Surrender to the Devil

by Lorraine Heath

  “So you feel an obligation to do right by her son?”

  A tear spilled over onto her cheek. With his thumb, Sterling captured it. He folded his fingers around her neck. “Frannie…”

  “One day she told me about this wonderful play and that she knew a fellow who would let us into the theater through the back door. Feagan had always told me, ‘Frannie, darling, the night isn’t a place for you. Always come back to me before the dark.’ But I wanted to see the play. So I stayed with Nancy until it got dark. And we walked down an alley…and someone jumped out at me and put a sack over my head and I screamed for Nancy to run…”

  She released a strangled sob and more tears fell. He took the glass from her, set it on the table along with his own. He wanted to comfort her, but he knew that she had more to say. She looked at him imploringly, as though he could take away the pain, and God knew he wanted to, but until he knew what was causing it—

  “All these years, Sterling, I thought I’d deserved what happened.”

  “No one deserves what happened to you.”

  She shook her head forcibly. “I’d been bad. I was where I wasn’t supposed to be, doing what I wasn’t supposed to be doing. Feagan had warned me not to be out at night, and I’d discarded Feagan’s warning. When I was taken, I thought it was my punishment. And dear God, when Luke killed Geoffrey Langdon and they arrested him, I thought they’d hang him, and it was all my fault. You can’t imagine how guilty I felt.”

  “Frannie, you are to blame for none of this.”

  She wiped at the tears. “Tonight, Nancy…Nancy told me that she and Sykes arranged everything. They set things up so that I’d be taken like that.”

  “Ah, dear God, Frannie.” He drew her onto his lap, holding her close, rocking her while she wept.

  “They knew what would happen and they did it on purpose.”

  He tamped down the fury simmering through him. Now was not the time for him to start destroying things or venting his own anger. He had to care for her. Had to console his precious Frannie.

  “I was taken somewhere. I didn’t know where. My clothes were stripped from me. I was tied to a bed. This horrible, horrible giggling man examined me. I had to be a virgin, you see. Virgins don’t yet carry disease. Some men will only bed virgins.”

  He felt her tears soaking his shirt.

  “I thought I’d pushed all the horror away, but somehow it’s so much worse knowing someone wished it upon me, made it come to pass.”

  “If I ever cross paths with Sykes, I shall kill him.”

  She drew back, and looked at him with her beautiful green eyes filled with tears. “They’d hang you and he’s not worth it. Help me to forget, Sterling. Help me to shove all these horrible memories back into the dark crack where they belong. Give me something beautiful to remember.”

  She brought her mouth down to his. He wasn’t certain this was a wise idea, but he didn’t have the strength to deny her anything she wished for as he rose from the sofa, cradling her in his arms, and carried her to his bed.

  He was as tender a lover as she could ever hope for. When he’d brought her to his bed before, there had been no shadows of her past. Tonight it was as though he were brushing them away in the same manner that one might cobwebs. Gently, and yet diligently when they stuck to the fingers.

  He removed her clothes slowly, kissing her wherever skin was laid bare. His gaze held tenderness mixed with desire. He still wanted her. She knew that. After all she’d revealed, he still yearned for her…yet he cast his own needs aside, taking her leisurely, his hands and mouth almost worshipful.

  She touched him with equal care. Not because he was fragile, because he most certainly wasn’t, but because the reflections of the night required something different from what they’d shared before.

  He seemed to sense when to stroke, when to kiss, when to murmur sweet words near her ear. They were in tune, as she’d never been with any other person.

  There was no frenzy tonight, no rush to join.

  He rolled her over onto her stomach and trailed his mouth along her spine. He rubbed her back, he kneaded her buttocks, he kissed behind her knees. He massaged her feet, her calves, her thighs…until she was languid and thought she might never be able to stand again.

  He pulled her up and over until she was straddling him, her wild hair forming a curtain around them. He threaded his hands up through it and brought her down for a kiss that was unhurried, yet passionate. Her mind was filled with only thoughts of him. The way he touched her, reverently, the way he made her feel as though no one and nothing else mattered.

  They were in their own world, just the two of them. No nobility, no street urchin. Just Sterling. Just Frannie. No differences. Simply a common goal: to give and receive pleasure.

  Cradling her hips, he lifted her up and brought her down until she was enveloping him and he was filling her. Smiling down on him, she kissed his chest, felt its vibration against her lips as he released a deep purr and she imagined that he was imitating the lion he’d sketched.

  Then she was rocking against him, riding him, watching the pleasure travel over his face as his fingers dug into her hips. The pleasure intensified, became almost unbearable. She buried her face against his neck to muffle her screams of abandon. Holding her close, he bucked and jerked beneath her.

  Where he found the strength to rub her back afterward, she had no idea. As she drifted off to sleep, his hands were still moving gently over her and she took the sweet words of reassurance he was murmuring into her dreams.

  Chapter 20

  As the sun began to peer through a part in the draperies, Sterling watched as Frannie opened her eyes. “Good morning,” he said, trailing his hand around her breast.

  She sighed and stretched. “Good morning to you.”

  He rolled onto her and slid easily into her. He nuzzled her neck. “You feel so good.”

  Rocking languidly against her, he watched the smile of contentment ease over her face. “This is a fine way to welcome the morning,” he purred.

  She glided her hands down his back, cupped his buttocks. “I love the way it feels when you’re inside me.” She released a long, low moan. Turning her head to the side, she widened her eyes, stiffened, screeched, and dug her nails into his skin.

  He jerked his head to the side.

  “Wot’s ’at on yer back?” the little thief asked.

  “None of your damned business. What the devil are you doing here?”

  “I’m ’ungry.”

  “What about the fellow watching you?”

  He lifted a bony shoulder. “Sleep. Ye ain’t doing it roight, ye know.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “When yer foikin’ ’er, yer s’posed to make ’er cry. Me mum always cries.”

  “Yes, well, I’m not at all surprised by that revelation, but you see I’m making love to her and that requires a certain finesse, which I doubt your father has the wherewithal to possess.”

  Frannie started giggling and what had begun as one of the loveliest mornings he’d experienced went to hell. Bringing the sheet up to provide her with some semblance of modesty, he rolled off her and sat up, whipping the sheet over his hips.

  “Aren’t you mortified?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Children in the rookeries often sleep in the same room as their parents, often in the same bed.”

  It was a wonder they produced more children after the first.

  “You there.” He pointed at the boy. “Go find the kitchen. Get yourself something to eat. And don’t you dare run off. I’ll send this beast on my back after you, if you do.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. “Is it real, then?”

  “Just mind that you do what I say.”

  “Can I meet ’im?”

  “Depends on whether you’re still here when I go down for breakfast.”

  “I will be. I promise.”

  The boy ran off, his little stick legs moving remarkably fast.

 
“Where are you going to find a dragon?” Frannie asked.

  “I’ll worry about that later. At least for now, I don’t think we need to be concerned about him running off.”

  She tiptoed her fingers along his back. “Were you really making love to me?”

  He rolled back over onto her. “If you have to ask, then I’m obviously not doing it well enough. Let me try a bit more diligently before I go searching for a dragon.”

  He made love to her twice. Yes, he most certainly made love. Afterward, she went to Catherine’s room to begin preparing for the day. She had a bath readied and took a leisurely soak.

  She didn’t want to think about Sykes, but she worried that he’d seek some sort of retribution if he discovered she again had his son. As for Nancy, Frannie decided she’d gotten whatever she deserved. Just as quickly, she changed her mind. No one deserved Sykes.

  His son might have a filthy mouth, but she didn’t think he was beyond redemption. What surprised her was the rapport that seemed to be developing between Peter and Sterling. For a man who proclaimed to despise light fingers, he certainly seemed to be taking to the boy.

  After her bath, she had Agnes help her with her hair, then selected one of Catherine’s morning dresses. A dark blue that seemed dignified yet provocative. She was fairly certain that Sterling had readied himself for the day much more quickly than she had.

  So she was surprised when she arrived at the breakfast dining room to find him not there. She asked one of the footmen, “Has His Grace enjoyed breakfast yet?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Can you tell me where I might find him?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t know. Mr. Wedgeworth might know.”

  “And where would I find him?”

  “I believe he wanted to speak with Cook about luncheon.”

  Indeed he did. She found him in the kitchen.

  “Miss Darling, was breakfast not to your satisfaction?” he asked.

  “It was very nice, thank you.” Even though she hadn’t eaten. She was most anxious to find Sterling. “Do you know where I might find the duke?”

  “In the art room. Would you like me to escort you?”

  “Yes, please.”

  The art room was on the top floor in the corner of a wing she’d not yet visited. The outer walls were all glass and the sunlight poured in, creating a halo around Sterling as he sat behind Peter. Peter was in trousers but what she assumed was a shirt someone had scrounged up for him was lying in a rumpled heap on the floor.

  Sterling, holding a palette, was painting on the child’s back. A dragon, of all things.

  “He needs lots of fire,” Peter said.

  “Yes, well, you’ll take what I give you and be grateful for it,” Sterling said.

  “Please, sir?”

  Sterling’s mouth twitched as though he were amused and perhaps pleased that he’d acquired a bit of politeness from the boy. “Is fire across your shoulder sufficient?”

  “Yeah.”

  Frannie walked across the room and came to stand beside Sterling. “What are you doing?”

  “I have just initiated Master Peter here into the Order of the Dragon. He has sworn an oath to stay wherever Miss Darling—who is the queen of the order, by the way—determines he is to stay.”

  “I’m ’oping I can stay ’ere,” Peter said, twisting his head around to look at Frannie.

  “Need to be still, lad,” Sterling said sternly, delaying the need for an answer to be given right away.

  Frannie wanted to weep. Staying here was not an option. “I’ll have to review my accounts,” she said quietly, to delay disappointing him for a while.

  “That’s quite an impressive dragon,” she said. “I didn’t know you did oils in addition to sketches.” She glanced around at the walls. “Are these your works?”

  “Yes.” He set the palette aside. “Sit there, Master Peter, while it dries.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sterling rose and said to Frannie, “Amazing how a knighthood can bring about manners.”

  “I think he’s filled with goodness. It just hasn’t been tapped.”

  “You’ll draw it out.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “You’re free to look around if you like.”

  He followed her as she walked around the room. He seemed to prefer landscapes. She stopped at one that was rolling hills flanked by trees, a pond in the foreground. It wasn’t quite as polished, but something about it made it very special. “That’s lovely.”

  “It’s the ancestral estate.”

  She moved down to the next painting. It was the same setting. “Is this a favorite view of yours?”

  “Do you see this willow tree here?” he asked, touching a sprig on the other side of the pond. “Father planted it after Mother passed. I always thought of it as her tree, so I began to record its growth. Each year on the day she died, I set up my easel and painted the view.”

  She walked along the wall where the paintings were lined up one after another. “I like what you’ve done here,” she said when she got to the last one.

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “Well, in the first paintings you had the whole scope of the countryside. But as the years went by, you began to include less of what surrounded the tree and focused more on the tree as it grew larger.”

  “Genius, isn’t it?” he asked flatly.

  She turned to face him, not certain what she was hearing in his tone. “It is, really. You must have been very young when you started painting these. You have well over a dozen.”

  “Well over, yes. And you’re quite right. How I viewed the world began to change during those years.” He turned away. “Let’s check on the state of this dragon.”

  “I should probably go to the orphanage for a bit.”

  “We’ll go with you.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I prefer that you not go anywhere alone.”

  And she had no intention of becoming a prisoner, but she supposed for today, she could see no harm in it.

  Later that night, Frannie closed the ledger. The numbers were all running together, probably because she was so incredibly tired. If they didn’t bring in so much money, she could do the books later, but as it was, she knew if she didn’t keep up with things, she’d be forever behind. She’d considered turning the books over to someone else, but quite honestly, they all thought the fewer people who knew the true worth of Dodger’s the better.

  She’d spent the better part of her day at the orphanage making sure all was going well there. Sterling and Peter had gone with her.

  “If you force him to stay,” Sterling said of Peter, “you’re turning this into a prison.”

  “I know, but I promised Nancy I’d see after him.”

  “I suppose he could stay at my residence until you find someone willing to take him in.”

  She’d been deeply touched by his offer.

  Glancing at the small clock on her desk now, she saw that it was almost midnight. When Sterling had reluctantly dropped her off at Dodger’s, she’d promised him she’d be home by that hour. She knew he’d send a coach for her and that it would be waiting in the alleyway.

  Home. Her mind stuttered around the word. It wasn’t her home. It was a haven for Peter until the child wasn’t so frightened, until he would be content to stay in the orphanage while she looked for someone to take him in.

  She caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye, snapped her attention to the doorway, and nearly leaped out of her skin. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she shoved back the chair and rose to her feet. “Hello, Jim. How long have you been standing there?”

  She’d not seen him since the morning he’d interrupted breakfast at Greystone’s. He looked awful, as though he hadn’t slept since.

  “A few minutes. I don’t know if there’s anyone who concentrates on things as hard as you do.”

  “And I was sitting here thinking that my concentration was sadly lacking. How
have you been?”

  He shrugged his wide shoulders. “I’m sorry, Frannie, for what I said the other—”

  “No, don’t apologize.” She came around to stand in front of the desk. “I know you meant well. I appreciate your willingness to marry me if I should find myself in a spot of difficulty.”

  “Even if you don’t.” He grimaced. “I’ve always loved you, Frannie. You’re the reason I stayed with Feagan, but I knew you loved Luke and Jack ahead of me.”

  “Don’t be silly. I love you all the same…like brothers.”

  “I don’t think of you like a sister. I’m sorry for that, too, but I don’t think we can help what the heart feels. Do you love him?”

  She didn’t have to ask to whom he was referring. She pressed her hand to her mouth, felt the tears sting her eyes. “God help me, Jim. Yes, I think I do. I know he won’t marry me. You had the right of that. And please, for God’s sake don’t go deliver a message. I wouldn’t marry him even if he asked. He’s a damned duke and I’d be a damned duchess. But please remain my friend. I’ve a feeling I’m going to need my friends.”

  “I could never abandon you. I’m insulted you’d think I would.”

  She walked over to him, stood up on her toes, and bussed a soft kiss against his cheek. “Thank you.”

  They stood awkwardly for a moment and she realized they’d never again share the easy camaraderie they’d once had. “Well, it’s getting late. I should probably go.”

  “Yeah. See you ’round.”

  He turned to leave and she reached for her cloak.

  “Oh,” he said, coming back into the doorway. “Do you remember Nancy, from when we were growing up?”

  Frannie stilled, clutching her cloak against her stomach. “Nancy who lived with Sykes?”

  “That’s her. We found her floating in the Thames.”

  “She’s dead?”

  He nodded gravely. “Judging by the bruising around her neck, I’d say someone choked the very life out of her.”