Worlds Apart

by Stein Willard

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  She squeaked and pulled the bedding up to her chest. “How…?” She noticed the dark shadow in the chair not far from her bed. How was it that this man could come and go in her home like it belonged to him? “Why are you here? Did something happen?”

  “I wanted to see how you were,” The Maverick said, his voice sounding tired. The thought that although he was bone tired, he still thought to come by to see how she was doing, warmed her immensely. Tia was taken back to earlier in the evening. She wasn’t mistaken. There had been a moment when something happened between them. Something that she couldn’t name. But in that moment, she had felt very close to The Maverick. She sighed. And then it was gone. She tried to pierce the darkness with her eyes, tried to see him. He was here now. Maybe she could…? She inhaled deeply. Did she really want to do this now? Here?

  Oh, yes!

  She sat up straighter. “You were going to allow me to remove your mask, weren’t you?” There was a short silence. There was movement from the chair. She couldn’t make out anything, but she knew that he had moved. She had scared him away…NO! She swung her feet off the bed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, then we won’t. But don’t leave. Not yet.” The desperation in her voice made her cringe inwardly. She had never, with the exception of Burton, of course, needed or begged a man before. When exactly had she become so needy? She was so distracted by her internal self-flagellation, that she had to blink furiously when the room was suddenly bathed in light. Tia swallowed. This meant only one thing.

  The Maverick turned towards her, the lantern in his hand. “We need to establish a few things first, milady, before I reveal my true identity.” He looked huge standing so close to her. Tia could only nod her head. She was on the brink of being trusted with a secret, which could mean life or death for this man. “Good. Now, as you know, I’m on every wanted poster from here to the darkest, dankest corners of the earth that fly the British flag. I rather like having my head attached to my neck.” The mask threw a dark ominous shadow over his face, making Tia realise why the sight of him with this death mask instilled such fear and respect in the underworld. “As a sign of goodwill, or if you like, a guarantee of some sort, I would like to hear a secret of yours that no-one, but you hold.”

  Tia blinked at that. No. There is no way that she would let a man of such reputation know her deepest, most intimate secret. No, there was no way. She shook her head as she looked away.

  “No.”

  “Ah, milady, is your secret of such a nature that you might end up losing your life for it?” He cocked his head. “Because mine is.” He gently lifted her face with a finger under her chin. His eyes were dark, mesmerizing pools as he looked into hers. “I’m willing to trade my secret for anything of equal value.”

  It took her a while to decipher the meaning behind his words and when it sunk in, she felt fury slowly snaking through her veins. Her hand shot out, but it was caught mid-air before it could connect to his cheek. “Insufferable cad,” she hissed and grabbed the lantern from his grasp. He stood motionlessly, watching her. “Leave. NOW! And don’t you ever set foot in my house again.”

  He touched his fingertips to his hat and calmly walked out the door, leaving Tia steaming in helpless anger. The gall of the man! To think that he could use her like a common street prostitute. She carefully placed the lantern on a nearby table, lest she forgot and flung it against the wall in her anger. For a moment, she stared at the flickering flame. She had been so close, yet again.

  She shut off the lantern and crawled back under the covers. It was only in the dark of the night, when she was completely alone, that she thought about the one thing that she kept hidden for so long. She rolled onto her side and felt a bone-crushing loneliness wash over her. It seemed to get worse as the years went on.

  ***

  Oasis was drunk.

  She also knew that it was a dangerous state for her to be in. Alone, angry and in a seedy inn near the Warf. A voluptuous serving girl was seated on her lap, drinking deep from a tankard of ale. Without her mask, she was simply a bored nobleman who was chasing the less complicated pleasures of the common man. Cheap drinks and even cheaper women. Her money also bought her fast friends. She had lost count of the number of rounds she had bought, but she didn’t care. These were her people, after all.

  She fondled the plump breast of the woman and she gave him a wide toothless grin.

  “Wanna go someplace private, love?” Unfocussed blue eyes stared at her and Oasis felt herself sober up somewhat when she saw another set of penetrating blue eyes flash before her. She gave the woman a regretful smile and gently pushed her from her lap.

  “I have to go, my dear. Maybe next time.” She pressed a few coins into her hand and watched as a wondrous smile came over the woman’s face.

  “You come back now, love. I be waiting for you.”

  Oasis only truly felt the effect of the liquor as she made her way to the barkeep to settle her bill. The transaction was almost done when the door to the inn burst open and an anxious young man entered. His dramatic arrival interrupted the revelry for a moment, but it resumed quickly as he pushed his way to the bar. He rudely pushed Oasis out of the way as he leaned over the bar.

  “Yvette’s been caught.”

  The barkeep frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “They took her away. Broke down our front door and dragged her out, kicking and screaming.”

  Oasis, who was shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation, noted that the barkeep was getting worried now. She wondered how this related to him.

  “What would they want with my Yvette? She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  Ah, a daughter, Oasis deduced. She lowered her head, pretending to doze.

  “They say she robbed her employer.”

  The barkeep shook his head. “That’s not possible, Henry; not our Yvette. Leah will die of shock if she hears this. I’ll get Brian to take over and you take me to see Yvette.”

  “They threw me out when I wanted to see her. Said I should come tomorrow morning.” Henry dropped his face in his hands. “I…I don’t know what to tell the children when they ask for their mother come morning.”

  “You’ll think of something. Now go home to them and hold them close.” Oasis admired the man for keeping a level-head, but it was evident to her that he, too, was barely keeping it together. She left the bar, keeping to the well-lit areas as she made her way home. In this part of town, the shadows had hands that wielded wickedly sharp knives. She was halfway to her townhouse, when she stopped and looked up.

  Alcott House. There were four other routes which she could have taken to get her home. But of all those other options, she had to take this one. The house was dark. The duchess probably snuggling under her fragrant bedding after she had kicked Oasis out of her house.

  What did she expect? Asking a duchess, a powerful one at that, for a quick tumble, was going too far. Even for her.

  She shook her head as she continued her journey home. If only the woman wasn’t so enticing. A few moments, just before she had made that outrageous proposal, Oasis had felt as if she had been caught in some kind of spell. The light from the lantern in her hand had lit up Tia’s face perfectly, setting off her sapphire eyes. She had stopped thinking and all she had wanted at the moment was to feel. To feel that tall, lithe body underneath her, bucking wildly. She felt desire shoot from the pit of her stomach to her already throbbing clit. She looked up, just in time to avoid being rundown by a speeding carriage.

  Bloody woman would surely get her killed one day.

  VIII

  ‘The View from the Top’

  Madam Amelia’s Pleasure House was busy. The two floors were near bursting with clients and girls. The proprietor was a well-known figure in the London sex trade. She had started off as a street whore, but quickly realised that her beauty would be a much better bartering commodity amongst the discreet members of the ton. A few coffee dates with a
lady friend or two, soon had the monied vultures circling. For five years she had actively embraced the rich lifestyle of ‘the other woman’ until she caught the eye of an aging duke. He had wanted her all for himself and had set her up with a house and an annual stipend. The house she kept and with the stipend she opened the double-storied Pleasure House. Aimed at a wealthy clientele, The House quickly grew popular. For where else would you find everything a man desires under one roof but here? She had imported girls from as far as the Orient to service her clients. Large, airy rooms were setup for gambling. Both floors housed fully stocked bars with French champagne and an assortment of brandies. But the biggest drawing card, was the House’s policy of anonymity. The rich and famous loved that they could party hard and tomorrow drive past the House with their snooty sneers in place. Madam Amelia didn’t mind much, since she was smiling all the way to the bank.

  With the old duke dead now, she was her own woman. She loved that she could make her own decisions and one of those decisions entailed choosing whom she wanted to sleep with. Speaking of such, her green eyes had been following her target for most of the evening. Tall, dark and brooding, Lord Benedict Pope was a walking wet dream. Amelia craved the man with a fierce passion. If only the feeling had been reciprocated. Many men felt flattered that she would choose them to bed her, but not Lord Pope. He had been cordial and polite, but had turned her down in the end. They had been friends ever since, but time had not diminished her desire for the handsome Marquess. As if he sensed her eyes on him, he looked up and fixed those pitch-black eyes on her. Amelia smiled and waved coquettishly, ignoring the fact that her sex had flooded simply at one look from those sinful eyes. Heaven forbid, he got drunk one day and decide to sleep over. She doubted she would be able to resist dragging him to her own wing. She watched as he excused himself from the man he was talking to and came over to greet her. He bowed deeply and taking her hand, brushed his lips over her knuckles. His dimples showed when he came upright and smiled down at her. Amelia grinned back at him.

  Oh, you beautiful specimen! Why can’t you want me back?

  “It’s always a pleasure to see you, milord. How have you been?”

  The raven head cocked to the side; the chiselled angles of the handsome face making Amelia’s heart race.

  “It has been a busy month, but it’s beginning to wind down.” Lord Pope threw a quick glance over the large entertainment room. “What have I missed?”

  Amelia pulled a face and made a mental note to chastise herself later for having done that. She wasn’t getting any younger and couldn’t afford any more wrinkles. “Well, since you’re asking, I have acquired four new girls. Two from some dusty place near the Orient and two from the Colonies. The latter are quite popular what with their American sass.” She flicked her wrist in the direction of a table where six men were gambling with half-naked women in their laps. “Lord Robert Luton still hasn’t figured out that the aim of gambling is to win a pot now and then.”

  They both chuckled at that and Amelia simply loved how the dark eyes warmed with honest amusement. That was one of the reasons she couldn’t get over her infatuation with the man. He was real. Not like the powdered dandies who played at being people of substance. She placed her hand on his arm and he stiffened slightly before his eyes met hers.

  “Still haven’t changed your mind, milord?”

  He smiled at her, even as a shadow flickered over his eyes. He didn’t have to say the words. She knew. She gently squeezed his arm and smiled too.

  “I hope she realizes how truly lucky she is.”

  “She doesn’t, but thank you for your kind words.” He placed his hand over hers. “Shall we take a stroll around your establishment, Madam?”

  Well, if she couldn’t have him, then at least for one night, she could imagine that she was the woman who held his heart.

  ***

  Tia was aware of Burton’s gaze on her as they walked their horses down the narrow road. The morning after the night she had kicked The Maverick out of her townhouse, she had ordered the townhouse packed up and had left for the Bellingham estate. No one had asked her about the sudden change, seeing as they were in the middle of the season. They had done as she had asked and now a week later, Burton was about to break his silence on the matter. She pulled her hat lower to hide her gaze as she, too, studied her friend out of the corner of her eye. She noticed him worry his lower lip between his teeth and knew that he was ready to broach the subject.

  “What are we doing here, Tia?”

  Deciding to buy herself some time to formulate a good lie, she shrugged and threw her arms wide, encompassing the blooming fields and chirping birds. “We’re enjoying nature. Or rather, I was, it would seem.”

  “I meant, why are we here at Bellingham Estate?” His gaze was steady and she knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t going to let this go. Watching his earnest dark eyes, Tia knew that she couldn’t lie to him. She turned away, trying to hide her discomfort.

  “I’ve broken my association with The Maverick. We didn’t seem to work well together.” That was the truth. There was no way that she could work with a man who thought of her as nothing but a common prostitute who bartered her body as a means to an end.

  When there was no immediate response to her revelation, she turned to Burton. He was calmly studying her.

  “And? You wanted to know why we were here and I’ve answered your question.” Burton shrugged. It didn’t look like he was going to be baited into an argument. Tia kicked her horse into a slow trot. It was almost time for lunch and she was famished. She heard Burton following behind her, but still, he kept his silence. Growing up, it had frustrated her that Burton could exhibit such rigid control over his impulses. She remembered one time when he was eleven. The new groomsman accused him of stealing his pouch and beat him within an inch of his life. Burton had not once retaliated or tried to defend himself. Tia happened upon the scene and was so enraged that she attacked the man with her riding crop. She had cried long and hard that night as she had kept vigil at his bed. When asked why he had not defended himself, considering he was bigger than the groomsman, he had said that his culture valued patience above all else. According to him, many warriors failed the initiation ritual into manhood because of a lack of impulse control. With patience came sober, rational and true maturity. She had seen him apply that practice rigidly throughout his life. With very few slip-ups.

  The house came into sight and she frowned at the carriage that was parked in the driveway.

  “Were you expecting company?” Burton enquired as he drew level with her.

  “No, but let’s go find out.”

  They were met on the stairs by her butler. “Lord Benedict Pope came calling, milady. He requested to wait for you in the sunroom.”

  Tia gave her riding outfit a once over. She was dressed in trousers and a man’s shirt, her usual attire when at Bellingham. Since Lord Pope had not made an appointment, she wasn’t going to change her outfit for him. Thanking her butler, she made her way to the sunroom. It was only when she entered the room, that she became aware that Burton had followed her inside. Lord Pope turned away from the window, his beautiful dimpled smile on display. It wavered slightly when he took in her outfit; a look of intense desire flashed in his midnight eyes. Tia blinked. Had she imaged it? Before she could mull over it any longer, Burton stepped around her. This time, the smile faded from Lord Pope’s face and a look of resignation settled in the dark eyes. Burton walked up to the noble man and pulling back his fist, delivered a stunning blow to the man’s face that sent him careening into a nearby chair.

  “Burton!” Tia screeched as she rushed over to the fallen man. He was out cold. She looked up at Burton. “Why did you do that?”

  “He knows why. Maybe you should ask him.” Totally in contrast to his violent act of earlier, Burton gently lifted the unconscious man in his arms and carried him over to a nearby daybed. “I’ll call for the doctor.” And then he left a gaping Tia to stare
at his retreating figure. She turned back to the unconscious man and swallowed. Did Burton see the flash of desire in Pope’s eyes? If so, then that meant that Tia had not imagined it after all. She carefully studied the face before her. The high forehead, strong noble nose and chiselled jaw were testimony to a sound character. The beautifully crafted lips and dimpled chin spoke of a bold and exciting lover. All these attributes, she had learned from a ladies’ only session held at one of Lady Miriam Pembroke’s soirees. The daring countess had invited a French courtesan to enlighten the ladies of the peerage about the key aspects they should look for in a potential husband. It had been a liberating experience for many of the ladies in attendance. Lord Benedict Pope ticked off all the boxes and that was the reason he was so popular amongst the ladies. Tia wondered how many women have had first-hand experience of Lord Pope’s prowess in the bedroom. She inhaled deeply. As alluring as the man was, Tia doubted she would find out herself. Men like Benedict Pope were not for her.

  Then why did thoughts of him plague her at the most inappropriate times? What was it about him and that scoundrel, The Maverick, that made her forget that she wasn’t looking for a man in her life?

  “Milady?”

  Tia almost sprained something as she shot to her feet and spun around. Victoria stared her with wide eyes and Tia gave her a wry smile. She pointed to the table to indicate where the girl could place the carafe with water and a headache power. She rushed out of the room and Tia sighed. Since Pope and Maverick had come into her life, she had not been herself. Maybe it was time for a trip to France. There, she could be herself and she always returned to London with a clear perception of her needs. She turned to the bed and found the dark eyes open and staring up at her.

  “Milord, how are you feeling?”

  “Like a huge manservant flattened me,” he croaked and lifted a hand to touch an already swelling eye. “Do you know why he felt the need to scramble my brains?”