A Dream of Redemption

by Bronwen Evans

  “When nighttime fell, I knew I had to find shelter. The streets are dangerous during the day, let alone at night. I didn’t want to stray too far from the corner in case she came back the next day. I found an alleyway with crates stacked up against the wall. Simon and I crawled into one of the crates, and we slept there for the first night, using the only blanket she left us with to keep warm. Luckily it was summer.”

  “What did you do for food?”

  “Let me tell the story. I began by asking some of the shopkeepers and the ladies selling oranges and other goods in the street for food. They felt sorry for me with little Simon following along behind crying. We usually ended up getting more food than Mother had been able to provide for us. And each night we would go back to the crate hoping that the next morning I’d wake up to find she had returned.

  “Soon the charity of those around us began to wane. There were too many children, and adults, and not enough food or money. So I began to steal bits of food. I didn’t want to, but I got so desperate. We still lived in our crate. No one seemed to care that we’d taken up residence there. When it rained I would use the water from the puddles, to try to wash myself and Simon, but we soon became dirty little urchins.”

  Helen could feel the tears run down her cheeks and she swiped them away. He would not want her tears.

  “The days grew colder, and one tatty, dirty blanket barely kept the cold off us. I grew thinner, as did Simon. The scraps I was able to steal barely gave us any nourishment. It wasn’t long before Simon became ill. I knew I had to find somewhere else for us to sleep during the winter or neither of us would survive.”

  “I was half dragging, half carrying Simon down a street when the first snowflake fell. I was so cold and tired I simply collapsed in the street, the will to keep going completely gone. If it hadn’t been for Simon I’m pretty sure I would just have curled up and died, but Mother had left him with me and I had to look after him.”

  She couldn’t bear it anymore. She rose and crossed to where he sat and curled into his lap her arms hugging him tightly. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

  “It happens to many children, every day,” he stated flatly, “that is why what your sister does is so important.”

  “But you’re not every child. You’re my Clary.” She took his face in her hands and kissed him gently on the lips. “How did you survive?” She instinctively knew the answer to that was the reason he thought there could be nothing between them.

  “I had just about lost all hope, when a carriage drew up, and a man got out. He came over to where I lay hugging Simon to me for warmth and stared at me for a long time. I thought he was an angel when I first saw him. He had hair the color of gold, eyes the deepest blue that were filled with warmth and kindness, and I’ve never seen anyone so handsome.

  “He said he would help me. He directed his man to help carry Simon into the carriage and I followed, eagerly wanting to get out of the cold. He took us to a house on the edge of the city. I remember it had fields of green surrounding it. I’d never seen so much grass before. The house he’d brought us to was luxurious, the furnishings similar to the house you live in. The man’s name was Angelo.”

  She had heard that name somewhere before. She could remember hearing her sister mention him.

  “For eight months we were fed, clothed in luxurious garments, and he even began to educate me. He taught me to read and write. He also taught me to speak in an upper-class accent. For a short time I thought he was trying to turn me into his son, and I would do anything to please him.”

  She knew a betrayal was coming and for a young boy who’d lost everything to think he had a father…a man who cared for him…

  “I thought Angelo was my savior but it did not take me long to realize that his goodness came with a price. On my tenth birthday, Angelo took Simon and me to his London townhouse. This was to be our new home.”

  Helen could feel the tension emanating through Clary’s body. He held her tightly and pressed his face into her breasts.

  “Angelo’s London townhouse was a brothel. And he expected me, and later Simon, to pay back all that he had given us by working for him.”

  “I’m assuming you don’t mean working as the houseboy or servant?” she asked, sick to her stomach.

  Clary hesitated to answer. “In the beginning, yes. However, pretty soon he made me service clients. I whored for him. He owned me. Simon was still four years old, and in order to keep Simon safe I did everything he asked of me.”

  She didn’t have any words to say, she just kept hugging him tightly. She could feel his tears on the top of her exposed breasts. His shame was almost tangible. “If I had been in the same situation, I would probably have done the same thing in order to survive.”

  His head jerked up. “But you would never have been in the same situation, and that is the difference that lies between us. My past is full of shame and degradation. I’m not worthy of your love, and your family sadly know that.”

  “You haven’t asked me what I believe,” she whispered softly. “This does not change how I feel about you. I can feel pity and sorrow for the life you had growing up, but admiration and love trump anything else I feel. You survived. You are a man I admire more than any other. I knew you were different the day I met you outside my sister’s room. Fate brought you into our lives for reason, and I think it was to make me happy. To give me the love I long for.”

  He wiped the tears from his face. “One of the things I love about you is your view of the world. You see the world as full of possibilities, while I see the world for the canker it is.” He stood and placed her back in the other chair. “I promised His Grace that I would not encourage this relationship, and I’ve done a very poor job of that.”

  All her hope drained away. He was too full of shame and hurt to see past it. “I see. And you made that decision without discussing it with me first.”

  He began to pace the room. “What is there to discuss? His Grace confirmed my suspicions. Your brother would never condone the match, and because Lord Coldhurst is his brother-in-law, he will always side with him. Then when you were so afraid I’d mentioned our relationship to your brother I finally understood it would not work.”

  “No. Maitland will help; he will listen to my sister.”

  “Then why is it that His Grace basically stated that if I were to form an inappropriate relationship with you, both my job and Simon’s would be at risk? I can’t do that to Simon. Not now after he’s finally making a good life for himself.”

  She could not believe what she was hearing. “Maitland would never say that.”

  “Well he did, two days ago. If His Grace cannot see a way forward for us, I think we have to admit defeat.”

  He threw his brandy glass into the fire, and as she watched it shatter her heart ripped apart.

  His voice was full of defeat. “Love does not conquer all, not in this world.” And his words sounded so definite. By telling his story he’d relived his shame and now he could barely look at her. She knew he believed the words he spoke. She could feel the tears well in her eyes.

  “So it’s over.”

  “It never really began. It was a dream and now we have awoken to reality.” He crouched down at her feet and took her hands in his. “But I will treasure the time we have shared together for the rest of my life. To know that you do not judge me for what I used to be has warmed my soul. I will be forever grateful.”

  Grateful? I don’t want your gratitude, I want you in my life, she wanted to scream at him, but he had to come to want her enough to defy his background. Only he could set himself free of his past. Until he did, she knew he would not risk being hurt, disappointed, or abandoned again.

  * * *

  —

  He could see the hurt and disappointment in her eyes. She really thought they could have a future—together.

  He could not bear the sadness in her eyes. Lord help them. He had not forgotten the magic of her mouth, the heat she generat
ed, the feel of her soft silken skin against his, and the sensations of their passion would be forever imprinted on his brain.

  Her sweet scent filled his nostrils, as he leaned forward and tasted those luscious lips. His mouth blanketed hers, and she opened eagerly for him. He meant it to be just a quick kiss of goodbye. But her arm snaked up to wrap around his neck, and she clung tightly to him, her soft breasts pushed against his chest.

  He should break free. He should make her realize that she was only prolonging their heartache. But when her tongue entered his mouth all thought fled.

  Her kiss stirred his insides, reaching deeply into his soul, and sent love skimming along every nerve ending. He tried to keep his arms at his sides but he faced a losing battle. His hands crept up to cradle the back of her head, angling it, as his tongue delved deeper. His heart beat frantically as though he knew this would be the last chance he had to taste her.

  Pain speared his heart because he knew he would never find such perfection with a woman again. She would always be the woman he wanted desperately, irrevocably, and she would always own his heart.

  Breaking off the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers and looked deep into her eyes. Any moment now he would break away. He really would. He would pull back and deny them both what they wanted.

  He should have known that she wasn’t about to let that happen because her hot, wet mouth trailed along his throat. Her lips found his ear and she rasped his name, her voice barely a husky whisper.

  “If this is to be our last private moment together, just love me,” she pleaded honestly.

  He was too weak to deny her. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her into his bedchamber carefully laying her on the sheets. He followed her down, his breathing as ragged as hers. His mouth found her sweet lips, robbing them both of words. He didn’t want to hear anything that would stop this moment.

  On a harsh groan, his fingers made short work of lowering her bodice and his mouth closed over one nipple as he palmed her pert breast. Her hands wound in his curls and held him to her as she softly moaned.

  Lost in the sensations, he was barely aware of her sliding her hands into the waistband of his breeches and pulling up his shirt. Her hands scalded his skin as they moved over his chest. He shifted, bunching her skirts to her waist. At the first probe of his finger his blood surged at finding her wet and ready for him.

  He was on fire, every part of him consumed by a madness he could not control. He should stop but he couldn’t.

  “I want to feel your skin against mine,” she whispered as she began to pull up his shirt. He hurriedly sat up and pulled his shirt off over his head, and her hands began tracing over his skin. Her touch branded. Made him shiver with the driving need to possess.

  He looked at the goddess below him, her face flushed with desire. No woman had looked more beautiful, or looked at him with such worship in her eyes. Her hands were now at the placket of his trousers and soon his erection sprang free, eager for her touch.

  Her small hand circled him, and began to move reverently up and down. He briefly closed his eyes and groaned, and wished for the one thing he knew he should not wish for. He wondered what it would feel like to be inside her tight sheath as he thrust into her.

  He found himself aching, needing, wanting, desiring—

  Before he knew what she was about, Helen flexed her hips and rolled him over onto his back, so that she was sitting astride him. Her bountiful breasts were hanging free of her gown, her skirt gathered at her waist. She leaned forward to kiss him and he could feel her taut nipples grazing his chest. Her mouth began trailing over his skin until she found his hardened nipple and she bit down. He couldn’t help it; his hips flexed upward seeking the heated, wet heart of her.

  She rubbed herself along the hardened length of him, and he pressed his head back into the pillow as his eyes rolled into his head. It would be so easy to sink deep within her.

  Suddenly, as if she had the same thought, she rose to her knees and impaled herself on him.

  * * *

  —

  The pain came swift and sharp, the fullness of him filling her, and she cried out just as Clary’s eyes flashed open in horror.

  “Oh, God, what have you done.”

  She pressed her hands onto his chest to hold him still, while she grew accustomed to the size of him pulsing deep inside her. “You can’t ruin me,” she whispered as a tear fell down her cheek. She didn’t care that she was crying. “How can you ruin me when I will never marry. I love you. You own my heart. How could I possibly do this with anyone else?”

  For one brief moment she watched him fight his inner battle, but this time love and desire won. If this was the only chance to share herself with the man she loved, she was happy to take it—no, she needed to take it. She would remember this night for the rest of her life.

  His hands found her waist, and he helped show her how to move upon him. The discomfort began to ease and in its place came sensations unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Her body wound tight, rippling out wave after wave, until pleasure encompassed every inch of her body. She could not believe the sounds coming out of her mouth, and her moans seemed to encourage him, his thrusts became more forceful.

  She matched his rhythm, using her legs to move faster upon him.

  The pleasure was intense. Almost painful and yet not. She knew the pinnacle she was reaching for, and she knew the reward when she got there, for he had introduced her to such pleasure once before. What she was feeling was indescribable. She wanted her release and she wanted it with a desperation that almost frightened her.

  Clary half sat up and took one hard nipple into his mouth, suckling hard. Just when she could not take any more suddenly…a million brightly colored stars burst throughout her body, in a maze of sensations that had her arching, her head thrown back as she screamed his name. “Clary.”

  Through the euphoria of her release, she could feel his hands urgently grip her hips, and the next moment she was thrown onto the bed next to him, as his satisfied groan echoed around them and his seed pumped into his hand.

  * * *

  —

  Dear God in heaven, what had he done? Thank goodness he’d had enough sense to move her off him before he came. If he got her with child…Was that what she was trying to do?

  He turned his head to find her looking at him with a dreamy expression on her face. Her hair was askew and she looked like a woman thoroughly ravished. He couldn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t bear to see the triumph. She thought this would change everything but it changed nothing.

  Just then there was a banging on the door, and loud voices could be heard bellowing, followed by a crash as someone forced the door in.

  He barely had time to fasten his trousers before a man appeared in the doorway. He heard Helen’s scream and moved to block the man’s view to protect her modesty.

  “I’ll kill you for this,” an upper-class voice roared.

  Lord Coldhurst.

  Clary stood to face Helen’s irate brother, as she scrambled off the bed to try to get between them.

  “Did you think I’d let you marry her if you ruined her? You’re not fit to breathe the same air as her.”

  Lord Coldhurst’s fury stormed around him. The anger distorted, making him almost unrecognizable. “You bastard,” he yelled as he crossed the room in three long strides.

  Clary didn’t even attempt to duck from what he deserved, as one of Coldhurst’s large fists connected with his face, snapping his head back. Pain ricocheted in his head, pounding through his skull. He stumbled back onto the bed and Coldhurst was on top of him, his large, meaty fists pummeling his face and body.

  He could hear Helen screaming for him to stop the assault, and then someone was pulling Coldhurst off him. He tried to focus.

  He saw that it took both His Grace and Simon to hold Coldhurst back from killing him.

  Helen placed her hands on her brother’s chest, her gown back in place. “I love him, Seb.
I love him.” Tears were flowing over her cheeks as she thumped on Coldhurst’s chest.

  Finally the fight went out of Coldhurst, and he shook off the other men’s hold. He pulled Helen into a tight hug, and they simply stood there with her cradled in his arms.

  Clary moved and picked up his shirt and held it to his broken nose. He had always hated his straight, perfect nose. Coldhurst had done him a favor.

  Coldhurst didn’t say another word. He simply ushered Helen out of the room and out of Clary’s lodgings and out of his life.

  Simon came to stand by his side. “Are you all right?”

  He simply glared at his brother. Did he look all right? He deserved this. Coldhurst should have hit him harder.

  “I’m disappointed in you,” the Duke of Lyttleton said slowly, as though needing to search for each word before he spoke it. “You will present yourself in my study at eleven tomorrow morning.”

  His Grace turned on his heel, his angry footsteps reverberating through Clary’s sore head as the duke stormed from the room.

  He collapsed onto his bed. A place that only a few moments ago had given him the greatest bliss imaginable was now like a jail cell.

  “What do you think His Grace will do?”

  He knew Simon was worried. He had every right to be. Once again he’d put them both in jeopardy, but he could not seem to care. What Clary cared about was that he would never see Helen again. Never see her smile. Never see her eyes light up when she laughed. And never see her look at him as if he were her pot of gold at the end of her rainbow.

  How was he to live with that?

  Chapter 15

  Helen’s skin vibrated from the waves of anger hitting her as they radiated from her brother. He sat beside her in the carriage staring straight ahead as if he could not bear to look at her. She hated that he was so angry with her. She could see him clenching and unclenching his fist. His hand must hurt; she could see blood on his knuckles. She wanted to reach out and take his hand. As a young girl, whenever she’d been afraid, she would slip her hand in his large one and feel safe.