by Bold, Diana
Vanessa stood as well and embraced her lightly. “I think we’re going to be great friends, Serenity. Let’s get together again soon.”
“Thank you,” Serenity whispered. “I would like that very much.” She’d been so isolated her entire life, in one or another, that she’d had very few opportunities to form close friendships. In fact, Luke had always been her best and only friend.
With his hand at the small of her back, Luke escorted her outside and saw her safely in the carriage. Before he shut the door, he leaned forward and caught her lips in a swift, passionate kiss.
Surprised, she remained passive for a moment, then she twisted her hands in his silky hair and kissed him back, putting all her pain, sorrow, trust, and hope into it.
When he drew back, the hint of a smile danced in his blue eyes. “Thank you,” he said. “I needed that.”
“I needed it, too,” she whispered, as he shut the door and strode away.
Chapter Fifteen
The mask glimmered on a bed of red satin, the culmination of the idea Luke and his brothers had devised years ago to help them deal with an untenable situation. Luke had never worn the thing other than the one day in the attic when he was little more than a child. He’d never had the courage to follow through with those plans, but one of his brothers had. Their stepfather had been found a few months later at the base of the highest tower of Winters’ manor, crushed from the fall, a piece of the black cloak still clutched in his hand.
Luke had been the one to find him, and he’d been both horrified and relieved. The monster would never hurt them again. He’d hidden the cloak, and everyone had assumed Winters had either jumped or fallen. He and his brothers had never talked about it, but he’d always assumed Adrian had done it.
However, he’d recently found out that Adrian had not pushed the bastard. In fact, Adrian had confided that he’d always thought Luke had done it. Which only left Morgan, the sweetest and most mild-mannered of them all. Morgan had never been the victim of Winters’ and Roger’s twisted games, and Luke could only assume he’d done it to save Luke and Adrian.
One more dark conversation he’d have to have with Morgan once he’d gotten himself together. Luke hated that his little brother had lived with that all these years.
Once they became adults, Adrian had refined and perfected his own role as Prometheus, scouring the bowels of the city to help those who could not help themselves. He’d created Brookhaven, the orphanage they all contributed time and money to, and then he’d started rescuing children from Roger’s brothels, giving them a second chance at life.
Unfortunately, in retaliation, Roger had set his men upon Anne and Vanessa. Luke knew Adrian would never forgive himself for Anne’s death. He had sworn to never be Prometheus again.
Now, Luke stood before the mask, contemplating putting it on himself. He was an earl, for God’s sake. This was ridiculous!
But because he was an earl, he couldn’t very well go poking around the corners of Cheapside, asking questions no one wanted to answer. By donning this mask, he would not only buy himself some anonymity but also give himself the credit due Adrian for all the work he’d done as Prometheus. People were afraid of the man who wore this mask, and he could only assume that would be helpful in his quest.
“It should be me,” Adrian said, for the tenth time since Serenity had left. “I know where to go. I know who to talk to.”
Luke shook his head. “No,” he said succinctly. His little brother had been deeply affected by their sister-in-law’s death, and Luke couldn’t ask him to take these risks again. Besides, Adrian had a family of his own now. Luke couldn’t ask him to put that in jeopardy to reunite his own. “You’ve done enough. It’s time for me to take up the role of Prometheus. I need to do this to save my daughter.”
Adrian grimaced, but finally nodded reluctantly. “All right. But there are a lot of things you need to know if you’re going to be successful.”
“Teach me,” Luke insisted. “I can do this.” He had to do it. Serenity and his daughter were relying on him. This might be the only way he’d ever regain what would have been his all these years if not for his mother’s interference.
LATER THAT NIGHT, LUKE stood upon the roof of a brothel called Illusions, his heart thundering in his chest. The journey across the rooftops that had brought him here had been harrowing, to say the least. He had a new appreciation for Adrian’s commitment and stamina. How had his little brother done this several times a week for the last few years?
He pulled out the mask and secured it over his face, making sure the long cape he wore hid most of his dark clothing from view. He didn’t want anyone to be able to connect the Earl of Hawkesmere to Prometheus.
Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he strode over to the door that led down into the building, prying open the lock with a length of pipe. The pop was louder than he’d anticipated, and he stood frozen just inside the threshold, listening intently for signs that someone had heard it.
Long moments passed, and he finally drew in a deep, steadying breath. Since Prometheus had not made an appearance in a month, perhaps they’d lowered their vigilance. At last, he consulted the scribbled map Adrian had made him of the layout of the place and crept down the corridor.
When he reached the third door on the right, he slowly twisted the knob, then thrust the door open. A woman stood on the other side of the room, and she twisted around in surprise. Before she could raise an alarm, he’d crossed the room in a few long strides and wrenched her arms behind her back, covering her mouth with his hand.
She struggled against him, but she was no match for his strength, and at last, she settled down.
“I’m going to release you,” he said in her ear. “But I have a gun, and if you scream, I will shoot you.”
She nodded, and he slowly let her go, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the pistol Adrian had loaned him. “Miss Hawley, I presume?” he asked, gesturing for her to sit down in a red chair in front of the fireplace.
“Prometheus,” she retorted. “I’d hoped never to see you again.”
He smiled a bit behind the mask, impressed by her daring. Although probably in her late forties, she was still a beautiful woman, with dark hair, stunning green eyes, and a voluptuous figure. His smile faded as he remembered exactly who he was talking to. This was the monster who had raised his child in a brothel.
“Then perhaps you should not have opened another establishment like the one I burned down,” he replied, taking the chair across from her but keeping the gun trained on her.
She stared at him piercingly. “You took the boy,” she said angrily. “I raised that boy. I was very fond of him.”
“He’s in a much better place,” Luke told her, anger roiling within him. “As a matter of fact, that’s why I’m here. I will not burn you out if you tell me about the other child. The girl.”
“What girl?” she asked, her brow wrinkling in confusion.
He applauded her acting abilities. Even Vanessa could take lessons from this scheming bitch. “The one the Earl of Winters brought to you, approximately seven years ago. I need to know what you did with the girl.”
Miss Hawley frowned. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said, shaking her head. “Winters only brought me the one child. Gabriel. He asked me to care for him until he needed him back. But then you took him, and Winters was furious. He has stopped his patronage,” she finished accusingly.
Lucien sat back, filled with confusion. “There was no baby girl? When did Winters bring you this child? I need to know the exact date.”
“The child was a boy,” she fired back. “Gabriel. It was in ‘89. Perhaps June? I don’t remember exactly. It was a long time ago.”
Gabriel. Is Gabriel my son? The hand holding the gun wavered as the ramifications of what she was saying sank in. Christ. How could he have been in the same room with that boy a dozen times and never felt a kinship?
“Is Gabriel all right?” she asked s
uddenly. “He was like a son to me.”
He swallowed, forcing back his emotion and trying to focus. He couldn’t be certain she was telling the truth, and he needed to make sure that the daughter he’d thought he had wasn’t still out there somewhere.
“If you cared for him at all, you never would have allowed people to use him in such a way,” he said, choking on his anger.
“I never let anything happen to him!” she cried. “We all treated him real good. He might have seen some things he probably shouldn’t have, but we never let anyone hurt him.”
Relief filled him, even though he knew how foolish it was to believe her. He wanted to believe her. He wanted it desperately. He couldn’t bear to think of his child harmed in any way. He couldn’t bear to think of any child hurt and used.
But why had Gemma said the child was a girl, if it was really a boy? What reason did she have to lie to them now?
“If Winters had hidden a girl child away somewhere, at the same time, do you know where he would have taken her?” he asked, trying to think what else might have logically happened. Perhaps Gemma had been wrong when she’d said the little girl had been taken to Miss Hawley’s. Still, it seemed very coincidental that a baby boy had been brought here at the same time his child had gone missing.
Miss Hawley shook her head, crossing her arms over her impressive chest. “I have no idea. He just brought me the boy, asked me to keep him safe. I always wanted a child, and he paid me well. I never asked any questions.”
He stood and grabbed a silk scarf from a table by her bed and tied her securely to the chair.
“Don’t leave me tied up,” she begged, her control finally breaking. “Don’t leave me to burn.”
He frowned, having forgotten his role of Prometheus in his confusion about what he’d learned. He probably should burn the place to the ground, but he hadn’t done enough research to know if everyone would be able to get to safety and he’d never had any intention of killing anyone, not unless he’d found some evidence they’d harmed his child.
“I’m not going to burn the place down,” he told her gruffly. “I just don’t want you raising the alarm until I’m safely away.”
Relief washed over her face, and she allowed him to slip a gag over her mouth without any further argument. No doubt she felt that she’d escaped this encounter with far less damage than she’d imagined.
He paused and turned back to her. “No more children,” he said harshly. “If I find out that you’ve had another child in this establishment, I’ll come back. And the next time, I will leave you to burn.”
She nodded jerkily to show her understanding.
Moving quickly now, he slipped out of her room, made his way out of the building and then faded into the darkness, his blood rushing in his ears as he scaled the rooftops, the implications of what he’d learned tearing apart his soul.
SERENITY WOKE UP COCOONED in warmth, more heat than she’d felt in what seemed forever. She cracked her eyes open, only to find herself looking at Luke’s broad, muscled chest. She blinked, wondering how she’d gotten into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice a mere rasp of sound. “When I got home last night, I just needed you so much. Please don’t be angry.”
“I’m not angry,” she whispered, her own voice choked with tears. It felt wonderful to be his arms. She’d never felt safe anywhere but here with him. She’d even managed to sleep, and she knew she owed that to him as well. Even in sleep, her body had recognized him and the security he provided. Since her world had been turned upside down, she needed him more than ever. She was just so afraid of beginning to depend on him again. To think this would last forever.
She swallowed thickly, afraid to know the answer to the question she must ask. “Did you find her?”
He shook his head, stroking one hand soothingly up and down her back. “Serenity, I have to ask you a few questions. I know it will be hard, but I need to know everything you can remember about the day you had our child.”
“I’ll try,” she whispered. “It was so long ago, and I was in so much pain. I’m sorry, but the details have gotten a bit fuzzy.”
“Oh, angel,” he breathed, pressing his lips to her temple. “You will never know how sorry I am that I wasn’t there for you. I would do anything to go back in time and change things.”
She blinked rapidly, trying to forestall her tears. She couldn’t cry anymore. He needed her to be strong. “Just find her. That’s all I ask.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, actually, that’s my first question. Did you see the child? Are you absolutely certain it was a girl?”
She frowned and put a little distance between them so that she could look up at his face. What was he saying? “I never saw her. They rushed her out of the room the moment she was born, trying to get her to breathe, they said. And they... never brought her back. I asked them if I could see him... I just wanted to know what she looked like... They wouldn’t let me. They said it was for the best.”
Sighing, he leaned back against the pillows, rubbing his hands across his face. “So, they could have lied to you about that. Just like everything else.”
“You think we had a son?” she asked breathlessly. How could that be? For all these years, she’d dreamed of a little girl, mourned a little girl. “I named her, you know. I named her Bethany Claire.”
He pulled her back into his arms, holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe, but she didn’t care. It felt so good to have him here, to know that someone else cared about the child she’d lost.
“I don’t know,” he whispered finally. “I don’t know anything. I need to find out more. I need to talk to more people.”
“You’re hiding something,” she said, feeling suddenly cold, despite the warmth of his skin against hers. “You know something you’re not telling me.”
“No,” he said, then he gave a low, lost laugh. “Yes. I know something, but I don’t know if I can trust the information. I need to find out more, and I want to be absolutely certain of the facts before I get your hopes up.”
The coldness dissipated. “Just tell me this. Is our baby still alive? Is there a chance of that?”
He let out a harsh breath. “Yes. I think so. And maybe safe. Maybe closer than you think.”
Silent sobs shook her then, as the hope washed over her, terrible in its intensity. She could take almost anything but renewed hope. She knew now, why he’d been so hesitant to tell her. “I trust you,” she whispered. “I won’t ask any more questions. I trust you.”
They held each other tight, grieving for all the time lost.
SERENITY MUST HAVE drifted off because she woke to the sound of running water. Blinking, she turned her head toward the sound and found Luke sitting in the deep porcelain tub in the luxurious bathroom that adjoined her room. His head rested against the curved back, and his muscular forearms had settled upon the rim.
She drank in the sight of him, feeling a bit voyeuristic but unable to turn away from the sheer beauty of him.
He swallowed, and she followed the movement of his throat, wishing she could press her lips there, catch a droplet of water that traced across his tanned skin.
Closing her eyes, she tried to think of something else, but the moment she did, thoughts of her missing child filled her with panic and terror, overwhelming her.
With a gasp, she flung the blankets aside and rose, drawn irrevocably toward him. As she entered the bathroom, he turned his face in her direction, and then sat up abruptly, sloshing water over the sides of the tub.
“Are you all right?” he asked in concern.
She sank to her knees beside the tub, uncaring that her nightgown immediately clung wetly to her knees. “Let me wash you,” she said, hearing the edge of desperation in her voice but unable to stop it. “Please, Luke. I need to touch you.”
He looked as though he were on the verge of protest, obviously sensing her fragile emotional state, but she didn’t give him the chance. Grabbing
a bar of lavender-scented soap, she plunged it into the water, then rubbed it across his chest.
“Angel,” he whispered hoarsely. “Are you sure this is what you need right now?”
Nodding, she pressed both hands against his silky wet skin, swirling the soap through the dark whorls of hair in the center of his chest. Holding his gaze, she let her hands drift slowly down, lovingly caressing every inch of his chest and belly, which was washboard lean and rippling with muscle.
He gasped as her hand moved lower still, his stomach trembling as she soaped the thin trail of hair that disappeared beneath the water. His closed his eyes as her hand closed over his thick shaft, and he let out a soft moan as she explored him with her fingertips. After a moment, he closed his hand over hers, showing her what he needed, and she continued to do what he’d shown her after he let his own hand fall away.
His head fell back against the rim of the tub, his entire body drawn taut as a bow. Then suddenly he convulsed, crying out, as his thick member throbbed heavily in her palm. She released him, sitting back, her face flaming with embarrassment but also feeling a heady sort of power that she’d managed to bring him such obvious pleasure.
After a long moment, he opened his eyes and gazed at her, fiery passion in those beautiful blue depths. Wordlessly, he reached out and pulled her toward him, kissing her with that same intensity. She leaned into him, half in and half out of the tub, uncaring that she was drenched from head to toe.
His hands went to the front of her nightgown, fumbling with the buttons until he finally had the offending garment in a wet puddle at her feet. Then he lifted her bodily into the tub with him.
Still kissing her, he trailed his hands over her, soaping her body the way she’d soaped his, toying with her breasts until she was moaning with pleasure, then trailing his hands to her most private area, his wonderfully talented fingers learning exactly what made her cry out even louder, until she finally convulsed and shattered in an agony of bliss.