Realizing the complete inappropriateness of the question despite the setting, he regretted his words when she shifted in her seat, color deepening again, and pressed her lips into an angry little pucker.
“Thomas, if you’re suggesting—”
“No, of course not,” he hastened, sobering. “Forgive me, I was merely amused at your reaction. I daresay most young women would be out of sorts at finding themselves in this environment. I know you are an example of genteel propriety in the best sense.”
He held his breath, only releasing it when he noted the stiffness in Sarah’s neck and shoulders recede somewhat. With a sniff, she shrugged. “Apology accepted, though you’re not too far from the truth. I admit this is not a scenario I had ever imagined being caught in, but I have enough reason to maintain my assertion that whatever impropriety and upset it causes, providing you aid is worthwhile.”
“You might be the only person to think so at the moment,” he mused, allowing his gaze to linger on her soft features, wishing this entire conversation could have taken place in a garden somewhere. He was coming to enjoy conversation with this woman who had the ability to set him at ease and make him feel worthwhile without him having to put up a curated front. “I daresay I’ll not be able to repay you.”
“I never asked you to.” She caught his gaze and held it, those bright blue depths again imploring him with some hidden sentiment his feeble brain didn’t understand.
Plucking his watch from his pocket, he took a moment to observe the dial. Glancing at the door, he quipped “I may still have my reputation as a man called out, but we should be safe from enough scrutiny now that we can exit. Shall we?” He held out a hand to her. With a massive sigh she nodded gratefully and took it, not with the light and eloquent half-weight of a lady at a ball, but the firm, familiar press of children and sweethearts. The comfort and security of it bolstered him, and he didn’t release her hand again until they reached the coach.
Chapter 9
An eerie silence blanketed the streets as they exited the carriage. It was that time of night in between when all the inappropriate activities took place and when they gave way to the first early risers of honorable work. A time when few people traversed the streets and even the cats and rats seemed to have completed their tasks and returned home.
Thomas offered his hand to Sarah as she climbed out of the coach, then turned to offer an exorbitant amount of money to the driver to have him wait for his return. He had the man park several blocks away from his home to avoid detection as they approached. Once paid, the man settled into his seat and pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes.
Thomas regained his hold on Sarah’s hand and began to walk a brisk pace toward his home. The quiet and their solitude amid the normally bustling city set his nerves on end, and he found himself constantly scanning the streets, byways, and alleyways in an attempt to maintain what sense of safety they could claim in a metropolis such as London.
“Must we walk quite so fast?” Sarah whispered beside him, her words hampered by small pants. “I understand the reasoning, but consider that you are quite a bit taller than me and haven’t the encumbrance of skirts.”
Thomas glanced over at his companion and forced himself to slow his pace, guilt rising at the sight of her barely concealed discomfort. They were certainly not out for an evening stroll, but he could stand to walk a tad slower.
“My apologies,” he whispered back. At the new pace, they hurried along the streets in silence until they reached an alleyway running behind Thomas’ townhome. Approaching the corner, he brought a finger to his lips as a reminder before ducking into the shadowy expanse. They crept along in single file, with Sarah following behind him, her hand still clamped in his.
They were just approaching the back portion of his home when he stopped abruptly and flattened back into an alcove with a hiss.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah’s voice, a mere breath, tickled his ear, her breath warming his jaw and reminding him of her presence. The inquiry required her to stand up on her toes and press in beside him. For a moment, he forgot what had caused his sharp halt and focused on the delightful feeling of her soft body pressed against his. Giving his head a small shake to bring himself back to the task at hand, he leaned his head toward her and explained. “The sentry. I hoped he would be taking one of his naps, but apparently, he has decided to take up his duty at the most inopportune time. He’s sitting on the back steps.”
“Is there another way in?” Sarah’s voice drifted across his shoulder.
Thomas saw nothing of her other than her silhouette in the darkened alley. He thought a moment. Heading around to the front of the house provided no better option, that watchman was more diligent, and the streetlamps would expose them. He glanced toward his home in consideration, taking in the small strip of space leading up to the back of the building. He smiled to himself.
“I’m beginning to think you were Juliet in a past life,” he quipped quietly.
“What?”
He nodded toward the back wall of the house and the solitary trellis he’d forgotten existed. Noting the distance between the trellis and the back door, as well as the angle between them, he assured himself there was no danger of the watchman seeing them before nodding. “Assuming that trellis is secure enough against the wall to hold us, we might be able to reach your window, as it sits equidistant between the two guest rooms.”
“Well that’s at least one thing in our favor.”
Thomas was about to make a run for the trellis but hesitated, again shaking his head. “It won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“I doubt you will be able to make your way up safely.”
Sarah stiffened beside him. “Is there some good reason why you think so? Or is it merely because of my female status?”
“You said yourself, you have the encumbrance of skirts, and skirts will not help you in climbing a trellis. Besides, I don’t actually know how sturdy it is, it’s too much of a risk.”
“Well if that’s the only way into the house, we are going to have to find out. Think of the mess we’ll have if day breaks and I’m nowhere to be found. And do you honestly think, given my family, I went through childhood without learning how to climb a trellis?”
Thomas debated whether to groan or laugh. Both her points were valid.
“All right, we’ll give it a try, but the instant it looks as though it may not work, we’re turning around and I’ll find some other way and excuse to get you back here.”
Beside him in the shadows, Sarah nodded. They crept up along the side of the building to where the trellis stood. Thomas confirmed that the angle between the side of the home and the back steps was hopefully enough to conceal them in their movements. A sizable hedge of potted topiaries, as well as an additional trellis framing the back steps blocked the view of anyone sitting on the steps to either side. Sarah wasted no time in approaching the makeshift ladder.
“I’ll come up behind you,” Thomas stated as he continued to observe their surroundings. Sarah ducked down momentarily, and when she straightened again, he saw she had taken the back hem of her skirt and tucked it up between her legs to the front. She now stood holding her skirt hem in one hand, ankles exposed by the makeshift pants. Thomas could do nothing but gape as she reached for the trellis.
The unceasingly surprising woman showed far more agility than he expected shimmying her way up the trellis, and he was almost tempted to tell her to slow down as he had to make his way up with her. He wanted to be close enough to her to be able to grab for her should she lose her hold. Better still if he could partially surround her with his body. Thankfully, the concentration involved in the process for both safety and secrecy reasons prevented Thomas from dwelling too deeply on the proximity of her exposed ankles and well-formed backside.
Once at the top of the trellis, she reached out and began to fuss with her window, attempting to open it, but had to reach wide to do so, creating a less than optimal angle
at which to apply her strength. She faltered, and grabbed for the trellis, Thomas grabbing hold of her at the waist. They both stilled, immediately looking to the back steps, and hoping they hadn’t made as much noise as they feared. After a heart-stopping moment and no sign of the guard, they renewed their task.
“Here, let me try,” Thomas inched his way up behind Sarah and pressed in full against her now as he reached for the window. It took some time, but he succeeded in opening the window and allowing her breathing room again. Another worrisome moment ensued as Sarah maneuvered herself in through the window, having to lean a good deal to do so and Thomas having no means to aid her should she miss the ledge. When she had pulled herself in through the window, he allowed himself to breathe again and reached for the ledge himself. Pulling himself up and over the sill, he moved with as much speed and care as he could, but the window was not as accommodating for him as it had been for Sarah. A relatively small space, it proved awkward to surmount.
From inside her room, Sarah offered what aid she could, holding back the curtain and presenting her hand.
Even so, Thomas managed to move forward before he brought his foot completely over the ledge and ended up tripping, falling forward, and dragging Sarah along with him as he went tumbling to the carpet.
Crushed together, he struggled to right himself and remove his weight from atop her. As they struggled, becoming ever more entangled in her skirts he felt her cheek brush against his and turned his head without thinking, freezing in his efforts when the warm press of her lips met his.
Sarah understood the touch was accidental, knew Thomas’ sudden stillness resulted from shock, as her own did, but a tiny, wicked voice in her head shouted for her to take advantage of the moment, it may never come again. If he rejected her advance, she would be mortified, all the more because her inexperience would likely be put on glaring display. But the darkness of the room toyed with her sense of reality, the forgiving moon casting the palest notes of dream-like translucence in through the window as it descended precariously close to the horizon.
Shutting her eyes against the reality which had kept her loveless to this point, she gave in to her imagination, allowing her lips to fully rest against his and tightening her arms’ encirclement of him by a fraction. Her heart took up a thunderous protest, certain Thomas would spring away from her in outrage within seconds. But those seconds ticked by in the shadowed silence surrounding and enveloping them. They dragged out until, to Sarah’s surprise, Thomas’ weight atop her began to settle more firmly into place. He let out a sigh against her lips, covering them more securely with his own and following her movements when she allowed her head to fall gently back to the soft carpeting. His arm obliged her by curling under her neck, providing a makeshift pillow.
A kind of tipsy giddiness infused her, weighing down her limbs and spreading a languorous warmth through her veins. She delighted in the sensation, believing no more wondrous elation could exist, but instinct knew better. Of their own volition, her lips parted, no longer content with the restriction on proximity imposed by her inadequate mortal form and wishing to allow some other means of closeness.
He took the invitation, setting off an internal procession of fireworks with a remarkably foreign intimacy as his tongue laid claim to her just as deftly as his lips and the constant pressure of his body did. Her head swam and her breath became shallow, her body restless with the need to be closer to him. Her arms tightened about his neck and her leg slid against his with caution, not wanting to upset the moment but desiring some additional point of contact.
Fate rewarded her boldness an instant later when she felt the tentative touch of his fingers at her ankle, encircling the joint before skimming over the silk of her stocking, a feather-light caress preceded by an anticipatory shiver up the span of her limb. His fingertips glided and walked their way along her calf, pausing to outline the contours of the hollow behind her knee before continuing their journey to the uppermost ridge of the fabric and coming into contact with the heated skin of her thigh.
Overcome by the influx of new sensations, she gasped, the traitorous sound proving her downfall. The fragile bubble of a dream she’d allowed to form around them burst. Thomas pulled away from her, the warmth of his hand and body swiftly receding as he made haste to put distance between them.
“Forgive me,” he whispered in a breathless tone, jumping to his feet with an offensive show of agility. An instant later he assisted her to stand on her trembling legs, releasing his hold on her almost before her head had the chance to stop spinning from the swift transition.
“I should now have everything that could possibly aid me in this wild goose chase Graham set me on,” he began to ramble, tugging at his coat, smoothing pockets and eyeing the window.
Sarah stiffened her spine and gnashed her teeth, embarrassment setting in at Thomas’ obvious regret and desire to leave.
“I thank you again for all of your help,” he paused in his distracted movements, turning toward her, but she hadn’t the courage to lift her eyes to meet him, settling her attention instead on the knot of his cravat. At least the darkness prevented the heat in her face from showing… she hoped. Worried about any swift movement dislodging the tears filling her eyes and unable to voice any response past the lump in her throat, she gave a protracted nod.
He remained motionless a moment longer and Sarah feared he might insist on a more suitable acknowledgment, but those fears were short-lived, as he turned toward the window and exited with all the swift agility deprived him in entering. Giving in to her tears, Sarah prostrated herself across the bed like a child and smothered her despair with her pillow.
Chapter 10
The Sentry must have been asleep not to have noticed Thomas’ descent from the trellis and his drunken stumble along the alleyway. His head reeling from Sarah’s kiss, he willed the ability to conceal his movements as he hastily exited the room, retracing the route they had taken. Only by sheer luck did he remember the coach waiting for him and careened his way in that direction. Eric hadn’t become angry enough with him to seek him out for any sort of bodily harm or retribution, but if he ever found out about this, Thomas would certainly be called out. What had come over him?
He climbed into the coach and collapsed back into the squabs, dragging a hand over his eyes. Unfortunately, his eyes hadn’t been the culprits in his wrongdoing, though he could easily recreate without their help a dazzling portrait of Sarah, cheeks flushed and golden tresses hanging loose at her back, the top closures of her bodice undone and providing a tantalizing glimpse of creamy skin.
Clamping his jaw until the muscle there shouted a painful reproach, he attempted unsuccessfully to banish the image from his mind. He hadn’t intended to linger in her arms, but his body and limbs refused to acknowledge the dictates of his mind as he sank deeper into the uncanny solace she represented. The connection of their bodies entranced him, dislodging from his comprehension the entirety of an unrelenting and cruel world, and leaving in its place one solitary focus in his life. Their kiss.
Memories swirled, reviving his awe at the innocent purity of her exploration. Innocence swiftly tainted by a growing hunger in him to consume and internalize all that was good in her in the hopes of salvaging some portion of his own soul. Swallowing down what ought to be shame but felt suspiciously like regret, he turned his attention toward the window rather than continue the musings which would soon turn to the sensation of her soft body beneath his and the perfection of the silk-encased curves of her leg, leaving him with no hope of rational thought.
Tonight would be the end of it. With all necessary information at hand now, he would either find the solution to his conundrum or face the end of the charade his life now encompassed. Sarah was lost to him in either case. Even if he succeeded in proving his innocence in Graham’s murder, his reputation was marred beyond repair, and he could make no further attempt to regain the good opinion of the Langdon family.
The thought should have resigned hi
m to his fate, but a tightening in his chest demanded he acknowledge the newest fatal denouncement against him, one he held little hope of repairing. Sarah believed in him. For some unknown reason, as the entire world collapsed around him, she showed an unwavering trust in him.
And he’d hurt her. He saw the tears shimmering in her moonlit eyes, wanted desperately to explain his hasty retreat but held his tongue knowing it would be better to allow her to think the worst of him. For that slight alone, he didn’t deserve to come out of this business still breathing.
Enveloped by his thoughts, he hardly noticed when they coach came to a lurching halt in front of the building housing his tattered and ratty room. He rented a room in a particularly shabby corner of the city, partially in the hopes that those looking for him would assume he would not rent a room in such a base establishment, and partly for the convenience of the landlord being disinterested in who occupied the space so long as he received payment.
His neighbors likewise despaired of any incentive or inclination to introduce themselves or make small talk. When passing in the hall, no one lifted their eyes above the level of the floor. A far cry from the level of comfort he preferred, but it suited both his needs and the level of degradation he’d sunken into. Exiting the coach, Thomas only just secured the door before the coachman set the horses into motion again and set off into the encroaching morning, likely worried Thomas might again prevail upon him to wait.
Racing up the steps, he entered as quickly as possible in the less than helpful light of predawn. He didn’t much care if he made noise; the occupants of this building kept no set hours and would come and go throughout the day and night. There was always someone awake, and no one generally cared if their movements disturbed anyone else. Hurrying up the stairs and along the hall to his room, he entered and re-locked the door, propping a chair up against the doorknob. He wouldn’t trust a lock in this building with his life. Heading to the small, uneven table next to the window, He lit a lamp and tugged the lists and letters from his pocket.
A Clandestine Affair (Currents of Love Book 5) Page 8
