Slave to the Night (The Brotherhood Series, Book 2)

by Adele Clee

  "Elliot." The word left her lips between ragged breaths.

  "Oh, God. Grace I … I…"

  She felt the sudden shift in him — his muscles growing harder, his breathing huskier. He brushed her lips again, firmer this time, his tongue penetrating her mouth with an urgency that shocked her.

  A burning need emanated from him, the air about them thrumming with uncontrollable passion. All the wonderful feelings abandoned her as he crushed her to his chest. Panic took hold. And she struggled and writhed against him.

  "No … let … let me go." She put her palms on his chest and pushed away from him.

  "What's wrong?" He looked so tortured, so damnably handsome and confused.

  Feelings of shame and mortification overpowered all else. What sort of woman struggled to kiss a man? Perhaps Henry was right. She was cold-hearted, unresponsive, lacked passion. When she thought of all the women eager to seduce Lord Markham, she felt so incapable, so inadequate.

  "I'll meet you in the hall," she said darting past him as she choked back a sob. But old habits drew her upstairs, and she ran into the room she'd slept in since her arrival, desperate to lock the door, desperate to lock him out.

  He raced behind her, chasing her and she thought her heart would give way from the strain. When he caught her by the arm, she turned and screamed. "Please, Henry, don't."

  "Grace. It is me. It's Elliot."

  He pulled her into his arms as she tried to fight him.

  "You're safe," he whispered, stroking her hair and holding her tight. "You're safe, Grace. It's Elliot. Henry is dead."

  It took a moment for the words to penetrate her addled mind. Henry was dead, and she had acted like a fool. Too ashamed to look at Lord Markham, she wrapped her arms around his waist, took comfort in the warmth and security he provided.

  "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

  "Hush. It doesn't matter," he said. "It's my fault."

  She jerked away and forced herself to look at him. "No," she said shaking her head vigorously. "You have done nothing wrong. It is me, Elliot. I am tainted by the memory of a monster."

  He pulled her back into his chest and continued with his soothing ministrations. "You can trust me, Grace. We can be friends. I won't press you for anything more."

  A feeling akin to grief flared. Friends would not be enough for her; she knew that now. "Give me another chance."

  He kissed the top of her head. "Grace, I will give you anything you desire. But we cannot continue like this. You need to help me understand."

  Sucking in a deep breath for courage, she nodded and stepped back. "Lie with me, Elliot. Just hold me in your arms and I will tell you."

  Mesmerising green eyes scanned the bed behind her. "This will be a first for me," he said with a smile as he took her hand and led her to the bed.

  To know that he had never been this intimate with any other woman caused her heart to soar and she lay down next to him, let him gather her into his arms.

  "I assume the monster you refer to is Henry?"

  It was easier to talk about it in the dark. Being enveloped in a warm embrace gave her the strength to continue.

  "Henry was to marry Caroline. He had loved her since they were children. But as the years passed it became more apparent that a provincial life was not for her." Grace placed her hand on his chest as it brought her comfort. "In his desperation, he did everything he could to persuade her to settle down with him. His parents made things increasingly more difficult for mine. When my father died, my mother was not strong enough to fight them."

  Elliot stroked her hair, ran his hand down her back. "Are you saying you married a man you didn't love to help your sister and your mother?"

  Grace swallowed deeply. It shocked her just how perceptive he was. It shamed her to admit she had been so naive.

  "Henry thought that if he pressured me to marry him instead, as the eldest, Caroline would be forced to honour her responsibilities. Even in those final few minutes before we walked from the church as man and wife, I think he believed she would change her mind."

  "Good heavens. Did you know he felt that way when you married him?"

  "Of course not." Henry would have put Judas to shame. His kind and courteous nature masked the depth of his deceit. "I found this all out later. Indeed, Henry made it his mission to ensure I never forgot it. I think he punished me as a way of punishing Caroline."

  Elliot gave a contemptuous snort. "But you never told her, did you? She came to London blissfully unaware of the devastation she had left behind."

  "It wasn't her fault. It was mine. A cold-hearted devil tricked me into marriage. I was foolish enough to believe he cared. I thought it would be enough, that I would eventually grow to love him."

  They lay in silence, but in her mind it sounded noisy and hectic.

  Elliot turned onto his side to face her. "I am not Henry Denton, Grace. When I … when I kiss you, it is my passion and desire for you that makes me so over-excited."

  She glanced down at the gold buttons on his waistcoat. "Henry said I'm cold inside. He said I … I could never please a man."

  Elliot took her chin between his thumb and finger, lifting her head until their gazes locked. "Grace, I have never met a more passionate woman. And it pleases me just being in your company."

  His words went some way to heal her sad soul. She was tired of living in Henry's shadow. If she spent her whole life searching, she doubted she would ever find a gentleman as understanding as Elliot Markham. If she had any chance of putting the past behind her, she had to start now.

  Grace placed her hand on his cheek and pressed her body closer to his. "Let me try again. Please, Elliot. I trust you. Just once. If it doesn't work, we'll be friends as you suggested."

  He didn't answer. Not in words. Lowering his head towards her, he touched his lips to hers with a level of tenderness that stole her breath.

  Desire unfurled like the petals of rose buds in spring: slowly, curiously, with an element of wonder.

  I have never met a more passionate woman.

  A renewed sense of confidence burst forth. Was it his wonderful words spurring this change in her? Was it the fact she had bared her soul to him and survived?

  In a bid to be nearer she shuffled closer, decided to kiss him in return. She brushed her mouth gently, tentatively across his. His unique scent surrounded her. She could taste it on his lips, the mix of raw masculinity and some wild, earthy essence she found intoxicating.

  He let her set the pace. He lay there and let her kiss him softly and sweetly.

  As a groan of appreciation rumbled in the back of his throat, she deepened the kiss, needing to satisfy a hunger clawing away inside. Her passion for him grew brighter and bigger, and she traced the line of his lips with the tip of her tongue — to rouse a response, to let him know she was ready for more.

  Elliot understood her silent plea. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her on top of his hard body. His tongue met hers, caressing, dancing, delving deeper as his hands drifted lower to draw her against the evidence of his arousal.

  "Grace," he whispered as they broke to catch their breath. He stared into her eyes. "Come home with me. Let me worship you in the only way I know how."

  Excitement and fear fought a fierce internal battle. But her desire for him was too strong. In celebration, she kissed him deeply, passionately, her body writhing against his with a need she could not define.

  She could hear their lustful pants, could feel a tightening deep in her core crying out to be appeased. She wanted to feel the warmth of his bare skin against hers, wanted to know if it was possible to feel pleasure when he moved inside her.

  "Give me a little time. Tomorrow, I will stay with you tomorrow night."

  "Only if you want to," he said shuffling to sit upright.

  She looked up at him. "I do want to." There was nothing she wanted more.

  He glanced across to the window. "Perhaps it's as well. I cannot risk staying here. I ne
ed to make sure I'm home before sunrise."

  She had forgotten all about his terrible affliction, and she scrambled from the bed. "Then we should be going. I would not want you to suffer on my account."

  A sinful grin played at the corners of his mouth, and he crossed his arms behind his head. "We'll have a little time alone in my carriage. You can show me how grateful you are to me for offering my assistance. You can experiment on me with those delightful kisses I've suddenly grown so fond of."

  Grace's heart soared. "I shall need a lot more practice, particularly with my tongue," she teased.

  Elliot groaned. "You may use me as you wish. But be prepared. I may do some experimenting of my own."

  Chapter 11

  "It seemed more sensible for Elliot to lend us the use of his carriage," Evelyn said glancing at Grace as they rattled along the busy streets. "The less time we spend out in public, the less chance we have of anyone identifying you."

  Grace pursed her lips to suppress a grin. Being inside Elliot's conveyance roused memories of their journey home from Arlington Street. Just hours earlier, she had sat astride him on the leather seat, tempting him with her innocent kisses. Although they turned out to be no so innocent after all. The sound of his urgent pants and groans as she tugged at his hair had almost been her undoing, and she'd fought the need to lie back against the squab and offer herself to him.

  "I don't care what people think of me," Grace said feeling genuine affection for the lady who had kindly taken her into her home. "But I do worry about you."

  Evelyn made a puffing sound. "In a few days, I shall be tucked away at Stony Cross and doubt I'll ever have cause to venture into town again. Let the gossips say what they will."

  The carriage jerked to an abrupt halt amidst loud cries and protests.

  Grace grabbed the edge of the seat. "It probably would have been quicker to walk. What with all the growls and the bleating outside, it sounds as though a herd of sheep have surrounded us and refuse to move."

  "Either that or the coachman has taken to impersonating farm animals."

  Grace laughed. "Perhaps he is not used to escorting ladies about town and is trying his best to disguise his curses."

  Evelyn smiled and after a brief silence suddenly said, "Elliot likes you. I think he likes you a great deal. Far more than he would care to admit."

  The sudden change of topic startled her.

  "He is just being kind," she said, her hand fluttering to her chest to calm her racing heart. The action was duly noted by her companion who gave another knowing grin. "I didn't really give him much choice in the matter."

  "Kindness is the last trait others would associate with Elliot Markham. Although he has always been extremely kind and courteous to me. How he behaves around you, well, that is another matter entirely."

  Grace tried to feign a nonchalant manner. But like a child in need of coddling, she wanted to indulge her fantasies. She wanted to believe the viscount held some affection for her.

  "He treats me the same as he does everyone else." As soon as the words left her lips she knew it wasn't really the case.

  "No, he doesn't," Evelyn said shaking her head. "He treats you as though he is your protector. He looks at you as though you're a juicy piece of pie, and he cannot wait to tuck in. He talks about you as though you are an angel sent down to cleanse him of his sins."

  Grace swallowed deeply. Evelyn's honest opinion caused her stomach to perform a range of death-defying somersaults. "I find him the most honourable gentleman I have ever met," she said truthfully. She found him to be the most wickedly handsome, the most desirable gentleman of her acquaintance, too.

  Evelyn gave a teasing smirk. "He must be very special to you indeed, for you to judge him so highly."

  Grace considered her comment. He made her feel his equal in every way. He made her heart soar, soothed her soul. "He is."

  They sat in silence. Her reply still echoed through her mind as Evelyn studied her with what could only be described as a look of excitement.

  "And when you find your sister," Evelyn asked, "what then?"

  Grace shrugged. She had not thought that far ahead. "We might never find her. But I will not stop looking. I can't think beyond that."

  Evelyn offered her a compassionate smile. "I'm sure we will find her." She glanced out of the window. "Indeed, I believe we are stopping outside the apothecary."

  As the carriage rolled to a halt, Elliot's footman opened the door and let down the steps. "Wait for us on the corner of Swallow Street," Evelyn said. "We won't be more than twenty minutes."

  The footman bowed and relayed the information to the coachman.

  Grace studied the dark brown facade of the apothecary shop and noted the number forty-two painted in gold on the arch above the door.

  "You seem disappointed," Evelyn said casting a sidelong glance.

  Grace shook her head. "I don't understand why Caroline would record something as insignificant as visiting an apothecary in her diary."

  Evelyn threaded her arm through hers. "I'm sure it has more to do with who she was meeting and not where she was meeting them. We knew when we set out that it could be a wasted journey."

  "Well, the only way to find out is to go inside," Grace said trying to rouse some optimism.

  There were a few people milling about inside the shop. One gentleman sat in a chair in front of the counter while the apothecary, a painfully thin man with white hair, pounded away with his pestle and mortar grinding his herbs into powder. The shelves behind him were brimming with a range of glass bottles containing a rainbow of coloured liquids.

  On the opposite side, an assistant dispensed perfumes, soaps and balms.

  "Let's try over here," Grace said nodding to the perfumery counter. "Perhaps if I make a purchase it will be easier to strike up a conversation."

  The assistant acknowledged them immediately.

  "I'm looking for sandalwood shaving soap," Grace said with a smile, aware of Evelyn's gaze shooting to her face.

  "Certainly, madam. It is one of our most popular products." He scurried off to a cupboard and returned with a small earthenware pot.

  Grace removed her glove, pulled off the lid and sniffed the contents. The intoxicating fragrance flooded her senses, rousing a memory of her inhaling Elliot's scent as she kissed along the line of his jaw.

  "I would like two pots."

  Evelyn tapped her on the arm. "Are you buying those for Elliot?"

  She would give one of the pots to Elliot, to thank him for all his help. The other pot, well, she would look foolish if she said she planned to take one home to Cobham and so she simply nodded.

  "That will be two shillings, madam."

  A shilling for a small pot of shaving soap! No wonder he smelled so divine as it must surely contain only the finest ingredients.

  Grace paid the assistant and used the opportunity to ask, "I had an appointment with Hodges last week, and I wondered if I could speak to him again."

  "Shush." The assistant's frantic gaze shot left, then right, and he tapped his finger to his lips twenty times or more. "You're not to mention it when there are customers in the shop." The man jerked his head back and blinked rapidly. "Did you say him?"

  Panic flared.

  Grace's heart thumped hard in her chest. Judging by the man's wary expression, she had made a critical error. The only possible mistake was that Hodges was a woman.

  "You must be mistaken." Grace offered her sweetest smile. "I'm sure I said her."

  He raised his head in acknowledgement but did not appear entirely appeased. Offering a wide grin to the last customer leaving the shop, he turned and whispered, "Why do you want to see Mrs. Hodges?"

  The hint of suspicion in his voice suggested that whatever services Mrs. Hodges provided, she did not run an altogether honest or lawful business. Grace feared opening her mouth as she had no idea how to answer.

  "It is of a personal nature," Evelyn interrupted. She stepped closer to the counter. "It
is a delicate situation."

  The vague response had the desired effect, and the assistant nodded his head in recognition. "Give me a moment."

  He walked over to the opposite side of the shop and muttered to the apothecary who removed his spectacles from the counter and balanced them precariously on the end of his nose. His intense gaze drifted over them from head to toe and after a few moments the gentleman nodded and his assistant scuttled out through a door behind him.

  Grace turned to Evelyn. "How did you know what to say?"

  Evelyn shrugged. "I thought it covered a multitude of things."

  "Well, it seemed to work."

  The assistant returned. "Mrs. Hodges will see you now. You remember the way. It's through the door, up the stairs and the last door on the left." He glanced at Evelyn. "You're welcome to accompany your friend if you so wish."

  Nerves caused Grace's muscles to stiffen. Acting as an impostor and stepping into the unknown was something she should be used to after the events of the last few days.

  Perhaps sensing her unease, the assistant leaned across the counter. "The suppression pills contain only natural ingredients and offer no detriment to the constitution."

  Suppression pills?

  Grace had never heard of such a thing.

  She smiled weakly. "Thank you. And my friend will join me."

  The assistant held open the door and bowed graciously before closing it behind them. As they made their way upstairs, Evelyn touched her arm. "What on earth are suppression pills?"

  Grace shook her head. "I haven't the faintest idea. Caroline must be suffering from an illness of some sort. Although she seemed perfectly healthy to me. I recall mentioning how her complexion glowed."

  "Well," Grace began before offering a deep sigh as they approached the last door on the left. "There is only one way to find out."

  Mrs. Hodges was a tall, lithe woman of middling years. She wore her hair tied loosely at her nape and her friendly, carefree manner put them instantly at ease. The furnishings in the small parlour were clean and comfortable; the sweet aromatic smells of numerous oils and herbs drifted up from the shop below to relax the senses. Grace and Evelyn were directed to the sofa while Mrs. Hodges sat in the chair opposite.