EscapeWithMe (5 page)

It was a short pause before she realized that she had to
answer. “I-it’s like Mrs. Hayes said. I’m an understudy. I happened to be in
costume when I bumped into that man with all the cabbages.”

“You came all the way to England to be an understudy? Why
did you not take up the role of Viola when Miss Younge was unable to perform
the part? Viola is the only character in
Twelfth Night
who dresses
opposite to her sex, is she not?”

“I am not the only understudy for Viola, lieutenant,” she
lied, “but since Miss Younge wasn’t present tonight, does that mean you were
unable to find the man you were looking for this morning?” His eyebrows went up
in surprise and the smile on his face widened.

“Miss Reed,” Mrs. Hayes called. Sam looked toward the
woman’s voice and found Mrs. Hayes bearing down on them.

“Your abbess has come to rescue you,” he said. Abbess? Was
that a joke? After one more kiss to her knuckles, he released her hand and
stepped back.

“Milly, Ann, kindly escort Miss Reed back to the house. I
shall catch you up in only a moment,” Mrs. Hayes ordered.

Milly latched on to Sam’s arm and tugged her away from the
enigmatic Ryder West. Once Mrs. Hayes gained his attention, any semblance of a
smile on his face quickly faded. Sam watched them for as long as she could, but
all too soon she, Milly and Ann were outside.

“Oh what a fine swell, Miss Samantha,” Milly cooed, her
normal cockney accent back in place. “So intense, so confident—and did you see
the way he flashed his ivory? A better catch than mine, but I have the one with
more gingerbread.”

“More what? What are you talking about?” she asked. Milly
giggled while Ann huffed in frustration. Sam attempted again to take a deep
breath, only to be thwarted by her corset. “God, I can’t wait to get out of
this thing.”

“You’ll be out of it soon enough,” Milly said, still
laughing.

Just as Mrs. Hayes had promised, she caught up to them just
as they were nearing the house. The bulky Mr. Hull stood outside smoking a
cigar and silently admitted the three of them.

Once inside, Milly opened the door of the salon. Sam
distinctly heard male voices, and a woman lamented the loss of a round of
cards. Milly and Ann let themselves into the room and then shut the door,
cutting off the noise.

“Mary, I need you,” Mrs. Hayes called. She turned to Sam and
nudged her toward the stairs. “Upstairs, Samantha. I’ll have someone help you
out of those clothes so that you can make yourself ready for bed.”

“Are you having a party, Mrs. Hayes?” Sam asked. Mrs. Hayes
pushed harder and Sam relented to walking upstairs with her patroness. Mary,
bearing a candelabrum, appeared from the direction of the kitchen and followed.

“I told you to call me Abby, and as for your conversation
with the marquess—while I sympathize with your surprise at his opinions—I would
prefer you refrain from stating your own opinion on anything beyond the
weather. The marquess is a very important man and we cannot afford to agitate
la
noblesse
for such a trifling dispute.”

Sam looked at Mrs. Hayes as though the woman had just called
the moon landings a hoax.

“However, perhaps you are overly tired and hadn’t the
strength to curb your tongue.” Mrs. Hayes opened Sam’s door, waving for her to
go inside and though Mary obediently entered the room, Sam stayed in the hall.

“Me being tired had nothing to do with the—”

“We’ll not discuss it further, Miss Reed,” she snapped.
“Mary will help you out of your dress and into more comfortable attire.” Mrs.
Hayes all but shoved her into the bedroom and Sam stumbled on the front of her
skirt, falling against the bed.

Sam was amazed at Mrs. Hayes’ sudden one-eighty. “What’s the
matter with you?”

“It is men like the marquess that keep us off the streets.”
Her tone sent a chill up Sam’s spine. “So you’ll do as you’re told. Mary, get
her ready.” Mrs. Hayes shut the door and left, her footsteps fading down the
stairs.

“Mary?” Sam gripped the bedpost. Mary looked at her with
sympathy. In that look, she knew exactly what Mrs. Hayes was, knew she had let
Mrs. Hayes trick her.

“I need to get out of here,” she said with panic.

Mary rapidly shook her head. “No, no, no. Mr. Hull will
dirty you if you try, Miss Samantha, just like he dirtied me. Hot water won’t
wash it away. Whoever Mrs. Hayes has for you, he’ll be cleaner than Mr. Hull.”

“Jesus,” Sam whispered.

“Jesus doesn’t watch us here, Miss Samantha.” Mary set the
candelabrum on the vanity and approached her. “What watches us has a plan
though. It told me.” Sam felt like an oversized doll as Mary turned her around
to push aside the back pleats and loosen the bodice lacing. “I’m to help. It
promised me Peter if I help. You just need to be calm.”

Sam couldn’t answer and Mary fell silent. Only when Sam was
in her chemise and stockings did Mary say anything more.

“After the client, ring for me to help clean before the next
one.” She pointed at a bell pull near the door and then left, shutting the door
behind her.

Sam sat on the bed in front of the vanity, trying to work
out what she would say to Mrs. Hayes when the woman returned. The only things
she could think to say involved cussing, slapping and screaming.

Looking up at the mirror, she studied herself for a long
moment. Her skin wasn’t quite so pasty in candlelight, and the hairstyle and
chemise made her shoulders look elegant rather than boxy. The locket at her
neck reminded her of the drawing she had seen that afternoon. She shivered.

Footfalls sounded on the stairs. Her stomach was churning.
She stood and walked around the bed to face the door. She had to be firm. She couldn’t
back down. No doubt Mrs. Hayes had brought along the marquess or, even worse,
that middle-aged lecher with the paunch and the beauty patch next to his nose,
anyone with a title and some money.

The door opened. “Here we are,” Mrs. Hayes said kindly.

Sam gasped, backing up to the bed. Behind Mrs. Hayes stood
the one man who she knew wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Chapter Three

“We meet again, madam.” Sam found a new adjective for
Lieutenant West’s blue eyes—determined. It may have been a trick of the light,
but his shoulders almost touched the doorframe as he stepped into the room. Sam
looked at her patroness with shock, hoping that the woman might have mercy, but
Mrs. Hayes had never looked crueler. With a smirk, she wordlessly shut the
door.

Sam couldn’t get her tongue to move, and the man in her room
seemed content to let the silence continue. She heard Mrs. Hayes descending the
stairs and watched the lieutenant’s gaze descend as well, taking in the sight
of her in a chemise and stockings. Sam realized with squeamish embarrassment
that the candles behind her probably outlined everything underneath her one
thin layer of clothing.

“Lieutenant, you need to know that I—I’m not what Mrs. Hayes
presented me as.” The lieutenant set his hat on the table next to the bed.
“Call it stupid or naïve or whatever you want, but I didn’t realize what she
was until…” Sam backed up when he took a step toward her. “Oh God, I did
suspect but I was desperate and kept hoping I was wrong.”

“I have paid for your time.” He removed his coat. Damn, his
shoulders
were
enormous. “And your time is all I entreat you to give me
willingly. The rest is left to my own talents.”

The urge to laugh nearly overtook her. This had to be a
joke. This guy wanted to seduce her? This guy, who could probably get it for
free from plenty of other women with minimal effort—
willing
women?

She sidled around to the foot of the bed. As he turned to
toss his coat on top of his hat, she agonized at how broad his back was. His
trim waist and narrow hips were wrapped in snug breeches. He looked too good in
those clothes. Too overpowering.

“Let us talk, madam. We’ll start there.” He walked around to
the vanity and she backed up even farther. He chuckled as he sat on the
vanity’s stool. “I’ll not attack you, Samantha. Pray sit there and talk with
me.” He gestured at the foot of the bed, which was well within arm’s reach of
where he sat.

Sam was hard-pressed to trust him. Both Brian and Mrs. Hayes
had been charming at first, and more than just charming, Ryder West was
magnetic. Flickers of potential danger were there in his face and his attention
focused on her in a way that made her skin prickle. Brian had turned on that
magnetism only rarely, and it had kept her ensnared for a long time.

All she knew of Ryder was that he sought a man wanted by the
authorities, and he was casually sitting in a brothel. Neither did anything to
recommend his good character.

As the awkward silence stretched out, the smoldering look he
gave her made her fingers dig into the wood of the bedpost. Did he know how he
was staring at her?

Smiling unexpectedly, the lieutenant broke the silence. “Of
course I don’t demand that you sit at all. Did I overhear that you are from New
York?” She nodded. “You lived there all your life?”

“I’ve spent the last few years elsewhere, but I grew up near
New York.”

“An interesting city. It will rival London someday.”

Sam couldn’t help a small
hmph
at his comment. “You
have no idea.” He arched an eyebrow and she scrambled to keep the conversation
going. More conversation and less staring. “London is much older though. New
York can never beat that.”

“True, madam.”

“So you’ve been to America? How did you like it?”

His lips stretched into a nostalgic smile. “Very much. Were
it not for certain circumstances, I may not have returned to England.”

“Really?” It was pleasant to know he liked America, though
maybe she was still annoyed at the marquess. “Wouldn’t you miss your home?”

“My home has been aboard a ship the past ten years.”

“You’re in the navy?” she guessed. He certainly had the look
of a navy man. His sun-bleached hair and tanned face, not to mention his
militarily clean-cut look.

“Was. Until Parliament reaches a decision regarding our
forces in the colonies, we are paid off indefinitely. However, I’ve no intention
to resume my commission.”

“Why’s that?” She rounded the corner of the bed and sat,
though as far from the lieutenant as possible. His eyes flicked down to the
toes of her stockings and then slid up her body.

“You already know the answer to your question, madam. After
all, you were witness to my conversation with the publican this morning.”

“Ah, your search for the elusive mystery man,” she recalled.
“Who is he?” The lieutenant smiled again and her stomach leapt at the sight of
his wide grin.

“I wish to know more about you. Why did you really come to
London?” He leaned forward and set his elbows on his knees. “And don’t tell me
that rubbish about being a Loyalist.”

It was a good question, one she didn’t have an answer to. It
certainly hadn’t been her own choice to wake up in London. When she remained
silent, he sat up straight.

“Shall I guess?” He made a show of looking thoughtful,
rubbing his chin and studying her. “Actresses are assumed to hold two
occupations, one on stage and one on their backs.” Sam blinked at his
bluntness. “I do not believe you came here to do either. You were shocked Mrs.
Hayes sold your evening to me, and an abbess like her keeps a very close eye on
her nuns. You wouldn’t be allowed the freedom of other actors.”

“I already told you I hadn’t known what Mrs. Hayes
intended.” Sam finally got the nun joke, though it was way too late to beat the
punch line. “You said you would guess why I was in London. You haven’t guessed
anything yet.”

“No, I haven’t.” He spoke with half of a smile, but it
didn’t last long. “It is impossible that you are alone in London. Why does
someone cross an ocean alone only to arrive a pauper? I wager you came with
your husband, who was the true Loyalist, but he perished at sea and you’ve no
money to return. Otherwise, the widow before me would not be so impoverished as
to need the shelter of Mrs. Hayes.”

She held up her left hand. “Why am I not wearing a wedding
ring? Do you think I’m the kind of woman who would sell the only memento of her
dead husband?”

His gaze was unwavering. “Is that not a memento hanging from
your neck?” Sam’s lips fell open and she touched the face of her locket. How
had she forgotten it?

“No one gave this to me. I found it.” That was a lie. She
had “found” it at the shop and had decided to keep it as her birthday present
to herself. Brian hadn’t seemed to notice.

“Someone as beautiful as you should not have to resort to
thievery. You would have all the gifts you could ever want.”

Sam scoffed at the backhanded compliment, even if he had hit
upon some truth. “Your flattery is misplaced. You’re trying too hard.”

“Madam, I haven’t even begun to try.” Amusement pulled at
the corners of his mouth, but his eyes conveyed something far different. “And
no man in his right mind could ever say you were anything but beautiful.”

That got her heart racing, but she couldn’t let him persuade
her into anything, no matter how his words made her feel. She wondered again
why a man like him would patronize a brothel. He could easily scratch his itch
with lots of other women, no matter her circumstances, and at least save
himself the fee. Was it simply the times?

“How much did you pay Mrs. Hayes?” Perhaps what he wanted
from her wasn’t sex, but information. Did he want to know how much she had
overheard?

It was a few seconds before he answered. “I’d have paid ten
times what she asked, if you are referring to the worth of a few hours of your
time.”

She slid closer to him, hoping her questions made him
uncomfortable. Maybe she could turn the conversation around. Maybe she could
guilt him enough to make him leave. “I’m curious, lieutenant. What was the
price of my evening?”

“More than twice a month’s wages for a typical laborer.” Her
eyes bulged. Holy shit.

She recovered quickly. “The Royal Navy must pay well.”

“My small fortune is thanks to the prize money from sinking
and capturing enemy vessels.”

“American ships?”

“Most of our engagements were with the French.”

“Is that why you paid so much for me tonight, to claim
another prize?”

“Come now, madam. You were eager for my attention at the
theater. I did not hide my regard—”

“But you saw me with Mrs. Hayes and you knew what she was.”

He rested his elbows on his thighs, and Sam realized just
how close she was sitting to him. His knees were only a couple of inches from
hers.

“Tell me that you did not feel an attraction,” he
challenged. “Tell me you did not feel a pull between us when our eyes met in
the market.” His voice became a whisper and his eyes watched her mouth. “Tell
me you do not want this.”

She swallowed hard. Okay, so maybe he did want sex from her.
“I did feel an attraction.” His knee touched hers as he eased closer. “But with
payment comes expectation and obligation. There’s no desire or choice.”

The corner of his mouth curled. “Only because the payment
was given to Mrs. Hayes, the choice made by her, but if I were to present the
decision now, what would you choose?”

Sam pressed her lips together, afraid they might betray her
feelings, but she couldn’t stop the voice in her head that eagerly shouted that
she would concede, would lie beneath him the entire night, but why now and not
any other opportunity with Brian? She knew the answer to that, though. Brian
had never intended to have sex with her—it hadn’t interested him and she
stupidly held a torch for him anyway. Then what did she have to lose now? If
she did as expected, Mrs. Hayes would have no reason to use Mr. Hull against
her.

However, the lieutenant had already paid Mrs. Hayes and he
said he wasn’t going to force her. Why should she have to let him do anything?

She heard the soft scrape of the stool as the lieutenant
slid it back and dropped to his knees in front of her. She jumped when his
fingers gently touched her leg and she pushed his hand away, but even the brief
brush of their fingers made her palms itch.

“Wait.” The way her heart pounded reminded her of the kiss
he laid on her hand at the theater. She knew she should move away from him, but
she didn’t. If only he’d give her a moment to think.

“I will give you the decision.” He slid his hands beneath her
knees. “But you already know the answer, don’t you?” He tugged her to the edge
of the bed, eliciting a gasp. He squeezed her thighs and leaned toward her. She
realized he was going to kiss her and she held him back with her hands pressed
against his chest. She tried not to notice the muscles beneath her fingers.

“How can I decide if you’re touching me?”

His wide smile wasn’t amused this time. It was sinful. “Then
you haven’t decided to say no yet.” His hands smoothed up her stockings. She
shivered, her thighs clenching.

“I shouldn’t do this.” His hands slid all the way to the
ribbons holding up her stockings. “Not like this.”

“Not like what?” He leaned against her locked arms and
pushed her onto her back. His wide shoulders blocked out the light from the candles.
“What can I do to make you comfortable?”

“You can give me some slack.” Her heart was in her throat
and she could feel the pulse at her neck. When he lifted her knees, the skirt
of her chemise slid up her thighs. She grabbed at it, pushing the skirt between
her legs to cover herself even while trying to keep her other arm locked and
holding him at bay.

“You did not mind my forwardness at the theater.”

“Well, this is a whole new level of forwardness.” She needed
him to give up. He had to give up before she gave in. She wanted this so badly
but couldn’t help but think she’d regret it. “I don’t know you, lieutenant,”
she said desperately.

“I wish to know you,” he whispered, “and call me Ryder.” His
hands found the naked skin of her upper thighs and squeezed. He softly inhaled
through his teeth.

“You paid for me! Doesn’t that bother you?” His hands didn’t
stop. They sought the curves of her waist and the flare of her hips. Swirls of
tingling warmth bloomed wherever he touched her. His needy moan made it feel
even better.

“I don’t care about the money, Samantha.” His voice was
rough. “I only care about your decision.” He slid one knee onto the bed and
tucked it beneath her thigh.

“But I’ve never…” Oh God, had she really taken this long?
What was she so afraid of? What was she protecting? Good guys who cared about
her had desired her. Why hadn’t that been enough?

“What have you never, Samantha?”

He was too heavy. Her elbow buckled and he fell against her.
His groin pressed against the back of her hand, which was still shielding the
crux of her thighs. His face was so near. A few strands of his hair had come
loose from his ponytail and tickled her cheek. He smelled like vanilla and
wine.

“I’ve never been with a man before,” she admitted.

He stopped moving and stared at her. His eyebrows were
pinched, his mouth open. Had she turned him off? Had he realized his widow
theory was incorrect? Had he believed her at all?

He shifted his weight onto one elbow, revealing more of the
candlelight. “Move your hand.” His voice sounded strange and his half-lit
expression was serious. She shook her head. If he touched her, he’d find out
just how much she wanted him. The thought of his fingers there…

“Move your hand,” he repeated. “Let me touch you.” His
fingers were on her wrist. His lips brushed her cheek, then the corner of her
mouth. “Let me touch you where no one else has.”

The warm slide of arousal preceded a full-body shiver. That
voice of his was an aphrodisiac, low and smooth with just a little edge to it,
as though he smoked but only on occasion. She exhaled and closed her eyes. She
lifted her hand away and laid it beside her head. He pushed up the skirt of her
chemise, exposing her. When he touched her thigh, she turned her head away.