“No, no.” Adelaide waved his concern with one jewel-heavy hand. “No one will believe that of you. You will have been in on the joke.”
“My reputation is already in tatters.”
“Oh?” Loren asked.
“Will you excuse us?” Frankenstein took Adelaide into the hall. “I might not recover from whatever happened with the pets but this—my squiring around a man dressed as a woman, pretending he is my fiancé—do you not see how that would destroy what little goodwill I have left?”
“I had not thought of that.”
“You need to.” Perhaps he’d finally found a way to stop this charade before they got any further along.
“Let us go downstairs and fix up a basket for you and your—oh, dear. How should I refer to him?”
“My creature.”
“What?”
“I was being flippant. Call him Loren.”
“A wonderful name in that it can apply to either gender.” Adelaide moved down the hall, her lamp lifted to light the way. “We need a last name. Perhaps…ah! Lavenza. Loren Lavenza. That sounds suitable.”
“Did you already forget my—”
“No, no, dear. I have not forgotten your worry, but I will find a way around it. I always do.”
“Why are you so keen to trick Simone?” Frankenstein took the lamp to lead the way down the narrow staircase. “This cannot be about your long-ago war over Tourmaline’s affections.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You won. Why would you continue to want to—to—get over on her?”
“She annoys me.”
“And you think stunts like this will mend the relationship?”
“I don’t want to mend what isn’t there.” Adelaide scoffed. “I want to humiliate her.”
“By destroying my reputation?”
“I told you, I will find a way around that.”
Downstairs, Hale the butler called Adelaide to the front of the house while Frankenstein began packing a basket from the pantry and larder.
Within minutes, Adelaide returned.
“Come with me, Frankie.” Her gaze had turned pale yellow, indicating her worry.
“What’s wrong?” Immediately he pictured angry people with pitchforks and torches. They had found him here and they would hang him.
“Word has come from London for you.”
“Word about my house?” His first thought was of his books.
“About a lawsuit.”
“Lawsuit?”
“The money you received in payment to reanimate pets?”
“Yes. What of it?”
“You need to return those payments to your customers.”
“All of it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Frankenstein calculated a rough estimate of what that sum might be. He’d only gotten halfway through the clients in his head when he staggered back. He would have fallen only Adelaide acted quickly and put a chair behind him.
“I don’t have that much money.”
“How much?” she asked.
“At least a million pounds.” He looked up, expecting to see empathy on her face, but what he saw instead sparked fury. “You’re going to use this to your advantage?”
“Forgive me.” She knelt beside him. “I am a terrible person for thinking what I’m thinking but I can help you. Don’t you see? Now it won’t matter when we reveal the truth.”
“It will matter to me!” Frankenstein wished he could feel some righteous fury but he felt too sick to feel anything other than nauseous. He was down and the world just kept on kicking him.
“There is more,” Adelaide said.
“More?”
Adelaide took a deep breath and then gave him the rest. “You cannot practice pet reanimation ever again.”
“How am I expected to make a living?”
“We will find something else for you to do.”
“What?” Frankenstein demanded archly. “Playing pranks on the wealthy?”
“You wound me.”
“You have the armor of a rock, Adelaide. How could I ever wound you?”
“Frankie.”
“Don’t Frankie me.” Frankenstein rose to his feet, intent on leaving, but he sat right back down. He had nowhere to go. Even if he wanted to take the risk of returning home, he had no way to get there without Adelaide’s help. Moreover, he couldn’t leave Loren here. Worse, he couldn’t leave Loren anywhere until he was certain he wasn’t a danger to himself or others.
Dejected but determined to accept reality, Frankenstein finished filling the basket. Loren hadn’t eaten a full meal in at least a day. He owed him that. For his own troubles, he slipped in a bottle of whisky.
“Frankie, I am sorry.”
“I know you are.” He couldn’t bear to look at her. “We will talk more tomorrow.”
“Yes. Let us do that. Some food, some drink, and a good night’s sleep will make the path more clear.”
He nodded and wished her goodnight.
Slowly, he climbed back up the stairs, the lamp in one hand, the basket in the other. He felt no need to rush. When he finally made his way back to the room, he found Loren had built a fire between their bedrooms.
“Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“I wouldn’t have known where to start.”
“No?”
“At home—well, that is over.” His home would have to go. He could hardly maintain the extravagance without an income. Adelaide would certainly find places for his staff and then…well, then he would have to find something else to do with himself.
“Is everything…” Loren trailed off.
“It’s nothing.” At least it was nothing that Loren had to concern himself with.
“You’re upset that I want to do this with Adelaide.”
“I am, but I understand why you want to. She’s very generous.”
“And rather vindictive.”
“She can be that.” Frankenstein placed the basket on the table in the sitting room. He removed the sheet from the nearest couch. “But let’s not talk on that anymore tonight.”
Loren settled on the other end of the couch.
Together, they pulled things out of the basket and ate in silence.
With some food in his stomach, he felt less ill-mannered for drinking whisky purely to get drunk.
“Damn.” Frankenstein slumped down.
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot to bring a glass.”
“Drink out of the bottle.”
Frankenstein considered.
“I won’t mind. In fact, I’ll join you.”
Feeling very uncouth, he lifted the bottle to his lips and drank. This whisky was even better than the whisky he had at home. If only her cook knew how to make those little sandwiches, he would just stay in this room, eating and drinking until he died of shame. Adelaide would never let that happen but he enjoyed the thought.
He passed the bottle over to Loren, who took a much bigger swig before handing it back.
Back and forth they passed it until it was gone and Frankenstein was quite drunk. The throbbing in his head had abated and the gloomy prospects of his future didn’t seem quite so horrible. He would find something to do with his time. Perhaps he would find a lab or he could even contact Nikola Tesla to see if he might have need of an assistant. To work with a man of his caliber, Frankenstein could shelve his pride.
“You are very deep in thought again.” Loren lifted his feet as if to put them on the low table but a scoff and a glare from Frankenstein made him change his mind and keep them on the floor. “Sorry.”
“Just remember where you are.”
“A damn plush prison.”
“You agreed to her terms.”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about that?”
“I don’t. I shall bid you goodnight.” Frankenstein got to his feet and wavered.
“Aren’t you going to examine me?”
“What?” He turned around so q
uickly he managed to spill himself onto the couch.
“My wound.” Loren pulled up his shirt. “You said you would.”
“Yes. Of course.” Frankenstein moved the lamp closer then eased the bandage away from Loren’s belly. What he saw astonished him so much it almost rendered him sober. Smooth pink skin showed where the wound had been. He touched it, shocked by the evenness of the texture. It wasn’t scar tissue but seemed as if it were new skin, growing over the slit.
“Is it okay?” Loren asked, trying to see down the length of his chest.
“Don’t move, please.” Frankenstein did not want Loren to know he’d healed completely. If he knew, he might risk running even though he’d said he was perfectly happy with the deal he’d struck with Adelaide. “It seems to be healing up nicely but I don’t want to do anything that might cause it to rip open.”
“I wouldn’t want that either.” Loren’s voice sounded strained.
Frankenstein could not get over the quick healing. He stroked lightly over the new skin and then leaned forward and placed a kiss against it.
Loren groaned.
Frankenstein jerked back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what possessed me to do such a thing.”
“You were just kissing it better.” Loren released his shirt.
“I’m so—I seem to be—this has been a most trying day.”
“I’m not angry.”
“You should be.” Frankenstein tried to stand but Loren’s hand on his arm settled him back against the couch.
“It was only a kiss.”
“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” Frankenstein closed his eyes tightly, shocked that he’d said that out loud.
“Never?” Loren asked.
Frankenstein shook his head.
Loren cupped Frankenstein’s chin. He rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip.
“Have you?” Frankenstein asked.
“Oh, yeah.” Loren grinned then waggled his brows.
“You must think I’m nothing but a prude.”
“I think you’re nothing but very sweet.” Loren lowered his gaze to Frankenstein’s lips. “Do you want me to show you how to kiss?”
He wanted to say no. He tried to say no. But all that came out of his mouth was a breathless, “Please.”
“Nothing much to it.” Loren leaned closer and brushed his lips against Frankenstein’s.
He gasped at the contact, stunned by what felt like electricity sparking between them. He closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, pressing his lips more firmly against Loren’s. Warm and soft and instead of all those powerful, protective feelings he’d experienced earlier, now he felt small and vulnerable, in need of Loren to take care of him.
“You’re a natural,” Loren said, kissing his way up to Frankenstein’s ear, where he breathed, driving him to madness with moist heat.
Certain if he didn’t say something, he’d lose himself completely, Frankenstein asked, “Am I?”
Loren didn’t answer with words. He kissed the edge of Frankenstein’s ear then worked his way down his cheek to his lips. This time, after pressing their lips together, Loren opened his mouth, touching their tongues.
Frankenstein’s head spun but it had nothing to do with the whisky and everything to do with his creature.
Creature.
The thought pulled Frankenstein back.
“What’s wrong?” Loren asked.
“I don’t think we should be doing this.”
“Because we’re both men?”
“Because I’m not that kind of man.”
“Not the kind of man to kiss other men or to kiss anyone?”
Instead of answering, Frankenstein demanded. “What of you? Is this how you got those men in the halls to seek you out for companionship?”
“That’s not what I did there.”
“You’ve been with men. And not just kissing.”
“I have been with men and women.”
“You have?” Frankenstein thought of a dozen questions but didn’t voice one.
“Does it matter?” Loren worked his hand from Frankenstein’s chin down to his chest. “I’m not asking for anything from you.”
“Aren’t you?”
“What is it you think I want?”
“I don’t know. You should tell me.”
“I just want to make you feel good.” Loren kissed him again then cupped Frankenstein’s cock through his trousers.
Pleasure spiraled through him, making him rock his hips. Need and longing and that strange feeling of being small and in need of another to take control consumed him so completely he couldn’t fight the feeling any longer. Liquor had always tightened up his urge to talk but now it loosened his hips, allowing him to rock hungrily against Loren’s hand.
When Loren rose up and settled into his lap, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
Loren pushed him back into the couch and pressed forward, rubbing their cocks together through the fabric of their trousers. He cupped the sides of Frankenstein’s face into his hands, holding him steady for a penetrating kiss.
“I could show you so much more.” Loren breathed the words against Frankenstein’s mouth then reached down to unfasten his trousers. The feel of Loren’s work-hardened hand around his bare cock catapulted him into orgasm.
Horrified that he’d taken advantage of his creature instead of protecting him, Frankenstein struggled to get Loren off his lap. The only way to break his hold was by rolling over, dumping him to the couch, and then leaping to his feet.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” Frankenstein didn’t wait for an answer. Holding up his undone trousers, he hurried into his bedroom.
With the door closed and locked, he stood there, trying to understand what had happened but it all seemed a blur.
He disrobed and climbed into bed but sleep wouldn’t come.
When he saw movement he rolled over and faced the fireplace. Beyond the red charcoal remains, he saw Loren in his room, undressing.
Frankenstein tried to look away but failed.
Long limbs, smooth muscles, and a light smattering of body hair drew his gaze down then up, then right to his hardened cock.
He’d left him that way when Loren had relieved his ache. If nothing else, he should do something or offer to attend to him. Before Frankenstein could get out of bed, Loren took his cock in hand and stroked himself. Each movement of his fist, the swaying of his balls, the way his head went back and he groaned—Frankenstein paid witness to it all and found, to his shock, his own cock hardening. Without daring to think too deeply, he wrapped his fist around his prick and worked in time with his creature’s rhythm.
This time, though, he didn’t pop off after one stroke. Neither did Loren. He took his time, working his hand slow then fast and then slow again. Sweat gathered in beads over his forehead and above his lip. His fist tightened and then he added his other hand, switching between twisting at the head of his cock and gently tugging on his balls.
Frankenstein matched him move for move. Having never attended himself in such a way, he truly had no idea he could wring such pleasure from himself with his own hands. He’d had nocturnal emissions, but not often and never with a remembrance of what had stirred him to arousal. Just watching Loren and hearing his low grunting groans inflamed Frankenstein’s passions.
Loren’s orgasm compelled a second from Frankenstein. Relief that he hadn’t left his creature in a painful state allowed him to close his eyes and fall into a troubled slumber.
Chapter Eight
Shopping and fittings consumed their next few days, allowing Frankenstein to avoid having to talk with Loren about what had happened. He avoided drinking any spirits, allowing himself only one glass of wine with dinner. He made a point of keeping himself well-groomed and fully clothed at all times. He found dozens of excuses not to be in his suite alone with his creature. Hiding in Adelaide’s library gave him distance and time to consider what he should do.
In due cour
se, Adelaide outfitted Loren with a dizzying array of dresses and accessories in peach, pink, and pale blue. Everything from hats to corsets to shoes—even matching jewelry. Frankenstein had been there for the fittings, but he’d kept his attention on whatever book he happened to bring. He had no choice but to support Adelaide’s crazy scheme, but that didn’t mean he had to involve himself any deeper in a physical relationship with Loren.
Keeping that vow would have been much easier had his lips not craved contact. He’d never thought overmuch about physical interactions between men and women but now the idea tended to consume him. Even the most intriguing book couldn’t hold his attention for long. All thoughts drifted back to the feel of Loren against him, the way their cocks rubbing together had created such delicious friction and that shockingly quick orgasm that he’d followed up with a much slower and more profound—
“Frankie, dear, you really do need to pay attention.”
“What?” He lifted his gaze from his book and found it riveted to Loren. He swallowed hard. With his transformation complete, including styled hair and the addition of a volume-adding wig and bare brushes of make-up, Loren looked every inch the cultured gentlewoman. No one, no matter how keen their eye, would ever guess the truth.
“Well?” Adelaide asked. “What do you think?”
“I think if I didn’t know him I wouldn’t know that he was a man in a dress.” Frankenstein had never had his head turned by a woman but he found it damn near spun from his shoulders after one glance at Loren. It wasn’t just that the peach dress enhanced his pale skin or that it matched the color of his lips or highlighted his blue eyes, it was knowing that under that skirt lurked a thick cock that released copious strands when he reached the peak of his pleasure. That contrast between the female and male intrigued him more than anything ever had in his life.
“You think I can pass?” The illusion cracked when Loren spoke. It shattered completely when he took a step forward. He went from an intriguing woman to a very curious man.
Frankenstein frowned as he turned to Adelaide.
“I know.” She lifted her hand as if asking him to wait. “Each part at the proper time. All we have now is the visual. Today, we will work on the physical.” She laughed lightly and then she spent the day teaching Loren how to lift his voice into a higher register and how to move his body with gliding finesse.
Frankenstein's Fair Lady Page 7