Intimate 02 - Intimate Surrender

by Laura Landon

  And yet he knew that would never happen. He’d never be content to live his life without her. He’d always be desperate to find a way for them to be together. And a part of him would die if he couldn’t find it.

  The street that took him from Hannah loomed before him with devastating emptiness, but he had no choice but to force his feet to carry him away from her. Their lives were too divergent to find a middle ground. How did he think he could ever expect a congregation to accept her once they found out who she was? And they would. He had no doubt of that. The bad always came before the good.

  And what would he do if he were no longer a vicar? It’s what he’d been called to do. What he wanted for his life’s vocation.

  He supposed he could always go back to Thomas and live in the dowager house. He could help Thomas run the estates. But he would never be happy doing that. He needed to do something whereby he could help someone. He needed there to be some kind of purpose in his life. He needed…

  He paused. He needed Hannah. But that would never be.

  He forced his feet to take the first step that would carry him away from her.

  If he hadn’t been so lost in thought, he might have seen the woman racing down the walk, towing a young girl behind her. At the last second, he stepped to the side, but the woman was focused on the path behind her and they collided. The woman fell to the ground.

  “Oh, excuse me, ma’am,” he said, rushing to help her to her feet.

  The woman scrambled to rise, but she stumbled back to the ground when she tried to put weight on her ankle. “Run, Betty!” she ordered the young girl.

  “He’s coming,” the young girl called Betty cried as tears streamed down her face. “I’m scared!”

  “Go, girl. It’s that big house right there,” the woman said, pointing to Madam Genevieve’s bordello. “I’ll stop him until you get inside.”

  “But—”

  “Go!”

  “Run, Betty,” Rafe encouraged. “I’ll help your mother.”

  The girl looked toward the man racing toward them, then back to the woman on the ground, then turned toward Madam Genevieve’s and ran.

  Rafe watched to make sure she was safe, then waited for the man as he raced toward them. It was the same man Hannah had ordered to leave when Rafe arrived. “Stay down,” he told the woman. “I’ll deal with this.”

  Rafe stepped onto the middle of the walk and raised himself to his full height. He knew he presented a forceful figure and thanked the hours of wood chopping for the assistance. He braced his feet wide and glared at the approaching man. “That’s far enough,” he said when the man was near enough to hear him.

  The man Hannah called Skinner stopped.

  “It’s you again,” Skinner said, glaring at him with fury in his eyes. “This is the second time you’ve come to Madam Genevieve’s assistance. I find that very irritating.”

  “This is the second time you’ve bothered Madam Genevieve and her friends in the short time I’ve been here. I find that very disturbing.”

  “What you’ll find even more disturbing is what I do to make you pay for sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you.”

  “Anything that concerns Madam Genevieve concerns me.”

  Rafe hadn’t had the opportunity to study Skinner earlier, but he did so now. The man was truly ugly. The long, jagged scar that ran down his cheek gave his face a permanent sneer. One could become accustomed to that, just as one grew accustomed to a person with a mole or a mark from birth. But the malicious glare in his deep-set, beady eyes was something Rafe doubted anyone could become accustomed to. The man exuded meanness. Cruelty emanated from every pore of his body. Rafe didn’t know how Hannah could call anything associated with him a misunderstanding. Or how she could believe she could handle whatever was between them.

  “Then you are a fool,” Skinner said, his mouth curling into a snarl.

  The smirk on his face fell when the door to Madam Genevieve’s opened and three burly men walked toward them.

  “Ah, I see help has arrived,” Skinner said, taking a step back. “But be warned. This is not over. You can tell Genevieve she has stolen one too many girls from me. Her victory will be short-lived.”

  With that, Skinner turned and walked away from them.

  Rafe watched until the man turned the corner, then looked over his shoulder to make sure the young girl had made it to safety. Hannah stood in the open doorway.

  The three men raced to assist the woman who’d fallen, and Rafe slowly made his way back to Madam Genevieve’s. His gaze didn’t leave Hannah.

  As he’d done so often when talking to his parishioners, he studied the expression on her face. The look in her eyes. What he saw revealed volumes—including several details he was sure she didn’t want exposed.

  Some of what he saw in Hannah’s eyes didn’t surprise him. Fear—she had good reason to fear Skinner. Independence and self-reliance—she’d taken care of herself her whole life and thought she was strong enough to take care of Skinner by herself. Regret—she was disturbed to know he’d been involved in the confrontation with Skinner and upset that he’d discovered that she was in danger. But he was past caring. She needed help but thought he was too weak to help her. She intended to protect him. To shield him as if he were some weakling.

  The closer Rafe got to her, the angrier he became. She was in danger, and she would have allowed him to leave her. Her stubborn independence told her she had to face Skinner on her own. Didn’t she realize she wasn’t a match for him? Didn’t she realize the man was capable of anything—even murder?

  By the time he reached her, he was livid. What was wrong with her? Did she think that because he was a vicar he was incapable of handling confrontation? Did she consider him a milksop?

  He stormed past her and headed toward the room where they’d spoken earlier. “We need to talk,” he said without looking at her.

  “I need to make sure Delores is all—”

  “Now!”

  He threw open the door to the Daffodil Room and waited for her to enter. When she walked past him, he followed her into the room and closed the door. She turned at the decided thud when the door slammed shut.

  Her gaze narrowed, and he recognized her preparation to form an attack. He couldn’t let her begin first. He couldn’t allow her to take charge of this conversation. He couldn’t permit her to have the upper hand—not when she refused to admit how much trouble she was in.

  “You can start by explaining what’s going on,” he said without any pleasantries.

  “Noth—”

  “That’s not the correct answer. Let’s begin again. Who is Skinner? And why he is threatening you?”

  She stared at him for several long moments, then the air rushed from her body and her shoulders dropped. “Please leave, Rafe. Please go home before you get hurt.”

  The pleading tone in her voice caused a powerful pull on his heart. “What about you, Hannah? Where can you go so you won’t get hurt?”

  “I can go nowhere. I’m where I belong. I’m doing what I need to do.”

  “And what is that? What are you doing that has Skinner so irate that he’s resorted to threatening you? Stealing innocent young girls from him to use in your own bordello?”

  She stared at him in stunned astonishment. Then the look in her eyes turned hostile. She took one step toward him and stopped. “What kind of person do you take me for?”

  “I don’t know, Hannah. You tell me. What kind of person are you to take girls away from Skinner?”

  Anger flashed in her gaze. “Why don’t you tell me what kind of person you think I am that I would take innocent young girls away from Skinner and bring them here?”

  Hannah’s reply forced him to consider what answer to give her. When he did speak, the tone of his voice was more controlled. “I know you, Hannah. I know you would never deal in children.”

  “Do you? How many times did you kiss me without realizing you were kissing a prostitute?” />
  He couldn’t answer her.

  “Go home, Rafe. Go back to your congregation of saints and stop bothering me.”

  Rafe knew she intended to say more, but a knock on the door stopped her. The door opened, and an attractive woman a few years older than Hannah entered.

  “Everything’s taken care of,” the woman said. “Delores just twisted her ankle when she fell. But she’ll be fine.”

  “And the girl?” Hannah asked.

  “She’s frightened, but she’s safe.”

  “Good. Lord Rafe was just leaving, Dalia.”

  Then she turned her back on him.

  Chapter 10

  Hannah listened to the door softly close behind Rafe before she let herself breathe. She needed him gone. Needed him to leave before something happened to him. Skinner was dangerous, and associating with her put Rafe in harm’s way.

  Oh, how tempted she’d been to ask for his help. How desperate she’d been to lean on his strength and rely on him to help her. But that wasn’t a possibility. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to him. And something would if he remained close enough that Skinner could get to him.

  “I’m not leaving you, Hannah.”

  She spun around and faced him. “Go. Please.”

  He shook his head. “Not until I know what you’re involved in.”

  “This is no place for you. You’re not capable of fighting Skinner. You can’t even imagine how his mind works. He’s evil through and through.”

  “But you can understand how he thinks? You believe that you’re a match for him?”

  “More than you! You belong in a church preaching to good people who are eager to listen to you. Not here, where men like Skinner don’t think twice about sticking a knife in someone’s back, or cutting a stranger’s throat because they don’t like the way he looks.”

  “What did you do to make him your enemy?”

  Hannah paused a moment before she allowed herself to smile. “Let’s just say he disagrees with what I’m doing.”

  “What would that be?”

  “What it is can’t concern you.”

  “Everything about you concerns me.”

  “No! Forget me. You don’t belong here.”

  He shook his head as if he wouldn’t consider what she’d said. As if he was blind to who and what she was because he wanted her to be something she wasn’t. His next question confirmed it.

  “What does that young girl have to do with this? Why does Skinner want her? Why do you?”

  “Rafe, stop. Go back to Thomas and Caroline. Go someplace far away from me.”

  “I don’t want to be any place where you’re not.”

  “You have to! You can’t stay here. You’re not safe.”

  “Neither are you. Let me help you.”

  “No! Go back to your congregation of saints. Shepherd them!”

  He paused. “I can’t. I don’t have a congregation to shepherd.”

  His revelation stunned her. “Why don’t you have a congregation?”

  He hesitated for several long seconds. “The reason isn’t important. We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. And I’m not going until you tell me what this is about.”

  Hannah studied the determined look on his face and realized how serious he was. “I can have you thrown out.”

  “Then you’ll force me to stay outside and pray Skinner doesn’t see me and decide to repay me for helping you take that girl away from him.”

  A wave of fear raced down her spine. He would do it. He was naive enough to stand in front of Madam Genevieve’s until she let him in. Or Skinner saw him and killed him. “You’re a fool,” she whispered.

  “Thomas used to tell me that quite often when we were younger.”

  Hannah squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. She had no choice but to tell him what she was doing—what she’d been doing for several years already.

  A part of her was eager to tell him. A part of her wanted to have someone who could shoulder some of the burden. Not that he could do anything to help her. But at least someone would know about Coventry Cottage in case something happened to her. And who better than Rafe?

  She breathed a deep sigh, then nodded.

  He walked into the room and sat in the chair she indicated. Before she joined him, she walked to the table where she kept several decanters of liquor and poured a glass of brandy for Rafe and a glass of wine for herself. A knock on the door interrupted them.

  “Are you all right?” Dalia asked, stepping into the room.

  She nodded. “I’m fine, Dalia. Come in. I’d like you to meet someone.”

  Dalia closed the door and walked toward them.

  “Dalia, this is Rafe Waterford—Vicar Waterford. He’s a…friend. Rafe, Miss Dalia Cavendau. Dalia’s both a friend and a business partner. She helps me run Madam Genevieve’s.”

  “Vicar?” Dalia asked. Her questioning gaze locked with Hannah’s. “Vicar Waterford?”

  “Yes, Dalia. Vicar.”

  “Miss Cavendau,” Rafe greeted.

  Dalia cast Rafe an evaluative glance. Her hesitation was obvious. She finally spoke. “I’d like to thank you for helping Delores like you did. And the young lass. She wouldn’t have made it without your help.”

  Rafe’s gaze shifted from Dalia to Hannah. “I’ll accept your thanks once I make sure the girl didn’t exchange one owner for another. Not before.”

  A frown covered Dalia’s brow.

  Hannah pointed to a third chair. “You might as well join us, Dalia. I was about to explain about the young girl Vicar Waterford rescued.”

  The frown on Dalia’s forehead deepened. “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “I don’t think either of you have a choice,” Rafe said. “I’m not leaving until I know what you intend to do with that young girl.”

  Dalia’s eyebrows shot upward. “Do?”

  “Yes, do.”

  Dalia cast Hannah a look of concern, then slowly sat.

  Hannah walked to the chair opposite Rafe and sat. “Unlike Skinner and his associates,” she said once she had his attention, “we are not in the habit of selling children. The ladies who work at Madam Genevieve’s are here because they choose to be here. Their reasons vary. As hard as this may be for you to understand, some are here because they enjoy the work.”

  Hannah enjoyed the color that flooded Rafe’s face.

  “Some are here because society turned their back on them, and this was the only occupation open to them. They are all, however, free to leave Madam Genevieve’s anytime they choose.”

  “But they don’t,” Dalia added. “Madam Genevieve’s reputation is known far and wide. Ladies come here to work because our clientele is of a superior quality. We don’t allow mistreatment of any kind, and that’s very important to our girls.”

  Hannah looked at Rafe. “How did you find me?”

  “Caroline told me where you were.”

  “If they told you that much, I assume they told you how I came to be here and why I’ve stayed.”

  The nod of Rafe’s head was slight but told her he knew most of her story.

  “When I reached London, I arrived with nothing more than the clothes on my back. I hadn’t eaten for several days and was near starvation. I tried to find respectable work, but no one would hire me. None of the good people of London wanted anything to do with me. There was only one occupation left me.”

  “There were churches here,” Rafe said. “Why didn’t you go to one of them for help?”

  The tone of his voice contained a hint of censure, and Hannah’s temper rose. “Excellent suggestion, Vicar Waterford. I knew the good Christians in London would surely rescue me from near death, even if my attacker had been a member of that elect group. I was certain I could rely on them to help me.”

  Hannah rose to her feet and paced the space between them. “Do you think I didn’t go from one church to the next to beg for help? For at least a scrap of bread? And from one
or two, that’s what I received. A scrap of bread! Yes, Vicar Waterford. From a few of the Good Samaritans of this world, I received a scrap of bread—before they slammed their door in my face.”

  Hannah stopped. “Do you know who saved me?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “One of Madam Genevieve’s ladies. Yes, Vicar Waterford. A whore. Not a man of the cloth, or any of the good Christians in the church. But a whore. Her name was Claudette, and she half-carried me to Madam Genevieve’s because when she found me, I wasn’t strong enough to walk on my own.”

  Hannah took a deep breath, then sat again. “Claudette and several of the other girls here nursed me back to health. When I was strong enough, they gave me the choice of staying or leaving.” Hannah paused. “I had no place to go. So I stayed.

  “I worked hard and saved as much money as I could from my nightly take. When the previous Madam Genevieve decided she wanted to retire, I offered to buy her business. I wanted the security owning my own business would give me. I never wanted to be as helpless as I was when I arrived in London as a fifteen-year-old. I paid her what she asked and became the new Madam Genevieve.”

  Hannah fixed an unwavering gaze in Rafe’s direction. It was important that he understood her goal. “I made a promise the day I took possession of Madam Genevieve’s. I vowed that I would never miss an opportunity to rescue as many young girls as I could from living on the street.”

  A lump formed in her throat when she thought of all the girls she’d saved. That lump threatened to choke her when she thought of all the girls she hadn’t reached in time.

  As if Dalia realized how close to tears Hannah was, she continued the story for her.

  “At first Genny went out every day by herself,” she said. “When the rest of us discovered what she was doing, we took turns going out too.”