moments I would covet his title if it allowed me to marry Vivienne with haste.’
‘I see.’ Cole’s eyes narrowed, his mouth drawn tight. ‘What kind of problem did you discuss? He’s only recently assumed the title, hasn’t he? I suppose it’s all on him now that his father’s gone. Pressure like that can be suffocating.’
Max watched Cole’s expression carefully, unsure why his friend would react so attentively and, at the same time, cautious about how much was shared. ‘Have you ever met him or his sisters? Do you know them?’
‘Are you asking me if I socialize with the Duke of Kent and his family?’ Cole returned to the sofa. ‘We don’t attend the same tea parties, if that’s what you mean.’
‘No implication. Just a question. I had it in mind to speak to you about it actually. Kent is concerned his sister may have fallen under the influence of an unsavoury character.’
Strange how Cole seemed uncomfortable with the subject, then again Max knew little of his friend’s pas
t. If they possessed one common quality, it was a broad dislike of the aristocracy and their superfluous airs. To this point, the three men made it a point not to question or pry, drawn together by their illegitimate status, quest for wealth, and an immutable respect of privacy. Who knew what dealings Cole had had with the entitled or the skeletons he kept in his closet hence. Those skeletons were best kept shut away just like his own.
‘And he assumed you would know this suspicious person?’ Cole’s expression showed scepticism. ‘Truly Kent is touched in his sheltered ducal brain if he believes he can identify a single rogue in a city of one million. Without a description of this person or offer of information, the gent will be as difficult to locate as those elusive names on your list proved.’ Cole shook his head, his mouth drawn in an incredulous grimace. ‘More than likely Kent is an overprotective brother and that composes the true cause of his worry.’
‘I couldn’t remark to that fact. We haven’t kept our friendship current.’ Max strode towards the glass to view the floor below, though he remained alert to the conversation. Cole had problems of his own to tend. On the gaming floor problems arose and resolved with every flip of the cards and topple of chips. ‘Forget I mentioned it. I’ll contact Kent in the morning and plan a meeting. From there I’ll see what arrangements can be made for the licence. And thanks for accepting. At least I’ll be assured of having one friend at the wedding.’
‘This sudden change won’t impact the Underworld.’ It was a statement more than a question.
‘No.’ Max shook his head to emphasize his answer. ‘I’ve no plans to give two greedy bastards my share of the hell, but I admire your cunning suggestion.’
They laughed, again at ease as they went downstairs to assess the activity within their establishment. Everything appeared as it should. Loud, lively play erupted from a Hazard table, punters and spectators two thick around the perimeter. Nearby several crowded Faro, Lord Dillon apparently deep in his cups and poised to wager an immense sum. His comrades, equally sotted, urged him with fervour though they’d be the first to deny it come morning when Dillon realized his foolishness. Claret was supplied and replaced, gamesters won and lost, and so their world revolved.
Vivienne lay awake, exhausted and unsettled in the dark expanse of Max’s bedroom. She’d slept only a short period before the prod of unanswered worries forced her eyes open. Now she stared at the velvet canopy above the bed. Her pulse thrummed while her stomach twisted in knots.
She couldn’t leave if she wished to. She had no clothes, no maid to fix her hair, no bag of toiletries to assist were she to attempt it herself. She had nowhere to go and aside from a small pouch of coins, had little means to buy her passage anywhere. In many ways, she’d traded one form of captivity for another.
No, she shook away that reprehensible conclusion.
Max loved her. She wasn’t his captive. And she loved him. No doubts permeated her emotions. But what of her future…their future together? Every night would he leave to oversee the Underworld? What about Sophie and dear heavens, what about Crispin? Tears pricked her eyes and she forced them away. There would be no more crying and succumbing to weakness.
Her mother had chosen a path she’d believed in their best interests. Then her mother had died. Still Vivienne had overcome it all and was poised on the first true beginning she’d ever experienced. Somehow she would build a life with Maxwell and they would be happy. Perhaps he wanted children too. He would be a loving, protective father. Fiercely protective. She perceived that about him.
She exhaled softly into the room as if expelling all the haunting doubt and disturbing fear, which so often meddled in her determination. Closing her eyes, she snuggled deeper into the coverlet and smiled. She needed to believe in herself. For once, no matter what the future brought, she would face it with Maxwell by her side.
As if in the middle of a wonderful dream, she was kissed awake, instantly aware of Max beside her. She didn’t open her eyes, wishing to continue the wicked fantasy. He skimmed his fingers across her shoulder, breaking their kiss as the rough brush of whiskers on his chin chafed her skin, lower to her breasts where he suckled and teased with sensual reverence. The heated texture of his tongue across her nipples caused her to arch with delight. Her hands gripped his shoulders as he continued to her navel, beyond, the accumulation of linens as he pushed them aside exposing her to the chilling air and heightening the pleasure of his exploration.
She slitted her eyes but saw little as the room remained dim, only the burn of a few lanterns lent a golden glow. The fire in the hearth simmered. Her skin burned. Everywhere Max touched, fondled, caressed, she wanted more, needed more.
The first stroke of his tongue against her sex caused a moan to escape. She felt his smile against her there. How wicked. Arrogant man. Arrogant, loving, wonderful man. She’d never have enough of his love. She wanted it all. Every bit. For ever.
‘I love you, Maxwell.’ She said the words without thought, as if he’d opened a door to her heart and she’d finally allowed her emotions freedom. She couldn’t tell if he heard her, buried beneath half the counterpane and thoroughly engrossed in offering pleasure, but it didn’t matter. Saying the words had given them life.
She climaxed quickly, both satisfied and dismayed when the moment didn’t last longer, but he deftly solved that problem and sunk into her, his hard length sliding inside tight, the weight of his body atop hers, new and wondrous. He kissed her, the musky scent of her on him an erotic discovery, and she gave herself without hesitation or inhibition, wanting to offer pleasure in equal measure.
She clung to his shoulders, her fingers across the muscles of his back, the hard flex and smooth ridges as every stroke brought him closer, his mouth on her skin where he bit her shoulder, a strong thrust then deeper, once more, and he spilled into her with a guttural groan of possessive satisfaction, wrapped in his embrace held still against his chest.
They stayed together for several long moments. Vivienne battled the temptation to sleep, nestled in his arms, but despite the sated lethargy of her body, her mind remained alert, the never-ending question of what would become of her roused away her drowsiness, forcing her to breach the quiet.
‘We should talk, Max.’ She couldn’t see his face from her position in the bed and wondered if he slept. His breathing was even, peaceful, and he hadn’t moved other than when they rearranged themselves after lovemaking.
‘There’s something I need to tell you.’ His voice was a gravelly rumble against her back.
‘I want to tell you things too.’
‘I need to go first.’
She smiled at his insistence.
‘Not because I’m more important or that I value what I have to say above your words, but for the reason it needs to be said. Now. And I’ve kept it locked up too long. At last I need to say it.’
The gravity of his statements held her silent. She didn’t need to reply. He would begin when he was ready.
‘I had an unusual childhood, loved by my mother and abandoned by my father. I was told he cared and generously provided for me, but there came a time when I learned that all to be untrue.’ He stopped, breathing a resigned sigh that expressed the unspoken truth more than his words.
‘Anyway, as the years passed, my mother insisted I have all the advantages despite her being my father’s mistress and not legally entitled to anything. He complied for the most part. By way of my mother’s insistence I received a gentleman’s upbringing, educated in the finer arts and sent to Eton, all at my mother’s persistent demand. She was the only person in my life who believed in me. Who didn’t think my life worthless because I was born outside of marriage. We were very close and I despised having to leave her alone in the cottage to go off to school, but I knew it was what she wanted for me and I wished to please her above all else. I’d heard arguments and seen things I shouldn’t have when I was younger. It was the least I could do to repay all she endured on my behalf. My father was a
strict man with a volatile temper. My mother did what she did to better my condition, but when I look back I know it weakened her, every day and every battle she waged against him to gain something in return to improve my future.’
He dropped a soft kiss to her shoulder and Vivienne wished she could see his face, share the emotion in his eyes and soothe away the hurt.
‘At university, I thrived. I enjoyed learning and proved an excellent student, especially in maths. The other students resented me and would have acted on their anger did I not overshadow them in height and breadth. I never shared the fact of my birth, yet they were aware of it and the luxury in that fact was the unspoken promise I wouldn’t fight by gentleman’s rules. So they focused their attentions elsewhere, on a gangly student who hadn’t yet gained enough years to fill out in the shoulders. I’d never met the boy, didn’t have any friends to speak of, but I took up the habit of remaining in the back of the line to watch as we all filed out of the hall. I knew they’d strike Hugh as soon as they believed everyone left and they wouldn’t get caught.
With frequency they took out their anger on him, the attacks unprovoked and sudden. I would anticipate where they might ambush him, and somehow they would outsmart me, cornering him in an altogether different place, unprotected, and soon after they victimized him.
I despised those beatings, the bullying not unlike what I had witnessed growing up, yet I stood alone without friends for reinforcement lest anyone associate with the bastard whose father’s money bought him a place in the classroom. No one at the school would listen to my complaint were I to voice it. Instead I took the matter into my own hands. I could no longer wait for Hugh to return to his room with a bloody lip or bruised skull, injuries I carried on my conscience with misplaced empathy because I’d failed to act.
So, I retaliated. There were four in the group who targeted Hugh and after I was done, only I walked away. The beatings stopped. Hugh and I never spoke of it. But in that unlikely circumstance, a bond formed. One I’ve ignored until very recently.’
The Den of Iniquity Page 24
