The Fighter and the Fallen Woman

by Pamela Cayne

  As he came closer and closer, Lady could pick out his black trousers and boots, the deep gray of his shirt, and the stubble of his hair and whiskers. His eyes were only shadow, but she could feel them on her, holding her motionless as he ascended the three steps to the terrace.

  “King, this is danger—” she started to say as he continued his determined walk, but she was cut off as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her like the world was ending at the stroke of midnight.

  If the heat of King’s mouth on hers and the strength of his arms holding her close was the cost, Lady welcomed the end of the world. Hidden in the lush plants of the garden, the evening fog providing a cocoon of privacy, she reveled in the safety of King’s embrace. She returned his kiss, her mouth as hungry as his. Needing to be closer to his warmth, Lady wrapped one arm around his shoulders and the other around his side to grab on to his back.

  He splayed his fingers along her neck and Lady tilted her head to allow him freer access. She dimly noticed him releasing her earrings and bracelet and letting the expensive jewels fall to the bricks, and was happy because it meant one more part of her that could be closer to him.

  As though celebrating her bared lobes, King blazed a trail of sucking kisses to where the jewels had been. He licked and nipped the cord of muscle running from her ear to her collarbone and Lady trailed one hand around to his chest, clenching her fingers with each sensitive bite.

  “Oh, God, King. We can’t, we can’t,” she moaned even as she twined one foot around his calf.

  “Yes, we can.” He spoke against her skin, moving up to take her earlobe into his mouth and suck on it. “If anybody deserves it, we do,” he whispered in her ear. He stopped and Lady could hear him panting, feel the heat of his breath on her neck. The same heat spread through her body.

  He rested his forehead against hers. Now that things had slowed down, she discovered she was breathless too. She closed her eyes and focused on the rough feel of his hand on her face, the corded muscles of his forearm on her lower back and the earthy scent of wood smoke and him that made her think safe. She opened her eyes and met his, looking at her future.

  “You sent him away,” he said in a soft voice filled with a fierce awe.

  “I sent him away.” She lifted her hand to brush against his jaw.

  “You realize if he catches us, we’re dead.” King pressed his face into her hand.

  “I was already.” Lady wrapped her arms around his middle, buried her face in the curve of his neck and held on for her life. She felt the pain of the past twelve years start to break free and wash away. A sob escaped and her hands fisted against his back.

  “Shh.” He lifted her head up so he could look her in the eyes. “No more crying.” He kissed each tear that had fallen, slowly making his way down to her mouth. He brushed his lips over hers and she could taste the salt from her tears. Gently, she started to kiss him back—soft, closed kisses that were a balm to her soul.

  “Come with me,” he said between kisses.

  “Anywhere,” she answered.

  Chapter Twenty

  After Lady fetched a dark hooded cloak, King hailed a hansom cab and helped her in. She wanted to protest the cost, but she wanted to be alone with King even more. On the short drive he held her hand, his thumb rubbing across her knuckles, but nothing more. The innocent seduction was a new sensation and even though she was almost trembling in need, she enjoyed every second of it.

  They left the cab a block away from King’s and approached the back of the Red Door slowly, as though they were taking a midnight stroll. With no apparent eyes on them, King unlocked the door and drew her quickly inside, securing the door behind them.

  Lady untied her cloak and draped it over a chair while King struck a match to the fire laid in the hearth.

  “Are you cold?” She suddenly felt shy. Not able to look at him anymore, she glanced around the room, her gaze landing on the bed. The quilt she had given him, blocks of blues, browns and greens, lay on the mattress with an almost military precision. She pointed at it. “You could wrap yourself in the quilt.”

  “I do that every night,” he said, and something sluiced through her body like a hot bath on a cold night.

  He rose and took her hands. Lady watched as he lifted them to his mouth and pressed a kiss on the back of each, and she no longer felt shy. She knew what she wanted and it was this man. Without breaking eye contact, she lifted his hands to her mouth and kissed each scarred knuckle. King made a sound of protest and tried to pull his hands away, but Lady held firm.

  “Don’t. You shouldn’t have to touch that,” he said and tried to pull away again.

  Lady slid her mouth around his index finger and looked up at him. He’d stopped trying to extract himself and was just watching her. She pulled her mouth off the finger, her lips lingering to bestow a kiss on its tip, and squeezed his hands. “Just because they have a few small scars? My scars are on the inside, King. Do they cause you to turn away?”

  The look he gave her made Lady helpless, hopeless and incredibly strong. In his eyes, she could see the barest hint of who he saw when he looked at her, and she could be that person. She only hoped he was seeing on her face the courageous yet gentle champion she saw in him.

  With a shuffling step, King closed the space between them and slid his hands out of hers to grasp each side of her neck, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. Tilting her head a little to the side, he kissed her.

  Lady grasped his forearms and returned his kiss, feeling the light brush of the hair on his arms against her wrists. She wanted to bury her nose in the spot behind his ear and breathe in his scent while licking it off his neck.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and shoulders, forcing Lady to curl her arms around his back. She rubbed against him, the delicious friction causing her to writhe even more. The kiss turned openmouthed and ravenous, and she tasted King, a heady flavor that made her want to never stop.

  He broke off the kiss and, after a few sharp nips to her neck, swept Lady into his arms. With a groan, he quickly lowered her to her feet again.

  “What is it? Are you all right?” Lady ran her hands over his body to feel for the cause of his distress.

  “Just my shoulder. I stopped wearing the bandage because I felt better, but I forgot and picked you up.”

  Lady stopped her explorations and looked at King. His head was bowed yet she could see the frustration and embarrassment in his face. “I’ll make you forget you forgot,” she promised and reached one hand into the collar of his shirt, both touching him and pulling his neck toward her for more tasting. His warm, scented skin was intoxicating and she wanted more. Standing up, sitting down—she wanted it all.

  Pressing kisses from his earlobe down to his collarbone, Lady slowly walked them both back until she felt the bed behind her legs. Judging by the ridge that bumped into her belly when she suddenly stopped, King had indeed forgotten his pain and was now thinking of other things. As was she.

  He gently pushed her on the bed and covered her by bracing his hands on either side of her shoulders with one knee against her hip. “Ask me to give up breathing, ask me to give up water or air, just don’t ask me to stop.”

  This raw, aggressive man desired her so much he’d pushed her on the bed, but he was also asking her, a whore, if she wanted to go any further or not. She reached up and started to unbutton his shirt.

  “Don’t stop.” She glanced at him and saw his grin before looking back at the shadowed planes of his chest and stomach.

  King slowly lowered himself to his side on the bed, but half of his body covered hers. She pushed his shirt off the side of his body that sheltered her and reveled in the firmness of his muscles, the brush of his hair, the heat of his skin. He was rough and smooth and scarred and hers.

  He was letting his hand idly brush up and down her waist,
but doing nothing else, almost as though he was waiting for something. She let her hand slide back down to her side and closed her eyes for the space of a deep breath. The cocoon of peace and warmth she had been floating in burst with a silent pop and she felt her happiness drain away.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.” She opened her eyes but not enough to see his face. She grabbed the bulge in his pants.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he cried, pulling on her hand and shifting his hips away from her. “What are you doing?”

  “Pleasing you.” She started unbuttoning her dress and tried to make her voice into a smoky promise of pleasure. Funny how when she was really anticipating the act, she had the most trouble acting like it. Maybe she was meant to be just a whore.

  “Lady,” he said, his voice both strident and tender. He took her hand and held it against his chest. “What do you think this is?”

  “Sex.” She kept her eyes downcast.

  He was quiet for so long, she chanced a look at him. He was studying her, and the intensity of his gaze scared her.

  “Do you know what I was thinking when you were touching me?”

  She shook her head back and forth two times but never looked away from his face.

  “I was thinking I could stay like this forever and be happy. To not touch any more of you, to do nothing more but hold you like this and watch you smile, that’s what I was thinking.”

  Tears blurred her vision and made her nose sting. “But what about the sex?”

  He wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, taking her with him so they switched positions. He was flat on his back with one arm forming a cushion for her head and the other on her back, pulling her close against him. She cuddled into his side, arms pulled into her chest and her head buried against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head.

  “You’re right. I do want to be inside you, watch your face as I am, but I meant what I said. If this was the most we did tonight, or any other night, I’d be happy.” He did sound pleased and Lady began to feel hope. “There’s something about you that makes me feel peaceful. It’s like there was a hole in me I didn’t know existed, and you fill that.” He snorted. “Pretty bollocksy claptrap from a street fighter, eh? You’ve probably heard poetry and prettier talk.”

  Lady laid one hand over his mouth and raised her head so she could see him. She waited until she could see the gold flecks in his eyes before she said anything. “I have heard poetry and songs and proclamations of love in foreign languages, but they were all empty promises meant to turn my head. Your words, everything you’ve done for me? That’s what makes me feel special.” She slid her fingers down his chin, down his neck, and finally stopped over his heart.

  “I do?” He laid one hand over hers.

  “Yes, King. You do.”

  * * *

  King took the deep breath of a prayer before drinking in the full beauty of her eyes, her face. She was looking at him, and if he made her feel special, she made him feel like a god. He traced her eyebrow with his fingertips and waited, let her make the move that would bring them together. Anything she wanted to do, anytime she wanted to stop, he was hers to command.

  He watched her wait for him to press forward, to lead in this dance, but he wouldn’t. Desire, confusion and finally anger painted her face in light washes and yet he remained still. She had demons to fight, but there was only so much fighting he could do for her before his help would turn to harm instead. This was her battle and, like any good soldier, he’d follow her orders, and hers alone.

  Unable to bear her this close, yet so far away, King closed his eyes and slowly flattened his hand so he was fully cupping her cheek. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent, and slid his little finger down her neck far enough that he could feel the faint edge of her pulse. The rapid beat gave a sharp jump and before her next heartbeat, Lady grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him with a frustrated cry deep in her throat.

  He let her lead the kiss, meeting her slashing mouth with enough passion to match her, but not overwhelm her. She needed to be in control, let her anger out, but he also needed her to know she could trust him, and that the passion he felt for her had nothing to do with money and everything to do with love.

  “What are you smiling about?” she asked with a snarl in her voice. “Happy you’re going to get some cunny?”

  “You. You’re making me smile,” he said softly, still smiling. He leaned forward, intent on kissing her, but she pulled away and turned her head.

  “Your loyalty toward Nessie makes me smile.” He pressed a soft kiss high on her cheek. She stilled and he felt his smile grow even more.

  “Your smarts and ability to find the answer make me smile.” He kissed her jaw, letting his tongue touch the blade of it. She shivered slightly but didn’t move a muscle other than that.

  “Your incredible strength makes me smile.” He kissed the spot between her nose and her cheek, and he felt her eyelashes flutter against his forehead. As he pulled away to look at her, she turned her head so she was facing him directly.

  “And that you’ve made it through all you have with your heart and soul as lush and intact as the day you were born makes me smile.” He kissed her on the lips. She didn’t respond, yet she didn’t pull away, so King closed his eyes and softly kissed her again.

  “I’m not, though,” Lady said, her voice a broken whisper. She moved one hand to his shoulder, where she held him like he was keeping her from drowning. “I’m none of those things.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re all of that and more. And I will fight any man, or any woman, who says differently.”

  “Even me?”

  “Even you.”

  With a cry, Lady started kissing him again. King met her enthusiastically, yet was careful not to get too carried away, not yet. She was still tender, this woman of his, and he was willing to take it as slowly as she needed.

  Lady’s kisses turned hotter, wetter, and he was starting to doubt his ability to keep it slow for her sake. When she twined around him, pressing her lush curves against him, he rolled her so they were facing each other. She was still holding him so tightly King wondered if, given the opportunity, she would crawl inside him, and he vowed to make her feel as protected as if she could have.

  She pulled away and looked at him. He stood and slowly took off his shirt, watching her for any signs of discomfort, but saw none. He propped each foot up on the bed and unlaced his boots, kicking them off without taking his eyes off of her until the little flick of her tongue over her lower lip caused him to stumble. She smiled and he unbuttoned his pants and slid them off, letting her look her fill at him from head to toe. When her gaze stopped at his cock, conveniently at eye level to her, her regard caused it to jump. She giggled nervously.

  Making no sudden moves, he slid under the covers. He waited until she met his eyes before saying, “Whatever you want to do is good with me. If you want to lie here, I’ll hold you. If you want to do things to me...” He laughed and she smiled. “Well, then, I’ll let you. Just know you’re in control.”

  She crawled over him and stood so she mirrored the stance he’d just taken. “Do you want me?” she asked as she finished unbuttoning her dress.

  “More than air.”

  She shrugged her frock off and stood before him in corset, chemise and drawers. She faced him with what seemed to be calmness, almost boredom, but he could see the pulse in her neck jump. “Do you want me?” she asked again.

  “More than life.”

  She unhooked her corset and let it drop to the ground, leaving her in a fine linen chemise of white, embroidered with a dark green vine and obscenely bursting flowers of orange, red and pink blooming every few inches. Her drawers, of the same material, were bound with ribbon at waist and knee and framed the shadow between her legs. King could smell musk and he wasn’t sur
e if it was from her, those bloody flowers or both.

  “Do you want me?” she asked one last time.

  “Dear God, yes.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  She pulled the covers off him and sat on his upper thighs, his erection gently pushed upward by the bump of her mound, and the sensation almost caused King to come right then and there. Lady leaned forward and started kissing his neck and chest, her breasts brushing against his front. With each flurry of kisses, she writhed against him, her quinny rubbing between the base of his cock and the tight rocks of his testicles. He fisted his hands in the blankets so he wouldn’t grab her, roll her over and pierce her sweet, beckoning heat.

  “Your body is saying you want me, but you’re not doing a very good job of making me believe it.” Lady purposely dragged her breasts down his chest and stomach to brush against the tip of his cock.

  “I want you more than I have ever wanted anything,” King managed to grind out, “but I meant what I said. I’m yours to do with as you like, not the other way around. You’re safe with me.”

  She stopped for a moment and looked at him, and King could see her try to figure out his angle. He tried to show her with his eyes that he meant it, but the little lace tie between her breasts looked like one little tug would free her ripe breasts to his mouth.

  “Oh, is this what you want, then?” She slowly, excruciatingly pulled that tie and the shadow of her cleavage came into view. With one sinuous twist of her magnificent shoulders, she pulled the chemise off and he was able to see her in the firelight. Her breasts were breathtaking, topped by dark pink nipples the perfect size for him to roll with his tongue. Her skin looked like cream after all of the peaches had been eaten, and in that blush of her chest, there were two scars, one across her ribs and the other at the base of her left breast. He glanced up and could see the uncertainty in her eyes, knew she was waiting for him to flinch or make a comment, but he couldn’t. He knew what it had cost her to show herself to him, had an idea of the pain she’d endured when getting those scars, and the only thing he wanted to do was kill the man who had caused her such pain.