by C. J. Archer
She felt him shudder. Something tugged deep within her in response.
"Say something," he whispered. "Tell me to get out before I..."
Make love to you. He didn't need to say it—she knew. "It's not wrong," she murmured. His tiny kisses tracked the heat rising up her throat, tickling and tempting. She tipped her head to the side to expose more of herself. "Not when I want you too."
"Are you sure?"
She was already removing his cloak when she said, "I'm sure." He helped her with the rest of his clothes and when he was finally, finally standing naked before her, she pressed against all that skin. He smelled of the exotic flavors of his travels, fresh and spicy and delicious. She licked his nipple and he inhaled sharply.
"Lord, Min." His hardness pressed against her belly, begging to be petted. Feeling wicked, she reached down and stroked. He sucked air between his teeth and a groan rolled in his chest. "I'm addicted to you." She heard the slight growl in his voice, the hint of anger. She supposed he was angry at himself for coming to her, for wanting her, for allowing her another chance to break down his resolve.
Just as she was angry with herself for the same reasons. He was capable of leaving her a shattered mess.
But the part of her that was desperate to take what she could of him while she still could, took control. And that part was a wanton.
She pushed him down onto a chair and removed her housecoat while he watched. He sat back, legs slightly apart, a mysterious smile teasing his lips. She began to remove her netherstocks but he caught her foot and placed it gently on the seat between his thighs. Her toes nudged his thick erection and his eyes fluttered shut as another groan escaped his lips.
She removed the netherstock completely and was about to drop it on the floor when she had another idea. She placed the strip of silk beneath his thick penis and slowly moved it from side to side. More groans. A low chuckle. "You've learned fast."
"I had a good teacher."
He stilled her hand. "Enough. I want to see you now. All of you." He tugged at the laces fastening her nightshift. "Take it off."
She did.
"Come here." He gently pulled her closer and settled her onto his lap. Her bottom slid forward over his thighs so that his member stood up between them. His hands pressed against her back, pushing her chest out. He licked a nipple the way she had done to him and everything inside her tightened.
"You taste sweet," he said right before he took her breast into his mouth. His hot tongue stroked. His hand closed over her other breast, his thumb teasing her nipple until the tension inside her rose higher.
Just when she thought she could no longer stand it, he stopped. "This is madness," he said, breathing like he'd run the length of the City. "I told myself I wouldn't do this again. Not with you."
His words stung. He was already thinking about making love to someone else? She'd heard the rumors about sailors—there was always a woman in the next port. It was a rude reminder of his life at sea, the life he'd had before he met her and the one he'd have again.
The one without her in it.
"Then perhaps we shouldn't," she said. She climbed off his lap but he stood and caught her waist.
"You're changing your mind? Now?" Something close to panic strained his voice. He cupped her waist. Holding her to him.
"I, uh, I'm not sure." She should get dressed. She really, really should...
Then he kissed her and she was sure that she wasn't going anywhere. Not when this man was making her limbs turn to water with a searing kiss. Imagine what he could do with—oh!
He cupped her between her thighs and slid a finger into her moist folds. The finger slid in and out. Slowly. Maddeningly. "Convinced yet?" he said.
"Mmmmmm." Then he strummed her swollen nub and she gasped. He kissed her again and she forgot all the reservations she'd had about making love to him one last time. She needed this. There were a lot of lonely nights ahead of her but at least she'd have this memory to keep her company.
"I can't," she muttered, "stand it. Now. I want you inside me now." He withdrew his finger and picked her up. She wound her legs around his waist and guided his erection into her. He slid in easily. "Bed," she said.
He shook his head. "Too far." Their bodies twined, he carried her to the wall and pressed her back against the square paneled wainscoting. With a thrust of his hips, he buried himself deeper.
Their groans were swallowed by a thorough kiss. She splayed her hands across his back, feeling the muscles working beneath her palms. So much power, so much strength of will and control. But not tonight. Tonight he was losing his control in her study. He was hers. For one last time.
The pressure mounted in her loins, spreading through her like wildfire until she could stand it no more. She cried out against his mouth and heard a responding growl from Blake. He pounded into her and she dug her nails into his back. The pressure rose. Higher. Harder. Faster.
Until release came and her body exploded.
Throwing his head back, he pulled out of her and spurted his seed over her stomach. When he was done, he pressed his forehead to hers and together they waited until their breathing returned to normal.
Then he gently lowered her to the floor. Her feet scrunched on the rushes and her legs nearly buckled. She felt loose and soft and so very feminine. A wanton. She smiled to herself.
"Min," he said, backing away. He buried both hands in his hair and heaved a sigh. "Min."
"Don't," she said, barely holding the pieces of her heart together. "Don't trouble yourself. I knew what this meant, or didn't mean, and yet I chose to do it anyway. You're not to blame."
He rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head. He said nothing but she got the feeling he was blaming himself despite her attempt to reassure him.
She swallowed back her tears and picked up his shirt. "Goodbye, Blake."
His hands dropped away from his face and he studied her. "You no longer believe I betrayed you, do you?"
She didn't know anything for certain anymore but how could she tell him that after making love to him? She nodded anyway. "I'm still asking you to leave." It was the best thing to do. The only thing. If she kept telling herself that, she might eventually believe it.
He nodded and took his shirt. She wiped herself clean and put her clothes back on while he dressed then handed him his cloak. He paused at the window and opened his mouth to speak.
"No poetry," she said. "Just go."
The corner of his mouth lifted. "No poetry."
He stepped out through the window and leaped over the balcony. She heard the soft thud of his boots landing on the street then closed the window and blew out the candle.
CHAPTER 24
Screaming. Someone was screaming.
Min leaped out of bed and threw on her housecoat. She raced out of her rooms and nearly ran into Jane coming up the stairs. The screaming came from the maid.
"Jane, what is it?"
Jane, dressed in nothing but her nightshift and cap, grasped Min's hand and pulled her towards the stairs. "Oh, Mistress, come quick! They're takin' him!"
"Who is taking whom?" Min stumbled down in the dark—neither possessed a candle—and tried to slow the maid's progress but Jane was strong and unrelenting.
"The master." Jane headed for the front door but Min, her heart racing, overtook her. The door was already open.
Outside, dawn had begun to chase away the night shadows, illuminating Knightridge Street just enough for Min to see a horse and cart parked outside the house. Four men climbed onto the cart—one of them was Sir George. Two of them held him under his arms, lifting him up, another stood on the ground, giving instructions.
"Stop!" she shouted, bunching his cloak in her fist. "What are you doing with my father?"
He caught her arm in a bruising grip. She let go of his cloak and tried to pull free but despite his wiry frame, he was strong. "You're the daughter," he said. His voice was as thin as his body, but what it lacked in strength it made
up for in authority. He licked his lips, his tongue flicking out and back at the speed of a blink.
"Let me go!" she snapped, trying again to free herself. She might have succeeded on her own but Jane intervened. The maid landed a blow with her fist between the man's shoulder blades. He grunted and arched his back. His grip weakened enough for Min to break free.
"Father!" She ran to the cart but her father was already settled on it between the two men.
"Minerva?" He turned but the men held him. They looked like they wouldn't be easily moved with their thick-set shoulders and fists like rocks.
"Father, what is going on?"
But he simply stared back at her, his eyes empty and distant as they had been that afternoon in the parlor. The sharp mind she'd known all her life, and battled against in more recent times, had ceased to function. "Where are you taking him?" she asked the man in charge at her side.
He licked already moist lips. "The Hospital of St. Mary of Bethlehem."
Jane gasped. "Bedlam!" Her next words were lost in a whimper smothered by her hands.
Min drew her close. She needed comforting—they both did—and the reassuring touch of another human. Bedlam might be a hospital for those sick with madness rather than physical illness, but it was not a place for healing. It was a place of filth and cruelty where the patients were kept in squalid conditions, sometimes chained up and often ill-treated. Everyone in London had heard about the institution. No one willingly sent their loved ones there.
Min held onto Jane tightly. "Are you the Keeper?" she asked the wiry man. He clicked his heels and bowed his head. "And by whose authority are you taking my father?"
He looked at her askance. "By the authority of the man paying me, of course. Now, move aside. I have a schedule."
Min and Jane moved as one and blocked his way. "Tell me who's paying you? The parish?"
The Keeper's cheek twitched. "His son-in-law."
"He doesn't have a son-in-law! I'm his only kin. You can't take him away!" The pitch of Min's voice rose alarmingly. A neighbor across the road emerged from his house and leaned against the door frame where he watched the proceedings as if he were at the White Swan viewing a play. Neither he, nor any of the other people peering out of their windows, intervened.
The Keeper's tongue darted out and licked his lips again. "I've been paid by a man presenting himself as Sir George Peabody's son-in-law. I suggest you take it up with him. If there's been a mistake, he can clear the matter up with me later today."
"Who?"
"Me."
She swung round. Ned approached, a triumphant smirk planted on his cold features. For someone who abhorred violence, Min had some very brutal thoughts of what she wanted to do to him. Most involved removing his genitals.
"You...you devil spawn!" She charged at him and managed to scratch his face before he and the Keeper removed her. She tried to free herself but they held her firm.
"Careful, my dear," Ned said, dabbing at the stripe of blood on his cheek, "or I'll have them take you too."
Jane's arm slipped around Min's waist. Solid. Assuring. Warning her not to be impulsive. It took several deep breaths before Min could see the sense in that. It was nigh impossible to set aside her anger and her hatred of the men before her, but she managed to hide it.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked Ned.
He nodded at the Keeper. The little man bowed and climbed onto the back of the cart. It drove off. Tears stung Min's eyes as she watched, the weight of helplessness heavy in her heart. Her father hung his head and didn't look up as the cart rounded the corner and disappeared.
"Explain yourself," Min said to Ned, dashing away a tear.
"It's simple. I'm surprised your brain hasn't worked it out already. Perhaps the theatre really does destroy a woman's mind. It certainly destroys her morals."
"What are you saying, you cur?"
He patted the protruding stomach of his peascod-bellied doublet and smiled. "It's all your own doing, really."
"What?"
"Your father offered your hand to me yesterday, but you said his mind was too feeble to make such a promise." His hand flattened across his chest. "I disagree, but if you insist he was not of his right mind, then I had no choice but to have him committed to Bedlam."
"You're the insane one, Ned. Now go after them and order my father's release."
"Not yet. You see, I want to marry you. Despite your tempestuous nature and your...willfulness, I find I'm rather taken with you." He touched her chin. She jerked away. "Bedding you could be rather entertaining."
She spat in his face. He wiped the glob from his cheek with his sleeve and laughed. "Now that is exactly what I'm referring to. Besides, I do so want to have a knight's daughter for my wife. You, my dear Minerva, will be an asset if I am to become Master of the Mercer's company and then mayor of the City."
"Ah, so that's why you chose me. I did wonder. But surely your career would not be advanced by having a father-in-law in Bedlam."
He shrugged. "I'll get him out. Once we are wed."
"You seem to think that's a foregone conclusion."
"Oh, it is. You see, if you say your father was not of sound enough mind to agree to my marriage proposal then he must stay in Bedlam. That is only right for a man in his condition. He needs their expert help."
She swallowed back a sob. Her father would get no help in Bedlam. He'd be lucky if he survived a year.
The full extent of Ned's plan was becoming horribly clear. "And if I say he was of sound mind at the time, then the marriage promise is binding," she finished for him.
His face split into a smile. "Good girl. It appears you are reasonably clever after all."
"I hate you, Ned. I could never care for you."
"Then our marriage will be like most others. It matters not." He shrugged. "So the choice is yours. Let him rot in Bedlam and you live your life in poverty or you marry me and I'll have him released into your care."
"Can he do that, Mistress?" Jane whispered.
Min held her hand. The maid was shaking. Or perhaps that was Min. "No. He can't. I'll prove in court the proposal was made under duress and that he is not legally allowed to have Father committed."
Ned's smiled widened. "The courts take time and money. Do you have either commodity, Minerva?" She closed her mouth firmly. "No. I didn't think so. And I've paid the Keeper exceptionally well. He'll not release your father to anyone but me unless legally bound to do so. Now, let's be sensible about this and discuss the terms of our marriage inside where we can be more comfortable. I have certain conditions you need to agree to—."
"I'll not agree to anything!" And she sure as Hades wasn't allowing him into her house. She might be freezing and the subject of neighborhood gossip, but she still had control over who she let into her house.
Ned stiffened. "Be reasonable, Minerva. You have no income and no likelihood of any, especially when it's discovered that your father is in Bedlam. Even if he was released, who would be his patron? And your plays..." He laughed. "Not a single theatre manager would touch them now. Isn't that what you've been told?"
The horrible realization that he was right washed over her like a tide, overwhelming and relentless. She had no choice. She had no money, no prospect of getting any, and she had to get her father out of Bedlam before he breathed his last in that Hell. Her problems had just become insurmountable. They were bigger than her. Her own feelings no longer mattered. It was her responsibility to take care of her father now, and Jane too. Min was not at leisure to refuse the lifeline Ned offered.
"I want a guarantee that my father and Jane can both come and live with us," she said, stomach roiling at the future unraveling before her. A future governed by a man proving himself to be immoral and even cruel. A future without love or the prospect of it.
"Mistress!" Jane dug her elbow into Min's ribs. "You can't do this. What about...you know?" More digging.
"The offer from the other man?" Ned cut in with a sneer. "I doubt
it even existed."
Min stared straight ahead, looking at neither Ned nor Jane. The maid's fingers curled tightly around Min's arm but she ignored the plea. In a way, Ned was right. Blake's offer of marriage wasn't a real one. It was done out of duty. He might desire her but he didn't love her.
Not that love mattered anymore. The only thing that mattered was getting her father out of Bedlam. And Blake couldn't do that. Only Ned could.
Min held onto Jane and blinked back her tears. "There is no one else," she said. "I'll marry you, Ned."
CHAPTER 25
"You're a fool, Robert." Lilly might still be as pale as snow but her accusation lacked nothing of the vigor Blake expected from her. It gave him hope that she would soon be out of bed and on the path to a full recovery.
"You'll get no argument from me," he said on a sigh.
Lilly, as always, had his measure—and she didn't even know about his mistake with Min. Two mistakes. His first was to make love to her, his second was to offer marriage, yet again, to rescue her from her plight. It seemed he hadn't learned his lesson from the last rejection.
"Is there any event in particular that led you to that conclusion?" he asked.
She rubbed a hand over eyes shot with red. Blake wasn't sure if they were that way from crying or illness. He didn't dare ask in case his question caused another outbreak of tears.
"Your conversation with Lord Hawkesbury about..." She placed a hand over her still flat belly. The doctor had said he didn't know if the babe lived, but Lilly was adamant it did. Only time would tell.
