A Night Without Stars

by Jillian Eaton

  Lilly couldn’t move her arms. Or her legs. Or anything, for that matter. Not with Bran’s body pressing down on top of her.

  It was a comfortable weight, like a heavy blanket on a cold winter’s night. With a contented, catlike sigh she stretched her arms above her head and closed her eyes, only to open them again when she felt the feathery brush of Bran’s lips on her breast.

  She lazily arched her spine as he licked one nipple and then the other before finally rolling onto his side and propping himself up on an elbow, tawny locks tumbling rakishly across his brow as he gazed down at her.

  “You’re a vision, lass,” he murmured, trailing the back of his hand down across her ribcage and the slender protrusion of her hip bone. “Even more beautiful than I imagined.”

  Suddenly shy, she crossed her arms over her chest. “You imagined me naked?”

  “Aye, of course.” His eyebrows drew together. “Didn’t ye do the same with me?”

  Her blush gave her away even before she confessed, “Maybe - maybe a little.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose, and even though he didn’t know it - how could he? - that simple show of affection meant more to her than a priceless jewel. Doyle had never bothered to lay next to her after their lovemaking was complete, let alone slide his arm beneath her shoulders and draw her against the sturdy expanse of his chest.

  “I didn’t know it could be like that.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes pinned to a cluster of dusky blond curls between his pectorals.

  “Like what, love?” he murmured, resting his chin on the top of her head.

  “Wonderful,” she said, blinking back tears. “I didn’t know it could be so wonderful.”

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning Bran brought Lilly to see the lions.

  Comprised of jungle cats, monkeys, bears, and even an elephant, the Royal Menagerie was housed at the Tower of London, a veritable stone fortress on the north bank of the Thames. The animals were gifts to the royal family from all over the world, many having traveled thousands of miles by land and sea.

  Fascinated by the idea of seeing creatures that had prowled through the jungles of Asia and lazed about on the plains of Africa, Lilly had always wanted to visit the tower. But as she Bran strolled along the wide stone walkways and peered into the small cages, many of which were hardly any bigger than the animals they contained, she felt only pity.

  “They look so very sad, don’t they?” She started to reach her hand between the bars towards a little gray monkey with soulful black eyes, but Bran grabbed her wrist and pulled it back.

  “Careful, love. The buggers might look sad and hopeless, but they’ll take yer finger quick as they’ll take a treat.” He smiled grimly. “Jest ask Lady Mary. Word ‘as it a lion took her entire arm.”

  “Her arm?” Lilly breathed. She took a step back from the monkey. “The poor things look half starved. It was probably just hungry.”

  “Aye, try tellin’ that to Lady Mary.”

  They continued their tour, eventually ending where they’d begun: in front of the lion pen. The newly born cubs, oblivious to their captivity, rolled and wrestled across the straw covered floor while their mother kept a watchful eye from atop a stone pedestal.

  “What will happen when they’re grown?” Lilly asked, stepping out of the way as three young children, tended by a visibly overwhelmed governess, shoved to the front of the exhibit and began to clap and shout.

  “The cubs?”

  “Yes.” She stood on her toes in an attempt to see above the swelling crowd. While all of the animals garnered a fair bit of attention the lions were by far and large the most popular, particularly when the cubs were out playing.

  His hands closing around her waist, Bran lifted her effortlessly off the ground. “I’m not sure, love. One or two will remain here, I imagine. The rest will find their way to private homes.”

  She shivered when she felt the warm brush of his breath against her ear. Trembled when his grip tightened, drawing her firmly against the hard plane of his body. Thus far this morning he’d had the manners of an impeccable gentleman, acting more like a tour guide than the dashing scoundrel who had brought her to heights of passion she’d never even known existed. But there was nothing gentlemanly about the way he was holding her now...or the throbbing rod she felt pressing against the curve of her bottom.

  “Bran,” she protested, her gaze darting around the crowded space. “Put me down! People are watching.”

  “Let them watch,” he growled before he nipped her earlobe.

  Her knees wobbled. “This - this is hardly the appropriate place to - ohhh,” she moaned, her head falling to the side when his tongue replaced his teeth.

  “Ye like that, don’t ye?” he whispered devilishly. “When I touch ye. Taste ye. Spread your legs a little further apart, love, and let me feel how wet ye are…”

  “Bran!” Her face was so hot it was a wonder her entire body didn’t combust into flame. “You really must stop at - oh!” This time her gasp was for an entirely different reason when she happened to catch a glimpse of one of the governess’ unruly charges out of the corner of her eye. As she watched in horror the boy twisted his body sideways and tried to squeeze himself between the bars of the lion’s cage.

  “Ye weren’t asking me to stop last night,” Bran growled as his hands slid up to cup her breasts.

  “No, you don’t understand!” Wrenching herself free of his grasp, she whirled around and raised wide, frightened eyes to his. “The little boy! He’s in danger!”

  No sooner had she spoken the words out loud than a collective gasp of horror rippled through the crowd, confirming Lilly’s worst fears even more she spun back and saw the boy stumble into the cage. He landed hard on his hands and knees, scraping his leg and one elbow. Unfazed by the blood trickling down his arm, he popped back up to his feet and started walking towards one of the cubs with his hand outstretched, talking to the tiny lion as if it were a puppy.

  “Come on,” he said cheerfully. “I won’t hurt you.”

  No, Lilly thought frantically as her gaze flew from the boy to the mother lioness who had gone rigid atop her stone perch, every muscle coiling into one hard knot of anticipation. But she will hurt you.

  “Bran, what can we...Bran?” But he was no longer behind her. To Lilly’s disbelief she saw him pushing his way through the crowd and then he jumped up on the bars of the cage just as a woman in a feather plumed hat let out a terrified scream.

  “The lions are going to eat him!” she cried before collapsing in a dead faint.

  Clasping her hands together until her knuckles turned white, Lilly silently willed Bran to be careful. With the graceful agility of a monkey - or in this case, a thief - he scaled the cage and leapt into the pen, dropping down directly behind the boy and drawing the attention of the lioness. With a low, threatening growl she jumped off her perch and crouched low, yellow eyes fixated on Bran as her tail swished slowly back and forth.

  A terrified scream bubbled up inside of Lilly’s throat when the lioness roared. The loud, ferocious sound echoed off the stone walls and caused two more people - one of them a finely dressed gentleman in a white cravat and top hat - to faint. Bran did not so much as flinch.

  “‘Ello there, love,” he said cheerfully. “Quite a busy day ye’ve been having. Look at all these ladies and gents who’ve come to see ye. Right famous, ye are. And those are some fine looking cubs ye’ve got there.”

  As Bran continued to speak, using the same reassuring tone he’d used with Lilly, he knelt down and gestured for the boy to climb onto his back. Having finally seemed to realize the danger he was in the boy obeyed immediately, tears of fright rolling down his rounded cheeks as he wrapped his arms around Bran’s neck and clung with all his might.

  The crowd held its breath and Lilly’s nails dug painful furrows into her palms as Bran started to back up towards the fence with excruciating slowness. He’d nearly reached it when disaster struck in the fo
rm of a hysterical mother. She must have been at another exhibit while her governess tended the children, and had returned to collect them when she saw her son, quite literally, in the lion’s den.

  “TEDDY!” she shrieked as she flung herself against the iron bars. “TEDDY, DARLING! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? GET OUT OF THERE AT ONCE!”

  The lioness, having been somewhat calmed by Bran’s soothing voice, immediately tensed. A low, ominous growl rumbled from the depths of her throat and her tail began to swish with renewed vigor. Bran stopped short as the lioness’s feral gaze slid back and forth between him and the distraught mother, as if trying to decide who to devour first. The boy whimpered.

  “Ma’am,” Bran said tersely, “if ye could shut yer damn trap for one second-”

  “TEDDY! MY POOR TEDDY. HE’S GOING TO BE EATEN! OH, I CANNOT STAND TO WATCH!”

  The foolish mother was going to get both Bran and her son killed! Lilly’s teeth sank into her bottom lip, biting down with so much force she tasted blood. Unable to stand helplessly by any longer, she began to push and shove her way through the enthralled crowd. When she reached the mother she didn’t think, she just acted. Grabbing the woman by the arm, she yanked her away from the pen with so much force they both went sprawling backwards in a tangle of skirts.

  “What are you doing?” the mother cried shrilly. “Unhand me at once! My son needs me!”

  “The only thing your son needs if for you to be quiet! Oomph,” Lilly grunted when the mother drove an elbow into her ribs in her haste to stand. The hard blow would have been enough to dissuade most women, but Lilly hadn’t worked at the Mermaid for more than three years without getting in a scrap or two. Rolling onto her hands and knees, she reached out and managed to grab ahold of the woman’s hair.

  Bystanders jumped out of the way as they rolled, spitting and scratching, across the floor. It was a most indecent display. One that would shame Lilly down to her core once she regained her senses. But in the heat of the moment the only thing she was thinking about was Bran.

  Suddenly it didn’t matter if he was a rake of the first order. The only thing of importance was his life, and that of the little boy’s.

  Thankfully, Lilly and the mother’s tussle had distracted the lioness long enough for Bran to scale the fence. The crowd erupted into wild cheers as he dropped safely down on the other side. Rushing forward, the governess scooped her loudly sobbing charge into her arms and squeezed him tight while Lilly released her death grip on the boy’s mother and climbed slowly to her feet. Blowing a loose curl out of her eyes she scanned the mob in search of Bran, but trying to find him amidst the throng of bodies was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

  Without warning two strong hands suddenly closed around her middle, pulling her back against a chest that was as hard as it was familiar.

  “Bran.” A relieved sob welled inside of Lilly’s throat as she spun around. Clasping her palms to his rugged jawline she searched his handsome countenance for any cuts or bruises, but he appeared completely unharmed. In fact, he looked pleased with himself. Without warning Lilly’s concern turned to anger.

  “You could have been killed!” Stepping out of his embrace she regarded him with tightly drawn brows and flashing eyes. “That lion could have eaten you!”

  Bran’s grin was completely unrepentant. “It’ll take more than a lion to take down the likes of me, love. But it does my heart good to know ye were so worried about me.”

  “I wasn’t worried about you.” She slapped his hand away when he reached for her. “I was - I was worried about the boy.”

  “Aye,” he said solemnly. “The boy. Then it’s a good thing he’s safe as well.”

  “You never should have risked your life.”

  “And who else would have done it, if not me?” He gestured around the room. “All these fancy nabobs and not a one was willin’ to lift a finger. Useless as tits on a cat, the lot of them.”

  He was right, of course. Still…

  “Do not ever do that again,” Lilly ordered, shaking her finger as if she were admonishing a naughty child instead of a fully grown man. Anger gave her the courage to speak her mind, something she’d learned not to do with Doyle. It felt both refreshing and liberating, particularly when Bran did not shout or raise his fist. Instead, to her shock - and secret delight - he yanked her against him and kissed her until she saw stars.

  “I swear never to climb into a lion’s cage again.” Blue eyes twinkling, he kissed the tip of her nose and brushed a curl behind her ear. “There. Does that make ye happy?”

  Lilly sniffed. “It’s a start.”

  Turning quickly to the side so he couldn’t see her smile, she tucked her arm neatly through his and they walked side by side out of the menagerie, never to return again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Over the next four weeks Lilly was happier than she’d ever been. Bran treated her like a queen, and she’d never been so spoiled in all of her life. It seemed she had only to think of something and he gave it to her.

  A new hat trimmed with silk ribbon. A cloak lined with the softest fur she’d ever felt. A signed first edition by her favorite author whose name she’d spoken only in passing. Not to mention an entirely new wardrobe complete with enough shoes, gloves, and undergarments to last her entire lifetime.

  Although it wasn’t just the things he gave her. While perfectly lovely, they were all material. Easily given and easily taken away.

  No.

  It was how he treated her. The long, lingering looks that never failed to bring heat to her belly and a blush to her cheeks. The way he listened with such rapt attention, as if every word that graced her lips was of the utmost importance. The way he asked for her opinion and then actually heeded it. She’d never had anyone heed her suggestions before. Not her mother, not her father, and certainly not Doyle.

  And it was how he touched her. Sometimes his caresses were so sweet she could have wept from the gentleness of them, and other times he took her with all the savagery of a wild beast. All of her shyness and inhibitions melted away when she was wrapped in his arms, revealing a passionate creature she’d never known was hiding deep, deep inside of her, yearning to get out.

  Under Bran’s tender care she’d gradually transformed from a shy, wilting daisy into a beautiful rose. But this rose still had thorns; tiny sharp reminders of a past she couldn’t quite seem to forget, no matter how she tried.

  She felt as if she were constantly watching a clock. As long as the hands kept moving, everything would stay the same. But the minute they stopped then so would her newfound happiness. All because she’d gone and done the one thing she had promised herself she wouldn’t do: she’d fallen in love with Bran. Deliriously, wildly, head-over-heels in love. And while part of her dreamed of their affair lasting forever, the other part was simply waiting for the left shoe to drop.

  She knew Bran wouldn’t throw her out with nothing. He wasn’t that sort of man. He would see to it that she was taken of, but how many shillings did it take to repair a broken heart? With every day that passed the price climbed higher and higher…until she feared it was one she might never be able to afford.

  Lilly glanced up from the book she’d been mindlessly paging through when she heard footsteps on the stone walkway leading out to the rear garden. Schooling her features to disguise the unease that rippled just beneath the surface, she greeted Bran with a smile. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

  “The errand didn’t take nearly as long as I thought it would.” He sat down beside her on the wooden bench and pulled her into his arms for a kiss. The instant his mouth closed over hers the book slipped from her hands, the words completely forgotten as he nibbled a slow, scorching trail across her jaw and down her neck. But when his mouth began to trail lower she splayed her hand against his chest and pushed, a laugh bubbling in her throat.

  “Bran, it’s the middle of the day,” she protested breathlessly.

  “Aye.” He hooked his thumb on her capped
sleeve and dragged it down, revealing the creamy top of one breast. “And a fine day it is,” he added, a rakish gleam in his eye as he openly admired her bosom.

  “Juliet is right inside. She could come out at any – Bran!” she squealed when he lowered his head and licked her nipple through the soft muslin fabric of her gown. He growled with satisfaction as he suckled the pointed peak and for a moment Lilly let him do as he wished, her head lolling back and her lashes fluttering as moisture gathered between her thighs.

  The slam of a door had her sitting up with a gasp. Scooting to the far end of the bench, she yanked up her bodice and glowered at her lover. “How many times must I remind you that these – these activities are best reserved for the bedroom?”

  Bran kicked out his legs and clasped his hands behind his head, the very picture of an unrepentant rake. “At least once more. What can I say, love? I missed ye.”

  “You’ve only been gone for a few hours,” she reminded him.

  Rather like Bran himself, his schedule seemed to be completely arbitrary. Sometimes he would spend the entire day with her. Other times he would leave right after breakfast and not return until dinner. Two nights ago she’d woken to find him gone with only a note left on his pillow to let her know he’d return at dawn.

  Lilly never asked where he went and he never offered to tell her. She suspected his ‘errands’, as he called him, were of the nefarious sort. That is to say, not completely legal. She always worried for him when he was gone and breathed a sigh of relief when he returned, for she knew just how dangerous London could be. Particularly for a criminal. But when she’d voiced her concerns he’d brushed aside her worries with a grin and a shake of his head.

  ‘Don’t ye worry your pretty head over the likes of me, love,’ he’d said, pressing an affectionate kiss to her brow. ‘I know what I’m doing’.

  She had no doubt of that. For all that he spoke and acted like just another East Ender, she suspected Bran was a very rich man. Just the cost of her clothes alone should have beggared him, and yet when he’d received the note (the amount of which had made her knees wobble) he hadn’t so much as batted an eye.