“There has been smuggling as long as there have been governments,” Drake said with a sigh. “If they’d like to lessen it, they will have to lower the taxes and the restrictions on certain items.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“It’s not. And therefore, smuggling. We’ll ask around, determine if anyone has seen anything.”
Marshall nodded, and they each went a separate way, agreeing to meet back in an hour. Drake wore no uniform, and yet he must have either been recognized or conducted himself with such an air that most of the urchins ran the other way when they saw him, with shouts of “a Runner!” on their tongues. Those that did talk to him had nothing to say, instantly suspicious of him.
The people here kept to themselves, and Drake knew they felt that to give up any information was a betrayal to their entire neighborhood, although Drake himself was one of them as much as any criminal was.
He was about to leave to meet Marshall and see if he had happened to have any luck, when he felt a tug on the back of his jacket.
“Mister?”
He turned to find a street-hardened child and was about to ask the young lad what he had stopped him for when he realized that the lad wasn’t a lad at all, but rather a girl.
“Yes?”
“I hear yer lookin’ for the smugglers.”
“I am,” he said slowly, not wanting to scare her off. This was the first anyone on the docks had even admitted to there being smugglers.
“If you want to find a smuggler, there is one thing you need to look for.”
“Which is?”
She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“The hawk.”
Drake’s heart stopped. Before he could regain any thought, she turned and ran away.
“Wait!” he called, chasing after her. But she was too small, too swift, and before he could see where she went, she was gone.
Chapter 17
“Please don’t look at me like that.”
Georgie quirked an eyebrow. Tonight she was dressed just as Madeline had imagined would best suit her — in a white shirt tucked into breeches with boots that rose above her knees, a jacket around her shoulders, cinched in front with a button.
“Like what?”
“Like… I don’t know, like I’m about to step foot in some bawdy house.”
Georgie threw her head back and laughed, long and loud.
“Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve seen far worse than this. Actually, I believe it is quite bold of you and I applaud you for it. I can hardly wait to learn his reaction.”
Madeline bit her lip.
She had never done anything like this before. When then-Lord Stephen Donning had been courting her, it had all been according to proper traditions, as was befitting an earl.
Even when it turned out that he had only trained to pose as one.
Madeline had soaked it all up. She had followed along, enjoying the romance that had come with it all, believing that he had so desperately loved her.
It had all been a lie.
Now, with Drake… well, she was smarter now. She would not give her heart away.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little bit of fun. She knew he had stepped in a direction previously unknown to him when he had taken her to the museum. Now she was the one taking a step in an unprecedented path. Except that it was actually more of a leap.
She needed to prove that she was not the fragile little flower everyone thought her to be. That she was as strong a woman as Georgie, or Alice, or Rose. That she could look after herself and take what she wanted.
Tonight, she wanted Drake.
“You know where he lives?” she asked Georgie, who had hired a hack for the two of them and was escorting her through London to Drake’s home.
“Of course I do,” she said, tossing her head back. “He might not be aware that I do, but I make it my business to know everything about everyone I am associated with. And that includes Drake.”
“Interesting,” Madeline murmured, wondering if Georgie and Drake had come to know one another in a more… carnal sense.
Georgie must have read the question in her eyes. Was there anything that this woman missed?
She laughed long and loud. “The answer to your question is no. Drake and I are colleagues, and that is all. Perhaps friends at the most, but Drake… he doesn’t let anyone come too close.”
“He doesn’t?”
“No.” She shook her head. “His work is his life. It’s his free time, his friends, his lover.” She grinned mischievously. “Except perhaps tonight.”
Madeline’s cheeks warmed. “I just want to talk to him.”
“Right,” Georgie said with a knowing smirk. “Can’t say I’ve seen many ‘just talks’ at midnight.”
Madeline ducked her head. Georgie was right, of course. At least, she hoped so. She had no idea how Drake was going to react to her appearance at his home.
But she was about to find out.
“Go have some fun,” Georgie encouraged. “I’ll be waiting.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Madeline said hurriedly, embarrassed at the thought of Georgie sitting out here in the carriage while she was inside with Drake.
“Tell you what,” Georgie said. “Give me a wave out the window once you have sorted that you are staying for a time with Drake. Then I’ll know you are in good hands. I’ll return in a couple of hours.”
Madeline reached out quickly and squeezed her hands. “Thank you,” she said, then she pushed open the door of the hack and, as Georgie watched faithfully, stepped into the night and up the stairs into Drake’s house, her heart hammering in time with her steps.
How embarrassing it would be if he rejected her and she was back in the hack with Georgie once more.
But she wouldn’t know unless she tried.
Drake heard the roll of the wheels and the clip of the horse’s hooves out his window but was surprised when it came to a sudden stop, the silence soon filled by a low murmur of voices. Women’s voices. At this time of night, it was unusual to hear the soft sound of a female.
He knew that voice. What in the hell…
He shot out of his chair and ran to the window, peering out to see Georgie waving to him from the hack below. He knew she couldn’t see his expression, but he eyed her with chagrin. She was supposed to be watching out for Madeline. What was she doing at his house — and how did she even know where he lived?
He walked over to the door, wrenching it open. He was halfway down the stairs when he saw her.
“Madeline,” he said, hearing the reproach in his voice, and her head snapped up.
“Drake.”
“What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”
“I… Yes. No.” She looked lost suddenly, and he realized he was being an ass.
“Come,” he said, waving her back up the stairs and into the foyer. “Let’s go inside before you are seen out here. Will Georgie be joining us?”
She gave a strangled laugh. “No. Not tonight.”
She was dressed in dark grey, as though she was attempting to hide in the cloak of night.
Madeline looked completely out of place when she stepped into the small drawing room, and for the first time he wished that he had done more to make this home, rather than simply a place for work and to sleep.
“Where are all of your… things?” she asked, looking around.
“I have what I need,” he said.
“Yes, but…”
“What did you expect?”
“I’m not sure,” she said turning around. “Books, maybe. A blanket, a pillow. A table to set your tea.”
“I don’t drink tea.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
She turned and looked up at him, something burning in her eyes, something he had never seen before — and it stirred him. Gone was the scared woman who looked to others to help her, who hid behind her father’s shadow. A different woman had appeared here
tonight.
She walked over to the window, waving down below — to Georgie, quite obviously, and he wondered why his colleague had agreed to such a scheme, but the question fell away as he considered the woman in front of him.
Madeline’s cloak and hood created an air of mystery around her. He couldn’t help it. He needed to see more. He reached out and gently tugged the hood down, and as he did her hair slid around his fingers, freely tumbling in a silken waterfall around his hands. It did not break as he had thought it might. Rather it was soft. Flexible.
“What is your name?” she asked, suddenly.
“Drake.” He arched an eyebrow.
“No. Your real name.”
Ah.
“No one uses it. No one has since… my mother.”
She waited.
He sighed. “Felton. It’s Felton.”
“Felton,” she repeated, her face void of expression. “It… doesn’t not suit you.”
He couldn’t help it. He laughed, and so did she, her face breaking into a true smile before the chuckle eased away.
“So, Felton Drake,” she said tilting her head as she studied him, “who are you?”
He stopped short at the question. He had been so caught up in her beauty, the way her unbound hair glistened in the moonlight, that he had been only thinking of the future, of what could happen between the two of them.
He didn’t want to consider her question, or what his answer might be. “I’m a detective.”
“Outside of that.”
“I—” he began but then realized he didn’t have a way to answer her question. “I don’t entirely know.”
She stepped toward him, placing her hands on his chest, her fingertips brushing against him so lightly that they seemed to tickle, and he tried not to shiver.
“You have been helping others for so long that you have forgotten yourself,” she murmured, and he captured her hands in his. “Tell me… what’s important to you?” she asked, her words a whisper, a caress. “Close your eyes. What comes up?”
It seemed foolish, but the room was dimly lit enough that he did as she told him.
“Justice.”
“But what else?”
He paused, searching deep within his soul, suddenly needing to answer her with a ferocity that he couldn’t quite explain.
“Loyalty,” he said gruffly. “Truth.”
“Is there anyone that means something to you?”
“My aunt and uncle,” he said, not ashamed of that admission, “and—”
You. It was there, on his tongue, but he was still too afraid, too unsure to say it. How would she react? If he said it, if he put it out there into the world, it might take on a life of its own, a life that he would no longer be able to manage himself.
And yet… she was here. She had come to him.
So he took a chance. And instead of saying the word aloud, he bent his head and took her lips with his, telling her in another way just what he felt, just what he wanted to say but was too afraid to do so.
He reached up, trapping her jaw between his thumb and forefinger, angling her head so that he could better dive in and access her mouth. As his other arm splayed across her back, what began as a controlled searching, teasing, began to deepen, until he sensed the desperation that was beginning to seep out of him and into her. Could she feel it? What would she think of it? Would she realize just how much he wanted her — so much that it caused a pang in his chest like a slowly twisting knife?
But then she moaned and fisted her hands up in his hair, and he realized that he had nothing to fear, for she matched his desperation with her own.
She tasted like cream and sugar and temptation, and he longed to pick her up and throw her on the bed before showing her just exactly how he felt, how much he wanted to kiss every inch of her body before making love to her the best way he knew how, so that she knew she deserved to be honored and cherished and loved in a way that Maxfeld had tried to forever ruin for her.
But he didn’t want to scare her. He had no idea what Maxfeld had done to her. He wished he could find the man and show him exactly what he thought of him, now that he knew Madeline and her sweet, gentle soul, but who knew where Maxfeld had run off to now. He might never find him.
Drake gripped Madeline’s wrists, ready to move her back and away from him, to warn her that if they didn’t stop now, he could make no promises as to where this might lead, but she wrenched her grip away and pushed him backward until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed.
“Madeline?” he said in astonishment, lifting his head to see the bold determination that covered her eyes.
“I know what you are going to say,” she said, her breath as ragged as his, rough, hard, and heady as she hovered over him. Gone was the fragile flower and in her place a blooming rose. “You are going to tell me that we shouldn’t do this, that I should go home, that we must stop before it goes too far. But Drake… I want it to go far. That is why I’m here. I tried to do what everyone wanted me to do, to be the good girl, to follow in my father’s footsteps, to marry a man that would elevate me to a position that so many women like me would do anything for. And look where it got me. But you know what? I’m glad. Because now I am utterly ruined and it doesn’t matter what I do anymore. I have been trying to hang onto the business and even that is failing. So I am going to do what I please. Right now, that means doing this… with you.”
She paused for a minute, biting her lip as she stared down at him, and he could tell that this had been a leap of faith for her — coming here, saying such things to him. She was scared, but there was no hesitation there. Her cheeks were a fiery red, her eyes blazing, and if desire had been simmering within him before, now it was flaming in bright, orange embers that could only be doused in one way. Then her confidence seemed to dip for a moment, flashing behind her eyes. “Er… that is, if you want to.”
He propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes searching out hers. Once the two of them connected, it was as though the chain between them was so tight, so fierce, that he didn’t see how it could ever be broken. It trembled with the tension that had gripped them from the moment she walked into this room. Except now instead of being awkward and unsure it threatened to explode.
Her movements were still tentative as she tilted her hips into him, and suddenly Drake didn’t know how he could go another moment without having her in his arms, without knowing what she would feel like flush against him.
He worked his hands between them and untied the ribbons of her cloak, allowing it to billow to the ground behind her. She wore a simple dress, one with buttons down the back that did not take him long to undo. When the dress fell to the floor atop the cloak, he broke from her for a moment to appreciate the fact she was naked of any stays, her chemise the only thing remaining between him and a view of the delectable skin he knew was underneath.
“I knew I was coming to you so I ah… tried to dispense with some of the usual clothing.”
“I’m glad of it,” he said with a growl, dipping his head to find one of her breasts, nipping at it through the thin fabric of her chemise, wetting it so that he could see the pink of it beyond. The fire crackled, and he jumped slightly, the sound sending a tingle through him.
He pushed one strap over a narrow shoulder, then repeated the motion on the other side. The chemise fell to her waist, and he caught her to him, drawing her close as he tweaked one nipple while worshiping the other with his mouth. She moaned as she ran her fingers though his hair, dipping her head to rest it on top of his, and he felt like the luckiest man in the world to be given this chance to be with her, to be chosen by her.
“Madeline,” he breathed, “you, love, are absolutely beautiful.”
“You don’t have to say that,” she said, her words harsh, but he shook his head.
“You are. You must never forget it.”
Her hips then made a play for his again, and he cupped her, slowly sliding one finger into her as his thumb came to the b
ud of her sex, and she tilted her head backward, her cry echoing around the near-empty room, and Drake told himself then that this was why he had left his chambers unadorned and unfilled — because they only needed one thing within, and that was Madeline.
He was ready to bring her to fulfillment, knowing she was almost there, but before he could do anymore, she pushed herself back, out of his arms, and stared down at him, her eyes damp with desire.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, hearing the harshness in his own voice.
“You,” she said, and for a moment he almost panicked, for the last thing he wanted was to be the cause of any further pain in her life. “You are completely dressed,” she said, one corner of her lips curling upward. “We cannot have that.”
She crouched down, and he nearly fainted — yes, him, fainted — at the sight of her naked body low before him. She untied one boot and then the other, throwing them across the room as though she was angry at them for keeping her from what she wanted. She climbed up him, then, until she reached the fall of his trousers, clumsily working at them until they were unfastened enough for the two of them to work together to slide them down over his hips. He sprang free, and she caught his length in her hand, causing him to grit his teeth as he tried to tamp down his need for her, to give her time to do as she pleased.
“Take your shirt off for me, will you?” she asked, and he nodded shakily before doing as she commanded.
She began to move her hand up and down, and when she looked up at him and met his gaze, she nearly broke him.
“Madeline,” he managed, reaching down to try to escape her hand, but her grip was firm. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I need you now. All of you — if you’ll have me.”
When she nodded, he leaned down and picked her up before turning and laying her back on the bed.
“My turn now,” he said with a wicked grin, and she reached up and held his face in her hands.
He positioned himself overtop of her, gripping one of her slim thighs in his hands as he lifted it to part her legs and give himself room to enter her — which he did with a swift plunge. So exquisite was the feel of her around him, her tightness, the way she gripped him deep within that he almost lost himself right there, but he forced himself to pause, to savor the moment as he also gave her time to adjust to him.
Risking the Detective (The Bluestocking Scandals Book 6) Page 13