Pleasure Me (31 page)

“Then you do not regret my offer of instruction.” She sent him a teasing smile, but there was a hesitancy layered beneath her question that made him eye her carefully. He shook his head.

“Do you regret accepting my offer to provide for you?”

“No, I want to be with you. I would not have agreed otherwise.” She smiled at him, but a hint of sadness darkened her violet eyes.

She turned over onto her stomach to cradle her head in the crook of one arm, and he lightly stroked her back. Her response hadn’t been quite convincing enough for him. Something was troubling her. Lowering his head, he playfully nipped at the small of her back, while exploring her shoulder with his fingers. She murmured a soft noise of pleasure at the caress.

“This pleases you?”

“Anytime you touch me, I find it pleasurable.” Her breathy words ended in a quiet gasp as his hand slid along the line of her back to slip beneath her and cup her breast.

He loved the warm, lush feel of her in his hand. Every part of her seemed made for him. Her breasts fit nicely in the palms of his hands, while she fit his cock perfectly. Even her head nestled against his shoulder felt right. He gently tweaked her nipple.

“Good. Because I like touching you very much.” He kissed his way up her spine expecting her to say something else, but she remained silent. Raising his head, he studied her profile. “Tell me what’s troubling you.”

The moment she hesitated, he knew he could make a good guess as to what was wrong. She didn’t have to say it. Not once had she protested when he’d covered her eyes. Each time she’d smiled up at him with not only desire, but an open expression of trust on her face that twisted at his gut. He knew leaving the blindfold off when they were making love would signal his reciprocating trust, but he’d not had the courage to bare his soul completely. He couldn’t, not even with her.

“Tell me,” he commanded.

“It’s nothing.”

“My inexperience did not—”

“You are no longer
inexperienced
,” she said with mischievous amusement. He playfully smacked her bottom.

“I might not be fully indoctrinated into the arts of the bedroom, but having sisters has taught me how to tell when a woman is worried about something.” He rolled her over onto her back. “Is it the blindfold?”

“I don’t mind it, but it would . . . it would be nice to see your face when you’re making love to me.” The gentle understanding in her voice made him wince.

“You ask a great deal of me.”

“Garrick, have I betrayed your trust yet?” When he responded with a sharp shake of his head, she touched his face. “Then could you not trust me further?”

“It is not a matter of trust,” he rasped.

“Then what is it? You have a beautiful body.” She pressed her hand into his chest as he grimaced. “You
do
. Even blindfolded, I can
feel
how splendidly male you are.”

The blindfold had done its work well. He was far from the magnificent specimen of manhood she thought him to be. She had no inkling he was a freak of nature. And he was too much of a coward to risk telling her the truth about his deformity. If she were to react the same way Bertha had, it would destroy him.

Images from the past flooded his head, and he clenched his jaw at the pain the memories brought. The clock on the mantel chimed the two o’clock hour. He’d promised to meet Charles at the Club for breakfast and then he had an appointment with Smythe to view a piece of property on the outskirts of town. He pushed himself up off the mattress and headed toward the chair where he’d laid his clothes.

“I have an early morning appointment, and I have no wish to wake you, so I’ll leave now.”

With his back to her, he didn’t see her climb out of bed, and he jumped as she took his coat from his hand to help him slide into it. There was a tenderness to her gesture that gripped his heart and he turned around to pull her into his arms. Even through his clothing and the silk of her robe, he could feel her warmth boring its way into him—his soul. He swallowed hard at the emotion pounding through his veins. Lowering his head, he kissed her gently, wishing he didn’t have to leave her. When he raised his head, he smiled.

“You make it difficult for me to leave you, sweetheart.”

“Do I?” Happiness lit up her face as she smiled at him. “I’m glad.”

“I’ll call for you this evening around eight. I believe a new opera is playing at the Lyceum.” He gave her a gentle push toward the bed. “Go get some sleep. I intend to keep you up even later tomorrow night.”

He grinned at the slight blush that crested over her cheeks, and with one last quick kiss, he left the room. The moment he was in the hallway, he experienced the need to go back and hold her close. It was as if he’d left a part of himself behind with her. Grunting at the sentimental thought, he strode down the hallway and made his way downstairs.

Unlike his usual habit, Simmons didn’t materialize from the back of the town house. Quietly letting himself out, he locked the door behind him with the key Ruth had given him several days ago. It didn’t surprise him that the street was deserted. He should have asked Jasper to wait for him, but the man deserved a decent night’s sleep. With a shrug of resignation, he headed toward Chiddingstone House.

He found himself wishing he’d not made his early breakfast appointment with Charles. It would have meant he could have stayed with Ruth a few more hours. His thoughts returned to his current dilemma. What the hell was he going to do? There were only two options open to him, and he wasn’t willing to accept either one.

As long as Ruth was willing to accept him as he was, then they would continue as they had from the beginning. He walked through the beam of the gaslight illuminating the sidewalk into the softer shadows. A cat screeched nearby and set his senses on alert. He glanced behind him and saw nothing. While this part of town was generally safe at all hours, it still paid to be careful.

He grimaced. He’d been cautious all his life, always on guard, whether it was preparing himself for his uncle’s next lesson in cruelty, protecting his siblings, or doing whatever it took to keep his secret safe. But in the last few weeks he’d learned what it felt like to not be continuously vigilant with his thoughts or his words. Ruth was easy to talk to, and he’d shared more of himself with her than he ever thought possible to share with any woman.

A clatter of noise echoed out of the alley he was passing, and he drew up short as a man stumbled out of the darkness toward him. Staggering to first one side and then another, the drunk saluted him with a mumbled greeting before passing. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth at the man’s inebriated state.

The last time he’d seen someone that drunk had been the night of Charles’s birthday celebration last year. Everyone had imbibed a bit more than usual, but Harrington had been the worst. The earl had reeked of alcohol, unlike the man who’d just stumbled—a blow to the back of his head sent him sagging toward the ground. One knee pressed into the pavement, he tried to shake off the pain making his gut churn.

Before he could come upright, two pairs of hands dragged him backward into the alley. Still reeling from the attack, it took him several seconds to regain his senses enough to struggle. His feet scrabbling for a foothold on the alley’s slick cobblestones, he turned his head and bit down on the hand gripping his bicep until he tasted blood. The man released Garrick with a sharp cry.

“You bloody bastard. I’ll show you who’s in charge ’ere,” his first attacker snarled. “Hold ’em.”

With a vicious twist of his arm, Garrick jerked free of his second assailant and landed flat on his face. A heavy foot barreled into his side, and with a grunt of pain he quickly rolled away. His hand pressed into his side in a futile effort to ease the screaming protest of his insides, and he scrambled to his feet. Standing upright, he swayed like a drunk and could have sworn someone was using a sledgehammer on the back of his head. In front of him, he saw two dark figures eyeing him with caution. He was apparently proving to be more trouble than they’d expected.

The taller of the two men was built like a wrestler, and he was nursing his hand where Garrick had bit him. The other man was far from skinny, but he didn’t appear to have the strength of his friend. Furious that the bastards had targeted him for robbery, Garrick stepped to one side so he could keep an eye on his assailants while looking back toward the street.

His jaw clenched with tension at the distance between him and the street. Running wasn’t a good idea given the fact that he was barely able to stand upright as it was. His gaze switched back to his assailants. The smaller attacker would be easier to shake off. Not so the larger man. The sooner he took the brawny one out of the equation, the less likely he was to lose his wallet or his life.

He darted forward in a light move and landed a hard right to the jaw of the bigger man. The man’s head snapped sideways from the force of Garrick’s blow, and the result was a low roar of anger. It wasn’t exactly the sound he’d been hoping to hear.

Pain shot through his side as he leaped backward. His retreat wasn’t far enough. With surprising speed, his opponent jumped forward to tackle him around the waist and drive him backward into the alleyway wall. Once again the air left his lungs as the man’s beefy hands grabbed him by the throat and squeezed.

Garrick clawed at his attacker’s fat hands to no avail. The lack of air and the pain gripping his body made it hard to focus as he fought to stay alive. An image of Ruth filled his head. God, he might never see her again. The thought sent adrenaline surging through him, and he drove his forefinger into the man’s eye.

The bastard instantly released him to stagger backward, his hand covering his injured eye. Air rushed into his lungs again as he dragged in several deep breaths. A noise off to his side made Garrick lurch away, but not fast enough. The second assailant had decided to enter the fray, and the man’s left hook ricocheted off his jaw, snapping his head to one side with a loud crack.

Shock clouded his vision as blood filled his mouth, and he had no time to recover as the man rammed his fist into his side again. His breathing ragged from the pain assaulting every inch of his body, he stumbled away from the man in the direction of the street. He’d been a fool not to try running. He staggered two steps before he fell forward, breaking his fall with his hands. Now it was too late.

Another foot landed in the one side of him that didn’t hurt, and it drove air out of his lungs with a loud
whoosh
. Once more Ruth’s face pushed its way through his pain. He wasn’t willing to give up yet. His breathing labored and his body screaming a protest, he straightened as quickly as he could to face his attackers. In the dim light, he saw his burly assailant glaring at him with malicious fury.

“You’re a stubborn one, ain’t ye, guv.”

Garrick tried a retort, but his jaw was too sore. Instead, he spit blood in the man’s direction. The act of defiance cost him dearly as his jaw protested with a vicious stab of pain. The man lunged forward and in the darkness, Garrick failed to see the club swinging in his direction until it was too late.

The minute the stick hit his leg with a sickening crack, Garrick sank to the ground. The excruciating pain shooting up his leg sent bile rising in his throat. As he choked on it, he slumped onto the slimy, damp cobblestones. Somewhere in the back of his head a voice shouted for him to get up. He couldn’t.

His entire body was in agony, and a black morass was winding its way around his conscious thought. Not even the foot ramming into his side produced enough pain to pierce the fog clouding his brain. A low moan echoed in his ears. It struck him as odd that the man who kept kicking him would be moaning until in the depths of his brain he realized the sound was coming from him.

“Damn it, Billings, what the fuck are you doing? We’re not supposed to kill the bastard.”

“What difference does it make?”

“I’ll not get hung for murder, you stupid lout,” Billings’s partner snapped. “We was just to rough him up a bit, and I’d say you done more than that. Get his wallet, and that ring there.”

Barely aware of his surroundings, Garrick heard his attackers’ conversation as if they were far away. Someone leaned over him and tugged at his jacket. The rough movement sent more pain lashing through his body. Unable to move, he didn’t fight the fog sweeping over him, and Ruth’s smile filled his head as he hovered on the edge unable to move or speak.

The sounds of his attackers had vanished, and he vaguely realized he’d been out for God knew how long. He tried to move, but when he did a raging fire assaulted his body. Sleep. All he needed was a little sleep. He drifted off again and when he came to it was to a fiery pain that covered his entire body.

Christ Jesus, it hadn’t been a dream. He rolled over with a groan, and lay still for a moment. Lifting his head, he saw the street in front of him. It looked as though it were a hundred miles away. With a sharp breath that breathed fire through his sore throat, he got up on his hands and knees to crawl toward the street.

Vaguely, he noted the first light of dawn was brightening the sky, before he collapsed again to the slimy stones beneath his hands. He wasn’t sure how long it took to gather his strength again, because he kept drifting in and out of consciousness. The next time he came to, he managed to gather his strength and get to his feet.

By some small miracle, he was able to stagger into the wall of the side street, where he stood braced against the stone for a moment. Slowly gathering his strength, he slid his body along the wall toward the end of the alleyway. Every step was agony, but he refused to collapse and give way to the pain. Step after step, he forced his body forward.

He wasn’t sure how long it took him to get to the street, but as he reached the sidewalk, he stumbled out into the open. Without the alleyway wall to brace himself against, he lurched to first one side of the sidewalk and then the other. Unable to think clearly, he swayed on his feet as he stared around him. Where was he? Ruth. He’d been at Ruth’s house. Which direction was that?