by Clee, Adele
“She feels every hard muscle moving between her sweat-soaked thighs.”
Hell! Eva knew exactly what to say to raise a reaction. “It takes a special maiden to command such power.” He drew his gaze down her body, noted her erect nipples pushing against the simple sprig muslin. “It takes a woman like you, Eva.”
She stroked the elegant column of her throat as if hot, parched. “This is an interesting conversation, though I have never been more aroused than I am at this moment.”
Noah was aroused, too. His cock was so hard it was about to burst from his breeches. “Then ride me, love. Take me to Nirvana.”
His provocative invitation brought a sensual glint to her eyes. “You believe I know the way?”
“I know you do.”
She laughed. “Then hurry, make space.” Her urgency was evident in every shallow breath.
She did not need to tell him twice.
In a mad flurry of activity, he wrapped the pie in the muslin cloth and placed it in the basket. An excitable energy charged the air as she handed him the slab of cake, quickly gathered the plates and made room on the blanket. He snatched the wine bottle, was about to force the cork into the neck when she grabbed the bottle from his hand and took a swig.
“Don’t be shy,” he teased, though he loved that she felt free enough to express herself. “May I have some?” She offered him the bottle, but he shook his head. “I want to drink from your mouth, Eva.”
Her eyes widened. She shuffled closer, took another sip, came up on her knees and kissed him. The rich burgundy trickled into his mouth, but he was more intoxicated by her than he was the wine.
She pulled back, the seam of her lips stained red. “Would you care for more, Mr Ashwood?”
“You know damn well I would.”
A growl rumbled in his throat. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her to his body. There was no time for slow coaxing, for being gentle. With a surge of carnal lust, he penetrated her lips and mated with her mouth.
Hunger clawed at his insides.
Urgent. Restless.
Every sweep of her tongue hardened his cock. The need to lay her down and spread her wide consumed him. The urge to pleasure her, love her, threatened to destroy all rationale, too.
He tore his mouth from hers, snatched the wine bottle from her hand and took a large swig. And then he threw it to the ground and kissed her again. The rich wine mingled in their mouths, dripped down her chin. He licked every drop. He rained kisses along her jaw and throat until the fire inside became a raging inferno.
“Ride me, love,” he panted. “I need to be inside you.”
Breathless, and with eyes glazed with desire, she glanced at the blanket. “Tell me what to do. Show me how to please you.”
Damn. Did she not know that simply being with her brought him untold pleasure? Did she not know that everything about her—her smile, her witty comments, her caring nature—drew him like a magnet?
Love filled his heart.
The feeling burst through his body with such force it left him desperate for their union.
“I shall lean against the apple tree, and you can sit astride me.”
“Then hurry, Noah. What about our clothes?”
“We cannot undress here during the daylight.” They could visit the secret garden on a night when the moon was a waning crescent, strip naked and indulge their fantasies.
Noah moved to sit on the grass, the trunk of the small tree providing support. Eva watched, open-mouthed, as he unbuttoned his breeches and drew his cock free.
A pleasurable sigh breezed from her lips as she bunched her skirts to her thighs and came to sit astride him.
“Take me into your body, love.” Anticipation burned. “Claim me, Eva, as no one else can.”
Her nerves only heightened the experience. While he took himself in hand and acted as guide, she lowered herself down slowly, so damn slowly they must have heard his groan in the house.
“Oh,” she gasped as she sheathed him to the root.
God, she was divine.
While she sat looking enraptured by the feel of him, he reached up and pulled the pins from her hair. “Now you just need to find a rhythm.”
She shook the silk tendrils loose so they cascaded over her shoulders. “Hmm. There’s something thrilling about being in the garden.” She seemed happy, carefree.
He cupped her nape and drew her mouth to his. The need to convey the emotion brimming in his heart resulted in a passionate kiss, the tantalising strokes of their tongues like sustenance for the soul. But then the minx began moving, rising like a siren of the sea, sliding down on his cock to claim him as her captive.
He reached under her skirts, gripped her bare buttocks with both hands, helped her to ride him hard.
“Touch me, Noah,” she panted. “Ease this infernal ache.”
With a firm hold of her buttocks, he found the right angle, the pressure needed to stimulate her sex. Merciful Lord! She was so damn wet, so damn hot and greedy. The sudden thought that he couldn’t live without her bombarded his mind.
“When I visit The Compass Inn tonight, tell me you’ll wait here,” he said before he lost the last logical thread of thought. “Tell me you’ll wait. I need to know you’re safe.”
“I’ll wait,” she breathed, the canter becoming a frantic gallop.
“Can you feel every hard muscle between your sweat-soaked thighs, Eva?” His heart raced with thundering beats as she rode him closer to an idyllic paradise.
“Yes.”
He released her buttocks, wrapped his arms around her waist and closed his mouth over her erect nipple, sucking it through the muslin. She came almost instantly, convulsing around him, milking him so hard he feared he wouldn’t withdraw in time. It was utter madness, but he’d never felt more alive, never happier, never so free.
Indeed, he withdrew with seconds to spare, pumping his seed over her inner thigh. And while they caught their breath, and he fumbled in his coat pocket for a handkerchief, he knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, he was going to marry Eva Dunn. He was going to love this woman until the end of his days.
Chapter 17
The Compass Inn on Rosemary Lane was home to those who made a living from dishonest pursuits. Light-fingered boys who received their education on the prison hulk in Woolwich were adopted into nurseries of crime. They grew up to be equally immoral creatures who preyed on the weak, and so the perpetual cycle continued.
Few gentlemen ventured to this part of town at night. One could not walk a few feet without being accosted by vagrants begging for alms, or impoverished children scavenging for scraps. The filthy streets teemed with drunks and fraudsters and half-naked whores canny enough to steal a man’s purse while pumping his cock.
It was one of the reasons Noah worked for Lucius Daventry. Giving a boy a penny today would not help fill his belly tomorrow. But the master of the Order had opened numerous schools to educate orphaned children, to at least give them hope of a brighter future.
Noah had instructed McGuffey to park the carriage near Tower Hill, a five-minute walk from the tavern, less if a man had to take to his heels and run.
“So, you plan to bribe the Turners?” Cole said, gripping the black walking cane that sheathed a swordstick.
“I plan to offer an inducement that might lead to information, yes,” Noah said as they navigated the crowded street that resembled a vestibule of hell.
“You’re going to pay Howard Dunn’s debt,” Cole stated with some disapproval.
What else was Noah supposed to do?
If by some miracle Howard Dunn was alive, his debts were so great he’d spend time in the Marshalsea. And despite Eva’s protestations, he feared the fool would take advantage of her compassionate nature.
“I’ve information that might negate some of the debt,” Noah said before pausing to tell a scantily clad bawd he had no interest in her wares. “But the need to bring an end to Eva’s troubles is my only motivation.”
Cole shook his head at the large-breasted woman, too. “Did I not warn you she would work her way under your skin?”
Noah’s thoughts turned to the eager maiden who’d made love to him in the garden. “You make the feeling sound like an annoying itch. Yet it’s more akin to a warm brandy flowing through one’s veins.”
“You’re in love with her, then.” Cole seemed so confident in the statement, he did not wait for a reply. “That complicates matters.”
“I don’t see how, but we will continue this conversation later.”
They had reached the shabby doors of The Compass Inn. The chipped frame, cracked panes and the pungent smell of stale piss told a man what to expect beyond the dingy entrance. But despite the air of unruliness on the street, the mournful sound of a sailor’s ballad echoed from within.
They were about to step inside when the doors of the rundown tavern burst open, forcing them to jump back.
“What the devil?” Noah complained.
“Clear out of the way, gov’nor,” cried a scrawny chap pushing a lifeless body in a wheelbarrow. “Though I’ve room for another cadaver.”
With more strength than he looked to have in his spindly arms, the miscreant pushed the barrow into the alley and returned seconds later with an empty cart.
Noah turned to Cole. “You know they’ll take your swordstick.” The Turners employed a man to frisk every patron for weapons.
“Yes, but carrying a weapon sends a clear message.”
“What, that we’re not cowards?” Noah said.
“Precisely.”
“Come. The sooner we get this business over with, the better.”
Inside The Compass Inn, the atmosphere was subdued. The Turners ran their criminal operation with an iron fist. The small group of sailors and lightskirts seated around the crude wooden tables sat quietly sipping ale, listening to a one-armed man sing a maudlin ballad about a ship sunken in a storm.
Through the dim candlelight, Noah peered at the round table in the far corner of the room. The Turners were seated amid the swirling mist of smoke rising from their cheroots.
Another spindle-thin fellow blocked their path. The scar running from his forehead to his cheek said the man was more formidable than he looked.
“State your name and your business,” the lout said as if he stood guard at St James’ Palace.
“Noah Ashwood. I have an appointment.”
A gentleman did not arrive at The Compass Inn without seeking permission. Thankfully, one of Daventry’s men—an ex-sailor whose brother had served the Turners for years—had arranged the meeting.
The man glanced at Cole’s cane. “Leave all weapons at the door,” he said, lifting the lid of a wicker basket on the floor beside him.
Cole deposited his cane. Then he raised his arms and allowed the fellow to rummage in his pockets and slip his fingers into the tops of his boots. After giving Noah a good frisk, and once satisfied they were not about to slit the brothers’ throats, the man gestured for them to pass.
The journey to the table was like the walk to the defendant’s dock. People glared at them like riled members of a jury, assuming their guilt. The Turners were waiting at the bench, ready to don their black caps and deliver the grim verdict.
“Ashwood, is it?” said the ugly brother with beady eyes and a high forehead, the one who looked like the snarling bull terrier sitting in the basket. “You’ve come to pay a debt, you say.”
“I’ve come to enquire after the health of Mr Howard Dunn and to settle his account.”
“We’re not nursemaids,” replied the brother with golden hair and angelic good looks—the one said to be doubly dangerous. He puffed on his cheroot. “What makes you think we know anything about the man’s ailments?”
Cole cleared his throat. “Because the two men seated at the table closest to the hearth are the ones who stole Lord Benham’s purse and signet ring. The same men who snatched Howard Dunn off the lord two weeks ago.”
“No one has seen Howard Dunn since,” Noah added. “I need to know what happened to him before I settle his debt.”
The brothers’ expressions darkened. So much so, the dog’s ears pricked, and the animal bared his teeth. The ugly Turner silenced the beast, then whispered something to his brother. Muttered curses followed. The air turned volatile, as if the men were getting ready to whip up a storm.
Noah waited, his heart thundering in his chest. But these men had no respect for cowards. “I think it a fair request.”
The angelic brother turned to Cole. “The lord who told you about his purse and signet ring, do you take him for a liar?”
“He had no reason to lie.”
“So, it’s as we thought,” one Turner said cryptically.
The angel snapped his fingers at a burly man standing guard nearby. Then, quietly and calmly, three men rounded on the table near the hearth. Both suspected kidnappers were dragged to their feet and escorted through a door near the bar. At no time during the event did the crowd stop sipping their ale or the one-armed man stop singing.
“Let no one say the Turners suffer traitors.” The ugly brother’s sinister chuckle revealed a mouth filled with rotten teeth.
“Your men failed to mention they stole the purse and signet ring,” Noah said, jumping to the obvious conclusion.
“It must ‘ave slipped their minds the way that scheming toff slipped their grasp.”
Noah gasped, though wasn’t shocked. “Howard Dunn escaped?”
From the beginning, he’d suspected Eva’s brother had sent the blackmail note. The devious devil must have secret lodgings somewhere. Indeed, why else would he have left all his clothes in Brownlow Street?
“Escaped, or the crafty beggar paid them buggers to let him go.”
The dog’s growl conveyed the Turners’ annoyance.
“So, am I to understand you had nothing to do with stealing a sack of lady’s shoes and boots?” Noah made sure not to mention the hidden gems lest the Turners send a man to Brownlow Street to have a good rummage.
“Shoes and boots?” The angel brushed a golden lock from his brow and laughed. “Do we look like common minstrels out to make a shilling?”
So, why would Howard Dunn write to Kathleen and tell her to steal the wrong boots? The visit to The Compass Inn was meant to bring clarity, yet Noah was as confused as ever.
“Rest assured,” Noah said, trying to keep control of his temper, “when I find Howard Dunn I shall kill him myself.”
“Then you might claim the reward.”
“Reward?”
“We’ve put a price on his head.”
Bloody hell!
Noah needed to bring an end to the Turners’ involvement, not act as their lackey. “I’ll pay Howard Dunn’s debt now, on the condition you revoke the order and regard the matter settled.”
The brothers glanced at each other, clearly suspicious.
“And why would you pay the debt of a man you want to kill?” came the expected challenge.
Noah wasn’t ashamed to admit the truth. “Because I’m in love with his sister and want the rogue out of her life.” It was the first time he had voiced his feelings aloud. The rush of panic didn’t come. Everything about his declaration felt right.
“I’ve never met a woman worth a shilling,” the golden-haired Turner mused. “Three thousand is a mighty debt to pay for a bit of skirt.”
Noah might have mentioned the three hundred pounds Henry was supposed to have paid, but he knew not to chance his luck. “I’ll give you two thousand, plus information that might save you a small fortune and protect your pride.”
The brutish looking Turner snorted. “Do all fancy folk talk in riddles? Give us a clue to this information before we strike a deal.”
As soon as Noah discovered Dunn owed the Turners a debt, he remembered his encounter at the docks. To the criminal fraternity, information was more precious than gold, and it helped to build trust.
“Your man is fighting le Diable next
week,” Noah said. “I know a secret about the Frenchman that will save you from suffering a crushing defeat.”
This time the angel bared his teeth. “Then you’d better spill your guts. And you’d better not take us for fools.”
Noah explained how he had captured a French smuggler whose passenger proved as interesting as the chests of tea and casks of brandy.
“Diable has an identical twin, one considerably less skilled. No doubt you will have witnessed the Frenchman’s recent loss and weighed your fighter’s odds against him.”
Both brothers cursed.
Both brothers gritted their teeth.
“You need to prepare your man to fight the real Diable,” Noah continued, “not the weak imitation. That, or you can attempt to locate the twins and take vengeance for their duplicity.”
“Oh, we’ll have vengeance all right,” the brute said. “Make no mistake.”
Noah reached into his coat pocket and withdrew the banknotes. “I have your word Howard Dunn fled, and you’ve not seen him since?” When the men nodded, Noah slapped the notes on the table and added, “To your knowledge, Dunn is still alive?”
Both men shrugged.
The ugly brother covered the notes with his gnarled hand. “I hear we’re not the only ones out for blood, but this settles the debt.”
“I have your word that’s the end of the matter?”
“You have our word,” they said in unison.
The pretty brother suddenly came to his feet, the loud scraping of the chair on the boards failing to capture the crowd’s attention. “Let me see you to the door, Mr Ashwood.”
Noah braced himself. A nervous tension thrummed in the air. The Turners were fair men, but vicious and unpredictable when in a temper.
They walked towards the door amid the mournful ballad that had the one-armed man weeping. The scrawny fellow keeping guard at the entrance raised the lid on the wicker basket and invited Cole to take his swordstick.
“The information about Diable,” the pretty brother began, “it’s worth more than a thousand pounds. Never let it be said the Turners don’t show their gratitude. And so we’re in your debt, Mr Ashwood.” He gestured to the lean fellow with the terrible scar. “Send word to Wynn when you want to call it in.”
