“Oh, Sunny, Finn isn’t going to die,” Margaret said, pulling Sunny into her embrace. When Sunny’s breathing evened out a little, Margaret asked, “Who said I was flaunting a conquest?” It didn’t sound like something a child, even one who’d gone through what Sunny had, would come up with without an adult associated.
“I heard Lorraine and Eldon talking. Eldon laughed and said Jimmy was pissed, watching you flaunt your conquest.” Sunny raised her gaze, wiped at her runny nose with her sleeve, and asked in a barely audible whisper, “Don’t you like Fiona no more?”
Inhaling deeply, Margaret stood up and turned away. “That’s not something I’m comfortable discussing with you, Sunny.”
“Do you like the man better?” Sunny persisted.
“You really should go to bed. It’s getting late.” Why hadn’t she denied involvement with Mark? She had just let Sunny get the wrong impression, of not only her affections but also that she might not accompany them to Colorado.
Sunny rose from the chair. Head and shoulders bent, she shuffled to the door. “I’m sorry. Please don’t make me go away. I don’t want to leave Finn.”
“That will never happen. Finn loves you.”
She paused in front of the closed door, hand on the doorknob, and said, “Finn loves you, too.” Sunny flicked her gaze toward her, resignation in her eyes. “You’re gonna hurt him, aren’t you?” She opened the door, stepped across the threshold, and closed the door behind her, not waiting for an answer.
Margaret was too stunned to have provided one. Was she the one responsible for Fiona’s delayed departure? Could Fiona be waiting for Margaret to acknowledge a firm date for leaving? Yes, she used the Hartwell’s—Mark in particular—to deny Eldon the opportunity to arrange a husband for her. It had been so long since she’d enjoyed herself.
No, that wasn’t true. She hadn’t really been enjoying herself. Maybe a small part of her truly was frightened to run away, not knowing what to expect. Wasn’t staying here just as unpredictable? If she remained, Eldon would insist she consider marriage, no matter who Margaret selected as the potential groom.
She should let Fiona go. Margaret could always follow later when she’d sorted out her jumbled emotions. Margaret could do that, right?
No, she definitely couldn’t let Fiona go. Especially after their dance tonight, the way Fiona had felt in her arms, felt pressed flush to her, Fiona’s warm breath brushing across her flesh with her whispered words. Nothing had ever made her feel that remarkable before, even getting her teaching license couldn’t compare. No one had ever made her feel so special, so treasured. Only Fiona had, even in her boy's attire, looking handsome. Fiona in a suit was heart stopping.
Damn, what was she to do? “Right now, get ready for bed?” she said aloud. Margaret removed her dress, grabbed her gloves off the dresser, and stepped into her walk-in closet. In no time, Margaret had changed into her black nightgown. Her hand stopped short of yanking her bathrobe from the back of the closet door, as something Sunny said replayed in her head.
“Finn loves you, too.”
Could Sunny be right? On Fiona’s part, did she see more to their relationship beyond shared attraction? Why wouldn’t she? You offered to leave Boston and go to Colorado with her.
What did she feel for Fiona? Could she live without her? Her heart thudded heavily in her chest as if in response. No, Margaret might exist, but she wouldn’t be living. She needed Fiona. Pulling her robe free, Margaret hurriedly slung it on, left her room, and rushed down the servants’ stairway.
“LOOK WHAT DRAGGED itself home,” Lorraine said. She sat at the kitchen table, drink held in her right hand and resting on the tabletop, her feet bare and propped up on the chair in front of her.
“Dinner party over so soon?” Fiona asked, tiredly dragging a chair out from the table and falling into it.
Lorraine snorted. “Seems the Misses didn’t care for the Mister ogling his business partner’s girlfriend for most the evening.”
“At the risk of being distasteful, I don’t blame Mister for ogling.”
A short burst of Lorraine’s laughter filled the room. “You know, Finn, I would let you ogle and not feel dirty afterward.”
“That’s always good to know,” Fiona said. Then, more serious, she asked, “Are you okay? Jimmy still…well, hurting you?”
Pain crossed Lorraine’s face. “I appreciate your attempt to be delicate, Finn, for both our sakes. We can lay that spade card on the table, though. Is Jimmy raping me regularly? Yes. Has Eldon noticed, or does he care? No, and probably not. But hey, on the plus side, he’s leaving your precious girlfriend alone,” her voice lowered, “and the kid, Sunny.” Lorraine took a swig from her glass. “Finn, you really need to get the kid out of here, take her somewhere else, somewhere safe. Don’t you have any family?”
“No family that matters, and I’m working on it,” she said, rubbing a hand over her eyes to relieve some of the burning.
“Don’t wait too long, hun. Don’t want getting away to happen too late for the kid.”
Fiona couldn’t keep the anger from her tone. “We both know it’s already too late for Sunny. I’m doing all I can to keep it from happening again. What about you, Lorraine? One of these days Jimmy’s going to go too far. He could hurt you badly with his temper. You’re already bruised from his roughness.” She slammed a fist on the table. “How can Eldon not see the evidence?”
Sighing wearily, Lorraine said, “Guess he’s like you in that way.”
“What the hell does that mean? I see Jimmy’s abuse.”
“You see what you want, Finn. Eldon doesn’t see the bruises because he doesn’t want to acknowledge them because he might have to face a situation he isn’t ready to address. You don’t see that little-miss-high-and-mighty is jerking you around by her chain.”
“Don’t talk about Margaret that way,” Fiona said, dropping her tone menacingly. “She’s not like that. There isn’t any chain jerking.”
“Come on, kid. Don’t be delusional.” Lorraine finished her drink, and slid the glass to the side, facing Fiona full on. “I see the way you look at her. Finn’s heart is hooked. You’re young, and your pecker’s going to lead you astray. We’re the underprivileged, the crap under the rich guy's shoes. Disposable. Some of us are willing to put up with a bunch of crap for even a few moments in the high-life. There are no Cinderella stories for us.”
“Not looking for rich, I’m looking for forever.”
Lorraine snorted. “You think the Graham princess will give that to you? You’re more self-deceptive than I thought. Not only haven’t you reached the legal age,” Lorraine squinted at her, “albeit there’s something confusing about you, I think,” she leaned back in her chair, “but if she cared even an iota, why would she brandish the homely rich guy in front of you.”
“She isn’t brandishing,” Fiona said weakly.
“Then why does she have you drive them around? Don’t they have their own driver?” Lorraine raised her hands in the air. “And what’s with the condition you’re in? Can’t she see you’re running ragged on no sleep?”
“Because there was already an attempt on her life. I have the bullet hole to prove it. I’m more likely to notice something out of place.”
“Seriously, Finn? Out of all the muscle working for Eldon, a little guy like you is Margaret’s best defense?”
“Most people underestimate me,” Fiona said. She regretted it immediately, as it came out sounding defensive.
“They’re rich, which makes them users—especially toward us low-lifers. I’ve gotta tell you honestly, Finn. Under different circumstance, even as young as you are, I’d be honored to receive even a portion of the adoration and attention you show Margaret.” Lorraine clasped Fiona’s hands in hers. “Save yourself, save Sunny, and quit believing happily-ever-after happens to us.”
“I’ll be sure to take your comments, harsh as they felt, under advisement.” She smiled and winked to take the bite of sarcasm out of
her tone. In all fairness to her, Lorraine had said aloud the feelings recently plaguing Fiona. Maybe she should focus on counting her money and her blessings, grab hold of Sunny and run fast and far. What had she to lose?
How about the owner of her heart?
Chapter Twenty-five
ANY OTHER TIME, if Margaret realized she was overhearing a private conversation, she would have quietly left or loudly announced her presence to alert those she would interrupt. However, hearing Fiona’s voice, laced with exhaustion, cemented her feet to the floor. Sunny had been correct in her reprimand of Margaret. As to listening in, how else was she supposed to know what was going on? It wasn’t like Fiona would complain about her ill treatment. She had a plan, a purpose, and Fiona would do whatever was necessary to accomplish her goal. Even to Fiona’s own detriment.
What Margaret hadn’t expected was learning she’d been as oblivious as Eldon to what Lorraine endured in their absence. She’d seen an inkling of her abuse, though she hadn’t understood at the time, the night Eldon had stationed Fiona as her bodyguard outside her bedroom. No matter what she learned, Margaret’s concern needed to focus on Fiona. Fiona, who filled her thoughts so often this last week that Margaret concentrated on little else.
During Margaret’s time with Mark, comparing him against Fiona, she realized he always fell short. She’d hoped he had changed and found reason to mature, but he hadn’t, not that any maturity would have allowed her feelings other than friendship for him. But it would have made their time together more enjoyable. She silently thanked the powers that be that Janice had joined them on each occasion, even if she tended to make herself scarce for long stretches of time.
Tonight, she’d apologize; try to make it right with Fiona. Forcing her legs to move forward, she pasted a surprised expression on her face, Margaret entered the kitchen. “Ah, Finn, there you are.” She glanced at Lorraine. “How are you Lorraine?” For half a second, Margaret felt uncomfortable dressed only in her nightgown and robe.
Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Lorraine said, “Dandy. And you?”
“Fine, for the most part, thank you. I hate to interrupt, but I need a private word with Finn.” She focused on Fiona, noticing now the dark circles under her eyes, the sunken cheeks, her slumped shoulders. Had she lost weight, too? “It’s late, I know, and I’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”
Fiona gave a shake of her head. “That’s okay. But, can we do it in my room? Sunny can be your chaperone, if you’d like.” She glanced toward Lorraine. “Will you be okay?” At Lorraine’s nod, Fiona got up from the table, walking passed her and toward her room. Margaret followed.
Once inside the room, which she hadn’t been in since Fiona first brought Sunny to the house, Margaret felt a little less sure of herself. She couldn’t say why that was the case. The room held the bed, a bedside table with a small, winding alarm clock, an armchair along the wall near the bed. At the foot of the bed stood a small four-drawer dresser, a hurricane lamp, and box of matches on top. Fiona lit the lamp, and stood facing Margaret.
“Want me to wake Sunny, or maybe Brigid?” Fiona asked, her tone and body posture sullen. She removed her jacket and tossed it on the armchair.
Margaret shook her head. “No.” She hesitated a moment. “I need to apologize, Fiona. I had no idea what Jimmy was playing, waking you and working you right after we’d returned from the clubs. Eldon gave me the impression your availability was exclusively at my whim. I’m sorry.”
Shrugging, Fiona said, “Jimmy does whatever suits his agenda. Screwing around with my life is only a small part of his motivation.”
“I’m also sorry for putting you in the position that enabled Mark to unleash his cruelty on you.” She took a few steps toward Fiona. “However, I’m not sorry for the dance, for holding you in my arms and having your body pressed to mine. I wish we were able to do it always. Someday maybe we will.”
“I won’t always be here, Margaret. And, honestly, I don’t know if you truly want to leave.” Fiona turned away, fiddling with the lamp key to lower the light, as if trying to hide away in the darkness. “Even if you’re not interested in Mark, you enjoy the nightlife, and your own kind. I can’t give you that.”
“I don’t want that, Fiona.” Margaret moved closer until she was standing behind Fiona. “I had hoped to keep you away from whatever dealings, illegal I suspect, with the clubs, by suggesting you be my exclusive driver. Jimmy being Jimmy screwed that up, and I didn’t expect my plan to backfire.” Margaret closed the distance and wrapped her arms around Fiona’s waist, lay her cheek against Fiona’s back.
Fiona stiffened for a moment, then gradually relaxed even if she didn’t completely give in to calm. “You aren’t responsible for other people’s actions. I’m a big girl, Margaret, and can take care of myself.” Of course she could. Margaret watched it every day. Fiona took care of herself, Sunny, and so many more people, herself included. She wanted to be the one to take care of Fiona.
This close, Fiona in her embrace, Margaret had a hard time thinking of anything but the feel of Fiona, her hard muscled arms and torso, the soft pliant flesh. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long day,” Fiona whispered.
Margaret pressed herself tighter against Fiona’s back and felt their warmth joining in a perfect bonding. She tugged at Fiona’s shirt, pulling it free from her trousers. A gasp escaped Margaret’s throat. “Oh, Fiona.” Her fingers dug into the soft flesh of Fiona’s stomach. “I never wanted you to suffer so because of me. I care for you. A lot.”
“You heard?” Fiona tried to pull away, but Margaret held tighter.
“I didn’t intend to, but you saw me before I could leave.” Margaret spun Fiona around and placed a kiss to Fiona’s shoulder. “I needed to apologize to you. Now, all I can think about is touching you. Please, let me.” She slid her hands up the front of the Fiona’s shirt, and unfastened the buttons, skimming fingertips across the tender skin, stopping when she reached the binding. “Will you take it off for me?”
Fiona nodded, her hands visibly trembling as they complied with Margaret’s request. “Margaret—”
“Hush,” Margaret whispered, pressing a finger to Fiona’s lips. “There are no expectations, no excuses, honey. Just the two of us, our feelings, and the journey we take exploring and sharing them.” Binding removed, Margaret continued her discovery of tender flesh in the small mounds of Fiona’s breasts.
They both groaned as Margaret squeezed the left one, then the right. Margaret nearly lost herself to her own orgasm from the exquisite pleasure of Fiona’s flesh, her breasts full and malleable in Margaret’s hand.
Margaret gloried in how hard Fiona’s nipples were against her palm. While Fiona made no overt sound at her fondling, Margaret sucked in her breath and let her hands wander across the warmth of her flesh. Margaret was sinking fast into feeling more intensity than any she’d felt with other lovers, and this exploration had barely begun. Lust, arousal, burning desire flooded in her loins, driven by this woman’s captivating essence. Margaret wrapped her other arm around Fiona’s torso, inhaled the scent of her neck, taking in large wafts of the clean scent that was Fiona’s own. Margaret smiled inwardly at the thought, Fiona’s dirty face flashing in her mind’s eye.
Part of Margaret wanted to devour this remarkable woman like a wanton beast, but Fiona deserved her slower, tender ministrations. If the skin was soft to the touch, it was more so to Margaret’s lips, as she suckled Fiona’s throat while simultaneously pinching her nipples. “Ah...” Margaret wanted to crumble to her knees, her squeezes becoming harder and her lips marking the perfect skin. Her mouth left behind red blotches, and guilt tore through her. She was no better than Fiona’s father, and others who had bruised Fiona’s sensitive flesh. “I’m so sorry. I’ve marked you.”
“The intention isn’t malicious, so I don’t fault you.” Fiona’s voice was husky with emotion.
Margaret wanted her, needed her, even. The burning sensation in the pit of Marg
aret’s stomach told her so. “Please, Fiona, get undressed and lie down.” Margaret removed her own clothing as Fiona shed hers. When she lay upon the bed, Margaret joined her.
Fiona groaned, mouth slightly open, as Margaret ran her hand up one side of her thigh and reached for her other thigh. “I feel on fire,” Fiona whispered, her eyes closed tight as if the admission would make Margaret think less of her. “What if—”
Pressing her lips firmly to Fiona’s, Margaret silenced her. The kiss started as a slow exploration, gradually cresting to mutual hunger. “Don’t hide from me. Open those luscious caramel eyes, babe. There you go.” Like the rest of her, Fiona’s flesh was warm and gloriously wet when Margaret touched Fiona on her mound, sliding down and across her lips, eliciting a startled gasp from Fiona.
All control escaped her. Margaret wanted their first time to be tender and last all night long. Faced with the responsive woman beneath her, Margaret lost herself in need.
Margaret found Fiona’s sweet nectar and pushed her finger into it. All that mattered was the way this handsome woman whimpered in acquiescence when Margaret wrapped her arms around her, rhythmically pumping, in-out, in-out. “You feel so good.”
Fiona leaned her head against Margaret’s shoulder and gazed toward the ceiling. “Oh, I never thought—”
Fiona was even more captivating with her body seductively undulating against Margaret’s fingers. Her skin glowed in the soft light from the hurricane lamp, from jaw to breasts, gently bouncing to their shared rhythm. Just touching Fiona was enough, but when Margaret put her lips to Fiona’s throat and held a kiss there, her own body became aroused. Would each time be this incredible? Filled with insatiable need?
She nudged Fiona’s legs wider, placing her thumb on Fiona’s nub, rubbing in firm circular stokes. Margaret pushed deeper into her warm recesses. Soon enough Fiona’s inner walls clamped on Margaret’s fingers, and she came.
Long, anguished moans of pleasure filled the room as Fiona’s nectar coated Margaret’s hand. Every time Fiona inhaled deep breaths, trying to stifle her verbal exhalations, Margaret sucked her flesh as her fingers eased in and out of her. First, entering in gentle sliding strokes, and then gradually increasing the speed and depth. Soon those stifled moans turned into shallow breaths, and Fiona stopped her trembling before falling limp in Margaret’s arms.
Speakeasy, Speak Love Page 16