“Are they good enough for you?”
“Of course.”
“Then they’re good enough for me.”
And there was one of the reasons he loved her so fiercely. She didn’t consider him beneath her. While he’d fought his entire life not to let the circumstances of his birth influence him, until Vivi, he’d never truly convinced himself they didn’t matter. He tightened his hold on her, wanting to keep her near, nestled against him as long as he drew breath.
They left the residences and the shops and other buildings behind until eventually they crested a hill, a full moon guiding their way. Finn brought Sophie to a halt, slid off her, and closed his hands around Lavinia’s waist, bringing her down to the ground as though she were delicate porcelain to be treated with extreme care. Guiding her around so her back was to his chest, he held her close, his chin resting on the top of her head. Below them, the lights of London twinkled as merrily as the stars above.
“Someday,” Finn said quietly, “I want to live in a residence that will give me a view such as this. I want to be away from the crowds, the constant noise, the stench of too many people crammed into too little space. But it’ll be a while before that comes to pass.”
“It’ll be wonderful when it does.” She wanted to be there with him, sharing his home, his bed. “Will your brother build it for you?”
“I’d have to pay him for the materials and labor, but I suspect he’d give me a good price.”
She turned within the circle of his arms. As lovely as it was to look out over the metropolis in the distance, she always preferred looking at him, holding his gaze. “What will you do when that day comes, when you escape the city?”
“Breed horses, train them, give lessons to folks on the proper way to care for them, to ride them”—he shrugged as though suddenly embarrassed—“I don’t know the particulars, but I know I want to work with horses in some capacity. There are days, Vivi, when I leave the slaughter yard, and I’m simply sad. I despise what I do, even when I convince myself it’s necessary.”
She combed her fingers through the thick strands of his hair. “When all is said and done, Finn, I think you have too gentle a heart. I saw it that first day. I think that’s the reason I went with you so willingly. It’s not within you to cause pain.”
“I hurt you last night.”
Rising up on her toes, with her teeth she nipped playfully at his chin. “That wasn’t you. That was Mother Nature. Did it hurt you?”
He chuckled low. “No.”
While she’d not want him to experience any discomfort, it was rather irritating that only women suffered. “That’s hardly fair. Why can’t the world be fair?”
His lips touched her crown, her forehead, the tip of her nose. “I don’t know, Vivi. But what I do know is that I want to make love to you with the moonlight shining down over us. Here, where there’s no one about. Only us, the breeze, and the moon.”
“And Sophie.”
His laughter threaded through her. “And Sophie. But she promised me she wouldn’t watch.”
“You discussed the matter with her?”
“I discuss everything with her. Because you love her so, it makes me feel as though I’m almost talking with you.”
“Ah, Finn.” Tangling her fingers in his hair, she brought his head down until she could claim his mouth as her own, just as she wanted to claim him. She couldn’t help but think it was a rare thing indeed to be so open with one person, to bare one’s heart and soul with such abandon, to have no fear because the trust was absolute.
They worked quickly to divest the other of clothing until every inch of their bodies was bathed in the glow of the moon, as though it was caressing them. She thought his body, a rich tapestry of shadow and light, the most sensual, decadent image she’d ever beheld, far more artistic than any painting or sculpture.
When he carried her down to the mound of their clothes and settled himself between the juncture of her thighs, she was more than ready for him. She could not help but believe that her body had been created to cradle and shelter his and his alone. They were equally eager, hands caressing, mouths tasting, endearments echoing around them.
“So beautiful.”
“So handsome.”
“So soft.”
“So strong.”
“I love the silkiness of your skin.”
“I adore the hardness of your muscles . . . and other things.”
Laughter, low and deep, dark and wicked. “Say it, Vivi. Say cock.”
Her giggle, short and high. “I can’t.”
“Say it or I won’t give it to you.”
“I’ll call that bluff.”
His growl reverberated through his chest and into hers. “You’re right. Why would I deny us both?”
Then the devil in her took hold. “Cock.”
His snarl sounded of victory and surrender as he plunged deep and sure. She cried out at the absolute joy of his spreading her, filling her.
They rocked in tandem, a perfect rhythm quickening in pace until they were both baying at the moon as exquisite pleasure overtook them. All she could think was that she wanted this forever.
He’d seen her every night for two weeks, although when she had a ball to attend, their hours together were fewer. Yet it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
Whenever they spoke of the future, it was always in the context of his plans, what he wanted to do with his life. Never hers because they both knew what her future held: marriage to a lord, providing him with an heir. The thought of another man touching her would send such despair through him that he didn’t know how he would survive it. He could not help but wonder if it would be as awful for her, if she would close her eyes and pretend that Finn was the one hovering over her, joining his body to hers, thrusting into her, spilling his seed.
He couldn’t imagine having his life planned out for him from the moment he was born. If his father hadn’t taken him to Ettie Trewlove’s door, perhaps it would have been. In many ways, despite his humble existence, he was much freer than Vivi. He could do anything he damned well wanted. And what he damned well wanted was to ask her to do the same, to do what she damned well wanted.
That terrified the hell out of him because what he planned for tonight was going to change everything between them—for better or worse. But he couldn’t go on much longer as they’d been.
As he waited for her, he was constantly wiping his sweating palms on his trousers, for the first time wishing he had a proper pair of gentlemen’s gloves, but all he had were the gloves in which he worked, and he’d never touch her wearing those. So he paced and took deep breaths.
Then she was through the door, and his nervousness increased because she was so beautiful and so refined and so above him, even if she didn’t see herself as such. He loved her with everything inside him and every corner of his heart. It was hers as though she’d laid her hand over it and branded it.
She eased away from the house. “Finn?”
He heard the worry and doubt echoed in her whisper and only then realized he had yet to make a move toward her, as though his feet were permanently rooted where he stood. “Here,” he called out, keeping his voice low, even as he strode quickly to her, possibly reaching her before the word did.
The joy that wreathed her face created an ache in his chest. He couldn’t imagine that anyone else would ever look at him as she did.
Tonight, Sophie was again their means of transport, but as there was no moon, he’d brought a lantern.
“Where are we going?” she whispered.
Every night he’d taken her somewhere different: another rise, a valley, a nearby village green.
“You’ll see.” The answer he always gave to that question when she asked.
The exchange had become one more ritual in an assortment they’d acquired over the past two years.
They didn’t travel far before he brought Sophie to a halt in the mews behind a massive residence. He shoved himself over the ho
rse’s rump and landed smartly on the ground. Walking to the side, he settled his hands around Vivi’s waist, another ritual. Of late, his life had become guided by their rituals.
“Where are we?” she asked, once her feet were firmly on the ground.
“It’s not important, but it has the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen.” He grabbed the lantern used for thieving with its three enclosed sides from where he’d secured it to the saddle, lit the candle within, and held it aloft.
“You’re not thinking of going in there, surely.”
“The owner is not in residence. Only a handful of servants are about, and they’re all abed at this hour. We won’t be long.” He’d wanted someplace special, someplace that would bring delight to a woman, that would give her a fond memory. He’d considered a park, but many were locked up after midnight and there was no guarantee they’d be undisturbed if he did manage to get them inside. Besides, he’d been able to place a few shillings in the butler’s palm to ensure the gate here was left unlocked and none of the staff would become curious if they saw light in the garden.
Taking her hand, he tried to draw her near, but she resisted. “Finn—”
“Vivi, I have permission.”
“Why didn’t you just say?”
“I thought it would make the night more unforgettable.”
She smiled. “Every night with you is unforgettable.”
Tightening her hold on his hand, she allowed him to lead her into the lush and verdant gardens.
“I feel like I should know this place,” she said. “Is this a lord’s manor?”
“A duke’s actually, but as he is unwed, I don’t think he entertains. I had to put one of his horses down recently.”
“You meet all manner of people in your occupation, don’t you?”
“If they own a horse, eventually they’ll have need of our services, but let’s not discuss that tonight.” Slipping his arm around her waist, he drew her up against his side and led her toward what had originally captured his attention and imagination.
“Oh, my goodness. A lovely pond with a bridge. It’s beautiful.”
The fragrance of so many flowers still hung on the air. He’d noticed that as well when he’d first come here. Smells like this were difficult to come by in Whitechapel.
He escorted her onto the bridge and set the lantern down near his feet. He wanted to place his arms around her, but instead he merely stood beside her because he wanted to see her face.
“Do you think there are fish in the pond?” she asked.
“I rather suspect so. Not the kind one eats though.”
She chuckled softly. “No, I suspect they are not for sport.”
He closed his eyes for a minute, gathering his courage. When he opened his eyes, he realized all the bravery he’d ever need was standing right there beside him. “I’ll probably never own anything as fancy as all this,” he said quietly.
Turning her attention away from the pond, she gave him a warm smile as she reached up and brushed the hair from his brow. “No, but you’ll have your place away from the city where you can look out over London.”
He swallowed hard. “The residence won’t be as fancy as this manor and the gardens won’t be as elaborate, but if you were there with me, no matter how small or insignificant it might be to others, to me, it would be grander than all of this.”
She blinked, blinked. Her mouth formed a tiny O.
Taking her hand, he went down onto one knee. “I love you, Vivi, and I know I have no right to ask, but if you would honor me by becoming my wife, I swear to you I’d work like the very devil to make sure you never regretted it.”
She pressed her free hand to her lips, and the light from the lantern reflected in the tears welling in her eyes.
“I can’t go on like this any longer, sharing plans for my future when what I really want is to share plans for our future.”
“Oh, Finn.” She shook her head, and he heard the tiniest of cracks in his heart.
“I know what I’m asking, Vivi. I’m asking you to leave behind everything you know, because I don’t think I’d be welcomed or accepted by the toffs. I know I’m a selfish bastard—”
“No, no, Finn.”
The crack spread.
“If you’re selfish, then so am I because you’re all I want,” she said. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes! Yes!”
The crack healed as though it had never been as he surged to his feet, took her in his arms, and planted his mouth over hers, kissing her deeply, eagerly. He drew back. “I’ll get you a ring. It’ll be simple—”
“It can be a piece of string. I don’t care. When?”
“I’ll speak with your father on the morrow.”
Her eyes contained such sadness that it nearly broke his heart. “I don’t think my parents will allow it, will accept you, even if I confess to them that we’ve been intimate.”
“Then run away with me. Tonight, now.”
She cradled his face between her hands, and as he looked down into her eyes, he realized he would be gazing into them for the remainder of his life, until he drew his last breath. “I don’t have anything with me.”
“I’ll purchase you whatever you need.”
“Your coins are precious, and I have a few things I’d rather not leave behind. We must be grown up, responsible. I also need to write a letter to my parents, so they won’t worry or come looking for us. Tomorrow night, at midnight. What say you to that?”
“I’ll be there waiting.”
Chapter 11
1871
Arms folded across his chest, encased in midnight shadows, Finn leaned against a building across from the foundling home and watched, just as he had for three nights now, striving not to recall how familiar all this seemed, the many hours he’d waited for her when he was younger and in love. He especially fought not to remember what it had felt like to be in love, to greet each day with hopeful optimism, to believe the world was filled with promises of good things waiting around the corner, to dream she would walk by his side, that together they would conquer the world.
He didn’t even know why he was here, why he felt a need to look out for her. It was folly to stand here night after night when he had no idea if she even had an arranged rendezvous with anyone. Perhaps she’d given up her quest. Perhaps she’d returned home where she belonged.
Although if she hadn’t returned home in three months, why did he think she would now? If she’d come here on a lark, she had to be tired of playing about. The girl he’d known wouldn’t have stayed for more than a few hours, not once she realized the harshness that awaited her. But the woman she’d become seemed intent on remaining. He was both baffled and intrigued, each sensation irritating him. Even more annoyed with himself for keeping to his post as wisps of fog began waltzing around him, bringing with it a dampness and a chill.
He was an even greater fool than he’d been eight years earlier. He should abandon this endeavor, get on with the business that awaited him, but then he heard the muffled footsteps, the clack of heels hitting stone, echoing on the other side of the wrought iron gate. His heart sped up with wild abandon as every muscle forged to fight and protect, to take and deliver blows, tightened in preparation for pouncing if the action were needed.
Then she emerged, the hood of her cloak brought up over her head in a way that kept her face hidden, but he didn’t need to see it to know it was her. He recognized the outline of her body, the curves he had once caressed, although his memory recalled there being a bit more to them. She was thinner now, but still he knew that form.
With a clank, she opened the gate and walked through it. With another clank, she closed it behind her and didn’t hesitate to begin marching down the street, purpose in every stride.
“Little fool,” he whispered before shoving himself away from the wall and following. Her steps were as silent as his. She was aware of every sound that disturbed the night, was constantly glancing around, making careful note of her surroundin
gs.
Why did she care about these children who weren’t hers? Why was she living in near poverty? Why had she not married one of the most powerful dukes in England? Thornley could have assisted her in her quest to do good—with money, with clout, with influence. Marriage to him would have made her life so much easier. Why take the more challenging road?
She turned a corner. He quickened his pace. People were on this street, leaving taverns and public houses, staggering home. Or plying their services. Ribald laughter hung on the air. He wondered if she had any idea where she was being led.
A man grabbed her arm, and unmitigated fury swept through him, nearly causing him to stagger with its strength. She broke free of the hold, shoved the man with enough force to send him reeling backward, and carried on. The bloke righted himself, took a step to follow her—
Finn grabbed him and delivered a blow that sent the oaf to the ground. He pointed a finger at him. “Leave off.”
Straightening, he began walking in the direction she’d been going, quickening into a trot, glancing around wildly, striving to catch sight of her among the thickening crowd, all the while his gut clenching tighter and tighter in danger of doubling him over.
Where was she? Where the devil was she?
Like a madman, he began shoving people out of his way, fighting to move more quickly as though that were the problem. He simply wasn’t running fast enough. His stealth left him. His footsteps were no longer silent. He was hit with something he hadn’t been hit with in eight years: panic.
She’d disappeared.
There were three of them, bulky men with faces so hideous that even the shadows avoided them. She suspected that had they lived a different life, they might have been handsome, but their ugliness, greed, and desire to hurt had shaped their features to reflect their inner souls. One had grabbed and dragged her into the alleyway between the two buildings, the others following with their laughter echoing off the brick walls. She hadn’t had a chance to unsheathe her rapier, and now her arms were pinned behind her back with beefy hands at her wrists serving as the shackles.
The Scoundrel in Her Bed Page 12
