Wedded in Sin (22 page)

“Good heavens! As if I had any inclination in bedding you right now!” It was a lie. The evidence seemed to indicate that he was interested in bedding her
all
the time, no matter the circumstances. He’d been terrified for their lives pressed up so tightly in Tommy’s wardrobe, and yet his organ had still swollen up hot and hard for her. Even as she clawed and kicked him from head to toe, a part of him had wanted to pin her wrists and spread her legs right there.

Hell, that part still wanted it, but he was a rational man. He could control his urges. And so he took her arm and headed her down the street away from the dandies. It was that choice—to move left rather than right—that saved them. They had gone no more than three steps when a man came running through the alley they’d just left and streaked off to the right. If they’d walked the other direction, then the man would have collided with them. And if not the runner, then the four who followed closely after.

It was over quickly, as these things go. Samuel barely had time to step protectively in front of Penny when one of the pursuers threw a knife. The blade lodged deeply in the runner’s throat from back to front. It was an incredible throw and Samuel might have admired it if it weren’t so lethal. The runner was down, his blood welling into the street. Three of the pursuers circled the body, standing still as the fourth hastily looked about.

Samuel tensed. He did not wish to be attacked by a gang of thieves, but he had nowhere to go. And no help beyond Penny, as the two dandies had taken off in the opposite direction.

“Don’t be afraid,” the man who threw the knife said in a cultured voice. “He was the thief, not I.”

It took a moment for his heart to slow, but eventually Samuel recognized Demon Damon and exhaled in relief. The man was the owner of London’s most infamous gambling den and as dangerous a man as could be. But he was also smart and did not kill indiscriminately. Therefore, Samuel and Penny had little to fear. Still, Samuel remained on his guard as he struggled for some way to ease the tension in the air. Flattery would probably work best.

“Very nice throw,” Samuel said. As he spoke, one of the henchmen cleaned off the bloody knife and returned it to the Demon.

“I practice,” came the calm response. Then the man’s gaze flicked to Penny, who was still staring at the cluster of men around the body. “Have no concerns, Miss Shoemaker. The man was a footpad, part of a den of thieves that I have just recently discovered. He got what he deserved.”

Penny nodded slowly, her gaze finally raising up to look at the Demon. It was only now that Samuel realized how very handsome the bastard was. Not tall so much as elegant, with dark hair and a white smile. Did Penny think him handsome, too? And how was it that the bastard knew her name anyway? He’d called her Miss Shoemaker.

Meanwhile, Penny swallowed and slowly folded her hands. “Why?” she asked.

“Why did he deserve his end?” the Demon asked.

She shook her head. “Why did you pursue him? Why not leave it to the authorities?”

“Because the constable has plenty to do, Miss Shoemaker.” Then he shot a disdainful glance behind him. “And this man stole from me.”

Ah, that was the reason, thought Samuel. Only an idiot would steal from the Demon. In any event, he needed to get Penny away from this situation. “Come along,” he said as he took her arm. “Let me see you home.”

The Demon stepped closer. “I can escort you if you would feel safer.”

“No,” said Penny quickly as a small shudder ran through her body. “No, thank you. I am safe enough with Samuel.”

A surge of pride warmed Samuel, especially as the Demon gave them a courtly bow and withdrew. Penny felt safe with him. In fact, she had chosen him over the obviously lethal and handsome other man. He would have crowed aloud if he hadn’t been so intent on getting them out of the area.

They were barely more than a block away when Penny asked her question. “Do you know that man?”

“Demon Damon. A man who does not like to be crossed.”

Penny drew in a full and shaky breath. “I wonder what was stolen from him.”

Samuel shrugged. “With his kind, the item isn’t important. Diamonds or food scraps, whatever it was belonged to the Demon. And he does not share.”

Penny nodded and he was gratified to feel the tension in her arm release. She was feeling calmer.

“Better?” he asked, absurdly needing to hear her reassure him.

“Yes. I was merely startled.”

She’d been a great deal more than that. Him as well. But at least it was over.

“We still need to talk,” he said, cursing the timing.

“I know. Where are we going?”

“It’s not far.”

Four blocks later, they arrived at the Beehouse. Originally it had simply been Bea’s House, as the madame’s name was Beatrice. But that was many years ago. Bea was gone and Missy had taken her place. And Missy had reason to be grateful to him.

The woman had had a thieving employee—or so she’d believed—but he’d discovered the real culprit. It had been a dog who had a fondness for Missy’s favorite purse. After he’d recovered her missing coins, the madame and he had developed a kind of friendship. Shared meals, shared secrets. Nothing to topple kingdoms—only a marriage or two. But she recognized the wisdom in having a smart gent in her circle of friends, and he liked having another place to loiter when he was bored.

Given their connection, Missy would let him do what he wanted in the basement of her home and say nothing to anyone about it. That is, assuming it wasn’t being used at the moment and that he paid her ridiculous fee on quarter day.

Slipping through the shadows, he crossed to Missy’s window and rapped twice. As expected, she was there, her eyes narrowing as she peered out into the darkness. He stepped into the light spilling out from her window and saw her eyes widen. A moment later, she jerked her head toward the back door.

He brought Penny round to the back, though he could feel her body tightening with every breath she took. She was a moral woman, he knew, and her judgment of this place would run deep. He had perhaps three minutes more to get her inside before she balked. So when Missy opened the back, he pulled Penny inside with him and quickly shut the door.

“We need to use the dungeon,” he said quietly. “Is it available?”

Her penciled-on eyebrows shot nearly to her forehead. “You ain’t never swung that way afore.”

He shook his head. “Not for its usual purpose. We need a place to have a right good row where no one will think anything of it.”

“Ah,” she said, understanding. She tried to peer at Penny, but Samuel stepped in the way. Missy wouldn’t talk—probably—but there was no sense in giving her more information than she needed.

“A right good row, Missy. And no one the wiser.”

She nodded. “Yer in luck. We’re not that busy, and them that are here don’t seem to want to be whipped.” She pulled an enormous key ring out of her pocket, pulled off the largest and most hideously ornate one, and handed it to him. “Ye got it for the night. But mind, if yer row turns bloody, ye’ll owe me extra for the cleaning.”

“Thank you, but I assure you there won’t be bloodshed.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” muttered Penny from behind him.

Samuel sighed, pleased that Penny’s equilibrium returned, but saddened that he would have to fight through her anger. Missy, on the other hand, thought that the funniest thing she’d heard in a long time. She was cackling as she led them down the hallway and then hauled open the door to what once had been the root cellar. Bea—a woman with uncommon foresight—had remodeled it decades ago to look like a fanciful descent into hell. Samuel thought the ornaments cheap and rather silly, but one glance at Penny’s face and he could see that he’d just confirmed her worst suspicions about brothels.

Well, there was no help for it now, and so he led her firmly down the stairs. At the base, they confronted a heavy iron door, which was unlocked by the ornate key. It was pitch dark in there, but he had a general idea where things were. A table nearby had a candelabra set at the ready. He dropped Penny’s satchel on the floor, then fumbled to light the candles. A few moments later, he’d lit them and four sconces about the room. Then he turned to see that Penny was half a breath away from bolting.

“What is this place?” she breathed, shock and fear in her voice.

He turned, looking about to see the room from her eyes. Yes, he supposed seeing a torture rack against the wall and a restraining table would be rather startling to a well-bred woman. Especially after what they’d just witnessed. Add in the shelving full of whips and shackles, gags and…well, things that he knew the names of but most people didn’t, and he feared his plans for a discussion were all for nothing. Still he had to try, so he strove for a calm, reassuring tone.

“This is a specialized room, Penny,” he said as he shut and bolted the door. “And well used to screams, so you may screech at me all you like.”

“I don’t screech!” she all but shouted.

He nodded. “Excellent.” He thumped the wall, which was heavy stone. “I’m sure no one heard that. And believe me, I have tried from above to see if any words could penetrate the ceiling. Nothing intelligible, I assure you.” He frowned. She did not look reassured. “Truly, Penny, some gentlemen have rather violent tastes. Try not to look at the decor.”

Her jaw went slack for a moment. “Try not to look at it? At what, pray tell, am I supposed to look? The meat hooks on the ceiling? The dark stains everywhere?”

“It’s paint, Penny. For atmosphere.”

She shook her head. “Not all of that is paint. The smell gives it away.”

He grimaced. How could he forget that she was unusually perceptive? “Well,” he said with a sigh. “I am very sorry that this disturbs you. Pray will you sit down.” He held out a chair for her. Sadly, as he moved it, the shackles set up a rather loud clatter on the floor.

“I shall stand, thank you, Samuel.”

He couldn’t blame her, but neither could he let their conversation be deterred because of her sensibilities. “Very well,” he said rather lightly as he settled himself into the chair. He knew for a fact that Missy made sure to clean the chamber regularly. And it wasn’t as if he was going to have her strap him into the thing. “I have need of an answer from you. I’m sorry that it may be a rather painful answer, but it is imperative that we get to the bottom of it now. Truly, I fear for your safety—and your sanity—if you continue as you have been.”

She frowned and folded her arms across her chest. “Very well,” she snapped. “What is this all-important question?”

“Why are you so angry?”

She gaped at him. Her jaw dropped, her fists fell onto her hips, and she drew a deep breath with which to blast him. Samuel relaxed backward. It would take a while for her to get past the initial fury. He estimated twenty minutes at least. But then she surprised him.

She just huffed out her breath and leaned against the table. He wondered for a moment if the stains and the straps would bother her, but she seemed to have already dismissed them from her mind. Instead, she just shook her head.

“You are the oddest gent I have ever met.”

He tilted his head, unsure how to take that statement. “No one but you has ever said that to me before,” he mused softly.

She blinked. “Of course they have.”

“I assure you, they have not. People as a rule are much more condescending when they speak to me. They are either angry and tell me to bugger off—”

“I can do that, if you like.”

“Or they are amused and call me something like a sweet thing or a cute bean. I ask you, what bean would ever be considered cute?”

“So no one has said ‘odd’? But you are.”

“And is that bad or good?”

She shook her head. “It’s just odd.”

“And you, my dear, are avoiding the question at hand.”

She grimaced and hopped up such that she sat on the table. In fairness, her grimace might be because of the table, not the topic. “I am not. Hell, Samuel, you’re a brilliant man. Don’t you think I have cause to be furious?”

“Of course you do. But this particular problem is only a couple days old. And your parents were killed not yet two months ago. Your fury is a good deal older than that.”

“It is not.”

“Those grooves set between your brows, the habit of clenching your fists tight to your hips, and the deep brackets around your mouth indicate differently. Those are patterns established very early, very young.”

Her eyes widened and her hands went to her mouth. He almost smiled. Penny was the least vain woman he knew, and yet even she was horrified by what he’d just said. Could all that anger be carving itself into her face?

Of course it was, and so he stood and crossed to her. With gentle but firm fingers, he pulled her hands away from her face. It wasn’t easy, especially as he could tell she was barely keeping herself from slugging him.

“Penny, you have been angry for a very long time. This last debacle has merely pushed you to the very edge. It makes you want to throw yourself at Jobby when you know it would do more harm than good. It makes you want to hurt me now when you know I am merely trying to help.” He took a deep breath. “It makes you what to hurt everyone and everything, including perhaps yourself.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Very well, then perhaps it makes you want to hurt Tommy.”

She blanched and he knew he’d struck a nerve. She was hot to deny it, but he pressed his hand to her lips. “Think before you scream at me, Penny. You can tell me everything, you know. I am the last person who would judge you.”

It wasn’t enough. With more strength than he’d expected, she shoved him backward. He stumbled, but fortunately caught himself on the shelving of dangerous implements. Meanwhile, she leaped off the table to advance on him, spitting words like an angry cat.

“What do you know about life with a baby? There’s food and teething and he wakes every night! Nappies to be changed, and he’s in everything! I can’t get anything done!”

“Of course—”

“But I would
never, ever hurt him!
”

“I believe—”