by Monica Burns
Why should she care whether she was worthy of Percy Rockwood? She didn’t like the reply whispering through her head. Her mouth suddenly dry, she jumped as Percy touched her elbow. The pulse of electricity that sped up her arm sent her heart racing. Alarmed by her response, Rhea quickly pulled away from him. Percy frowned slightly as he met her gaze.
“I’ll see you home,” he said quietly.
Still struggling with her reaction to him, and the emotional upheaval assaulting her, Rhea merely nodded. Hastily covering her features with the veil attached to her hat, she said goodbye to Ashford and walked out of the office with Percy on her heels. The moment they left the building, the fetid odors of the East End pushed past the veil and filled her nostrils. She almost gagged at the smell. How had she ever tolerated the stench to the point it hadn’t sickened her on a daily basis. Bile rose in her throat, but she forced it back.
“Let me wager a guess you came in a hack, and didn’t ask it to wait.” The rebuke in his comment made her look up at him. Although his expression was stern, there was also a hint of amused resignation. When she didn’t answer, he nodded in reply to his own question and gestured to a small hansom cab parked a few feet away.
“Fortunately for you, Miss Bennett, I came in my own carriage.” The softly spoken admonishment tugged a small sound from her as she silently acknowledged her lack of forethought.
It was completely unlike her. Life here in the East End had taught her to always have a plan then a backup plan, and after then another plan that could be put to use as the last resort. But ever since Percy had reentered her life, she found herself forgetting things and not thinking clearly.
Percy assisted her into the vehicle, and once more a pulse of current spread its way through her. As he sank into the seat opposite her, Rhea averted her gaze to stare out at the squalid street. The confines of the small carriage pressed Percy’s long legs into hers. The close proximity was unsettling. If she were to lean forward, she would be close enough to kiss him. Horrified at the direction of her thoughts she darted a look in his direction to see him studying her intently.
“The phrase Ashford is using to identify him as someone to trust is an unusual one.” Percy’s comment caught her off guard, and she remained mute, uncertain what to say. Eyebrows arched in a quizzical manner, he frowned when she didn’t reply. “Was Timothy one of the children you looked after while at Ruckley’s beck and call?”
The question cleared her mind of everything but the image of Timothy’s pale, terrified features. She stared in consternation at Percy through her veil. The man had an uncanny ability to know things about her. Was it his talent for seeing things others couldn’t? The thought alarmed her. The idea of him seeing into her past wasn’t something she wanted to contemplate.
His demeanor said he was awaiting an answer, but the horror of Timothy’s death made her hesitate to share the story. Rhea closed her eyes for a brief moment then turned her head away from him. It was easier to tell her tale without watching his reaction. She drew in a deep breath and released it.
“Ruckley is a brutally vicious man.”
“Of that I have little doubt.” The hard edge to his words indicated he loathed the criminal almost as much as she did.
“In addition to my…to Ruckley selling my body…” She stumbled over her words and looked at him for a brief instant. Outrage darkened his face and she quickly averted her gaze. Rhea swallowed hard. “I was also forced to pick pockets. Our thievery was directed by Ruckley from a distance. It allowed him to avoid criminal charges if one of us was caught.”
Percy grunted and muttered an oath beneath his breath. She ignored the sound and distanced herself by looking down at her hands fiddling with the skirt of her dress. If she looked at him, she wasn’t sure she would be able to continue with her story.
“One of the cardinal rules was to never take anything out of the purses we stole. If Ruckley caught you…” Her voice trailed off into silence, and Percy shook his head in disgust.
“If you did, then Ruckley punished the offender,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” Rhea nodded as she remembered Ruckley’s expression the night Timothy had died. “Timothy’s parents sold him to Ruckley when he was nine. He was willful and constantly at odds with Ruckley. One day, he pocketed a few coins he’d stolen. Unfortunately, Edgar saw him steal the coins and reported him to Ruckley.”
As if it were yesterday Rhea was standing in the small shed behind the pub Ruckley operated his business from. If there was one thing Ruckley enjoyed it was tormenting his victims. Even now, she could hear the soft, menacing sound of Ruckley’s voice.
“Come now, Master Timothy. We’re all in this together, and you know you can trust your old friend Ruckley. What happened with that wealthy gent you bumped into this evening?”
Rhea glanced around at the small group witnessing the mental game Ruckley was playing with Timothy and the rest of them. Every child in the small band looked terrified, except for Edgar. One of Ruckley’s lieutenants, the boy was actually enjoying the older man’s treatment of Timothy. As if aware of her gaze, Edgar looked in her direction, and the smug expression on his face made her stomach churn. It told her Timothy was about to pay dearly for just a few pieces of silver. Ruckley had deliberately waited until their return to the tavern before interrogating the boy.
Ruckley ordered Edgar to tie the boy to one of the shed’s support structures, and the boy looked over at Rhea his eyes glazed with terror. The boy clearly understood something terrible was about to happen, but he didn’t know what. Ruckley found this to be one of the most pleasurable parts of his torture—keeping his victims guessing. Sometimes he would use a whip—at other times a riding crop. Rhea had even seen him brand a young girl for refusing to sleep with a paying customer.
Despite knowing what was to come, Rhea still stiffened in horror the moment Ruckley lifted the large whip off the far wall of the shed. In another split second a wave of nausea rolled over Rhea. Oh God, not the whip. The last time the man had used it his victim almost died. Beside her, she heard Arianna make a barely audible moan. Instinctively, Rhea grasped her younger sister’s hand and squeezed it tight. If any of them attempted to leave, protest, or stop Ruckley in the pursuit of his pleasure, they would find themselves enduring the same punishment.
Bile rose in her throat, and to keep it at bay she kept her gaze on Ruckley. With each beat of her heart, she allowed hate for the man to spread its way through her body. It was the only sane way she would be able to watch the horrifying spectacle to come. Timothy had no idea of the terror and pain Ruckley was about to inflict on him, and she prayed to a God she no longer believed in that the boy would survive Ruckley’s torture.
Fear prevented her from trying to stop Ruckley, and she could only look away from Timothy’s pale, frightened expression. Her heart lurched in her chest at her cowardice.
The sound of Timothy’s shirt being ripped open made her stiffen with horror, and her gaze jerked back to the terrible scene in front of her. When the first lash of the whip struck the boy’s skin, Arianna’s hand gripped hers so hard Rhea winced with pain. Again, the whip snapped through the air to land on Timothy’s back. Stubbornness one of his traits, the lad did not cry out at either lash of the whip. Infuriated by the boy’s obstinance, Ruckley increased the pace of his whipping. Again and again, the black leather streaked through the air until Timothy’s back was splayed open and drenched with blood. Still Ruckley repeatedly brought the whip down on his victim. Sickened by the torture, Rhea leaped forward and grabbed the enraged man’s arm.
“Enough, Ruckley. You’ll kill him.”
Cruel laughter exploded through the shed as the crime lord met her gaze. A strange expression crossed his face, and Ruckley lowered his arm. With his free hand, he grasped Rhea by the neck and pulled her close. The foulness of his breath pulled bile up into her throat. If Ruckley knew she was nauseated by him, he’d know she was afraid. With great effort, she swallowed hard and refused to try
and free herself from Ruckley’s grasp. She wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of showing fear.
“Dear, sweet, Rhea. Always looking out for the weak ones in this little tribe of mine. One of these days, you’re going to have to pay me for all the latitude I give you.”
Ruckley bent his head in an effort to set his lips on hers in a rancid and foul caress, but she quickly turned her head away. With a grunt of anger, the man lowered his head and licked across the tops of her breasts. Rhea didn’t know how she kept from shuddering as she pushed him away from her. In an exaggerated gesture of disgust, Rhea dragged the sleeve of her dress across the exposed skin above her bodice then spat a portion of bile out of her mouth. Fury and hatred blazed through her as she faced the man laughing at her reaction.
“If you ever touch me like that again, I’ll kill you.”
“Come now, my poppet. We both know ye don’t ‘ave the killer instinct in you, or you would have already tried to do away with me,” Ruckley said with obvious amusement. “Fact is, we both know you’ll wind up in my bed sooner than later.”
“I’ll see you in hell first,” she bit out in a vicious hiss of air.
Ruckley simply laughed once more and wrapping his arm around Edgar’s shoulders walked out of the shed. When the man disappeared into the night, Rhea wheeled about and ordered several of the boys in their group to cut Timothy down. As they laid the boy on his stomach, no sound passed his lips. The small band huddled around the youngster as Rhea dropped to her knees and pressed her fingers to his throat. When she could find no pulse, she hastily grabbed the boy’s wrist. Again, she could find no sign of life. A small cry broke past her lips as she buried her face in her hands and tears soaked her palm. Remorse and guilt swept through her. How could she have allowed her fear to paralyze her for so long? Not even when her father had sold her and Arianna to Ruckley had she felt so helpless.
One by one, the group slowly dispersed. A gentle hand pressed her shoulder through her dress.
“Come Rhea, there’s nothing more you can do for him. He’s in a better place now. Harry and the boys have gone to find a cart to take him to Tower Hamlets.”
With a nod, she wiped the tears off her cheeks and rose to her feet. Her gaze fell on the horrible wounds on Timothy’s back. Pain shot through her face as her jaw clenched with pain, fury, and hate. She looked at her sister then back at the child lying so deathly quiet on the floor. She would never forget tonight, and she would make sure the children never did either. It was the only way to ensure they stayed alive. Timothy’s death would be a reminder never to cross Ruckley.
“Christ Jesus,” Percy exclaimed with a violence that startled her and the images of the past vanished. Before she could say anything, Percy leaned forward to pull her out of her seat and onto his lap. As he held her snuggly against him he quickly pulled the shades over the windows. The abrupt action startled her, but she didn’t protest as he held her close. As his fingers rolled up the veil over her face, she suddenly realized her face was wet. She was crying. She hadn’t cried since the night Timothy had died.
“You’re not to blame, Rhea,” he said gruffly as he wiped the tears off her face. At his words, she sniffed and shook her head. She desperately wanted to believe him, but the memory of Timothy’s battered body made it difficult.
“I should’ve stopped him. If I’d had the courage to stand up to Ruckley–”
“No,” Percy’s voice was harsh and emphatic. “There was nothing you could have done. If it hadn’t been Timothy it would have been another child. He’s a sadistic bastard, and I won’t listen to you taking the blame for circumstances that were beyond your control.”
Rhea wished she could believe what he was saying. But the memory of how she’d left Percy wounded and dying on the museum floor tortured her. She’d failed him and Timothy. Twice she’d had the opportunity to stand up to Ruckley and she’d failed.
“You’ve said it as well,” she whispered. “I was more concerned with saving my own life instead of standing up to Ruckley and ensuring you and Timothy survived the man’s brutality.”
“Bloody hell, I said that without knowing the truth. I would never have blamed you if I’d known you and your sister were Ruckley’s victims as well.”
When she didn’t answer him, Percy caught her chin with his strong fingers and lifted her chin upward. She closed her eyes beneath his intense gaze.
“Look at me,” he rasped. When she didn’t do as he instructed, he jostled her against his chest. “Look at me, Rhea.”
She opened her eyes to stare up at him. Admiration and something else darkened his brown eyes. The expression on his face reflected one of deep respect.
“There’s only one other person I know who matches your strength and courage. That’s Patience.” His fingers brushed across her wet cheeks again as he stared down at her. “Both of you think yourselves to blame for things completely out of your control, and yet in facing all the terrible odds both of you fought back. That is the very definition of courage. You were afraid and yet you took action in spite of that fear.”
“But I failed him,” Rhea whispered desperately wanting to believe Percy’s words.
“No, Rhea, you didn’t fail him. You can’t fail someone when you’re not in control of the situation.”
In a tender gesture Percy’s mouth brushed across her forehead. Biting back another bout of tears Rhea turned her head to bury her face in his shoulder. There was something so overwhelmingly comforting in doing so. The strength and security she found in his arms warmed her. She’d never felt so safe in her entire life. Silence filled Percy’s carriage as she allowed herself to nestle herself in his protective embrace.
As the rancid odors of the East End dissipated, she lifted her head to see they’d entered a more respectable part of the city. Rhea dragged in a deep breath of relief at the fresh air that flowed into the vehicle. As she did so, another smell brushed across her senses. The moment Rhea breathed in his warm and spicy scent a small tremor swept through her. He smelled wonderful. The knowledge made her body tense as she recognized the danger of being in his arms.
Instantly, Rhea tried pulling away from him. It was a futile effort as Percy’s embrace tightened around her. Her gaze jerked upward to look at him. His brown eyes had darkened until they were almost black, and desire glittered in his gaze. A knot formed in her throat, and she quickly swallowed it to keep breathing. Percy’s fingers lightly stroked her cheek as his thumb slid across her bottom lip pressed down on it.
“I said I wouldn’t take advantage of you,” he said hoarsely. “But God help me, I’m finding it damn difficult not to do so.”
A small thrill sped down her spine at his confession. He desired her, and it filled her with a sense of joy. With a harsh growl, Percy moved to shift her off his lap, but before he could do so, Rhea wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled his head downward. As she kissed him, a groan rumbled in his chest. The sound reverberated against her lips as Percy took command of the kiss. With a gentle force he slid his tongue past her lips to explore the inside of her mouth.
Pleasure and excitement spiraled through her as her tongue danced with his. The heat of his kiss warmed her, and she answered the increasing intensity of his passionate caress. Every inch of her was alive with a wild, exhilarating sensation that spiraled through her at a blinding speed. There was nothing shameful, sordid, or repulsive about this moment. It felt right.
Delight threaded its way through every fiber of her being as her tongue swirled around his. He tasted of cinnamon and coffee. The scent of bergamot wafted beneath her nose. Never in her life had she ever thought a man could smell or taste so wonderful. Her hand cupped the side of his face as his mouth left hers to blaze a trail to her ear. As he nibbled on her earlobe she spiked her fingers through his dark brown hair and released a soft sigh of pleasure.
Heat singed her skin as his mouth blazed a trail of fire down the side of her neck. The moment his fingers pushed aside the silk scarf that
covered her throat, she gasped in surprise. Immediately, his mouth captured hers again. A warm lethargy took hold of her body, and she responded to his heated kiss with passionate abandon. Hands pressed against his chest, his muscles were hard and solid beneath her palms.
The warm summer air brushed across her skin, and a moment later the tips of his fingers caressed the base of her throat. She quivered at the touch. It was arousing, and her reaction startled her. For years she’d only felt degradation and shame when a man touched her. But this was something completely different. It was heavenly. There was nothing degrading, repugnant, or revolting about this moment. It felt more than wonderful. It felt right.
Fire skimmed its way through her limbs as he lowered his head and traced the edge of her bodice with his mouth. One small caress after another whispered across her skin. The sweetness of it made her long for more. A second later she jerked with surprise as his tongue plunged into the valley between her breasts. The hedonistic caress sent a shudder through her, and she moaned as her nipples hardened. The soft linen of her chemise rubbed across the stiff peaks creating an exquisite tension that spread its way through her body like wildfire.
The intensity of it was pleasurable and painful at the same time. An unexpected wave of arousal pushed its way through her until the spot between her legs throbbed in a manner she’d never experienced before. Instinctively, she knew only his touch would ease the keen ache throbbing at her core.
“Touch me,” she rasped. “Please.”
The moment she made the plea, his body jerked and he lifted his head to stare down at her. Passion blazed in his eyes, and it heightened the need pulsing its way through her body. Without saying a word, his head swooped down and his mouth captured hers in a kiss that made her heart race. As if from a distance, she heard the soft rustle of silk and cotton before a warm breeze danced across her thighs. His fingers trailed lazily over her stocking then across her garter to reach the skin of her upper thigh.