The carriage came to a halt, and here they were again, him fully clothed and entirely too aroused for the circumstances. Or perhaps it was understandable.
Because once again she was straddling him, each leg bent at the knee along his hips and her center pressing down in such a way that was certain to lead to far greater improprieties.
* * *
“Pardon my driving, My Lord! My apologies to the Lady. Is everyone all right back there?” Lydia heard the driver’s voice through the sliding door but when she went to speak, nothing came out.
“I believe so, Phillips. Are you hurt, Lydia?” Jeremy’s voice sounded at the same time his body vibrated beneath her.
“No. No. I’m fine.” At least her voice was functioning again.
“Would you like me to turn for Heart Place now, My Lord?”
Lydia went to move, but Jeremy’s hands held fast to her hips. “Not quite yet. I’ll let you know.”
“Very good, My Lord.” The small door slid closed then, and after a moment, with a gentle lurch, they were on the move again.
With no way to keep keep her balance, Lydia fell forward, dropping her hands onto Jeremy’s shoulders. “You are my prisoner now,” she teased. Because he could escape if he wanted to.
She knew he did not.
“Do you trust me, Lydia?”
Her eyes were adjusted to the darkness on the floor now, and she could almost make out his features. “Of course, I do,” she answered softly. Despite everything, she would always trust him with her life.
But his next words gave her pause.
“Walk forward on your knees.” He was still holding her hips but was now urging her to move. “Grab the straps by the window.” She already knew he was aroused by their position, in fact, she was becoming quite educated as to this particular phenomenon. Then why? “And hold onto them tightly.”
He was gathering her skirts again, pushing them up and urging her higher, toward his...
But if she kept inching forward like this…
His hands on her bare thighs kept her moving, and then lifted her.
If the rocking of the carriage hadn’t sent her hands suddenly grasping for the straps, the sensation of Jeremy’s whiskers along her inner thigh would have done so.
Gripping them, she went to pull herself up.
“Trust me?” His words drifted up from beneath her skirts at the same time the heat of his breath warmed the place between her legs.
Where she knew she was wet from moments before.
“I do but— Ah… ah…” She squeezed the leather straps when intense pleasure shocked her into acquiescence. “You shouldn’t! Oh, good heavens! Jeremy!” She nearly melted when she felt his jaw graze over her apex followed by a hot, wet stroke of his tongue.
Except he chose that moment to pause. “Shall I continue?” His voice vibrated her insides intimately.
“Um… Please?” This.
It felt too good.
He couldn’t stop now. She would die. She would simply die!
He chuckled beneath her, and Lydia jumped.
“Come back here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” With the side of her face pressed against the cool glass of the window, she was determined not to fall apart. He’d said he wanted to taste her, but she’d had no idea he’d meant—she simply had had no idea.
The same feelings she’d had when they broke the vase were building steadily again. And then not so steadily. Because with each stroke and thrust he made below her, she pictured him there. His tongue. The whiskers along his jaw. The image itself was enough—
“Yessssss!” Hot and cold lightning shot through her veins. The leather slipped through her fingers as sharp pleasure took hold and she all but collapsed, trying to move off him while mumbling an incoherent apology.
“I’ve got you, love,” he answered beneath her skirts, adding something that sounded like, “and I’m never letting you go.” But she couldn’t be certain.
When she finally discovered her muscles again, she squirmed, and he assisted her down to lay beside him.
The carriage wasn’t all that wide, forcing him to bend his legs up and her to lay half on top of his chest, one leg thrown over his waist.
She wasn’t the slightest bit uncomfortable. Not even when he turned to claim her mouth, and she tasted herself in his kiss. Being with him was… It was wonderful.
“That was… unexpected.” She had to say something. They couldn’t roll around Mayfair all night, after all.
“I’ve been imagining that for three days now.”
“You haven’t!”
“Planned this very scenario.”
He’d provided her with glimpses of this side of himself before—with a dry joke or a secret grin. And each time, she’d tumbled even deeper into love.
Trouble was, now that she’d experienced him this way, she wasn’t at all certain she could ever let go again. And yet she might not have a choice.
He might love her, but would it be enough for him to get over whatever had caused him to push her away to begin with?
“Sleepy?” He held her tucked against him in a way that partially dispelled some of her concerns.
“Hmm…” Lydia hummed in contentment, memorizing his cedary scent so she could summon it when they were apart. “You must be exhausted though.”
He laughed. “It was a good day. But I suppose I ought to take you home.” He shifted both of them off the floor and onto the bench and kissed the top of her head. “Allow me to correct that. Today was much better than good. It was practically perfect.”
Lydia wondered if her maid would think she looked like the cat who ate the canary when she came in. Feeling daring, she reached her hand across to his lap.
“I know precisely what you need.”
When he grasped her wrist and stilled her hand over his straining member, she realized she’d guessed rightly.
“We’ll have time enough in the future to… ahem, address my situation properly. In the meantime—” Jeremy turned and caught her up in an almost desperate embrace just as the carriage pulled to a stop outside of Heart Place. Knowing they had only a few moments before the footman would open the door, he pulled back, breathing heavily.
“I have mountains of work waiting for me tomorrow,” he all but growled. “But I miss you already.”
“It can wait a day, can it not?”
“Minx.” He brushed the side of her mouth with his thumb. “Come with me to visit the warehouse in the afternoon?”
Even shrouded in darkness, there was no missing the light of hope in his eyes.
“Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate.
Chapter 12
Lydia sat up and stretched with a giant yawn. It had taken her hours to fall asleep. Not that she’d never had trouble sleeping before, but this time, it had not been worries that kept her awake. It had been the memory of unimaginable intimacy, pleasure, and rightness.
And most of all, the tantalizing words spoken inside a dark carriage. We’ll have time enough in the future…
Those words alluded to a promise.
Louise drew the curtains back, and a dreary drizzling sky begrudgingly allowed gray light to filter inside. Clucking her tongue, her maid held up a gown and brushed at the skirt. “The periwinkle today or the mauve?”
“The periwinkle,” Lydia answered. “But I’m going to the docks later and will need to change into something drab.”
Lydia wished she could dress her best for him today, but it would not be wise to show up on the docks looking even more out of place than she already did.
Even though she knew he would like the periwinkle on her.
Lydia lowered herself on to the vanity bench and stared into the mirror. Did she look different today? So much had happened, so much had changed. She leaned closer, touching her cheek.
Her eyes seemed to twinkle more than usual, and her lips looked slightly swollen. Would Clarissa notice any changes the next time she saw her? Lydia bi
t her lip.
Luckily, Lucas and Blackheart weren’t here. Lucas, even more so than Lucinda, had always had an uncanny ability to guess her secrets.
“Has my aunt broken her fast yet this morning?”
“Not yet, My Lady.” Louise dragged the brush through Lydia’s long wavy lengths. “This hair of yours could use a trim.” She then twisted it into a neat chignon, leaving a few tendrils to soften Lydia’s face.
“I like this style,” Lydia commented. “But I think you’re right. Especially when this weather warms up.”
“If it warms up,” Louise said. “I, for one, am ready for some sunshine.”
“I will not argue on that point.”
What remained of the morning passed slowly. Lydia enjoyed a leisurely breakfast with Aunt Emma, hearing all about the salon she and Lord Beasley had attended the night before and even raising her brows at a few suspected scandals that might be brewing.
Once her aunt was settled into the drawing room with a book and her knitting, Lydia met with her brother’s cook, and then the housekeeper, performing a few tasks that Blackheart’s Duchess would eventually take on fully. For the most part, the staff functioned autonomously when Blackheart was not in town.
Just as she and Mrs. Duckworth finished locking away the silver, Mr. Hill appeared in the doorway.
“A Mrs. Mumford here to see you, My Lady.”
Lydia had to think a moment before she could place the name. What was Ollie’s governess doing coming here?
“Why on earth?” And then it dawned on her that something must be wrong. “Where is she?”
“I’ve asked her to wait in the north drawing room.”
Not taking time to untie her apron, Lydia rushed from the dining room toward the front of the house where she found the governess pacing back and forth and wringing her hands.
“What’s happened?” Lydia didn’t bother wasting time with niceties.
“Master Oliver is missing, My Lady. A short while ago, I found him outside in the garden with two older boys. They were obviously from the docks, and His Lordship has made it very clear the child wasn’t to associate with them. Mrs. Crone, of course, shooed them away. I thought nothing was amiss when Master Oliver returned without argument to the nursery, but I went to check on the nuncheon, and he was gone when I came back. We’ve turned the entire house upside down looking for him, and Lady Tempest says good riddance, but I’m worried. Those boys…” Mrs. Mumford paused long enough to shudder. “They’re trouble. And Oliver was doing so well.”
“Did you send for Lord Tempest?”
“We have, but he isn’t in his offices.”
Lydia refused to panic. “Sit down. We’ll find him. Ollie will be fine.”
Lydia set her mind immediately to contemplating various scenarios. “Lord Tempest must be at the warehouse.” Or perhaps the offices of the new company he’d purchased.
But Lydia wasn’t willing to sit around waiting for a servant to locate him. If these little thieves and thugs knew where Ollie had been living, they might also know that his new guardian was the same man who was making trouble for the gang bosses.
Ollie had hidden in the warehouse once before. It was likely he’d do so again. It was possible that he’d already found Jeremy himself.
Lydia burst to her feet again. “Return to Lord Tempest’s residence and wait there in case Ollie returns on his own.” Perhaps Ollie was just being curious. That was possible but…
“I’ll go to the warehouse myself and send word as soon as I’ve found him.” She ushered the governess out the front door and, at Mr. Hill’s startled expression, relayed the situation. She needed a carriage right away, and her coat. She wouldn’t take time to change.
“A carriage was scheduled for your aunt, but you can take it instead. And Reginald and Trevor are coming along.” Mr. Hill didn’t ask if she wished to have the manservants go with her, he simply told her this.
Already thinking of all the places Ollie might be hiding, she simply nodded, eager to get to the warehouse.
“Very well, but we must hurry!” She slid her arms into her coat and then pulled on her gloves, moving anxiously toward the door as she did so. So far, luck appeared to be on her side as the carriage pulled up almost immediately after she’d stepped outside.
“The Tuesday warehouse, John!” she shouted up. “And hurry, please!”
Because a small boy’s life might be at stake!
She was barely aware of the two footmen hopping onto the back as the carriage pulled into the street and turned toward East London.
If she didn’t locate Ollie right away at the warehouse, she’d drive straight to the shipping company’s office to alert Jeremy. She wasn’t precisely sure where it was located, but surely, John would know? Oh, dear, what would she do if he didn’t? The last thing she wanted was to drive around aimlessly in search of him while poor little Ollie…
She halted that train of thought. Dwelling on worst case scenarios had never been something she’d practiced.
He’s fine. He has to be fine. Ollie was likely hiding somewhere in the warehouse—or better yet, in Jeremy’s townhouse.
Not until they turned onto Wapping Street did she stop to remember the promise she’d made to Jeremy about coming there alone. But she did have two manservants with her. And her driver.
And this was an emergency!
When they pulled to a halt, Reginald barely managed to lower the step before she jumped down to the road. “If he’s not inside, we’ll need to go to Ludwig Bros. Shipping. Do you know where that is?”
Her coachman shook his head and looked back questioningly toward the two manservants. Of course, why would two footmen who’d spent most of their time working in Mayfair know where a shipping company’s offices might be?
It wasn’t fair but she couldn’t keep her irritation out of her voice.
“See what you can find out. I’ll be out in a moment.” Hearing the construction inside, she was hopeful she would find Ollie safely chatting with one of the workmen. “Someone around here must know where it is!”
The door swung open easily this time, and she noticed that the lock had been repaired. As she entered, sounds of construction grew louder.
One of the workers approached her almost instantly. “I’m sorry, ma’am, you can’t come in here. A lady like yourself oughtn’t be down here anyway.”
“I’m Lady Lydia Cockfield, and I am one of the directors of this project.” She really did not have time for this. “But I’m looking for a young boy, about so high, dark hair and violet eyes. Have you seen him?”
He turned away from her without answering. “Hey, Nick! Any violet-eyed urchins around here today?” He half-laughed until the other man pointed toward one of the backdoors.
“Went outside!”
“Thank you,” Lydia called.
“Lady, you really don’t want to be walking around out there. Why don’t you go to Lord Tempest’s office?”
“I’ll only be a moment.” Lydia pushed her way past the man acting as a guard, despite his protests behind her. “Ollie?” she shouted over the din just in case he was hiding inside somewhere.
When she arrived at the door that led outside, she was pleased to find it already open. Some of the debris leftover from the days when the warehouse had been in operation had been removed, but an indescribable stench remained.
“Ollie!”
She tiptoed over a few puddles, skirting around mounds of rubbish, and had almost given up when she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye.
“Ollie!” She increased her pace, grimacing when her foot landed in some of the foul-smelling water.
When she rounded the corner, the sight that met her eyes sucked the breath out of her. Robbed of his jacket, Ollie was hunched over, clutching his stomach and moaning while a larger boy had hold of the back of his shirt.
Lydia approached and Ollie glanced up, face bloodied, with pleading eyes. “Go back!” he shouted.
But of course, she couldn’t leave him like this! “What on earth is going on here?”
“Go on!” Panic entered his eyes.
What had they done to him?
“Leave this child alone!” she ordered, rushing forward.
“I wouldn’t if I was you.” Steel-like arms caught her from behind before she’d taken more than a few steps. “This ‘er? This the lady tha’ was wif Tempest?”
The other boy—the one who, with the same violet eyes, couldn’t be anyone other than Ollie’s brother—jerked at Ollie and glanced up.
“It ain’t her!” Ollie answered.
“Shut up, ya little liar,” Buck snarled at Ollie before glancing back to whoever had a hold of Lydia. “Yeah, but why would we wanna mess wif ‘er?”
“Help m-mph!“ Lydia barely managed to shout before the villain holding her captive smothered her mouth with his foul-smelling hand. In response, she squirmed and fought with all her might to twist away. When she tried to bite him, he pinched her lips together with his fingers. He seemed rather experienced at this sort of treachery.
“Hold still, ya bloomin’ wench.” His arm tightened, almost vicelike. Fighting like this wasn’t going to do her any good, and what little she’d done already had left her struggling to draw air in through her nose.
“If this ‘ere is Tempest’s woman, Farley might find her useful in gettin' back at ‘im.”
“She ain’t though.” Ollie jerked out of Buck’s hold. “She’s jus’ one o’ the birds buildin’ the orphanage. She ain’t gonna be no use to Farley. He’ll just be mad at ya for messing with one o’ the nobs.”
Ollie was trying to protect her. For the first time since she’d been coming to the docks, genuine fear swept through her.
Would one of the workmen come looking for her? She ought to have brought Reginald or Trevor along for protection. She’d been far too confident for her own good.
But she wasn’t ready to give up yet. Even if the workmen failed to come looking for her, her brother’s servants would. But would they come quickly enough?
“Farley needs bait to get to Tempest.” The voice near her ear was almost gleeful.
Earl of Tempest: The Wicked Earls Club Page 10