And he wouldn’t have to go back to thieving. He could work an honest job and not have to worry about the quality of their lives suffering.
This money would change everything for the better.
If she’d agree to accept it.
“I won’t profit from Donaldson’s fraud, not when the money he made should go back to the people he stole from.” Mina pushed the envelope into Charlie’s hand, stepping back from him. “What does it say for our future together if we start it with money from cheating grieving people?”
“’Tis not from Donaldson.” Cyrus leaned against the wall, using the tip of his blade to clean out dried blood from beneath his fingernails. The casualness to his movements was disconcerting, to say the least.
“Then who’s it from? Where’s it from?” Charlie asked, half-dreading the answer.
“Various hells, different operations.” Cyrus continued cleaning his nails, not bothering to look up. “Can’t give you precise details, even if I thought you really wanted to know them. Don’t remember which parts came from which place—we’ve got so many bloody irons in the fire I never know if we’re coming or going.”
“Then how can you say for sure it wasn’t from Donaldson?” Charlie frowned.
God, they needed the money, but if it would make Mina regret running away with him, how could he take it? He wanted to give her the material comforts she was used to, but not at the expense of her dignity.
His grip on the package tightened. But on the other hand, how could he let it go, knowing what they’d be up against in their travels? Hell, if he could, he’d throw a rope around the damn stars and moon for her, for she shined like the bright stars and she made his life full.
“Because we haven’t received any funds from the bounder.” Cyrus put the knife back in his sheath, meeting their eyes. “And we won’t, now, since you’re not marrying him. Take the money, Min. Might bear the stink of crime, but so does everything else we do in this family. Least this money didn’t come from killing.”
It was a start. Probably the best offer they could expect, given their own ties to the gangs. Mina bit her lip, looking from Charlie to her brother and back again.
“Do you want to accept the money?” She asked.
“I was a thief, Minnie,” he reminded her gently. “I’ve done a lot more questionable things for a lot less valid reasons than this. I don’t want to go back to that life if I can avoid it.”
“And you’ve already stolen the most important thing—my heart.” Mina turned that special smile on him.
Damned if his pilfered heart didn’t sputter. He took her hand in his, squeezing it. “As you’ve stolen mine. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that?”
Cyrus snorted at their exchange. “If you both keep blabbering, I’m gonna lose my supper.”
“We can’t have that, can we?” She laughed. “Thank you, Cy. You didn’t have to do this.”
“But I’m glad you did,” Charlie chimed in.
“So you’ll take the money?” Cyrus let out a sigh of relief when she nodded. “Good. I’ve done enough to set up Quin’s bristles already. He’d use my hide as a target if I sent you off without funds.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time he was furious with you,” Mina said with a half-smile. “But really, I mean it—thank you for everything.”
Cyrus dipped his head, blushing. Charlie couldn’t remember ever seeing Cyrus’s face redden—unless it was bleeding, which happened so often he’d forgotten what the pugilist’s face looked like without injuries.
“I’ll come by early tomorrow morning, around six, with a trunk full of your things,” Cyrus said, still keeping his head down as if that could hide his crimson cheeks. “Some of Joaquin’s clothes ought to fit Charlie. You can’t go back to your flat ever again.”
Charlie nodded. “I understand.”
“You’ll come visit us, in our new home?” Mina asked hopefully. “Perhaps bring Jane?”
“We’ll see. Need tensions to settle down first.” Cyrus replied. “Doubt Jane would travel me, regardless.”
“Maybe, if you asked nicely,” Mina suggested with a wink.
Cyrus shook his head, refraining from comment. She gave her brother another hug, and then he was gone, shutting the door behind him. They were alone in this unfamiliar room, with no one but Cyrus knowing where they were.
They had survived. They were safe.
Charlie couldn’t wait any longer. He took Mina’s hand, leading her over to the bed. They sat next to each other on a mattress thicker than the straw pad he slept on, not down feathers but still soft enough that his aching muscles gave a cry of relief.
He ran his thumb across her knuckles, relishing the softness of her skin. “I was wrong before to make that promise to Zacharias. I shoulda never let them keep me away from you. When you came to my flat, I shoulda offered for you.”
She nudged him with her shoulder. “You didn’t want to make a vow you couldn’t keep. I understand that.”
“But I shoulda,” he said. “I shoulda tried harder. Fought for you, because you’re worth fightin’ for. I want you to know from now on, you are the most important person in my life. I wanna spend every day with you, if you’ll let me.”
Mina’s eyes began to fill with happy tears. “Oh, Charlie. Of course I’ll let you. I wouldn’t accept a life without you in it.”
He shifted on the bed so that he faced her, cupping her chin in his hand. With his other hand he pulled from his coat pocket the pebble she’d given to him as a good luck charm when they were children.
Looking deep into her eyes, he let all his love flow into his next words. “Mina Mason, you’ve been my good luck since the beginning. Will you marry me?”
Chapter 14
The words were barely out of Charlie’s mouth before Mina flung her arms around him. “Yes! Yes, of course I’ll marry you. Anytime, anywhere.”
He smiled back her, grinning from ear to ear, making him look so much like the boy she’d first met outside of the King of Spades so many years ago. The man he was now was so much more—imperfect, yes, but willing to admit when he was wrong and endeavor to do better. He was the bravest, most honorable man she’d ever known.
And he was going to be hers.
Joy welled up in Mina’s heart, making her feel as though she might burst from the happiness. She’d never wanted wealth or authority, the things that came with marrying higher than one’s social class. She’d only wanted him.
“I can’t believe you kept this all these years.” She took the pebble from him, holding it up to the light. It was smooth against her skin, the jet shiny in the light.
“Of course I did. I love you, Minnie,” he said, his voice rough with emotion as his arms closed around her, holding her tight to him as though he never wanted to be parted. She leaned into him more, longing for closeness, that special comfort brought by his touch.
“And I love you,” she declared, perhaps a bit more loudly than she should have. She wanted the whole world to know how much she adored this man. His strength, and his valor.
“You’ve made me believe I could someday be deservin’ of you.” His breath was hot upon her neck, tickling her skin. “I wanna be a good man, for you.”
“You’re already a good man. You don’t have to earn my love, Charlie. I give it to you freely, with full awareness of your past.” She pulled back from him so that she could pepper his jaw with kisses. His skin was in turns smooth and then prickly where he had not shaved in days. She delighted in the contrast, so much like Charlie himself. He was a fighter, a protector. But he was also gentle and kind with her.
“It is not as if my life has been saintly, either. I’m a Mason. My legacy is violence and power, subjugating the masses to turn a higher profit.”
“That’s your brothers,” he said, arching his neck so that she could kiss the sensitive hollow between his neck and collarbone. His words rumbled out on a groan of pleasure from her attentions. “Not you. Yo
u lived right, Minnie.”
She drew back from him, setting the pebble on the nightstand. Then she captured his chin in her hands and forced him to look her in the eye. “That same way you don’t judge me for the sins of my family, that’s how I see you. Not by the wars waged by Chapman, but by the man who’s been by my side these last thirteen years.”
He snagged the hand that held his chin captive, bringing her fingertips up to his lips to kiss. Heat pooled in her core at his rough tongue against the pads of her fingers, as he licked each in turn. “You’re wiser than your nineteen years, Minnie,” he told her, with a sly smile on his lips. “But you always have been.”
“So you say,” she managed to retort, even though that crooked smile of his was doing wicked things to her insides. “It’s my wit you love, then?”
He nodded slowly, his gaze drifting down her frame. “And a few other things.”
“Tell me more—” She forgot what she’d been about to say as he began to kiss her neck.
He nibbled on her earlobes, sending hot, tingly sparks through her. She had not known ears could be erotic; but then there were many things she had not known before Charlie, and many things yet for her to learn.
“Your brother said he’d be comin’ by tomorrow morning, aye?” Between words, his tongue flicked that wondrous space behind her ear, making her squirm with pleasure.
She nodded. “Early tomorrow.”
“Then we’ve got time for me to ruin you—properly this time.” His grin was positively devilish as he took hold of her waistcoat, ripping it open. The buttons sprang free, rolling somewhere in the room, to be found later by the lodging house owner and sold to a rag and bones shop.
“I need this clothing until tomorrow,” she reminded him, unable to muster up a truly scolding tone.
“Pish-tosh.” Borrowing one of her favorite expressions, he slid her shirt overtop her head, tossing it in the corner too.
She liked his speed, his desperation, for it echoed her own need for him. A few hours before, she hadn’t been if she’d ever see him alive again. Now he was here, with her, making plans for the future.
Their future.
Were it not for the heat of his body against hers, the glide of his fingers as he undid the binding around her breasts, she would have thought she was dreaming. Slowly, she traced the curve of his jaw with her thumb, careful to stay away from the purplish bruise upon his right cheek, the scratch that traced down from his left eye to the edge of his nose.
He held still underneath her inspection, letting her take the time to ascertain for herself that he was indeed real, and he’d recover from the injustices heaped upon him.
“They hurt you,” she whispered, not daring to raise her voice and give power to those words and the breach of trust they represented. “The men who were supposed to be like brothers to you hurt you, just like Joaquin did to Isaac. I will never understand this.”
“They think I hurt them first.” He leaned in to her touch, as if she somehow made those wounds ache less. “There’s a way of livin’ we agree to when we join Chapman. What they did—what they were gonna do—I shoulda known it was comin’.”
“That doesn’t excuse their actions.” She frowned, hating that he’d earned those bruises fighting for her.
“Maybe not.” He caught her hand in his, pressing it to his heart. Through the thin cambric of his dirt-streaked shirt, she felt his heart thump against his chest, steady and strong. “But it helps me, knowin’ there’s much more to it than you and me.”
When he released her hand, she pulled his shirt up and over his head, wanting to remove those traces of mud and muck from the prison where they’d kept him. He hadn’t a neckcloth; idly, she wondered if they’d removed it so he couldn’t hang himself in his cell and deprive them of the fun of torturing him.
She was no closer to understanding the gangs than she’d been weeks ago, but maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe all that mattered was their love, strong enough to defy the violence and break those old traditions. The gangs would still be fighting long after she and Charlie were dead.
He shrugged off the shirt, the gleam of the candle highlighting his taut muscles, the scratches and scrapes he’d gained from years of fighting. He was a brawler, her Charlie, a man who’d grown up without a real home—but now she’d be his home. She’d be all the love and care he needed.
“I know Cyrus said we can’t go back. And I know he’ll keep Jane informed about where we go.” She ran her hand down his chest, skipping over that tattooed “C,” for it was no longer the defining creed of his life. “But if there’s anybody you want to talk to before we leave—”
He shook his head, cutting her off. “There’s nobody. I got all I need, here.” He cupped her breast in his palm. “This is all I been thinkin’ about, when they were keepin’ me in that damn hole.”
“Were you scared?” She asked, as her nipple hardened underneath the rough stroke of his thumb. It was strange to think of him alone in that dark cell, when he was here with her, doing these sweet, sinful things to her body.
“Everybody gets scared, when they think their time is near.” He shrugged, the pace he set with his hands against her breast making her breath come out uneven, her desire heightened by the knowledge that she could have lost him. “I don’t wanna revisit that, now. Not when I got you here—my rescuer. All that talk about me protectin’ you, and you’re the one who saves me.”
“Technically, it was Cyrus.” She found it increasingly difficult to focus on the past, when he touched her so, and his gaze skimmed her body wolfishly.
“I know you, Minnie.” He tweaked her nipple, and a moan poured forth from her mouth unbidden. “If he didn’t help, you’d have ridden in there on a damn stolen horse to get to me. You never give up on me, do you?”
“Of course not. I’ve got plans for you.” She reached for the flap of his breeches. “Those things you said to me, about how you’d thought of tupping me—”
That brought a groan from his lips. “I’m gonna do all those things.”
“Oh, good.” She was proud that she sounded worldly, as if she knew exactly what was coming, not as though she’d gleaned details over the years from her brother’s many mistresses.
“Starting with this.” He dipped his head down, capturing her breast in his mouth. He ran his tongue over her pebbled nipple, and a fiery ache began within her, which she recognized from the other night as the beginning of near-impossible bliss.
He stood, tackling the flap of her borrowed breeches and sliding them down her legs. She kicked the fabric off with delight, eager for what was to come. He shucked his own breeches and settled her down on the bed, climbing on top of her. Meeting her mouth with a passionate kiss that left her wet and wanton, his hand caressed her breasts, then her stomach, finally stopping at the thatch of dark hair. He nudged her legs apart, and she opened for him, trusting him to bring her pleasure.
His finger slipped inside her, moving back and forth in the most perfect rhythm. She whimpered beneath him, clutching at his hips, wishing that he’d both stop so she could catch her breath and that he’d never, ever cease. His thumb rubbed against her bud, bringing her higher as his finger thrust within her. She told herself this was it—this was what she’d felt before, and everything to come after it was unknown.
It did not matter. How much she knew, or if she could predict their future. Uncertainty no longer frightened her, for now she was in control of her destiny.
And what she wanted badly was him. “Charlie,” she gasped, grasping his hips and trying to bring him down on top of her. “You said you’d ruin me.”
“Aye, that I did.” He pulled from her to position his elbows on either side of her head, leaning down to kiss her again. “It’ll hurt, Minnie. The first time only. The rest—I swear I’ll make the rest good.”
“I trust you.” This had become her truth. No matter what was to come, she trusted him.
She felt his erection slide against her, then nudge
between her legs. Bracing herself, Mina clung to his hips as he entered her. It was uncomfortable, yes, but her body stretched to accommodate him, and she thought if this was what everyone claimed was so painful, then they had egregiously exaggerated. She needn’t have been worried about size, dimension, or any of those mathematical concepts one thought of when considering a man of such girth.
Then he pushed, seating himself fully inside her.
There was pain, sharp in its intensity, knocking her breath away. It staggered her, made her eyes water and for a second she was not sure if she should go on. Perhaps she had been wrong, and to be ruined was not the glorious act she’d thought.
Charlie stilled, pressing a kiss to her brow. “When you are ready…” He let that thought trail off, willing to wait for her to become accustomed to him.
Slowly—or at least she thought time moved slowly, her senses were hazy—she began to adjust. She had not realized how much he would fill her; how everything would begin and end with him in these moments. She now thought she understood why he had refused to ruin her. This completion, two bodies becoming one, was too important—too fundamental—to be shared when they could not make promises to each other.
Nodding, she wrapped one hand around his hip, and the other around his arm with its corded muscles straining to hold his weight atop her. She was ready. She wanted to be more. To go forth boldly into this new life.
He moved with her, first slow strokes, so that she could become used to the rhythm. Pushing in and out, each thrust flooding her with that overwhelming warmth, those sparks of reckoning. She was a woman; she was strong. She was no man’s princess, but this man’s lover. She redefined herself with every overture, instinctively pushing herself up a little higher to take him in more fully. It was the give and take, learning Charlie’s body as she learned her own, that made her spiral, the pleasure building within her.
When a Rogue Falls Page 25