One Night of Surrender: The Brothers Mortmain

by Evie North

  “Katherine?”

  She started and turned back to him. “I’m sorry, I was... What did you want to speak to me about?”

  Behind her she could feel all those neglected books pressing on her.

  “Sit down,” he replied, his voice gentler than it had been in the garden. “I have something...that is, I need to discuss something with you.”

  He didn’t sound as confident as usual, Katherine thought, sitting opposite him across the oak desk. She wondered what it was he had to say that made him so insecure. Now he was fiddling with his pen and inkstand, like a small boy who expects to be disappointed.

  His dark eyes met hers and he squared his shoulders. “I have a proposition for you, Katherine.”

  She remained silent but inside her head the thoughts were tumbling wildly. No matter what he offered, he would not take Anthony from her. She did not believe him to be a cruel man. Then what was it that was making him so uneasy in her presence?

  Her anxiety caused her to shift on her chair, and finally Gervais spoke.

  “I didn’t realise how tenuous you felt your position here to be. You are the mother of my child, I thought that would be enough. I realise we’re very isolated here so you cannot go off visiting or...shopping.”

  Katherine raised her eyebrows at him. She had never been a particularly outgoing person, and she could hardly go visiting or shopping anyway, could she? Not when Gervais was a fugitive from justice.

  “I understand if you are bored, Katherine.”

  “I’m not bored,” she said firmly. “But I am used to being busy. Useful. At the inn...I was occupied, and at Anila’s I helped her with her business. I cannot sit idle, Gerv...Jerome. If this was my home then I would feel as if I could make changes or...or do things. But it is not my home and, as you say, I am a mere guest.”

  Gervais shifted some papers back and forth. There was a letter just arrived in front of him. For a moment she thought she recognized the Earl of Mortmain’s seal upon it before her thoughts returned to the present. She glanced back again at the bookshelves as a plan popped into her head.

  Before he could answer her she leaned forward. “As you may know my father was a scholar and a teacher. He loved books and he passed that love on to me.” She glanced over her shoulder again and shuddered. “Your library is in a dreadful state.”

  Her blunt words surprised a laugh from him. “Is it?” he asked, composing himself. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  She stood up, walked along the shelves, running her finger across the spines of the books and holding it up for him to see the grime.

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh. I think this is the perfect job for me, Jerome. I will organise your library so that it is the envy of the country.”

  Gervais wondered whether he should remind her that it was doubtful anyone would ever come to admire it, considering he was in hiding. But he’d never seen her look so excited and he didn’t want to spoil it. Her eyes shone and her face glowed, and even if it wasn’t for the reason he’d hoped he could hardly say no to her.

  He was also disappointed. His real purpose in asking her here had been to ask her if she was willing to be his wife. It was selfish of him, probably, but he’d hoped she might consider it. But the words had been difficult to get out, he’d found, once her gaze was fixed on him. She might take offence. He remembered well her fury when she’d thought he was stealing her child. His Katherine had a temper, and although he couldn’t help being disappointed that she wasn’t going to grace his bed every night, he didn’t want to be in her black books again so soon.

  There was time, and plenty of it. He mustn’t be impatient. He must woo her, seduce her, use some tenderness. He considered himself a practised seducer, a rake of the first order. What had happened to that man? Why did this beautiful woman make him feel less than confident in the abilities he used to take for granted whenever they were face-to-face?

  Katherine was smiling. He had pleased her. “I will start straightaway,” she declared.

  He caught her eye and couldn’t help but smile back at her enthusiasm. Something passed between them. Gervais, who had just been trying to convince himself that they had all the time in the world, now felt an ache inside him. An ache no one was able to satisfy but Katherine. And right now she seemed...approachable.

  “Katherine,” he said, but she wasn’t listening. She was already pulling out books and stacking them in piles around her. She was like a child with a new toy, and he realised how low she must have been feeling until this moment.

  Irritated with himself, and amused with her, Gervais got up from his desk and came around to her.

  Katherine brushed her hands down her skirts and then, seeing in dismay the streaks of dust, shook them out with a click of her tongue. She turned to smile at him. “My father always said I was a ragamuffin,” she said.

  His heart contracted. There was a smear of dirt across her cheek. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her; he longed to return to that heady night at Newgate, where their emotions had run so high. But Gervais knew those moments were gone, and if he was to win her back then he must regain her trust and build upon new memories.

  Carefully, he removed his handkerchief from his pocket. She was chattering away about some of his books, authors’ names flying off her tongue. He nodded as if he was listening and dabbed the cloth to her face. She stopped, raised a hand to her own cheek. “Oh. Am I a mess?” she said in dismay.

  “A beautiful mess,” he murmured.

  Katherine blinked up at him. For a moment she looked so surprised that he thought he’d lost her, and silently cursed himself, and then she stepped closer to him, close enough for him to catch her around the waist before she could change her mind.

  She smelled sweet, like flowers, and he realised she’d put perfume on her skin. She must have read the knowledge in his eyes because she blushed. The minx. But he wasn’t naive enough to believe a few dabs of perfume meant she was his for the taking.

  In a moment she could take offence and shove him away, run from the room, tell him never to touch her again, but if he didn’t try he’d never know, would he?

  Gervais took decisive action.

  He clasped her tightly in his arms, lowered his mouth to hers, and kissed her.

  He felt her stiffen but a moment later she’d changed her mind. Her mouth opened under his, her lips caressed his, and her arms wound around his neck and clung. Her soft curves moulded to his, and Gervais took full advantage. He moved her back with him toward his desk, stumbling over some of the books, ignoring her half-hearted murmur of protest.

  No matter how much she said she didn’t want him he wouldn’t believe her. He could feel her desire, taste it, just as she could feel and taste his. All his good intentions were forgotten as he lifted Katherine onto the desk and prepared to make her completely his.

  14

  The desk was at her back, and Gervais was holding her and kissing her, turning her body to liquid fire. She couldn’t think. She didn’t want to. Gervais had opened the front of her gown and was pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to her breasts.

  She felt as if she was falling. She was falling! But he caught her, lifting her to sit on the edge of his desk, his palms resting on her thighs through her skirt. Their eyes met and she saw the dark glitter in his, the tension in his face, the desire for her in every inch of him.

  It was going to happen again.

  Just like on the beach, she wouldn’t be able to stop it. Katherine wondered if it would keep happening, and whether that was a good thing, the right thing. She would fall in love with him all over again, and then what? He would leave her a second time. How could she trust him after what had happened before?

  “Katherine?” His voice was low and harsh, almost angry. As if to counter the impression he reached up and stroked her face with the backs of his fingers, then brushed his thumb along the crease in her lips. “Should I stop?”

  He looked as if he was in pain, and the thought o
f stopping was the last thing he wanted. But the fact that he had asked, that he was willing to abide by what she decided, softened her heart. The ache between her legs reminded her that she was just as eager as he to finish this.

  “No, don’t stop,” she said. “I don’t want to stop.”

  With a growl, he began to bundle up her skirts, caressing her thighs, bending to kiss that moist apex between them.

  She gave a wordless gasp.

  His tongue slid along her outer lips, and then he closed his mouth on the hard nub of her pearl, sucking, making her jolt with the burst of pleasure that fired through her body.

  The room was spinning. She closed her eyes and stopped thinking, she simply felt.

  He had moved away from her and she whimpered. Then he was back, his hands on her once more, and she felt the stiff nudge of his cock. The tip was at her entrance and she was wet, so wet, with anticipation.

  Somehow she opened her eyes, but she felt dazed. He groaned and kissed her, his tongue joining with hers.

  “I’ve missed this so much,” he said. “There has never been anyone like you, Katherine.”

  “Hasn’t there?” She smiled and looked at him through her long lashes. “I thought you were a fine rake. There must have been hundreds of women like me.”

  He gave a startled laugh but did not look away, and there was a sincerity about him that impressed her. “Perhaps. Once. Now I am a rake in need of a rakess, beautiful Katherine.”

  “A rakess?” she murmured and liked the sound of it. As long as she only had to be one with Gervais.

  He pressed into her with another groan, deep and then deeper again, filling her exquisitely. She ran her hands over the shoulders of his jacket, tangling her fingers in the knot of his cravat. If they had time she would like him naked so that she could admire the strong lean shape of his body, but there was no time. He was thrusting deeply, his cock driving into her, and she could feel her muscles tighten about him, wanting him to stay, wanting him back again every time he withdrew.

  They moved together, wild with need, until at last she came with a cry and a shudder, and he allowed himself his own release. Katherine dropped her head, heavy against his shoulder, and he stroked her hair and murmured words too low for her to hear.

  If only it could always be like this then she knew she would be happy. She would give him her heart and all that went with it and never regret her actions. This felt right, it truly did.

  “Gervais—” she began, and then wondered what to say. The questions she wanted to ask were difficult ones and she feared she may not like his answers. Wasn’t it better just to let things flow along at their own pace? Not to expect too much, not to risk being hurt again?

  But Katherine had never been the sort who flung herself wholeheartedly into a moment without worrying about the future. And now there was Anthony, too.

  “What is it?” he said at last. She shook her head. “Nothing. It was nothing.” The knock on the door forced them apart.

  “A minute!” Gervais called tersely. Katherine hastily slid off the desk and straightened her clothing. She went over to the books and resumed sorting, but there was a flush in her cheeks that hadn’t been there before. He watched her, smiling, as he fastened his breeches. “My rakess,” he said, his voice deep and tender. She glanced over her shoulder at him and her blush deepened.

  He called, “Enter!” and a maid peeked her head around the door.

  “What is it, Elsie?”

  She peeked at Katherine and back at Gervais, as if she knew exactly what they’d been doing despite their precautions. “There’s a gentleman to see you, sir.”

  “A gentleman?” Gervais frowned, struggling to order his thoughts after their torrid encounter. “Did he ask for me by name or simply the master?”

  She frowned and stuttered nervously. “I...I think he did mean to ask for you, sir...but...he got the name wrong. He said Mr Gervais Hawley.”

  He tensed. “Then tell him we know of no such person, Elsie.”

  “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

  “Wait. Did he give his own name?” asked Katherine, moving away from the books, although she clutched one in her arms.

  Elsie looked at Katherine. “He said his name was Mr Smith, ma’am, but...” She twisted her hands nervously in her apron. “I don’t think that was really it. He was smiling at me, as if it was a bit of a joke.” Dismissed, she scuttled out of the room and closed the door behind her.

  Gervais went straight to the window and Katherine followed him. There was no carriage to be seen, only a single black horse tied to a post. As they waited for Elsie to follow her instructions they saw a man leave the house and pause on the edge of the driveway. He looked up at the window. They both stepped back, but not before they’d had a clear view of his face. Katherine’s joy died in an instant. Her face paled.

  It could not be!

  She felt Gervais’s hand in hers, squeezing painfully. He was rigid with anger.

  “It’s Edward,” she whispered.

  “Yes, I know,” Gervais said. “He’s here at last.” His words surprised her almost as much as seeing her former lover here in Scotland.

  Because how could Gervais recognise Edward Prime, a man he’d never met?

  15

  Edward kicked his horse into a gallop. He’d seen the faces at the window but now he didn’t look back. So what if they recognised him? Let them fret. He had found what he was looking for and it was time to put his plan into practice.

  There would be plenty of satisfaction in reporting Hawley’s whereabouts and watching him hang, but it wouldn’t be enough. Edward wanted more. He had waited a long time for his revenge. Since he’d learned about Gervais’s night of lust in Newgate with Katherine every moment had been a bitter torment. Hawley could not have found a better way to infuriate him, as well as humiliate him. He’d felt like a laughingstock. Now for the first time in months Edward smiled as he turned his back to the stone castle and rode off.

  He knew exactly what Gervais would do—he’d run, and he’d take the whore with him. Perfect. Edward would see him hanged but before that, he wanted to see Hawley stand by helplessly while Edward had his way with Katherine. Oh yes, he’d enjoy watching Hawley’s expression when he plundered the woman he felt certain the man loved. Why else take her with him to Scotland?

  Edward had stood in the Newgate crowd in his disguise and watched as the highwayman he’d believed to be Hawley choked at the end of the rope. Only it hadn’t been Hawley. Soon afterwards he’d discovered that Katherine was no longer in prison. Oh how well he’d played his part! Weeping, begging, convincing the turnkey that he was a relative who had only just learned of Katherine’s plight and wanted to help her. After that it was just a matter of waiting outside the house where she was hiding.

  His thoughts returned to revenge, and Edward knew he would have Katherine in every way possible— he’d been too gentle with her before—had held back his more brutish urges. This time he would do everything he’d ever wanted to do; he’d use her as he would any common trollop. That’s all she was now. No decent woman would sell herself as Katherine had done, or betray her promises to him.

  Edward revelled in the wind in his hair, the surge of the horse beneath him. He was looking forward to it. Oh yes, he’d make them both suffer for what they’d done.

  As Katherine watched her former lover ride away she instinctively drew closer to Gervais. He slipped his arm about her waist, holding her tightly to him. Every thump of her heart told her there was trouble ahead. She didn’t understand why Edward was here. If he’d come for Katherine, wouldn’t he have confronted Gervais and demanded she be returned to him? And how had Gervais recognized who he was?

  It made no sense.

  Katherine’s mind was spinning, but there was something she wasn’t seeing, something...and then just like a child’s puzzle the rest fell into place.

  Her thoughts went back to Newgate, where at first Gervais had said he would not speak of Edward
Prime. Then he’d begun asking her about Edward as if he knew him. And saying his name, over and over again. Does Edward do this? Do you prefer the way Edward touches you? And all the time Katherine should have known it was wrong, that she’d never spoken of Edward to him, so how did he know? She supposed she’d thought Gervais must have heard about him from someone in the gaol—if she’d thought much at all during that long intense night.

  There was something Gervais hadn’t told her. The way Edward looked at them, first at her with his face so twisted with jealous fury, and then at Gervais with a hatred so personal. It was the look of a man who was set upon revenge.

  “You know him, don’t you?” she said quietly, watching his face.

  He returned her gaze. He seemed to be trying to decide whether or not to tell her the truth.

  “Don’t you!”

  “Yes,” he admitted on a sigh. “I do know him. I wasn’t alone when I went out to hold up coaches, Katherine. We were partners. Edward was with me, and it was his information that helped us choose the wealthiest ones to rob.”

  It rang true. Although Katherine felt revolted, she knew he was telling the truth. Edward was always in debt, always desperate for money. It explained his absences some nights, and then his sudden flushes of wealth, the cash and coins he spent as fast as they appeared. And his suppressed excitement when he sometimes came to her bed very late, something she learned to dread.

  “You knew Edward,” she said. “You knew about me, too. Didn’t you?”

  He bowed his head. “I saw you one day when I came to the inn to speak to him. He was obviously very possessive. Very jealous. It irritated me and I made a silly joke. That night I was arrested.”