Taken by the Wicked Rake

by Christine Merrill

  ‘Thank you,’ Verity said, not wishing to embarrass her husband or his servant. ‘I hardly know how to behave. This is a most unusual circumstance. Of course, my husband is a most unusual man.’

  Molly nodded in agreement. ‘But a very good man, ma’am. If you knew even half of it…’

  ‘Tell me.’ For if the girl knew Stephano as Mr Stephen, Verity felt almost a hunger to know the details. ‘Have you been to the other house that he speaks of?’

  ‘Many times. But there has been a fire there recently. And there are some gentlemen—’ the girl frowned ‘—enemies of the master’s, who are currently waiting there for him. He doesn’t dare return now.’

  Verity felt a quickening of her pulse at the idea that this girl thought of her brothers as villains. ‘I am sure that it will all be straightened out soon.’

  Molly nodded vigorously. ‘And until then, you will be perfectly safe here. They will never find out about this place. Akshat, the butler, would die before telling. The master met him in India and says his name means indestructible, and that it suits him, for he can with stand hardship and torture with out so much as blinking an eye. And then there is Munch, the valet. He is a big man with a face like a mastiff. I don’t know what his past might be, but he is not the sort to stand any mischief. At first, they frightened me. But it is good to have them about the house, because of Mr Stephen’s business.’

  ‘He has a business?’ The girl must think her foolish. But it had just occurred to her that her husband must have an occupation of some kind, since his family had disowned him.

  But Molly prattled on, eager to tell all she knew. ‘He is a jewel merchant, ma’am. And the safe is full of stones. Bags and bags of them, all loose like marbles.’

  ‘Really! And his servants keep him safe from thieves?’

  Molly giggled again. ‘Set a thief to catch a thief. I am not so sure of some of them, for we all have stories in our past. But the parlour maid, Jenny, was a pick pocket before she came to Blooms bury Square. She is ever so sly. She has been sneaking in and out of the house and bringing information to me. And the bad men have not caught her yet.’

  ‘And these are his friends?’ she asked doubtfully. If the servants were a parcel of rogues, then what did it say that her family were his enemies?

  Molly nodded again. ‘The master has done them all a good turn at one time or another, gotten them out of terrible trouble and brought them to Blooms bury to work. Every last one would die before betraying him. And me, as well.’ The girl gave a shy smile.

  ‘And did he rescue you, too? What is your story, Molly?’

  The girl gave her an odd look. ‘I used to work here, ma’am. But I did not like it much,’ she added hurriedly.

  ‘And Stephano…my husband…’ Verity swallowed.

  The girl shook her head quickly. ‘It was not as you might think. When he took this place and turned out the girls, some were content to find other employment and some he helped back to their families. But I had no one and nowhere to go. So he says, “You will come to work for me, Mol. And no funny business. A mop and broom are not easy com pan ions, but better company than some you’ve met here, I am sure. Good, honest work, if you wish.”’ She grinned. ‘Mr Stephen is not the least bit particular about a person’s past, as long as they prove to him that they are good, honest folk to their friends and will stand up for their mates when it is important. But you must know that of him.’

  Verity wondered if this was meant as an assurance that deficiencies in her own past would be over looked, as well. And suspected that was the truth, for Mol went on to say, ‘Now that he has married you, you can trust us all to be as loyal to you as we are to him. And woe be onto any that cross you.’ The girl gave a surprisingly dark look for one so young and small. She looked ready to storm Blooms bury and take on her master’s enemies—single-handed, if necessary.

  ‘That is good to know,’ Verity said doubtfully.

  ‘I’ll just go and heat the water for your bath, shall I?’

  ‘Thank you, Mol.’

  When Stephano returned to the flat above the gaming hell, he found his wife sitting demurely on the edge of a bed in one of the guest rooms. She was dressed in a fresh chemise and stays, and her hair was piled high to reveal her smooth white throat. With her hands folded in her lap and her ankles crossed, she was a rare spot of innocence in an unexpected setting. ‘I see you have begun to dress,’ he said, setting the clothing he had brought for her on the end of the bed.

  She stood up and gestured to her under things. ‘Molly found these in a cupboard. She says they were left behind by one of the previous tenants. But she says I shouldn’t mind that. They are brand new. For what use would a dollymop have with stays and proper undergarments?’ She turned so that he could admire them. ‘They are very fine, and almost pretty enough to wear outside the gown.’ She toyed with the lace that covered the swell of her breast, and he watched with fascination.

  ‘Really?’ He silently cursed little Molly, for he feared she had been rather more informative than he would have wished. ‘Then you know…’

  ‘What sort of place this was?’ She gave him a strange smile. ‘It was terribly wicked of you to bring me here.’

  He swallowed. ‘I would never have done it, had the circumstances not been most unusual.’

  She was still smiling at him. ‘But it has been very interesting.’ She took him by the hand and led him to a table by the bed. ‘I was looking for something to read, to pass the time. But the only books here are mostly pictures. She flipped a page so that he could see, and tipped her head from side to side, considering the illustration. ‘I am not sure that this is even possible.’

  ‘If it disturbs you, you need not concern yourself with it,’ he said.

  ‘But there is more.’ She reached into a drawer. ‘I found this, as well.’ She was holding a length of silk rope very similar to that which he had used to bind her. ‘Did you leave it here?’

  Now, he could feel himself going quite pale, for he did not wish to explain to her what he under stood of the tricks and toys one might find in such a place. ‘No. No. That is quite different from the rope I had. I suspect that was left by a previous tenant, as well.’

  ‘Well, it is a much more mysterious thing than ladies’ undergarments.’

  ‘Very mysterious, I am sure. You may put it aside, now.’

  But she did not, running her fingers along the length of it. ‘In case you wondered, I have quite forgiven you for binding me. No harm was done. The rope is quite soft. Feel.’ She stepped forward and looped it about his wrists, tugging gently to pull them together in front of him. ‘Perhaps next time, I shall be the one to tie you.’

  She could have no idea what she was saying, nor the effect it would have upon him. But the sight of the rope was intoxicating against the white of her skin, and then on his own, as she tugged gently at his wrists. The knowing curve of her smile, the soft curve of her hip under the petticoat, and the soft bed beside her were almost too much to stand.

  There was no time to dally, if he meant to get her home tonight. But his body was springing to life, and she was leading him back to the bed. Her smile grew as though she had known all along how completely she had tamed him. She sat down on the mattress and reached out to undo the but tons of his trousers, freeing him, stroking him with her hand, cupping and squeezing. There was no telling what his wife had learned in a few hours alone in this place, but she seemed eager to put it to use. It had built a curiosity in her, and a hunger that he was happy to appease.

  He reached for her, and she batted his loosely tied hands away, and went back to her exploration. He held himself rigid, letting her have her way. He looked into the mirrors, watching the endless reflections of her fingers moving upon him. And the pleasure and excitement grew in him until he was sure that he would explode in her hands.

  She must have realized how close he was, for she lay back upon the bed and let her legs fall open, slowly drawing up the lawn of the pe
tticoat until he could see her knees, and then the rest of her, wet and ready.

  He should not be allowing this, for every moment he kept her meant parting would be more difficult. But she gave a final flick on the end of the rope to draw him closer, and he lost all sense. How could he let her go, when it was she who possessed him? He could feel the tide rising in him as he gave himself over to her.

  He pushed the rope off his hands and fell upon her, and into her, stroking deep, taking her roughly, biting at her throat and breasts, while she gave startling yelps of pleasure that dissolved into gasps of passion, and at last, a shuddered orgasm that drove him over the edge with her.

  And after, they lay still upon the bed. And there came the feeling he had whenever he was with her. The strange, pleasure-drunk feeling. A light ness of head and body. And the still unfamiliar absence of pain. It reminded him of a day he’d spent swimming in the sea, where the waters were clear and deep. It was an afternoon free of care, wrapped in the warmth of the water, suspended as though weight less, carried with the waves and warmed by the sun, happy and at peace, wishing that he need never go back to the land.

  But now, when he opened his eyes, there was his romni, his sweet truth, staring up at him, as gentle and warm as a sunbeam. ‘Have I told you how beautiful your eyes are?’ he asked.

  She smiled. ‘You told me they could not make up their mind what colour they wished to be. You seemed to think this changeable ness was a deficiency in my nature.’

  He smoothed the hair out of her face. ‘I was a fool to let you believe that. I could stare for ever at them, looking for the place where the brown turns to green. It is as if they are caught between worlds.’

  ‘As are you, Stephen Hebden,’ she whispered. ‘Tell me more.’

  He touched her cheek, and wondered why he had held his compliments until it was almost too late. The sight of her and the feel of her loving him was perfection, and he had not told her. ‘Your eyes are like Chinese jade.’

  She smiled. ‘Brown and green together. Is it rare?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not so much as a pure colour is. But it is still very beautiful. And to find a woman who can change as easily as the colour of jade, and be happy in a great house or a Gypsy camp…’

  ‘Or a place like this?’ she whispered.

  He kissed her. ‘You are rarer than diamonds. And I want to keep you. With me. Always. But no matter what happens, no matter where I am, I will never forget you.’

  He could not say the words he was thinking, for he did not want her to hear his doubt. It seemed she could change for him, to be any woman he wanted. Once she was home, she would see how different they were. What would happen when she remembered who she had been and changed again?

  I am afraid I will lose you.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Later, when the maid had dressed her, he came back to her. He looked as he had on the first night. The earring was gone from his ear, and his colourful shirt was replaced with a brown coat and buff breeches, un adorned except for the exceptional quality of the cut. Without thinking, she looked to his wrist, and then remembered that the silver cuff rested high on her own arm, hidden by the sleeve of her dress.

  He smiled at her. But there was the same sombre tone to it that had been present that morning, as though someone had died and they were mourning the loss. ‘You are very beautiful,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you. But with the look on your face, it hardly seems a compliment. Do you not like my dress?’ She turned so that he might admire it.

  ‘I do. Very much. But I liked you as you were be fore, as well. And I regret that you did not hear it from me every minute of every day that we were together. And I wish…’ He shrugged. ‘That there was more time.’

  ‘We shall settle this. I doubt it will take more than a day or two. And then, we shall have all the time in the world.’

  ‘Of course. A lifetime.’ But it was clear that he said this only to humour her, and without any real belief.

  She swallowed the sudden fear. ‘Do you not want me any more? Is that why you are sending me back?’

  He gave a small laugh and pulled her close, kissing her. ‘I want you still. I am sending you back, because it is where you belong. I stole you.’

  ‘Then you have no reason to be sad. Unless you think it is I who will no longer want you.’ And looking at him, she was sure that it must be true. ‘I am barely out of your bed, and you doubt my love? That is perfectly odious of you, Stephano.’

  ‘You may call me Stephen, when we are in London. It will be easier.’

  ‘I will call you whatever you like, as long as you mean to answer to it. Unless you continue to think me so false that I would…do the things we have done together…and then return to my family as though those things had never happened…’ It had never occurred to her that he might not ac knowledge her as wife, for he had promised. And the sudden feeling of loneliness that washed over her left her almost weak with sadness. But before the first sob could form, he had reached out to her and pulled her close.

  ‘I did not. And I would never. You are my wife, my darling, my all. And I am yours, always and for ever, no matter what happens. But you do not yet understand what I have asked of you. And when you do…’ It was as if the emotion went through him like a shudder, and he held her even closer, pressing his lips to hers. ‘It will be difficult. More difficult than you know. But I will wait for you.

  ‘But now, we must go.’ He gained control of his emotions again, and busied himself with wrap ping a cloak around her shoulders, tying it tightly to hide her gown. Then he offered her a bonnet and fixed a bit of veil over her features so even her closest friends would not be able to recognizeher. He led her down the stairs and through the gamers gathered in the room. They gave no notice to the mysterious woman in their midst.

  They rode in silence to Albemarle Street in a hired carriage. Although Nell and Marcus now had a separate home in nearby Bruton Street, apparently they had been staying at the Carlow town house since her disappearance. And when they arrived, Stephano paused with his hand on the door handle and looked at her. Now that it was time to let her go, he could not seem to find the nerve. ‘If there were any other way…’

  ‘Than sending me home?’ She smiled. ‘You do not think I am at risk on a visit to my brother, do you? Because that is quite an outlandish idea.’

  He frowned. ‘It is a dangerous world. Especially for the Rom.’

  ‘But I am not truly Rom, am I?’

  ‘No, you are not.’ She could see it hurt him to say it.

  She put her hand on his. ‘I was born in that house. I hardly think you need be frightened of my re turning to it. Once I have explained to my family, I will go to the Blooms bury house, and send Jenny to find you. And we will be together again. Trust me.’

  He turned his head to kiss her palm. ‘Always.’

  And then he helped her from the carriage. She turned back only once on her way into the house and saw Stephano, a dark silhouette inside the carriage. She could not see him clearly, but was sure he meant to watch until the door closed and re moved her from his sight.

  She was not truly leaving, she reminded herself. With each step, the time she had spent in the camp seemed stranger and more distant. But it was such a happy memory that she knew she would not forget, no matter how much she longed to see her family again.

  So she turned from him and continued her walk to the house and knocked on the front door, waiting for Wellow the butler. When no one came to open for her, she let herself in. ‘Hello?’ she called out softly, surprised at the strange quiet that enveloped the front of the house. Perhaps she had spent too much time talking to Magda, and was now imagining portents where there had been none. But her old home felt like a place of mourning.

  It got even stranger when a parlour maid wandered into the room to dust, took one look at her and ran screaming for the kitchen.

  In response to the scream, she heard the thunder of foot steps in the upstairs hall, recog
nizing, even at a distance, the military cadence of her brother Hal’s boots. ‘Hal?’ she called. It would be good to see him, but quite unexpected.

  ‘Verity? Oh my God. Marc!’ He was running to wards her, yelling for their brother.

  And suddenly the room was awash with confusion. People came from all directions. Nell sat down on the stairs, overcome with shock and near to fainting before even reaching her. Hal’s wife, Julia, rushed to aid her. And Diana Price Wardale of all people, was back in the house and hurrying to Verity’s side, openly weeping as she embraced her.

  ‘What is the matter?’ She reached out her hands to them all, the silver bracelet slipping on her wrist as she offered comfort.

  ‘The matter?’ The normally calm Diana let out a shrill laugh that bordered on hysteric.

  ‘Verity.’ Marc at least, was laughing in earnest as he reached out to hug her. But his grip was weak, as though the brief time they had been apart had aged him. And when he released her, she thought for a moment that she saw the sparkle of tears in his eyes.

  ‘You are all being foolish,’ she chided. ‘I have not been gone a week. You all act as though I have returned from the dead.’

  And there was a silence, as the people around her absorbed the statement. Finally, Diana spoke. ‘You do not know what that monster sent to us? The horrible note. Of course we thought you dead. There was blood.’

  ‘Probably his own…’ Verity hastened to say. ‘He cut his hand…’

  ‘And on your chemise. We thought…’ Diana ended on a watery gasp, ‘And that after, he had disposed of the body. And that there could not even be a funeral, for we would never see more of you. We have kept it secret from your parents. Because what could we dare to tell your father? The truth would kill him.’

  ‘Enough!’ Marc’s voice cut through the hubbub. ‘Verity is returned to us. Safe and sound. She has nothing more to fear from the Gypsies, and we will not have to tell Father a thing. We will deal with the one who did this, quickly and quietly.’ He cast a glance around the room to the gentlemen present, and there was a chorus of silent nods that made Verity pray that Stephano had gotten well away from the house.