“Wink would love this,” she yelled as the engines whirred more loudly and the airship began to rise. “Jamie, too, though I’d want him tied to the rail, for safety.”
“Next time,” Merrick promised. He squeezed her waist with the arm he had wrapped around it. “Perhaps next weekend we’ll run down to Brighton, so they can see the ocean.” He glanced over at Tommy, who stared fixedly ahead, then dropped a quick kiss on Caroline’s nose. “All right so far?”
She felt herself blush, even as she nodded. In the last few days, he’d begun to treat her less like an employee and more like a member of the family than she was comfortable with. Even the man at the ticket gate had assumed they were husband and wife, and Merrick had said nothing to correct him, just given Caroline’s elbow a fond pat. Tommy, with Merrick’s height and a slightly darker version of Caroline’s coloring, could easily be their son—if she’d had him at age twelve, of course. Still, it was so easy to imagine them all as a family, her family, that minor details like age could be overlooked.
Merrick had come to her bed every night since that first time. While he’d taught her some wondrous things about the art of making love, they’d also spent a great deal of time talking. It was becoming very difficult to separate Merrick, her lover, from Sir Merrick, her employer.
Caroline held her breath as the vast dirigible rose into the sky. In just minutes, they were above the soot and smoke that filled the London air. Shortly after, they left Town behind and could look down at vast tracts of green, dotted here and there by farms and villages, bisected by tarmac roads, gravel lanes, blue rivers and muddy canals. The view was nearly spectacular enough to draw her attention away from the man who held her so carefully close.
“Look at that, Miss Caro.” Tommy bounded over and stood beside them, practically quivering. “Who’d have ever imagined there was so much green in the whole world?”
Even in the vast space of Hyde Park, the green was so overlain with soot that it wasn’t the same. “Have you ever been out of the city before, Tommy?”
The boy shook his head. “Not that I remember, at any rate. This is like something out of one of Nell’s faery stories.”
Caroline laughed. “I agree.” Though she meant everything about her life of late, not just the lush green fields beneath them.
It didn’t take long until the airship descended at a field outside of Oxford. Merrick had arranged for a friend to meet them there, another Knight, whose specialty was apparently divination magick. Rhys, Marquess Drood, a ruddy-faced, cheerful man in his mid-forties, with a thick Welsh accent, greeted them warmly. He was pleasant to Caroline, but paid particular attention to Tommy as the hired carriage rolled over the macadam toward the home of Sir Andrew.
“Tom, before we go in, can you tell me everything your mother ever told you about your father? A name? Even his coloring or height?” Lord Drood’s questioning was couched in such a friendly tone, it didn’t strike Caroline as invasive, but Tommy squared his jaw and his shoulders.
“He was a toff,” Tommy said. He caught Caroline’s raised eyebrow and corrected his speech. “I know that. She told me once or twice that I’ve the look of him. I know he was tall, like me. Mum was a tiny little thing, like you, Miss Caro.”
Lord Drood smiled. “Good, good. Now anything else? Did she ever mention a wedding?”
Tommy bit his lip, then nodded slowly. “Maybe. I remember her arguing once, with one of her men. There was always a man, living in the flat, but this one…it was worse than most. She claimed she’d married, but her husband had deserted her. The bas—umm—blighter just laughed and told her everyone knew the ceremony and her paper were just a sham. A common trick to get a girl on her back.”
“It can be,” Merrick admitted. “But in this case, maybe not. Do you have her papers, Tom?”
Tommy shook his head. “No. They had another fight, not long after that. I wanted to hide, but she was screaming something awful, so I ran out and hit the old bugger with the teapot. He just laughed, kicked me in the ribs and ran down the stairs. Must’ve knocked over a lamp on his way out. Mum was on the floor, dead. Then I smelled smoke. I dragged her out, but of course there was no point. And I couldn’t save any of her things.”
“How old were you?” Lord Drood asked.
“Eight.”
“Did you ever find the man?” Merrick’s voice held curiosity, but no trace of recrimination.
Tommy looked askance at Lord Drood, but nodded. “Aye. He won’t hurt anyone else ever again.”
“Good lad.” The words came from both adult male mouths at once. Caroline just reached across and squeezed Tommy’s hand where it lay on his knee. To her surprise, he squeezed back—an unusual gesture of affection from him.
“Do you know your birthday, lad?”
“August, 1835. Can’t remember the day.”
Lord Drood nodded. “Malcolm Devere died in December of ’34.”
“Less than a week after the date on the marriage license,” Merrick added. “Which may or may not be the sham that Lucy Porter obviously believed it to be.”
“I can try to test it for honesty,” Lord Drood said. “But after all this time, a genuine response isn’t likely.”
Merrick nodded. “Sir Andrew did have an investigator search for his son’s missing wife, and the minister. He never found either.”
“I know my mum’s parents threw her out when she turned up pregnant,” Tommy said. “So if someone went looking for her, they might never find her. Whitechapel and Wapping aren’t far apart as the crow flies, but enough, in London.”
“True.” Merrick gave Tommy a bracing grin. “Well, we’ll find out more soon. Buck up, lad. We’re here.”
In the hushed confines of the huge manor house, a servant escorted them to an upstairs sitting room, where they were met by a man in a clockwork wheelchair. The odor of illness filled the room, and Caroline knew at once that Merrick hadn’t exaggerated the man’s condition.
“Nice to see you again, Sir Andrew.” Merrick shook the older man’s trembling hand. “You know Lord Drood, of course. And this is Miss Bristol, a dear family friend who’s acting as temporary governess.”
Temporary? What did he mean by that? Caroline took her gloves off to shake the old man’s hand. She sent whatever soothing energy she had across the link. While she still wasn’t sure she had any actual power, if she did, she wanted to ease his pain, if only for a little while. Lord Drood raised one steel-gray eyebrow, but didn’t say a thing. Caroline stepped aside as Merrick brought Tommy forward.
“And this,” Merrick said, his arm around Tommy’s shoulder, “is Master Thomas Porter, Knight-in-training. Tom, this is Sir Andrew Devere, retired Knight of the Order.”
Tommy managed a very credible bow. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
“And I, you,” said Sir Andrew, holding out his hand. “Welcome to Stonechase, my boy.”
Tommy carefully shook the fragile hand. “But the house isn’t stone, sir. So why is it called Stonechase?”
“Ah, a long story that. Perhaps someday I’ll have time to tell you. If not, there’s a book about the house and its history on the shelf over there. For now, though, do you understand why Sir Merrick brought you here?”
Tommy nodded. “To see if you are my grandfather.”
The old man smiled. “I am. I can see my Malcolm in your eyes, plain as day.”
Caroline’s eyes watered at the sight of a single tear dropping down Sir Andrew’s cheek.
“He tricked my mother with a false wedding.” Tommy said, a tremor in his voice she’d never heard before.
“He may have,” Sir Andrew agreed. “Or it may have been real. And we may never know for certain.”
“Tom, will you have a seat, and lay your hand on top of Sir Andrew’s, there on the table?” Lord Drood spoke softly. “Sir Andrew, if you could put yours on top of the marriage license? I’d like to try a spell if you two don’t mind.”
Sir Andrew smiled. “Not at all, Rhys.” He
laid his bony hand on the piece of parchment atop a fine lace tablecloth.
“Yes, sir.” Tommy sat in a small chair pulled up to the same table and placed his hand on top of Sir Andrew’s. Then Drood stood between the two and laid his own palm over both. He closed his eyes and chanted something in a language Caroline didn’t recognize. Welsh? Something even older? A soft glow seemed to surround the three linked hands.
Lord Drood—from druid?—smiled when the glow receded and his chanting stopped. “I can say with absolute certainty that young Thomas here is indeed the son of Malcolm Devere—and that he’s bloody damn powerful for an untrained Knight. As to the license, I have a few general impressions. One, the young lady believed at the time that the ceremony was genuine. Two, Malcolm thought it was a hoax, but was well into his cups at the time. Three, the minister was genuine—a traveler who’d just stopped in the tavern for a drink. He did file the papers before he left Town—that’s how you got this, right, Andrew?”
Sir Andrew nodded. “Some London civil servant mailed it.”
“Now as to whether everything is strictly legal—I can’t be sure.” Drood looked around at each face. “However, I think we have enough to get a positive ruling from Her Majesty if Trowbridge requests one. Can each of you support this action, or are any of you uncomfortable stretching the fine points of legality?”
“It’s not my decision,” Merrick said. “I’ll support Sir Andrew, whatever he decides. Tom is already my ward, whether he’s Sir Andrew’s legal heir or not. It doesn’t matter to me at all.”
“I want this,” Sir Andrew said. He opened his arms wide. “Tom? Can you spare a hug for your grandfather?”
His face pale with shock, Tommy leaned forward and clasped Sir Andrew in an awkward embrace. “You’re really my granddad?”
“I am, son. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Forgive you? For what?”
“For not looking harder. For not finding you before now and bringing you home.”
Tommy shook his head. “You didn’t know. I didn’t know. But if I’d come here, what would have happened to Wink and the little ones?”
“Tommy has a point,” Caroline interjected. “Without him, the others might not have survived—especially Piers.” And while the girls might have lived, Caroline shuddered to think about how. “Perhaps it was fate that brought everyone together at just the right time.”
“Fate and Sir Merrick,” Drood said with a quick twist of his lips.
“Well, Tom,” said Sir Andrew. “Do you think you’ll mind having this great heap to care for? I wish I’d be around to teach you, but I’ve a good steward, and I’m sure Sir Merrick will help you learn to manage an estate.”
Tommy’s blue eyes went huge. “This? This is to be mine someday?” His expression held more panic than joy.
“Sooner rather than later, I’m afraid.” Andrew leaned back in his wheelchair, face strained and white. “But I hope not just yet. I’d like to see this settled first, and maybe have a chance to get to know you, just a little, before I go.”
“Yes, sir.” Tommy sucked in a deep breath and smiled at his grandfather. His voice cracked. “I’d like that, sir. I’d like that very much.”
It was very late that night when Merrick made his way to Caro’s room. She lay propped up in bed, wearing just a satin wrapper, her glossy hair brushed out and tumbling around her shoulders. Her smile as she looked up at him and set aside her book was brilliant.
“The children are settled?” He padded over to the bed, locking her door behind him.
“Yes. It took a while.” She scooted to the side to make room for him on the bed. “They’re all so excited for Tommy, though I think they’re all a little afraid he’s going to become a ‘toff’ and leave them behind.”
“Not likely. I don’t think the others realize that they’re toffs now too, do they?” Easing down beside her felt like the most natural thing in the world. Before he let her answer, he took her lips in a long, sensual kiss. “God, I’ve missed that all day.”
Her arms looped around his neck, she grinned. “Mmm. Me too.”
“No, you were too busy being terrified of the airship.” Teasing her was the most fun he’d had in ages—well, except for making her moan. That was even more fun.
“Well, there’s that. But I have a question, Merrick. How is it that Lord Drood and Sir Andrew didn’t mind my being there? I thought you were forbidden to tell anyone about the Order.”
“There are exceptions. Mainly family members and staff. If you were to leave my employ, I’d be expected to have Lord Drood—a descendant of Merlin, in case you were wondering—come in and cast a spell to alter your memory.” He wasn’t ready to admit he planned to marry her in the near future. She deserved a proper courtship—as soon as this mission was over.
She pulled away from him. “Erase my memories? I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“Not erase.” He untied the sash on her wrapper and drew it off her creamy shoulders. “Just…blur a little, for want of a better word. You’d be a little hazy about exactly what it was I do for a living and so on. Besides, I don’t see a problem. You don’t want to leave here, do you?” He ran a row of kisses along her shoulder, inhaling her fresh scent.
“Of course I don’t want to leave. But someday, when the children are grown, I’ll have to.” She’d untied his dressing gown and pushed it off as well, though unlike her, he still had trousers on beneath.
“We’ll see. A world of things can happen between now and then.” He stood to remove his trousers, before lying back down beside her. “You could decide you want to stay.”
“I don’t want to talk about the future,” Caro said, kissing him voraciously. “I just want to enjoy right now.” She reached down and circled his cock with her fingers. With slow precision, she stroked him up and down.
“Right now is going to be over very, very quickly if you don’t stop that.” The strangled sound of his voice might have embarrassed him if it were anyone but Caro.
“Oh, I have faith in your recuperative abilities.” She pushed him on his back and knelt above him. “You’ve proven them rather well over the last few nights.” With that, she began to kiss a line down between his pectoral muscles, past his navel. His shy little virgin had certainly come a long way in just a few sessions.
Perhaps it was time to talk to her about their future, even without a proper courtship. He started to tell her to wait, but when her lips closed around the tip of him, he stopped trying to think or speak at all. While untutored in some things, her instincts were unerring, and Merrick gave himself up to the pleasure offered by her hands and mouth. Just before the end, he gave her one last warning, tugging on her hair to bring her up to him. This time, she obeyed, sliding up his body to kiss him deeply. His own flavor on her lips was nearly as erotic as the way she straddled his hips, lowering herself onto his aching shaft. Her damp folds slid across his heated skin when she began to move.
In the back of his mind, he knew he should stop and don protection. But did it truly matter if they were going to marry soon anyway?
Yes. To Caro, it would. Being illegitimate herself, her sensitivity on the subject was only natural. Besides, when she married him, he wanted it to be by choice, not necessity.
Rolling her onto her back and pulling away may have been the single most heroic thing he’d ever done. It was certainly the most difficult. She whimpered in protest, but sighed and nodded when she saw him reach for a packet from the nightstand drawer. Licking her lips, she watched him put the condom on then held out her arms. Merrick knelt above her and lifted her hips with his hands. Though they hadn’t done this before, she naturally draped her knees over his elbows, opening herself to him. Her fingers clenched around the rails of the bedstead and her eyes fluttered shut while he slid home.
For a few seconds, he just held himself there, feeling the hot clasp of her muscles surrounding him. Then the need grew too great, and he began to move. She was supported by her knees
, so the position left him free to use his hands, and he did, bringing her to a shuddering peak. Finally, he let go of his own restraint, buried himself deep in her sheath, and came to his own explosive release.
At some point, he collapsed beside her, rolling them on their sides so they were still connected. How long they lay there, damp and gasping for breath, Merrick couldn’t be sure. He did know he never wanted to leave the warmth—literal and figurative—of her embrace. Idly, he stroked his fingers across her cheek, tucking stray strands of hair behind her pointed little ears.
“Mmm.” She smiled up at him, blinking. “I think I blacked out, just for a second.”
“Le petit mort. It happens sometimes, when the sensations are particularly intense.” He kissed her cheek and the tip of her nose and chuckled. “You’re welcome.”
She muffled her laugh in his shoulder. “Thank you. And thank you for remembering…”
His laughter stopped and he looked deeply into her eyes. “I’ll always take care of you, Caro. As long as there’s life in my body, I’ll never do anything to hurt you.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Merrick. One day we will have to go our separate ways, but you must know, I’ll have no regrets.”
“We won’t, not if you marry me.” Hell, this was not how he’d envisioned proposing.
Her lower lip quivered as she gave him a tender smile. “Such a gallant. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. This is a moment I’ll treasure for the rest of my days. But you know it’s impossible.”
He was too sated and tired to fight with her now, but he had no intention of giving up. “We shall see about that.” He kissed her again, then left the bed to dispose of the used condom. By the time he returned, she was already asleep, a beatific smile on her face. Setting his mental clock to wake him before dawn, he climbed into bed beside her and doused the lamp. “One of these days, my dear, I’ll be able to stay with you until morning. You just wait and see.”
She didn’t waken, just snuggled back against his chest, into his arms—where she belonged.
Steam & Sorcery Page 21