“Enough to do as you suggested last week?” My, how entirely audacious of her. The words slipped out before she could think. But Aidan stating he adored her had temporarily cast aside her rules of engagement—at least at this particular moment.
His eyes took on a fiery heat. “And what did I suggest, my sweet?”
Cristyn took a step closer. “You said that if you tunneled your hand under my skirts and slipped your fingers between my swollen folds, you would find me wet and wanting.”
“And will I?” His voice rasped, his gaze sultry.
Oh, she was wicked. And not the least bit ashamed. Society claimed women should be above such desires. Complete nonsense. The moment he suggested they hurry toward his room, she’d had every opportunity to depart, but chose not to. For deep in her heart, no matter how much she spoke of keeping her distance and all the good reasons why she should, Cristyn longed for him to touch her in the most intimate of places.
“Yes,” she whispered huskily. “You most certainly will.”
Chapter 12
Jesus. His heartbeat pounded in his head and blood rushed to his cock, making it stiffer than when he had kissed her. If he were a decent, honorable man, he would escort her to wherever it was she was staying and not look back.
But at his core, despite his downfall and his eagerness to redeem himself, he was still that notorious rake. To seduce her thoroughly would be a sweet victory. But conquering Cristyn was not his objective. He would not force her into anything—not that he had ever forced any woman.
Cristyn was special. Not at all like the women in his dissipated past. What set her apart? Her fresh beauty? Their shared experience of his addiction nightmare? Her compassionate nature and innate intelligence? It was all of that, and more.
Aidan spoke the truth when he said he adored her, though he suspected his feelings ran much deeper than mere adulation. But that was all he was willing to acknowledge today.
She was correct: She was no trembling virgin, but he wouldn’t take anything from her that she was not freely offering. Cristyn asked him to touch her. Yes. Stepping before her, he grasped her shoulders and walked toward the wall. Once she rested against it, he lifted her leg and draped it across his hip. Her breathing came in short breaths, her chest rising and falling with each exhale. Cristyn’s beautiful eyes were bright and filled with passion. With slow purpose, he trailed his fingers under her skirt, caressing her leg, reveling in the feel of her sheer stockings until he reached bare skin on her upper thigh.
Aidan moaned. Skin as soft as silk. Warm to the touch. He continued his exploration while nuzzling her neck and found she wore a type of undergarment that was flared enough for him to tunnel his hand inside of it. As his fingers brushed by her curls, she gasped, then sighed.
Passionate, as he knew she would be. He kissed her while he parted her folds and growled when he found her wet. Their kiss grew ferocious, and he wasted no time plunging two fingers inside her. Cristyn gasped again, and the sound of it urged him on. Moving in and out of her, simulating sex, his thumb pressed on her swollen clit. His mouth slid to her neck and he nibbled on it, savoring the taste of her flushed skin. “Yes, Cris. Let it happen. Come for me, sweet.”
“Oh, my God,” she panted.
“You’ve touched yourself, haven’t you? Tell me.”
“Yes.”
“How often? Do you think of me?” he commanded, increasing the speed of his finger thrusts.
“Aidan…”
“Answer me.”
“Nearly…every night.”
Fuck. Her breathless confession had him ready to explode. “And?” he gruffly urged.
“I think of you. It has only ever been…you.”
Those words sliced his heart in two. In the next breath, Cristyn cried out with her release; her inner muscles clamped down on his fingers as she shuddered. Resting her head on his shoulder, Cristyn struggled to catch her breath. As did he. He was close to coming himself, ready to spill into his trousers like a callow schoolboy.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured. Aidan held her close, her heart beating as rapidly as his. If only they could stay like this.
They remained motionless while their breathing regulated. He was still hard, and yearned for more. But he willed his arousal to deflate, at least somewhat. Cristyn lifted her head and glanced toward the window. She stood upright, smoothing her skirt into place. “The sun is all but set. I must go. I only intended to stay a few minutes.”
“Allow me to escort you.”
“I can find my own way.”
“We’re still to act as strangers after the intimacy we have shared? How do you propose we do that, exactly?”
“Everything is complicated. What happened between us only makes it worse. I need time to think.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “And I do not regret what happened, Aidan, but surely you must see we cannot be alone together again. At least until we are done in Earl Shilton.”
Damn it all! No, he did not see it—nor did he wish to. Not when he wanted to strip each layer of sensible clothes from her lush body and taste, lick, and nibble every part of her skin. And that would only be the beginning. “I’ll not argue the point. But I will follow you at a distance until you are safely at your residence. When we are out in the hall, go down the stairs at a normal pace, and head out the front door. I will slip through the rear entrance and follow. Where is it you’re staying?”
Cristyn opened her reticule, took out her gloves, and slipped them on. “I suppose it doesn’t matter if you know. I’m renting a room on Church Street.”
“Then let us depart.”
Cristyn hesitated at the door. “Aidan?”
“Yes?”
“What about you? I found release, but you…”
He lifted her chin in order for their gazes to meet. “What you confessed, about nearly every night? I do the same. I will find my release when I return.” He cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb slowly caressing the warm softness. “It is you, Cristyn. Since we’ve met, I only think of you.” He groaned. “We had best leave, or I will lose all control.”
Her lovely eyes glistened. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough to stay away from you, regardless of what I proclaim,” she whispered.
Her candor humbled him, a sensation he was not used to. Honestly, he felt the same, but dared not admit it aloud; he had revealed too many of his feelings as it was. He opened the door and glanced out into the hallway. “No one is about. Be as nonchalant as possible. Do not hurry, but don’t dally either.” He kissed her forehead. “Go.”
Cristyn slipped out into the hall. He waited. Two minutes. Three. Then he hurriedly descended the rear stairs and entered the yard. The men working on the landscaping had apparently finished and were no doubt nursing a pint in the tavern room. The sun was setting; it must have been well past eight. Walking at a brisk pace, he followed far enough behind Cristyn that she was in his line of sight without seeming as if he were following her. Watching her hips sway as she walked had him thinking of what had occurred in his room. She had allowed him to touch her. That brief intimacy overshadowed all his past assignations. Such silky skin, and—
Out from one of the alleys, a young lad dressed in rags ran toward Cristyn, pulling Aidan from his erotic daydream. The beggar pushed her to the ground, snatched her reticule, and vaulted away. Red fury clouded his vision. He sprinted toward her, and was about to follow the boy when Cristyn called out, “No, Aid—I mean, no, sir! Don’t chase after him!”
A crowd had congregated around them. None of the citizens bothered to pursue the boy. It was clever of Cristyn to recover quickly and act as if they were unknown to each other.
He held out his hand. “Are you all right, miss?”
She slipped her hand in his and he assisted her to stand. “I am fine. Thank you for coming to my aid, sir.” His admiration for her grew. “There
was nothing of value—a few hairpins and a lace handkerchief. If the poor boy can fetch a few pennies for the items, he’s welcome to them.”
“How magnanimous of you, Miss…?”
“Bevan.”
“I am Aidan Black.”
Yes, there was no escaping their acquaintance now, considering how public this was. It would be the tittle-tattle of the village by morning. Aidan scanned the crowd. “The show is over,” he bellowed. “Off with you.” A few people sauntered away, but most stayed. “Get out of here, you cowards!” Aidan thundered. “Not one of you bloody bastards came to this young lady’s aid!” Grumbling, the crowd moved off. Some of the men, a few he recognized from the mill, gave him a dirty look.
Aidan turned his attention to Cristyn. “Are you sure you’re uninjured?” he whispered.
“Just my pride. I thought Mrs. Trubshaw, my landlady, exaggerated the possible danger in the streets. It appears not.”
“Take my arm and I will escort you home. My coming to your rescue will undermine my authority at the mill.”
She slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and they started walking toward Church Street. “How?”
“The last thing I wish to be thought of is a hero, even a poor excuse for one.” He had revealed too much, but Cristyn was too preoccupied to notice. “After all, I did not recover your property.”
“There really wasn’t anything of value. I admit I’m a trifle shaken. I’ve never been robbed before. Growing up in Standon spoiled me. I had no idea how others live. How they scrape and labor in order to survive. Even resort to stealing.”
Aidan certainly could have told her ghastly stories, for he had lived it during those last months of his infamous downfall. They turned onto Church Street.
“The red brick building there. Number five. You don’t need to escort me to the door,” Cristyn said.
“From what I know of villages, your Mrs. Trubshaw will know the story from others by luncheon. Best to be honest. And I will see you safely delivered.” He patted her hand briefly. “Now that we are publicly acquainted, you can accompany me to McRae’s dinner party.”
“No. I won’t sit in a room with that wretched man. I still do not know why you would—”
“Ah, here we are.”
The door opened before Aidan could knock. An older woman, with a formidable expression, looked them both over with one eyebrow arched in question. “Miss Bevan? Who is this?”
“Mrs. Trubshaw, this is Mr. Aidan Black. He came to my rescue, as it were, when my reticule was stolen.”
“Good heavens! Are you all right, my dear?”
“Thank you, yes.”
“Mr. Black, will you not come in?” the landlady asked.
“Alas, I have another appointment, but if I may call about this time tomorrow night? To check on how Miss Bevan is doing.” Cristyn shot him a brief, stern glance, but he ignored it.
“Of course, sir. You’re more than welcome. Come at eight o’clock, and I will have tea and cake at the ready.”
He bowed, then faced Cristyn, taking her hand and placing an air kiss above her knuckles. “Until tomorrow evening. I am gratified you were not seriously harmed.” As he walked away, he heard the landlady say as she closed the door, “So that is the much-talked-about handsome overseer…”
He did have another engagement. There were yesterday’s ham rolls to deliver to the children. Once he stopped by his suite to gather up the canvas bag, he hurried toward the mill. Aidan smiled with amusement when he reached the area behind the cotton warehouse. Rokesmith had heeded his suggestion of allowing the children to stay outside when the evening was warm. To see a couple of the smaller children running and playing warmed his little-used heart, but he made sure his expression remained disinterested.
“Rokesmith. Come here.” He thrust the bag in the young lad’s hands. “And the pies?”
“I tried one; I think it was chicken for once. I gave it to them.”
“In the bag are the oatmeal biscuits and the ham rolls. Remember to remind the children to keep it secret or all this ends.”
The little girl, Lottie, skipped toward them. She stopped in front of Aidan, then slipped her hand in his. “Hello, sir.” She looked up at him expectantly, as if silently pleading for attention—and no doubt affection, for these wretched children had been deprived of both. His heart lurched at the sight of her sweet face. Every time he had been here the past ten days, the girl had latched on to him. He should have pushed the child aside to keep up appearances, but he couldn’t do it. “Good day, Lottie.”
She beamed up at him and squeezed his hand, which in turn squeezed his heart. “You brought us biscuits, sir?”
“Yes. I want you to eat them all.” Hell, she was far too young and innocent to be toiling away in a cotton mill. Usually children held no interest for him. When had he ever been around any? The few he had any interaction with were the pampered, spoiled spawn of the peerage. They usually were squawking about one thing or another, making demands, throwing tantrums, or stuffing their faces with sticky toffee.
But glancing down at Lottie, he wanted nothing more than to give her a hug—he had the feeling they both needed it. As if reading his mind, Lottie threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. Moved, he patted the girl on the shoulder.
“Leave the overlooker alone, Lottie.” Rokesmith snapped his fingers, then motioned her to rejoin the others. She skipped away, but then turned and gave Aidan another wave. He returned it.
“Why are you doing this?” Rokesmith asked, his tone suspicious.
Aidan folded his arms. “Answer questions for me first.”
The boy shrugged. “Fine.”
“Can you read and write? Where are you from? How old are you?”
Rokesmith snorted. “In other words, you want me to tell you all. Only if you will tell me all.”
“Agreed. To a point.”
“Yes, I can read and write, but no one here knows that. I recently turned fifteen, but am passing myself off as thirteen. Not sure how much longer I’ll be able to get away with it, I’ve grown three inches in the past few months. Your turn.”
All pretense of a working-class accent was gone. This young lad was acting a part as surely as Aidan was. “My name is not Aidan Black. I am heir to an earl.”
Rokesmith chuckled. “I had you pegged as a toff. What in hell are you doing here?”
“I cannot say, but regardless of what I may say or do, I am not on the side of McRae. I am collecting information. That is all I’m willing to reveal.”
Rokesmith gave him a contemplative gaze. “Fair enough. I’m from Dover.”
“You’re a long way from home.”
“Not by my choice. When my father died, my uncle had me committed to a boy’s home, claiming I was incorrigible. He no doubt took my father’s money, what little there was. I’ve no other family. As soon as I’m old enough, I plan to get my revenge.”
“Jesus,” Aidan muttered. “How long ago was this?”
“When I was ten. I’ve been moved around since then. I met most of these children at the orphanage in Leicester. We were sold to the master here at the cotton mill two years past.”
“Sold?”
“It happens. More than you think.” Rokesmith kicked at the dirt near his worn boot. “You’re here to collect information. You’re one of those do-gooder nobs. All you’re going to do is cause trouble. I know it.” The lad pointed at the children. “I look after them, see they come to no harm. They look up to me.”
“I can see that,” Aidan replied quietly.
“I won’t help you.”
“No? If you want to help those children, and keep the food coming, yes, I believe you will. Until trust builds between us, we’ll start slow. I will need letters delivered to my man in Hinckley. I’ll pay. The first letter is to be delivered shortly
. Are you allowed off the mill property?”
“Yes, since I’m thirteen, and I get two hours off on Sunday.”
“For religious studies? Or church?”
Rokesmith snorted. “Hardly.”
Aidan shook his head. “You’re entitled to two sets of clothes, two shillings a day wages, at least a few hours a week of education, separate dormitories, and proper beds. And proper meals.” He pointed to Lottie, who was laughing and chasing another girl. “Children under nine are not permitted to work in mills. Those between the ages of nine and thirteen are not to work more than nine hours a day. Children aged fourteen to eighteen, no more than twelve hours a day.”
“So?”
“None of that is happening here. Already there are enough violations to close down this mill. But I have the feeling there is more going on. Something hidden and ominous. Am I wrong?”
Rokesmith’s eyes narrowed. “If you start kicking over stones, you’re going to ruin everything. I’ve an agreement with the master. I keep quiet, he lets me watch over the children and keep them in line. That weasel Meeker arranged it. Speaking of which, he’s onto you. He lurks about in dark corners, watching. Taking notes. You’re going to have to yell at the workers more.” The boy hesitated. “Maybe in the courtyard tomorrow, under Master and Meeker’s eye, we should stage a fight.”
Aidan gave Rokesmith a dubious look. “In what way? I’m not going to hit you.”
“You know, grab me by the scruff, shake me, and threaten to clout me in the head. I’m used to it. That miserable overlooker before you did it. He was a right bully. And worse—at least to the women and children. He didn’t have the guts to take on the few men in the mill.”
“And I suppose none of the men tried to stop it.”
“Not if they wanted to keep their positions. Besides, most of it took place off the mill floor.” Rokesmith frowned. “I’ve told you too much already.”
Aidan recalled Tessie saying she performed sex acts for extra money in her pay packet. When he’d mentioned McRae, there had been true fear in her eyes. He had a feeling there was much she could reveal. He should do as Rokesmith suggested: call her out as the former overseer would have. “Disciplining you for them to witness is a shrewd plan. You have a devious mind. I like it.”
Love with a Notorious Rake Page 14