by Jade Lee
“Don’t hold back,” she said. “Give me everything.”
He nodded but he didn’t move. Instead, he lowered his face to hers, kissing her with such incredible hunger. And while she was arching into his kiss, he thrust the rest of the way.
Oh! Nothing had ever felt more right. She tightened her legs. She wanted him to do that again. He began a slow withdrawal, and she whimpered at the loss.
Then he thrust into her again. Yes!
His withdrawal was faster this time, the return harder. His pace increased. She gasped with every thrust. She clutched him ever harder. Tighter.
He was looking down at her, and she up at him. She saw his face, tight and hungry. Her own breath was short with quick pants. The pleasure built. Her body tightened. Her soul leapt. Love! Such love!
Yes!
And while she was still soaring from her peak, he shuddered with his own release. He gasped, his cry half strangled, half awed. His eyes shuttered, but they didn’t close. Neither did hers. And in this way, their souls flew together.
Chapter 25
The week flew by like a moment out of time. Except this moment, this life, felt more real to Scheherazade than anything else. The shocking thing to her was that it was easy. Once she surrendered to her absolute love for Brandon, all the rest fell into place. The staff treated her with deference, even taking her direction when needed. Channa continued to improve, so long as Brandon stayed away. Talk of returning to India made the girl especially happy and Indian songs could often be heard from the master bedroom. As for Brandon, he spent his mornings in his library on his political correspondence, and his afternoons and most especially his nights with Scher. Even more amazing: She had heard him laugh. Daily in fact, if not hourly.
In short, by the time she packed up to return to London, her heart and mind were filled with her love for Brandon. She had done the right thing, she was glad to be his mistress. Their moments together had been at times tender, thrilling, incredibly erotic, and an absolute joy. But now . . . now she had to return to London alone. Brandon had to stay and finalize details regarding his wife. He’d said nothing about what those details would be except that he wasn’t sure of all the legalities. He swore he would tell her as soon as he could. Then he had kissed her. They had made love one last time on the floor of his library, and then . . . now . . . she had to leave.
She slept the entire ride back to London. Nightly confidences and other activities took their toll, and she fell asleep almost as soon as the wheels started rolling. She didn’t even dream, so when she next opened her eyes, she was at the Tavern Playhouse and the entire troupe was waiting to greet her. By the time she had disembarked, she felt the pattern of her regular life assert itself. Like a second skin, it attached itself to her body, and she became Lady Scher again. She settled too easily into a regular life of costumes and shows, gossip and the Green Room, but inside she felt a new shimmer of joy. Deep down, she knew she was loved, and that made all the difference. For a week.
By the second week, doubts began to creep in.
Four days after that, and she felt the first echoes of despair. Brandon had not come to see her. She had received letters, of course, terse notes filled with frustration. Communication with India was impossibly difficult, he wrote. His banker was being stubborn. He longed to be with her but would have to wait another few days. Then he signed it with the letter B.
She knew Brandon was not a man who expressed his feelings well. She further knew that what feelings he could express would certainly not pour out on paper. And yet, she had gone nearly two full weeks without the sight of him, and it was making her insane. Had the things they had shared been all a fantasy? Would it all come crashing down now that she was back in London? How had he become so integral to her life that she was on the edge of despair in so short a time?
Her letters to him, of course, were probably no better. She filled them with the details of her day, the gossip in the Green Room, and nothing of any substance at all. Yes, she penned more than he did, but the message was the same: My life is nothing without you. When can I see you again?
Three weeks after returning to London, she was practically drooping with the same gray cloud that used to surround Lady Scher. Long before Brandon or even Kit had come into her life, the gray dullness had surrounded her. It had been gone for a time, but now it held on to her more stubbornly than ever before.
She was on the way to the Green Room after another Tavern Playhouse performance. The stage was being set to rights, the noise from down the hallway was pleasantly loud. That meant the crowd was good and sales would be solid. Her mind was busy tallying up receipts in her head and her body was moving quickly, but that seemed like only a small fragment of her existence. Her chattering mind, her busy body, all moved through her days while the rest of her—the bulk of her spirit—waited in silence for Brandon.
So when a shadow caught her in this one place of quiet, when a large dark man snatched her around the waist and pushed her against the wall, she didn’t fight in the least. Some part of her had caught the scent of mint a split second before she was touched, and that was all she needed. Her mind stilled, her body stopped, and her spirit soared to the heavens.
“Brandon,” she whispered.
“Scher,” he said at the exact same moment.
Then they were kissing, their bodies wrapped together beneath the cocoon of his cloak. Suddenly, wonderfully, she was alive again.
He stopped when they could no longer breathe. He pulled back when her breasts were on fire from his caress, her mouth swollen and hot from his lips. They panted in the darkness, their foreheads pressed together, the scent of mint filling the air between them.
“I couldn’t stay away any longer,” he breathed into the darkness.
“I have been mad waiting for you. Have you come back for a while? Can you stay?”
He sighed. “It is all so complicated.”
Her heart sunk, and she clung to him. “It’s all right,” she lied.
“No, it is absolutely not all right,” he said as he tucked her tight against him. “I have something to ask you, Scher. Something that cannot be discussed in the middle of a dark hallway.”
“Come to my room tonight. Give me an hour in the Green Room and then—”
“I want to take you on a carriage ride. May I call on you tomorrow?” he asked. His voice was formal in its accents, as if he spoke to a real lady.
“Of course,” she said, “but . . .”
“Tomorrow, then,” he said. Then he kissed her again, long and thorough until she heard Seth’s heavy tread coming down the hallway. She had to leave or be caught like a trollop against the backstage wall.
“Brandon . . .” she gasped, breaking away from his kiss.
“Tomorrow . . .” he whispered, and then he was gone.
Scher dressed with particular care. She wore the green dress he so admired and left off the paste that he did not admire. Then she paced in the Green Room, not even bothering to glare at the members of the troupe who gathered to see her off. Except no one had gathered. She was alone in the Green Room, which was all to the good, of course, but it was strange. Why wasn’t anyone here? She tilted her head to listen more closely. She heard nothing, which wasn’t all that odd given that it was the middle of the afternoon, but still. Shouldn’t there be someone around?
Then there was no more time to wonder because she heard his footsteps. In her mind, she imagined mint and a large greatcoat, though it was early summer now and he likely wouldn’t be wearing it. She folded her hands together and waited for the door to open. And when it did, her breath caught in her throat. He was dressed exceptionally fine this afternoon! Black coat, white linen shirt, and a green cravat that perfectly matched her gown. His eyes were warm, his smile especially beautiful, and she was in his arms before he had released the door.
“You look wonderful,” she said, though in her mind she was thinking, Do we really need to go driving? Could we not go upstairs to my bedr
oom right now?
“You are perfect,” he said as he pressed his mouth to hers. “Absolutely perfect,” he repeated when he finally pulled back from her. Then he gazed at her, his eyes dark with hunger. She was just about to ask, just about to suggest that perhaps they need not enjoy the fine day outside when he abruptly spun her around.
“Go!” he said. “My carriage is outside and if I do not get you there right now, then we shall never make it at all.”
“Would that be so bad?” she asked.
He paused, and his expression turned serious. “I have something important to ask you, and I will not be deterred.”
Her heart squeezed in alarm, but she kept her expression neutral. “Of course, Brandon. Whatever you want.”
He smiled at that, though his expression was rueful. Then before she could ask anything more, he opened the door and escorted her into the hallway and then into the main playhouse. She walked beside him, her mind whirling, but she didn’t say anything. And in her silence, she had a moment to notice something else. The Tavern Playhouse was indeed empty. Absolutely empty.
“Where is everyone?” she murmured.
“Hmmm?” he asked, though she was sure he had heard her. How could he not with their steps echoing in the empty building? Then he opened the front doors and there was Hank grinning at her as he held the horses’ heads. He had a new uniform on, his face was clean, and even his hair had been cut.
“My, look how handsome you are, Hank!” she said.
The boy bowed with excellent manners and intoned, “Thank ’ee, miss.”
She nodded her approval and then had to turn her attention to climbing into Brandon’s high-perch phaeton. “I shall never tire of this carriage,” she said as she settled onto the thick cushion.
“Then I shall never sell it,” said Brandon as he leaped up and gathered the ribbons. Hank followed a moment later. Soon they were moving down the streets, thankfully turning away from Hyde Park. In truth, Scher was pleased that he didn’t intend to showcase her to the snobbish ton. She had no wish to spoil this day with them.
“How is Channa?” she asked when the silence became too much for her. “Is Dr. Dandin still with her?”
He took a moment to answer, his attention caught on maneuvering the horses. But then the difficulty passed and he slowed them down. They were now on a relatively secluded path about the park and he could direct most of his attention to her. “Channa left yesterday morning. She travels with Mrs. Dandin to India. The doctor left more than a week ago. He is going to open a hospital, Scher. Someplace where patients like Channa can heal.”
Scher touched his hand. She knew what it had cost him to surrender his wife. “It must have been hard, Brandon, but I think it was the right choice for her.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “It wasn’t hard at all, Scher. It feels too convenient, but I think I have found a way to satisfy the dictates of honor as well as look out for Channa’s welfare.”
She waited, knowing he would explain when he was ready. It took him some time, but he finally spoke.
“I have surrendered all my money to her, Scher. To Channa as dowry, should she ever choose to marry, and a huge amount to Dr. Dandin as well for the creation of his hospital. If I could give up the title to her, I would, but that will not help her. So everything I made from the East India Company has been given over to Channa and to the creation of Dandin’s hospital.”
He said his words in a rush, but she caught every syllable. It took longer than that, though, to understand the implications. So they sat in silence for a time, while he directed the horses in a lazy slow drive beside the park. In time, she was able to speak.
“You foreswore her? She can marry again?”
He nodded, his lips tight. “The legalities are . . . complicated, but Dr. Dandin thought it best. She is still a virgin. No one need know of our marriage unless she chooses. She has all the money she needs to live a full life alone, but if she falls in love . . .”
“Dr. Dandin will watch over her,” Scher said, knowing it was true. “He is a good man.”
“Even if he doesn’t, I have made some contacts through friends in India. I will always watch out for Channa. She is still my responsibility until such time as she can care for herself.”
Scher squeezed his hand. “I find that a most honorable solution.”
He quirked his lips at her, obviously aware of her choice of words. “Honorable or not, it is the best solution I can manage. It gives her the best chance at a good life and leaves me free to be with you.”
He maneuvered the carriage to the side of the street, stopping the horses in an area of London that Scher rarely visited. The neighborhood was too elite for her, and so it was unfamiliar. He turned to her and held out his hand.
“Would you care to walk for a bit?”
“Of course,” she said. She would go anywhere with him.
He passed the reins to Hank with a wink, then jumped down. Scher came next, wondering all the while at the boy’s grin. “Can you manage them?” he asked Hank.
“Yes, m’lord. I know just what to do.”
Brandon gave the boy a nod, and then he turned back to Scher. “Let’s go this way.” He led her along a path, moving easily through the greenery. His stride was matched to hers and his manner was easy, but there was still an underlying tension in his body, an anxiety that she felt without understanding why he was so nervous.
“What is it, Brandon?” she finally asked. “What is the matter?”
He tightened his hold on her hand, turning her slightly so she looked directly at him. “I am penniless, Scher. I have retained the manor in Pottersfarm, but I have no funds to keep it. My title barely sustains itself. I have managed that, at least, in the last two years, doing renovations and the like so that it no longer requires huge infusions of cash. But there is no income whatsoever.” He shrugged, and she could tell he was trying to appear casual. “I have nothing.”
She smiled, touching his face. “You have yourself, and that is more than enough for me.”
“Is it?” he asked. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” She stretched up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. She didn’t deepen it because he didn’t allow her to. So she tried to communicate in that sweet touch all the love she felt for him. It had nothing to do with money or titles or anything the world valued. He loved her, and that was all the treasure she needed.
She broke the kiss and settled back onto her heels, but to her shock, he also moved his body down. Not closer to her face, but down onto one knee right there before her. He still held her hand, and his expression was filled with yearning. Then he pulled a piece of paper out of his coat, along with a jeweler’s box.
“I have a special license, Scher. If you will have a penniless aristocrat for your husband, then we can be married immediately.” He opened the jeweler’s box to a modest ring in a modest setting. “I kept back some money, the same amount I had before I left for India. I used it to buy you this. I will get you a better one eventually, Scher, but this was all I could afford.” He swallowed and gazed into her eyes. “Scheherazade Martin, will you do me the greatest honor and be my wife?”
She looked at him, her throat too closed up to answer. Everything she had ever wanted was right here before her. A man who loved her! She didn’t need money, she had plenty. And her time among the ton had told her that she had no interest in the elite. What she cared about was the love shining through his eyes. The love that lit up her heart and dispelled the gloom that had become an integral part of Lady Scher.
Without speaking, she pulled off her glove so he could set the ring upon her finger. He did so with shaking hands. And when it was done, she leaned down to kiss him.
“I love you,” she whispered just before their mouths met.
He kissed her deeply, thoroughly. And when they broke apart, he pushed up to his feet and pointed up the path. “I have a surprise for you, Scher, if you are amenable.”
She fell in
to step with him without thought. She didn’t care where they were going or what they were doing. She was going to be his wife, a respectable woman and a beloved wife. No surprise he gave her now could compete with the joy of that. Nothing . . . until she saw where he was headed. They were walking onto the steps of St. James’s Cathedral.
“Brandon?”
“Everyone is here. We can be married this moment, if you like. No interfering families, no ton to try and pry us apart.”
“They couldn’t do it anyway,” she said.
“No, they couldn’t. But why put ourselves through it?”
She grinned as the doors to the church opened and she spied the people twisting in their seats to see her. The entire troupe was inside! That is where her friends had gone. They were inside waiting for her and Brandon! And on the opposite side of the aisle sat a few gentlemen and ladies. Politicals, she realized, including William Wilberforce the champion of the black slaves, all sitting there to see them marry. Apparently, Brandon had friends who would still support him no matter who his wife was.
“You were quite confident of me, weren’t you?” she said. “You planned this all in advance.”
“I hoped,” he answered. “I prayed. And, yes, I believed.”
“I love you,” she said.
“And I love you.”
She took his hand, and together they walked into the church.
Epilogue
Kit groaned as the world tilted on its axis. It tilted, it rolled, it sloshed. Sloshed?
He opened his eyes, waiting impatiently as shadows resolved into form. But what he eventually saw made no sense. Wood room. Round porthole. The obvious sound of water against the side.
He was on a boat? But why? The last thing he remembered was being carried from the playhouse to Michael’s home. Then all was misery and wretchedness until now. How did he get on a boat?
He closed his eyes again, trying to remember. Images floated through his mind, disconnected and jarring. Then he remembered Michael standing right beside him. Light was streaming in from the porthole, so it must have happened here. Right here in this very room. What had the man said?
