Beloved Monster (13 page)

Before he could speak or form a thought, the three women pulled him down, swarming over his body, touching, stroking, and removing his clothes. Nearby two naked men lay on cushions and smoked from opium pipes, leisurely watching the proceedings. An audience. The more the women kissed him, the more the smoking men became aroused. One even leisurely stroked himself. The men soon became lost in the mist along with all the others in the large room. The women had him naked. One cupped his bollocks as another took his erect cock in her mouth. The other allowed him to clasp his eager mouth on her breast. The musky smell of sex obliterated the beeswax scent. All he could experience was the multiple lustful sensations pulling him deeper into oblivion. The room began to spin as his climax built. He cried out.

Luke’s eyes snapped open. He had his hand curled around his shaft, and judging from the puddles of his spend on his torso, stroked himself to completion while he dreamt. Jumping to his feet, he pulled off the shirt he wore and tossed it to the sofa, then tucked his shaft back in his trousers. Thankfully, no one was downstairs, so Luke scrubbed the shirt in a basin and laid it by the fire to dry. After splashing water on his face, he sat on the sofa and tried to recall the dream in its entirety. Could it be a snippet from his previous life, a fragment of memory that drifted into his subconscious? If only he had looked at the ring, it could have given him some sort of clue. The naked woman called him “my lord.” Or was it wishful thinking on his part? With a jagged sigh, he held up his gloved left hand. No ring. It was not even his hand.

Everything seemed real, from the cloying scents of the heavily perfumed ladies, whores perhaps? No doubt they were. He only caught a glimpse of other people in the room and did not recognize anyone, not that their features were clear. The whole dream or memory was cloaked in mist, making it otherworldly, or perhaps he had been at the opium pipe as well.

One thing he decided, he would not be sharing this dream with the cousins. Not only for its erotic nature, but he was embarrassed by his heightened libido. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced it
was
a fragment of memory. At one time he apparently attended an orgy. It was hard to know if he was this mysterious “my lord” or merely another participant in the doings. He could have been one of the men watching for all he knew. Or the dream could be the manifestation of his increasing senses and heightened emotions. More specifically--lust.

Once he gained control of his wayward thoughts, he slipped the shirt back on, headed to the darkened kitchen, and made tea. With the mug of tea in hand, he climbed the stairs to Glenna’s room. After that intense dream, he longed to see and talk with her. But he would not be mentioning the dream, certainly not to a decent young lady who had been nothing but kind to him. With a soft knock on her door, he slipped across the threshold.

* * * *

Glenna sat up in bed, awaiting Luke’s arrival. He did not disappoint, he quietly knocked and entered her bedroom as she hoped he would. His passionate kiss from the previous night still reverberated on her sensitive lips. How she wanted him to kiss her again.

Instead, he pulled the chair over by the bed and sat. With a shy sort of smile, he handed her the mug of tea and crossed his long legs. “I have started reading
Bleak House.
I am enjoying it. Thank you for offering it to me. It is vastly more entertaining than your cousin’s multitude of scientific journals. Though I will say the one on electricity provided many answers, and also sparked a few questions in my mind--no pun intended.”

Glenna could not help but smile. “Amusing. What questions exactly?”

“Why me?”

Her smile slipped away. She’d hoped Luke would not start asking pointed questions to her on these late night visits. Again, she was being forced to address subjects that made her uncomfortable. Skirting the truth became weary to the extreme. “I am not sure why. I do not know enough about science, electrical current, or the intricacies of the human body and the workings of the brain. Would Reed arrive at the same result with another subject? Perhaps not. But the fact remains you are here, Luke. Alive. Can you please try to focus on living and not how you came to this state?”

He crossed his arms, his eyebrows raised in question. “And how do you suggest I go about living when I have no past or future? No name but the one you gave me? What possible occupation could I acquire? I must have had one. What did I do? A doctor? A barrister? Or am I a gentleman of leisure? I would hazard to guess the latter, considering my mode of speech and the fact I cannot recall any specific knowledge that would lead me to decide on a particular occupation or trade. Would you agree?”

Drat. Blast.
Perhaps these late night conversations were not a good idea after all. Luke moved ever closer to the truth, and Glenna was not sure how much longer she could keep lying to him. She truly despised lying.

“Perhaps I could join a traveling show and be exhibited as a human curiosity as Joseph Merrick was,” he continued. “There, I know of The Elephant Man. How? His tragic account was in the paper, correct?”

Glenna bit her lower lip. “Yes. In
The Times
. The Chairman of the hospital committee posted a letter. A tragic tale, but through donations, Merrick lived the remainder of his short life in comfort at the London Hospital.” She paused, and said in a soft voice, “Thankfully, those types of exhibitions have fallen out of fashion. You are not The Elephant Man. Not similar in any way in either look or circumstance.”

Luke’s annoyed expression turned reflective. “No. I am not, thankfully. However, I do not look ‘normal.’ Let us speak truth. Like Merrick, I will have to rely on the generosity of others. More specifically, from you and your cousin. Am I to live out my days in your cellar?” He shook his head. “Forgive my piteous and bitter self-recriminations.” He stood and held out his hand. “Instead, come with me for a walk. The stars above will guide our way.”

His unexpected change in topic sent her head reeling, but secretly she was glad. “It is rather late….”

“No one will see us. Take my hand, Glenna,” he whispered. “Trust me.”

The firelight from the hearth basked him in a golden glow. How attractive he looked, how tall and broad-shouldered. Thing is, she did trust him, even though she knew he did not entirely trust her and for good reason. Glenna slipped her hand into his right one, and again heat sizzled between them. He helped her into her wool coat, then knelt down before her, placing her ankle boot on her foot. With slow deliberation, he buttoned them closed, his fingers brushed by her bare calf, caressing it until a soft moan escaped his lips. He did the same with the other foot, heating her blood with every touch. Luke’s eyes shimmered with tenderness, but also a fiery flame flickered in their depths. Desire. For she experienced the same sensation. Eerily, she’d seen the same look his in eyes in the hut, but read no tenderness there as she did now.

They quietly descended the stairs, and Glenna followed him out through the back entrance. Luke was right, the night was clear and alight with numerous stars. A hunter’s moon, full and bright, provided extra illumination. Nearby, a nightingale sang. Other than birdsong, a quiet stillness filled the air. Not even a slight breeze disturbed the peace.

Luke took her hand. “Not too cold for you, is it?” he asked.

Positive proof he did not experience a change in temperature. He did not wear a coat. She pulled herself closer to him. “No, not cold at all. Not when I am with you.”

“Well, you certainly warm me. In all ways,” he murmured huskily.

They walked for a long time in silent companionship. Glenna could not help but cast clandestine glances at him. Luke’s appearance was not normal, but neither was it horrific, not to her. Despite the gray cast to his skin and the white scars marring his handsome features, he was not ugly or grotesque, and he most certainly was not The Elephant Man. His multi-colored eyes showed warmth and compassion. His stark honesty about his emotions moved her. They spoke easily; a friendship had formed between them. A bond. He was aroused by her and more importantly--she by him. Every touch and every kiss merely verified it.

Reed would be appalled. He already suspected her of a sort of infatuation based on her past experience with Ravenswood and expressed his derision more than once. How could she explain it to her cousin when she could barely understand it herself? One thing she did know: She was attracted to Luke for himself, not because he was Ravenswood at one time. She truly believed him to be a separate soul--his own person.

“You are quiet, Miss Parker.”

“Am I? Yes, I suppose so. I was merely enjoying the peaceful silence and the walk,” Glenna replied.

“And I also. But more importantly, I am enjoying being here--with you.” With a quick suddenness, Luke pulled her under the leafless branches of an ash tree. He backed her against the trunk, and leaned in to lay soft kisses on her cheek. “Do not torment me, Glenna. Tell me you long for my touch, my kiss. Tell me you want me. Convince me you do not find me the least bit--abhorrent.”

With no time to locate her gloves before their departure, she went without and glad she did. Cupping his cheek, she caressed his cool skin and he shuddered in response. “You are not abhorrent to me. And I do long for your kiss. Your touch.” Glenna rose up on her toes and kissed him, a gentle, lingering one. Trailing her lips across his cheek, she whispered in his ear, “And I do want you.”

Luke pulled her close and gave her a devastating kiss full of ardent passion. Caught up in the flush of desire, he seemed unaware he was touching her with both hands, his gloved left exploring all parts of her body as he grinded his hips against her. He cupped her breast and she gasped at the intense sensation. Since she only wore the nightgown and coat, she could feel every stroke, and her nipple hardened in response. Grasping his right hand, she encouraged him to take more of her, kneading her breast until her breathing became uneven.

Luke backed away, his chest heaving as rapidly as hers. Why did he stop? She was about to ask that very thing when he held out his right hand. This encounter was eerily similar to Ravenswood backing her against the wall in the hut, but the difference? Luke’s touch and kiss was more intense and passionate. Truthfully, so was her response. This was becoming far more serious than she could have hoped. It should concern her, but it didn’t.

“Come. Let us continue on our walk,” Luke said.

Slipping her hand in his, they strolled together across the field. He barely limped now. They did not acknowledge the rush of emotion that burst between them. Glenna was secretly relieved. Too many other questions needed addressing first.

* * * *

Luke remained in the cellar the next night, not sure if he should skulk to Glenna’s room again. What right did he have to pursue this unbelievable but compelling attraction between them? Maybe that is what fueled his dream the night before. He wanted her. What could he offer her? Nothing at all, at least not until he was given answers. He assumed he did not have a wife since he did not wear a wedding ring. But that hardly considered as proof, since it was worn on the left hand and his was gone. It also may have been stolen or he could have lost it. Like the mysterious ring in his dream. Perhaps he was a father of small children or perhaps he had none at all.

Regardless, he did have a life before. And until he sorted out that conundrum, he had no claim on Glenna and should not be exploring a deeper, physical connection with her. However, he could not help himself nor could he stay away. What he experienced when she came near him lay beyond all description. Why his emotions were laid bare and why they felt so raw and intense, he could not even begin to understand.

Instead of heading to her room, Luke went for a walk. The quiet of night allowed him to think, reflect, and try to sort his thoughts into a more cohesive order. During his stroll, he came across a tangle of wildflowers. Crouching down, he slid his fingers along the stems. Many had shed their petals, but a few had not. Red and lilac poppies. Red valerian and lavender devil’s bit. How did he know this? Again, another question with no immediate answer. With no effort at all, be snapped the stems and arranged a bouquet. He would give them to Glenna; women loved flowers. At least, he thought they did. He stood, then continued on his journey.

Memories of their kiss the previous night flooded his mind. Scorching hot, and the way his hands explored her curves while he grinded his hardened shaft against her proved he had no control as far as Glenna was concerned. But the most amazing thing was she did not push him away or slap his scarred face. How could it be that a decent, attractive woman would suffer his touch and beastly lust? Luke could not understand why she did.

By the time he returned to the house, it lay in complete darkness.

Luke climbed the stairs, stood outside Glenna’s room but could not hear a sound. Turning the handle, he quietly stepped across the threshold. Her soft breathing indicated she was asleep, though not deeply. He laid the flowers on the table next to her bed, then glanced down at her. How peaceful and innocent she looked lying on her side, her glorious golden-brown hair spread across her pillows. Her feminine body curled under her blue quilt, but one perfectly shaped leg lay on top. How he wanted that leg wrapped around his waist while he…he…
hell.
He closed his eyes, tamping down his arousal. Even watching her slumber caused his lust to accelerate. Leaning in, he caught a whiff of her feminine lilac scent.

In truth, he could stay here all night, watch her as she slept, and protect her from whatever may come, for it gave him a good deal of pleasure. He reached out his hand to move aside a stray lock of hair resting on her cheek, but hesitated. What if she awoke and found him standing there? She would probably scream and who could blame her? Luke lowered his hand. Quietly, he backed out of the room and closed the door.

Once back in the cellar, he sat on the sofa and began to read more of
Bleak House
. Her scent still lingered. The memory of her sleeping kept creeping into his thoughts making reading near impossible. The lock clicked on the outer door. Luke rose to his feet. Did she come to him? Did she find his flowers and came to thank him? His heart beat wildly in expectation. Disappointment washed over him as Reed marched into the study with a determined and somber look on his face.