A Hero and A Gentleman

by JoMarie DeGioia

  “I won’t sleep this night,” she said.

  Blake laughed into his brandy glass before slanting her a look. “I’m not alarmed by that disclosure.”

  Once more he tried to joke her out of her worries, and this time she laughed despite her concerns. A bit of her unease lifted as she consumed a few tarts and drank deeply of the strong tea served in Jason’s house.

  Her eyelids were heavy as Blake set the table aside. As he turned toward her, she cuddled into the circle of his arms.

  He held her for a while, stroking her back with his large, gentle hands. Leaning back from her, Blake cupped her cheek with one hand. His blue eyes sparkled as they flicked over her face. “It will be all right, Taylor. I promise you that. With everything in me.”

  He brought his mouth to hers, his lips soft yet insistent. She succumbed to the lure to give herself to the passion that flowed between them, to the love that filled her heart. Robert was out there somewhere, maybe hurt and alone. But she had Blake tonight, and even if he never loved her the way she loved him, she’d treasure each moment they spent together.

  Twisting on the bed, she leaned into him and opened her mouth to his questing tongue. She caught his moan of pleasure in her mouth and echoed it as his hand found her breast. Soon they stretched out on the coverlet, clothes and limbs entangled as they explored each other with their hands and mouths. Her dress and stays fell from her as his palms burned her flesh.

  “Blake!” she cried.

  He cupped her breasts, teasing and pinching her nipples as his tongue flicked over her ear, her neck. When he closed his mouth over one aching nipple she nearly screamed. He drove her toward passion’s peak, adding to her torment as his fingers stroked her center with assured ease. Suddenly he lifted his head, his hands, from her. He came to his knees on the bed and ran his gaze over her flushed body. “Ah, Taylor.”

  She watched him as he removed the rest of his clothing, her heart pounding as his strong chest and smoothly muscled belly were revealed. The bulge in his breeches brought a notion to her, one which had flitted through her mind before. Reaching out, she stilled his hands on the buttons of his breeches. He turned a puzzled glance at her, then growled softly as she cupped him.

  She could barely work the buttons free, her obvious nervousness making her fingers tremble. Soon she held him in her hands and he sat back on his heels. She stroked his shaft, her fingers teasing the tip as she studied him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “God, love . . .”

  * * *

  He stroked her hair, those long golden strands that tickled his thighs, and fought to keep his control. Her little tongue flicked at him, mimicking his manner of loving her so intimately. His hands fisted and he forced himself to release her hair. When she suckled the head, he began to arch toward her. “Enough!”

  Taylor lifted her mouth from him and gazed at him in obvious puzzlement. Her eyes flicked toward his swollen member and he felt it jump in eager response.

  “One more move and it will all be over, love,” he said.

  The siren’s smile that curved her mouth nearly brought him to climax. He had her beneath him in an instant, her flesh as hot as her mouth had been on him. Her sighs of pleasure filled his ears as he kissed her as she had him. His tongue and fingers loved her, urging her toward her release. In a rush she found it, clenching around his fingers deep within her as she sobbed his name. Then he came up and entered her, drove hard into her as her legs wrapped around his waist.

  “That’s it,” he bit out. “Hold on to me . . .”

  Her hands grabbed at his shoulders; her body arched as she gave herself up to him. He could stand the pressure no longer and surrendered to a release so strong he thought he’d lose consciousness. He managed to hold himself away from her as he collapsed on the bed.

  “Blake,” Taylor said shakily beneath him. “I . . . Oh, my.”

  He shifted and cradled her in his arms as he sought to catch his breath. Her body was hot and soft in his embrace, her cheeks flushed with beautiful color as she drifted back to earth from her own cloud of passion. Barely recovered himself, he nodded at her profession of awe. “I know, love.”

  He kissed her brow and she opened her eyes. Never before had he seen such a glow in them. He stared, his heart beginning to beat in a cadence different than before. He saw the love in her eyes and it scared the hell out of him.

  “We’ll find Robert, Taylor,” he murmured. His lips brushed her brow. “On the morrow I’ll speak with Reggie—”

  “You!” She pulled back to stare at him. “But you said I’d be with you.”

  Blake shook his head at her. “You don’t know this son-of-a—” He took a breath. “Taylor, Reggie will say nothing of import if you are there.”

  “I won’t let you put yourself in danger, Blake,” she said. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I love you.”

  Blake’s blood froze.

  Chapter 23

  Taylor watched as the look of satisfaction left Blake’s face. A bland look of indulgence settled on his beloved features. “This has been an emotional night, Taylor. No doubt you’re tired.”

  She stared at him, astounded at the denial of feelings she’d possessed for so long. Impotent anger filled her. “Tired?” she repeated, shaking. “Tired?!”

  “Now, love—”

  “Say no more,” she urged. She closed her eyes and covered her ears, willing the sad realization from coloring her words to him now. “You have the right of it. I’m tired, Blake, and don’t wish to discuss the matter.”

  Of course, the bloody man took advantage of the opportunity she handed him. He settled beside her, his back to hers, and said no more. She had to open her mouth. She had to at last divulge all that had been within her these past weeks. Well, until her husband could voice his emotions she’d keep hers locked tight in her heart.

  Tomorrow they would search for Robert, and she wouldn’t give in to such hysterical admissions again. Choking back a sob, she turned from her husband. After the trials of the long day, and its confounding conclusion, she willingly succumbed to the lure of sleep.

  * * *

  Blake stared at the brocade curtains dressing the window opposite, the meager light from the candles causing odd shadows to flit over their folds. Taylor’s simply-spoken words rang in his ears, her admission filling him with awe. She loved him? A woman like her, a lady so fine and wonderful. And what had been his reaction? He’d dismissed her confession out of hand, treated her like the child she had been so long ago in Sussex. God, he was a bloody dolt.

  She slept uneasily beside him, shifting every so often and moaning softly. He turned and caught the frown marring her brow even in slumber. He gathered her to him and soothed her, taking care not to wake her. She worried over Robert, that much was easy to guess. He brushed his fingers through her tangled locks and reviewed the past hour’s events.

  Their loving had been explosive, her boldness pleasing him nearly to the point of shouting out to the heavens his own feelings for her. He loved her. Jason had seen it and Blake had acknowledged it to himself days ago. Then why, pray, had he acted like such a fool when she’d stated her own feelings?

  The memory of her face as she declared her heart struck him anew: her eyes wide open, their blue-gray color, a swirl of raw honesty, the hurt that swam in them the moment he made his idiotic insistence that fatigue ruled her. Fatigue, coupled with her worry over her brother.

  Robert. His good friend was alive. That was an amazing revelation. Monique’s information had been helpful if surprising, and he was confident that Sir Reggie, with Blake’s particular encouragement, would divulge all he knew of Trevor Shelby. That bastard had slipped into her bed while he kept her brother prisoner. Although given the man’s abhorrent behavior toward her in the past few weeks this wasn’t surprising. But to think that fop was the center of the case? It was inconceivable.

  He’d focus on the case tomorrow. Searching for Robert would fill their short time in London and, w
ith any luck, he’d be saved from revealing his own tender regard until he and Taylor were safely ensconced at The Hideaway again.

  A sob reached him, faint and heart wrenching. He turned and gazed at Taylor’s lovely face, noting with guilt the tear that escaped from beneath thick lashes. He brushed it away and kissed the salty spot, soothing her with his hands and arms as he couldn’t earlier with his words.

  * * *

  The morning sun woke Taylor, that and the sound of her husband moving about the chamber. She peeped open one eye and watched as he dressed. The muscles of his back rippled as he bent to retrieve his boots, and his taught buttocks stretched his breeches. Memory struck her then, the recollection of her admission when she was overcome by emotion and fear for him. No matter. If he could so simply dismiss her words last night, she wouldn’t speak of them this morning.

  Or ever again.

  He turned toward her and offered a cocky grin. “Do rise, wife. Jason’s house serves a breakfast to rival Mrs. Mott’s.”

  Taking her cue from him, she sat up on the bed. Swaddled in linens, she came to her feet. “I’ll dress and meet you belowstairs.”

  Blake’s hands faltered as he tied his cravat. With a nod, he turned and shrugged into his jacket. Without another glance toward her, he took his leave and shut the door behind him. Sighing inwardly, Taylor padded over to her valise and set about readying for the trying day to come.

  At last dressed in a slightly wrinkled day dress of soft peach, she plaited her hair into a simple braid and then stepped into her slippers. A glance in the small mirror atop the washstand showed her she was presentable, and she turned to join her husband. Realization struck her then.

  Today they would learn of Robert’s fate. Little wonder her husband had risen with the sun. Blake loved Robert as a brother. The hope in his eyes at Monique’s the night before told her Robert hadn’t been far from his thoughts these past weeks. How she would occupy herself while he was questioning Sir Reggie, Taylor couldn’t imagine. But she’d do nothing to prevent Blake from gleaning all the information he could from that so-called gentleman.

  Steeling herself to present the picture of the unaffected wife, Taylor left the guest chamber and descended the staircase.

  * * *

  The old butler stood at the ready and, after bowing with respect, led Taylor into the breakfast room at the back of the townhouse.

  Blake watched as Taylor crossed to the mahogany sideboard, which boasted of appetizing fare to hopefully tempt her stomach. She crossed to it and served herself fluffy eggs and a slice of fine ham.

  “Good morning, love,” Blake said.

  She turned, her shoulders straight, and met Blake’s direct gaze. A quick glance around the room must have told her that Jason had eaten earlier. She knew as well as he, the subject that would now be discussed.

  “Taylor, about last night . . .”

  Taylor offered him a bright, obviously false smile and joined him at the table. He sat when she did, watching as she sipped from the cup of tea dutifully filled by a maid. Her head bowed, the long golden strands catching the sunlight streaming through the large window behind her, Taylor was achingly beautiful. He longed to tell her everything, to admit to emotions so deep they astounded him even now. But her reticence, and his reluctance, set the matter out of his hands. He curled his lip. Coward.

  “I’ll go to Reggie Platt this morning, Taylor,” he said.

  She raised her eyes to his. Disappointment and sadness clouded their beauty, and he felt it clear to his soul.

  “Take care of yourself, Blake,” she said.

  A wealth of meaning could be heard in her words, though neither she nor he would vocalize it.

  “I’ll find out where Robert is, love,” he said instead. “We will recover him.”

  Nodding in silence, she picked at the food on her plate and they said nothing more. As he rose to take his leave of her, Blake attempted once more to bridge the gap separating them. “Taylor, I . . .”

  Her eyes were opened wide in her face, hope and apprehension both evident. “Find him, Blake. Then everything can be as it once was.”

  What the devil . . . ? Something in her tone caused the hairs on his nape to rise. Did she mean to return to Sussex? Afraid of voicing his suspicions lest she confirm them, he bent and brushed a kiss on her cool lips. He left her there, poised and beautiful, and went in search of the man who could restore everything to them.

  For better or worse.

  * * *

  “Here be your breakfast.”

  A surly grumble, one Robert recognized as belonging to the woman in charge of his care. His care. He almost laughed. Prisoners at Newgate were treated better than he. Robert couldn’t open his eyes to more than slits. A shaft of sunlight pierced the tattered curtain covering the small window, sending a shard of pain through his brain. The clatter of dishes on the tray added to his discomfort.

  “Ya’ ain’t lookin’ good.” The prodding of blunt fingers made his skin throb as the woman examined him. “Told Shelby,” she said. “He don’t care.”

  Robert barely heard the words nor gave them much credence. She urged him to a sitting position, which he fought with little effort.

  “Still heavy,” she grunted. “Yet all skin and bones.”

  Robert let his eyes close then as the woman forced weak tea down his throat as she did each morning. The clucking of her tongue faintly registered and he slumped once more onto the lumpy mattress.

  “I’ll be back later with yer lunch.” Plodding footsteps made their progress away from him. “Not that it’ll make a bit of difference,” she added.

  Robert turned his aching head into the pillow and fought each breath that put bands of pressure around his chest, unable to give thought to the prayer that soon he’d breathe no more. He’d find a way out of this hell. But now he was tired. He’d find a way out . . . tomorrow. Blessedly, he fell into a fitful sleep.

  * * *

  Reggie Platt’s butler was distressed to find Blake on his master’s doorstep. Blake scowled at the ill-kempt servant and demanded an audience with Sir Reggie.

  “He ain’t . . . isn’t seein’ visitors,” the butler said.

  Blake looked past him into the shabby interior of the townhouse and arched his brow in a show of arrogance. “He’ll see Baron Thompson.”

  Mouth agape, the butler at last capitulated. “Aye,” he grumbled.

  He began to close the door, which Blake stopped with his open hand. “I’ll wait within.”

  Muttering, the man stepped away from the door and shuffled off to rouse his master. Blake stepped into the foyer and shut the door, glancing around. A mishmash of expensive goods cluttered the small parlor adjacent, giving the appearance of faux gentry, like the man who lived there.

  Blake turned to find Reggie hurrying down the stairs, fumbling with his jacket as he descended. “L-lord Thompson?”

  “Reggie,” Blake said.

  Reggie, his face flushed from exertion or disquiet Blake didn’t know, offered a faltering smile. “I didn’t know you had a title.”

  Blake shrugged. “I use it when it suits.” He crossed into the parlor, confident his quarry would follow.

  Reggie did, with halting steps that spoke of his reluctance. “I don’t know what you want here.”

  “Tell me where Robert Shelby is,” Blake said.

  Reggie paled, all redness gone from his fat face. “I don’t—”

  “Don’t think to put me off, Reggie. I know he’s alive.” Blake stepped closer. “I know Trevor Shelby is Martin. And I know he’s been hiding Robert. I have the ring.”

  Reggie opened his mouth, letting out a string of curses. “I told Shelby not to do it,” he grumbled. “Bloody fool thinks to keep the man hidden.”

  “Trevor is your employer, I take it?”

  Reggie cursed again. “He gains from my work, ’tis true.” His eyes suddenly widened in alarm. “B-but I had nothing to do with the business with his cousin! I swear it!” />
  Blake had heard enough. He grabbed Reggie by his limp cravat and dragged him closer. “I’ll know where Robert is, Reggie. And I’ll know now.”

  Reggie nodded as vigorously as Blake’s restraint allowed. Blake let him go and moved to block the only exit of the room. His arms crossed over his chest, he waited for Reggie to catch his breath.

  “He be at the waterfront,” Reggie said.

  “The waterfront? Where exactly?”

  “Well . . .” Reggie’s eyes darted around the room. “That’s—”

  Blake lost all patience and grabbed the man again. “Where, damn it to Hell!”

  “I don’t know precisely, Thompson!” Reggie cried. “Shelby don’t take me into his confidence.”

  “Really? You know of my marriage,” Blake said. “What did he tell you about Robert’s sister?”

  A smile curved the man’s slack mouth. “Shelby was bloody mad you got the girl. He managed to get her out of his hair and she goes runnin’ to you. He was afraid she’d get you to search for Robert Shelby again.”

  Blake refused to waste time thinking of Trevor and his plans. “Tell me where Robert is.”

  “I don’t know, I tell ya’!” When Blake stepped toward Reggie again he held his pudgy hands in front of himself. “I can find out, Thompson. You have my word.”

  “Your word?” Blake spat out. “Tell me, Reggie. Did you steal your integrity as well?”

  “Now, see here—”

  “Enough! I’ll give you one chance. I doubt Trevor Shelby would do the same. Find out where Robert’s being kept.” He handed Reggie a card with Jason’s London address on it. “Get word to me directly. I’ll worry about freeing him.”

  Reggie straightened his rumpled clothes. “Makes no difference to me. Ain’t never been one to make money off others’ misfortunes.”

  Blake snorted. “Perhaps the Watch would like to know where you get all those pretties you bestow on Monique.” He took long strides through the foyer and turned at the door. “Don’t disappoint me, Reggie. There isn’t a place you can hide where I can’t find you.”