by Georgie Lee
He took one nipple in his mouth and sucked the tender tip, making her writhe beneath him. The pleasure was too intense, too strong, and she craved the release cresting deep inside her. Each press of his lips on her exposed skin and the fierce play of his fingers against her continued to drive her higher and higher until at last she cried out, clinging to him. With a few more thrusts, Justin groaned, his pulsing flesh matching the rippling of hers and heightening her release until at last he lowered himself over her, his chest meeting hers with each struggling breath.
After a long moment, the crackle of the fire and the sounds of wagons on the street outside began to fill the room. She released her grip on his back and the cool air danced over her sweat-dampened chest as he shifted away to one side, then drew her close. Her whole body was alive and yet satiated and she let out a long sigh.
His chest rumbled against her ear with a chuckle. ‘I assume you enjoyed our evening together.’
She raked her hand lazily through the light hair on his chest. ‘Very much.’
‘Good, because there’ll be many more. I want you to crave them as much as I do.’
She rolled over and settled her chin on his chest, her hair falling down the sides of her face to spread over him. ‘You’ve certainly succeeded in your intention.’
He brushed a lock of her hair off her face, tucking it behind one ear. ‘Good.’
She laid one thigh over his and shifted closer to him, her mouth almost touching his. ‘Is it too soon to ask for more?’
He raised one interested eyebrow at her and his fingers entwined in her hair. ‘Not at all.’
Chapter Eight
The chaise rolled down the crowded length of Fleet Street, passing the hundreds of people flitting from shop to shop as they went about their day.
‘Where are we going?’ Susanna asked, stifling a small yawn behind one gloved hand. She and Justin had enjoyed little sleep over the past few nights, yet for all their long evenings she felt as refreshed as if she’d taken the waters of Bath.
Faint circles hung beneath Justin’s eyes this morning as well, but it didn’t diminish his natural humour or the teasing smile he flashed from across Mr Rathbone’s borrowed carriage each time he admired her. ‘You’ll see, it’s a surprise.’
‘Like the one you showed me last night?’ She kicked off her slipper and ran one stocking-clad foot up the length of his thigh.
‘Not quite.’ He shifted to the squab next to her and took her hand. He turned it over to expose the skin between her glove and sleeve and flicked his tongue against the sensitive spot. His breath against the moisture raised a chill along her arm which reached deep inside her until she almost insisted he turn the carriage around and go back home. ‘There’ll be time for more later.’
He lowered her hand, both of them conscious of the carriage slowing to make a turn.
Susanna leaned past her husband to peer out of the window, taking in the red uniforms of old soldiers as they walked with their families, and the rosy cheeks of the young hawkers selling pies, apples and flowers. On one corner, they passed a man peddling newspapers announcing a salacious account of the Prince Regent’s latest scandal.
Edwina would be eating up the story, tittering about it with her vapid friends, but the doings of the aristocracy were no longer Susanna’s affair. She pressed one hand to her stomach, trying to settle it, wishing she didn’t carry such a potent reminder of her time with them. It would ruin all the happiness building between her and Justin if he ever found out.
‘You’re trying to guess where we’re going, aren’t you?’ He tugged her away from the window and down on to the seat beside him to wrap his arm around her waist.
‘I am.’ She shifted so his hand landed on her hip instead of her stomach, covering her worry with another lie, adding to the one already hovering over her. ‘I wish you’d tell me. I don’t like surprises.’
‘You’ll enjoy this one. I promise.’
She hoped so. Most surprises in her life had led to nothing but misery, though she couldn’t imagine any of Justin’s treading such a dark path. If he made a promise, she believed it. He was too good a man to deceive her. Sadly, she couldn’t say the same of herself.
‘I need to tell you something, Susanna...’ Justin began hesitantly, raising a flutter in her belly which had nothing to do with the baby. ‘Until the wine business is fully established, I have to remain in Philip’s employ. I don’t want us to fall into debt. I’ve seen too many times the horrors it can wreak on men and their families to risk it.’
‘Why make it sound so grave? Working for Mr Rathbone seems more a pleasure for you than a burden.’
‘It is, but it also means there’ll be nights, or mornings, or any time of day, in fact, when I might be called away to help him deal with a matter.’
‘Like a doctor?’ She remembered the one who had lived next to them in Oxfordshire and how many nights she’d been awakened by someone ringing the bell outside his door.
‘Rather, but in the past I’ve never had to concern anyone else with my comings and goings. I don’t want you to be alarmed or startled when it happens, or to worry about me while I’m gone.’
‘Given the sudden nature of our courtship and marriage, there’s little which can alarm me now.’
‘Good. I’ll rely on you to manage things when I’ve been called away. I intend for you to be my full partner in this.’
‘You’d give me control?’ Even when her grandfather had been ill, he’d refused to allow her mother to run the shop, relying on her uncle, even when he was barely a man, to see to the business. She touched her stomach again, wondering how much longer it would be before she couldn’t conceal her condition and would have to pretend the child was his. It sickened her to deceive him when he was so good to her, but for the child’s sake, she had no choice.
‘Who else can I trust to manage it properly if not my wife? Besides, you didn’t really think marrying me would mean a life of leisure, did you?’
‘Not after the last few nights.’ She flicked her top teeth with her tongue, the memory of their pleasure relieving some of her anxiety.
He pulled her against him and claimed her mouth, his wanting kiss making her forget everything except him and the pressure of his tongue against hers. She slipped her hand inside his coat, following the curve of his side beneath the silk before reaching the waist of his breeches. She began to work her hand inside the buckskin when he caught her wrist and broke away from her lips.
‘Not yet, my dear. We’re almost at our destination.’ His eyes smouldered with his need and she knew, if they weren’t so close to wherever he was taking her, they’d have indulged in a little sport in the carriage. The mere thought of such a daring intimacy nearly hollowed out her insides with desire.
She laid her hands on either side of his face and rose up to give him a long, tempting kiss. ‘Then let’s be quick with our business, so we may move on to more delightful work.’
He pulled her to him so each breath made her already taut breasts brush against his firm chest. ‘Not so fast, you don’t want me to rush.’
‘Indeed, I don’t.’ She hummed, remaining in the circle of his arms, eager to be beneath him and to forget everything in the pleasure of his touch.
The driver’s voice calling to the horses accompanied the slowing of the carriage as it came to a stop. Justin’s arm around her eased as the carriage tilted a little to one side when the driver climbed down from his seat.
‘We’re here.’ As soon as the door was open, Justin was out and beckoning Susanna to follow.
She blinked against the bright sun which greeted her as she stepped down on to the pavement. People passed by them in a steady stream, hurrying from one establishment to the next, carrying their purchases.
In front of her was a shop with arched windows, the walls holding them painted a shiny red. The name over the door had been removed, but the oblong ghost of it was outlined in faded paint. Brown paper covered the bottom half of the
windows, denying all but the tallest passers-by a peek inside, assuming they could peer through the grime covering the square panes.
Justin tucked her hand into the curve of his elbow and pushed through the people to lead her to the front door. Removing a brass key from his pocket, he slipped it into the lock, oblivious to the scraping squeak it made before it released the bolt and allowed them through.
Justin moved into the centre of the rectangular room as Susanna closed the door, blocking out the noise from outside.
‘Well, what do you think?’ He held out his arms and spun in a slow circle, his boot heels thudding against the wooden floorboards and sending up small puffs of dust which tickled her nose. ‘The building is sturdy, the previous occupants didn’t take out their anger on the woodwork, or the windows, and it’s well situated in a good neighbourhood with a great many prosperous businesses surrounding it.’
‘Very nice.’ There was nothing in the room but an abandoned table and chair, a dark fireplace in one corner and a counter in front of the far wall, but Susanna could picture the space filled with bottles and barrels of the finest French and Spanish wines. The panelled walls only needed a little wood oil and dusting to make them shine again and with some washing the windows would sparkle. ‘Is there a cellar?’
‘There is and it’s being stocked with the first delivery of our inventory as we speak.’ He banged one heel against the floor and a familiar hollow sound echoed through the room. ‘I’ll leave it to you to find appropriate decorations for the windows and to arrange this room as you think best. I imagine you’ve given some thought to a matter like this before.’
‘I have.’ The same excitement she’d known the morning of the wedding raced through her. ‘When I used to sit in Grandfather’s shop while he was out with a delivery, I imagined how I could change things to make it more appealing to our customers. I had so many ideas, though I never said anything. There was no point. Grandfather wasn’t likely to listen, or to change no matter how much it might profit him in the end. He was incredibly stubborn.’
‘Luckily for you, I’m not. This is your chance to employ all your ideas.’
Susanna didn’t respond. She couldn’t. After doing little more than sitting in corners reading books for the past seven years, to be given real purpose excited her more than even the shop. As hurtful as her grandfather had been, the work of assisting a wine merchant had always kept her busy, distracting her from the pain and loneliness of her life. It would be wonderful to have industry again, to be a useful partner instead of some unwanted adornment.
The familiar thump of a wine cask being unloaded followed by the melodic roll of it down a wooden ramp filled the room.
‘Come, I’ll show you the cellar.’ He held out his hand and she took it, clinging to him as he led her behind the counter and through the door to the room beyond.
The darker, smaller space wasn’t as tidy as the front, and the remains of the past business were evident in the papers scattered about the tables or stuffed in the small cubbies along the wall. At the far end, a trapdoor in the floor stood open. Justin pulled her over to stand above it, as proud of the cellar as Lord Rockland used to be of a new hunting dog.
Susanna bent, hands on her knees, to peer down into the hole. The flicker of candles and the daylight from the outside ramp lit up the faded red bricks lining the walls and rising up to arch over the ceiling. The pungent scent of damp plaster and musty air wafted over her, dredging up memories of the many hours she’d spent in the semi-darkness of her grandfather’s cellar, counting barrels or fetching bottles. More than once she’d slipped into the cool darkness to cry in the corner behind a tall cask after some rude comment from a neighbour, or her grandfather. She straightened and moved away from the dark hole, back to the sunlight and Justin’s excitement, trying to place some distance between the present and those difficult days.
‘You think it’s too small? I was worried about that. I’m hoping in time to expand the business, perhaps gain the shop next door,’ Justin explained, as though seeking her approval. It was something she wasn’t used to.
‘I think the cellar and your plans are perfect,’ she reassured him.
‘Except?’ he prodded, having noticed the change in her mood. Far from letting it pass to focus on his own concerns, he wanted to draw it out.
‘The smell of it reminds me of my grandfather.’
‘Not a pleasant memory?’
‘No. The students he sold wine to never cared about my background, only how cheaply they could obtain their spirits. It was the neighbours who were nasty and my grandfather and uncle never stopped them. They were too concerned with maintaining their clients to worry about protecting my insignificant feelings. More than likely they agreed with whatever it was they said.’
‘Then they and he were wrong.’ He brushed a stray curl away from her cheek. ‘If anyone throws your past in your face, or says anything degrading to you, I’ll see to it they regret it.’
Remembering the way he’d pummelled her half-brother, she didn’t doubt he would. As tender as he was with her at night, she’d witnessed the way his hands could turn lethal when it came to defending himself. His protection now extended to her, and if her past was any indication of her future he’d be forced to keep his word. ‘I don’t think it’s a matter of if, but when.’
Justin took her by the shoulders. ‘Don’t invite trouble. It has a way of finding you—there’s no need to seek it out.’
‘Are you never bothered by things like your father?’
‘Every day, but I try not to regret, or wish things were different. It doesn’t do anyone any good.’
‘I wish I possessed your optimism.’ And his ability to stride away from past troubles and mistakes. Hers grew quietly inside her.
‘In time, you will. Now, what do you think? Is the cellar sufficient?’ he urged, trying to draw her out of her melancholy mood. She let him, eager to be as happy as he was.
‘It’s excellent.’
‘Good.’ He glanced past her out of the window to the yard at the back where the men were unloading the barrels. ‘Come and see what I’ve purchased.’
In the small courtyard behind the building, men laughed and talked as they rolled the casks into the cellar. Susanna approached one of the waiting barrels and read the name on the lid, amazed by the words emblazoned on the label.
‘How did you come by such a fine vintage so soon?’ Her grandfather had known many men in the wine trade and he’d never once been able to secure a cask such as this.
Justin leaned his elbow on the top of the barrel and dropped his voice, taking on the sly countenance of a rogue. ‘In the course of working for Philip, I’ve cultivated a number of contacts in, shall we say, more dubious corners of London. Usually, I rely on them to tell me who owes money to whom, what brothels potential clients are in debt to and what other moneylenders they might be avoiding. Since starting this venture, I’ve used my connections to put it about I’ll pay for information about wine coming in on ships. An old source told me about this one and the debts the man owed. I was able to purchase this cask at a fraction of its value and ease the man’s more pressing financial burdens.’
He smiled, quite proud of himself. Susanna was impressed.
‘How very astute of you, though I wonder if any of these contacts of yours will ever show up on our doorstep?’
‘If they do, Walter will handle them. He’s quite adept at getting their information and giving them their expected payment.’
‘No doubt from years of practice.’
Justin nodded, but said no more.
‘Then I won’t worry,’ Susanna assured him.
‘Good.’ He picked at the metal band around the top of the barrel, his roguish smile changing to one serious enough to challenge Mr Rathbone’s. ‘I want you to know your safety is important to me and I’ll always protect you.’
‘I know.’ Guilt chewed at her, but she smiled, trying to bring back the excitement which had greete
d their arrival.
‘Sir, we’ll be needin’ you to check on what we brought,’ one of the burly men interrupted from near the ramp as he raised his cap to wipe the sweat from his wide forehead.
‘Of course.’ Justin made his way down the wooden stairs into the cellar, beckoning Susanna to follow.
She hesitated, wrinkling her nose at the dark, but with Justin beside her there was no reason to fear the memories it conjured up. He was right. The past was over and gone, at least most of it. With any luck, the rest of it would stay buried. She pressed her hand to her stomach as she followed the ramp down to where the delivery men were arranging the last of the barrels.
While Justin compared the number and names on the casks to a list he withdrew from his coat, Susanna explored the narrow space. There were sconces in the walls where candles could be placed, but none were there now. They’d probably been pilfered by street urchins once the business had been abandoned. Even in the quiet of Oxfordshire, Susanna had seen more than one shop broken into after the building had been foreclosed on, others picking over the leavings in search of something to steal or pawn.
Moving through the line of barrels, she tapped the smooth tops of each one, as so many things she’d forgotten over the last seven years returned to her—the pop of the casks being tapped, the gurgle of the wine pouring into the bottles, the tedious work of corking and labelling each one. Lady Rockland had tried to drive the common experiences out of her, yet the new ones she’d offered in return had fitted Susanna like a cast-off pair of shoes, more abrasive than welcoming. Here, not at Rockland Place, was where she belonged and she was glad to be returning. For all the bad memories of her uncle and grandfather, she remembered the many hours she’d spent working beside her mother, the two of them talking as her mother shared with her all she’d learned of the business from her parents.
