“You are very pale.” Merryn sounded concerned. “Are you sure you did not hurt yourself on the climb—”
“I do not care for heights.” Garrick bit the words out and saw her brows rise.
“Oh.” Her tone changed. “Oh, dear. And we are on the roof.”
“Quite.” Garrick forced a smile. “My father used to take me up on to the roof of Farnecourt when I was a boy,” he said. “He asked me what sort of a man I was if I could not even look down at the ground without turning green.”
Merryn’s face registered vivid disgust. “What a very disagreeable person your father was,” she remarked. She drew her knees up and laced her arms around them. “A pity he is dead. I should have liked to give him a piece of my mind.”
“That,” Garrick said, “I would have enjoyed.”
He could see that Merryn was looking down and he felt his stomach lurch.
“It does not seem too bad,” she ventured. “There is a wall to our left that I might perhaps climb down. Or someone might come soon, with a ladder. The streets seem to be deserted but it is still early.” She stopped. “You should look, you know.” Her voice had changed. “I have never seen anything quite like it. So many broken walls and beer stretching away in the streets like a lake! We are cut off as though we are on an island. It is extraordinary.”
She shuffled up so that she was sitting beside him on the ridge of the roof. Garrick felt his stomach heave again and tried to persuade himself that he had imagined the slight movement of the beams beneath them. This was not safe. They had to move soon—as soon as he had sufficient breath and courage.
“You did very well,” Merryn added, sounding, Garrick thought, like a governess trying to encourage a dull pupil.
“Thank you.” He smiled at her. The wind was teasing strands of her hair, picking out the gold beneath the dirt. “You were splendid,” he said. “Is there much call for climbing chimneys in your work for Bradshaw?”
She laughed. “None whatsoever. But I did enjoy climbing trees as a girl. It provided me with somewhere quiet to read.” She shivered suddenly. “It is cold out here, though. Oh, no—” She put out a hand to protest as he slid his jacket about her shoulders. “You must not! You need it yourself.”
“I doubt it will give either of us much warmth,” Garrick said. “It is ripped to shreds. Keep it, for what it is worth.” He watched her slip her arms into the sleeves. She was a little clumsy with the cold. The coat was far too big and after a moment he turned up the sleeves for her so that her hands at least were free rather than lost inside.
“We have to find a way down,” he said abruptly. “It’s not safe to stay here.”
Merryn scrambled up. “Look—” She was pointing to a corner of the roof some twenty feet away. “I do believe that there is a staircase.”
Garrick looked and saw that she was right. Part of the roof of the next building had collapsed, leaving the top of a stair poking at the sky like a pointing finger. The house itself looked sound, still standing. Merryn started to clamber across the roof toward it.
“Wait!” Garrick called. “It may be unsafe—”
She paused, waiting for him to catch up with her, and then she grabbed his hand again. They took the vertiginous slope, easing down from the roof, sliding over slates, scrambling over stone. Garrick wondered if his future nightmares would involve endless long dark corridors full of rubble and the smell of beer seeping even into his dreams. And then they were climbing down the broken stairs. The house was silent, deserted. The staircase had sheered off at the bottom of the flight leaving a gap of perhaps ten feet to the ground below. Or it should have been the ground. Peering over the edge, Garrick saw that the floorboards were gone, snapped like driftwood, and the cellar yawned black and deep beneath them. Away to their left were the broken spars of what had once been the floor.
Merryn stopped. “We’re trapped!” The disappointment was clear in her voice. She looked up the way they had come. “We’ll have to go back up.”
“No,” Garrick said. “It’s too dangerous. The staircase may come down.” He looked across the gap of about ten feet to where the floor still stood. “I’ll jump across,” he said.
Merryn caught his arm. Her face was pale. He could feel the tension and the anxiety radiating from her. “You cannot! It is too far, too dangerous!”
There was a cracking sound beneath Garrick’s feet. The wood of the staircase was buckling under their weight, too much, Garrick realized, for the damaged structure to bear. He covered Merryn’s hands with his own.
“It’s the only chance we have,” he said. “I’ll jump down and then I will catch you.”
Another splintering sound from beneath them; the fragile steps seemed to shiver. Garrick saw Merryn nod.
This time she did not cling to him as she had done in the cellar but stepped back very deliberately. She raised her chin. There was a challenge in her blue eyes. He knew, and she knew, that there was only the smallest chance he could get down without breaking his neck. The floor might smash or the stair break or he could miss his footing and plunge twenty feet into the basement beneath.
“Do it, then,” she said. “I’ll wager you cannot and you’ll be swimming about in the cellar before the end.”
“Such touching faith,” Garrick mocked. He eased himself over the edge of the wooden staircase. It creaked alarmingly, shards of wood breaking off and falling into the void below. Merryn gave a little gasp as it lurched to one side like a drunk.
There was no time for hesitation. Garrick gathered all his strength and took a huge leap across the chasm to the floor below. He felt the wooden boards give beneath his feet but they held firm. He spun round to see Merryn’s face, a terrified blur, as she clung to the last, cracking timber of the staircase.
“Jump!” he shouted.
She did not falter. With absolute trust she threw herself into space. The seconds seemed to spin out as she tumbled toward him and then he caught her and held her, the breath knocked from his body by the force of her fall. The whole stair splintered and disintegrated into darkness in the void of the cellar below. There was a huge splash as the wood plunged into the flood of beer, an echo of destruction that shook the entire house.
Merryn was pressed against his heart, her head sheltered beneath the curve of his arm, her hands gripping him so tight it felt as though she would never let go. Garrick kept his arms about her and looked down into her face and her smile lit him to his soul. He could feel her trembling so hard that her entire body shook. She felt hot and feverish beneath his hands, burning up with shock, excitement racking her at the same time as reaction set her shaking.
She reached up and kissed him, all heated passion and intense relief, and Garrick thought his heart would explode. He pulled her away from the yawning chasm of the floor through the doorway into the first solid room he could find. He slammed the door behind them. It was the last coherent thing that he remembered before Merryn kissed him again and his world narrowed to her, and nothing but her, the need to protect and possess, the desire that finally could not be restrained.
“GARRICK…” Merryn breathed Garrick’s name against his lips. Her hands were resting against his chest and she could feel his heart thundering against her palm. He was blazing with the same sense of victory and release that she was. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him again, winding her arms about his neck, drawing his head down to hers so that she could reach him properly. For a second she felt the hesitation in him and then his mouth came down on hers with ruthless intent, plundering, rough in his hunger for her. Her heart leaped. Garrick had saved her life twice and had stood between her and the dark when she was fearful and alone. She had turned to him to blot out all fear, to deny the past and defy the future, and now she ached for him with so powerful a need that it stole her breath and made her feel as though she would die if she could not have him. She needed this force to consume her now and wash away the darkness once and for all. She opened her lips to his and gave him back k
iss for kiss, matching the fierceness of his demand.
She pulled Garrick down to the floor beside her. Here, instead of the roughness of stone and the stinking pools of beer, she could feel the softness of carpet beneath her. It was like the most luxurious feather bed. She cupped Garrick’s face in her hands and brought it to hers again. His stubble was rough against her sore palms. Her mouth was eager and open on his; she wanted to drink deep and savor the renewal of life, grasp after every sensation in her celebration of their escape. She slid her hands over the hard muscle of his shoulders, feeling the torn material of his shirt beneath her questing fingers, sliding under the linen to touch his skin. She heard him groan against her mouth.
“Merryn. Wait…” Garrick sounded dazed. He tried to pull back. “We should not,” he said. “You’ll feel differently when—”
Merryn cut off his words with another kiss. She did not want to wait, did not want to think. Her heart beat a mad helter-skelter. Her body seemed to be burning up. She kissed him again with renewed passion and when she felt the tension ease from him and his grip tighten on her, she knew she had won and the triumph soared even higher in her blood. She felt him shift so that he was over her and suddenly she felt very small and very feminine against such hard strength and masculinity. It was a new and devastating sensation for her but it was banished as soon as it came by other, even more powerful reactions. She felt the nip of his teeth on her neck and the press of his lips against the pulse at the hollow of her throat and she squirmed beneath him. Her gown was already in tatters; it was the work of seconds for Garrick to rip it off. His mouth closed over the tip of one of her breasts and Merryn’s mind spun into a new, untried world. Desire twisted deep within her and she cried out.
Garrick’s hands moved over her, stripping away her clothes, exposing her to his gaze and his touch. She felt strange, voluptuous, a creature of feeling and sensation where before she had been driven only by thought and reason. The fierce demand of her senses was like nothing she had known before. It was insatiable, a desperate need. She arched to each caress, helpless beneath the long, slow strokes of his hands. His mouth at her breast was exquisite torment, impelling her deeper into a dark spiral that wound her body as tight as a drum.
She felt him shift above her, spreading her thighs. The cool air touched her there; she moaned. There was an ache deep inside her that maddened her now, demanding release, and she grabbed his hips and pulled him down to her. She felt the slide of his skin against hers and knew he was naked and exultation burst inside her like the sun. A moment, and then he thrust hard, taking her with such consuming wildness that Merryn cried out in shock and fierce delight. She felt her body yield, surrendering to his, and felt the heat uncurl and spread through her, setting her trembling uncontrollably. He drove into her again, and again, his mouth ravaging hers, the rhythm of his possession a primitive beat in her blood. Her skin felt slick and hot, the muscles of her stomach jumping. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and lifted her body to meet the thrust of his and felt herself tangle in a swirl of sensation as the world shattered. Then she was falling and falling into star-spangled darkness. She heard Garrick groan her name, felt her body clasp his as he emptied himself into her, and clung to him desperately as the only safe thing in a tumultuous new world.
She was not sure how long she lay there, her mind utterly blank for once, all thoughts and reason fled, aware of nothing but shock and pure, wicked exhilaration. She had never felt like this before, never dreamed of feeling like this. For once she let her mind lie quiescent and simply allowed herself to experience sensation. Her body felt lush and ripe and replete. She had had no notion it could give her so much pleasure. She felt stunned to discover it.
She was dimly aware of Garrick lifting her, wrapping something about her, and then she sank deeply into the softest, deepest mattress she had ever known. She was so drained by bliss that she drifted between waking and sleeping. Somewhere at the back of her mind reality stirred, but she pushed any thoughts away before they could touch her with their cold truth.
After a while she opened her eyes and looked about her. The room was lit by the strengthening glow of the dawn now. In its light she could see Garrick stretched out beside her and her throat dried to look at him. He was masculine perfection, like the statues she had studied in the London museums. But Garrick was real, hard muscle and smooth tawny skin, his auburn hair tumbling across his brow, magnificent in his nakedness.
He leaned over and pressed soft kisses against her brow, her eyelids, her cheeks, her throat. His breath stirred her hair. She could smell the scent of his skin mingled with salt sweat and dust, and her head spun.
“It should not have been like that…” His voice was soft. “I am sorry.”
Dimly she understood what he meant. It had been wild and uncontrolled, no gentle introduction for a virgin to the art of love. Yet she had not wanted that. She had wanted him. She had wanted to celebrate their escape, the triumph of life over death. But now… The thoughts hovering in the shadows at the edge of her mind drew a little closer. She felt cold. Regrets, memories… She could not face them yet.
“Garrick—”
She reached for him, wanting to ward off the shade and drive away thought, if only for a little longer. She saw him hesitate. Then he brushed his lips against hers. Her heart fluttered. The shadows fled.
This time the kiss was slower, gentler. His mouth explored hers, teasing her, his tongue dancing with hers. Merryn quivered as an echo of their previous passion shook her. The heat and pleasure shimmered through her, softer this time, more persuasive, coiling through her body with seductive warmth. She reached for Garrick again but he shook his head, pushing her back against the bed, sliding his hands down her body in a caress that made her skin shiver and ache with need.
“Not now, not yet…” His head dipped to her breast and once again her mind swirled away to that hot dark place where pleasure drove her on. She felt his fingers against the soft skin of her inner thigh, parting her, touching her intimately. The heat built inside her as he stroked; Merryn dug her fingers into the bed and shifted against the covers, desperate to ease the torment.
Garrick slid something beneath her hips, raising her up. The rough silkiness of velvet abraded her. Tumbled on the bed, abandoned and unrestrained, she felt the brush of his cheek against her thigh, then the tip of his tongue at her core, trailing shattering pleasure. She arched helplessly, moaning with shock and delight. This was beyond any ecstasy she had experienced before. She felt as though her body was melting as white-hot rapture consumed her.
This time he entered her slowly while her body was still clenching with intense bliss and she gasped to feel him take her. It seemed impossible. She was tight; her climax still rippled through her belly in endless waves. She writhed beneath him and he held her hips down against the velvet and slid inside her gently, inexorably. Merryn had thought that her body could not take any further sensation but Garrick raised himself above her, pushing the tangled hair away from her flushed face, kissing her with the same deep intimacy with which he took her body.
“Open your eyes,” he said softly, and her lashes fluttered open so that she met the dark molten heat in his. His body plundered hers with slow, relentless strokes, his eyes held hers. She could not break the connection between them, did not want to, captured and held by the fierce passion beneath his gentleness. With aching tenderness he drove her to the edge again and she hung there for endless moments, her body strung out with acute desire, her mind reeling with the onslaught of unimaginable pleasure. And then she fell again, shocked beyond measure, powerless, her mind and body dazzled.
Delicious exhaustion washed through her. She could not move other than to curl against him and succumb utterly to sleep, Garrick’s arms about her, his body curved protectively about hers.
Merryn did not know how long she slept for but when she awoke it was to hear a hammering at the door and the sound of voices in the corridor outside and then the room was full
of people. There was Joanna and Alex and Tess and a whole host of others whom she did not recognize but who were all staring at her, some in shock, some in horror, all in appalled surprise. Merryn blinked as she opened her eyes fully and the last shreds of the dream fled. Now she could not escape the thoughts that crowded back into her mind.
The room she was lying in was, self-evidently, a bordello. Either that or the owner of the house had very exotic tastes. The bed was covered in lush pink silk and draped with diaphanous curtains trimmed with silver and gold. On the dresser lay a wicked-looking whip with a shiny, carved handle. Rich velvet cushions lay scattered across the room. Merryn’s gaze fell on one lying on the bedcover and she blushed. The blush spread down her throat and across her whole body, naked as it was beneath the pink silk cover. She turned her head very slowly. Garrick was lying beside her still, despite the crush of people now in the room, deeply asleep. One strong brown arm lay possessively across her stomach, drawing her close to his side.
No wonder he was still sleeping. He must have been exhausted—for various reasons. The memories slid into her head like a disconnected pattern: Garrick comforting her when she had woken in terror in the darkness of the night, Garrick protecting her with his body when the walls had fallen, Garrick’s hands moving over her with such sure skill and endless pleasure. Garrick. Her lover.
Mistress by Midnight Page 18