The 12th Kiss

by Laura Hogg

  "Talk, damn you!"

  The man mumbled, bleeding from his mouth. She dropped him to the ground and scoffed loudly. She stood and rushed to him, grabbing him by the shoulders, gazing at him with frightened eyes.

  "Benjamin, are you all right?” She scanned his face then stepped back to study his body, head to toe.

  She pulled the ribbon from her hair, and her long locks tumbled down. She used the silk as a bandage for his arm, wrapping it around several times. He winced. It burned.

  "Hold still, my love. We must stop the bleeding."

  He reached up with his other hand and stroked her cheek, but she was focused intently on her task of keeping the rest of his blood in his body.

  "You will need your blood, or I will never have children,” she muttered.

  What?

  He hand scooted over her heavy hair, and he grasped it in his fingers, drawing her into a deep kiss, his nerves raw with unfulfilled arousal. He slid his lips across her cheek, and whispered hotly into her ear, “Shall I give you one tonight?"

  She gasped. He tore away from her, jumped to his feet, and checked on the still man. A hackney rattled down the road, and he called it. Then he approached the man on the ground and threw Relief a glance. She flushed with what he hoped was great desire. One corner of his lips came up.

  Now you shall know what I am going through!

  Very satisfied with himself, he dragged the man to the cab. Relief hurried after him. All the way to see the authorities, she remained silent, looking extremely frustrated with her stiff spine, and her hands twisting her lace handkerchief practically to shreds. This pleased Lord Cheltham to no end.

  Later, on the street, he held her hand and looked into her face.

  "Relief, thank you for staying out of it. I know you wanted to join the fight, but I don't want you to if you do not have to. Please, Relief, please give it up. Do I not indulge my optimism overly in presuming there's hope? Your earlier comment about children?"

  She pulled her hand from his and shook her head sadly.

  "It is so important to you that I do not fight?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "I fear the day you lose a fight, Relief. My uncle was as tough as they come, and he was defeated in a terrible, ugly way. He was beaten up so badly we barely recognized him. He died as a result of the injuries he sustained."

  "I am so sorry, Benjamin. My heart aches for you. But I cannot change who I am, or I will hate you for it."

  "And I can not stop praying for the miracle that you will give it up for good. Relief, spend the night with me, as my wife."

  "No, Benjamin. I cannot. I want to, I just cannot."

  "Relief, I will hold you in my arms and make you forget all of this nonsense. I promise you, it will be the best night of either of our lives."

  "That's what I fear,” she uttered softly. She pulled away, her eyes downcast. “I must go."

  "Go home to Honora, then, not to the streets. Relief, pray avoid Seven Dials and St. Giles."

  "I will go to the Rookery and search out the gangs then."

  "No!"

  "You are doing it again, my lord. Let me be me."

  He watched as she walked away.

  "Don't go,” he wretchedly, his heart breaking. Then he sighed in relief as he saw her headed away from the worst parts of the city.

  Twenty-eight

  She meandered in a pensive mood, thinking about her husband. She had a tremendous amount of respect for him and enjoyed his easy company. She remembered all of the adventures they had had together. He showed her a couple of advanced moves used in the sport of pugilism, and she, as Raphael, showed him a few interesting things, too. Together, they both became even more talented fighters.

  He had opened up to her. No man had ever treated her so well. And he was so attractive. She liked the way he looked whether he was dressed for a street adventure, in his dashing, hero's clothes, or he was wearing the ensemble of a wealthy nobleman, and he gleamed from head to toe.

  On their wedding day, she had tried to stay the dizzying racing of her heart but had failed. When they were pronounced man and wife, that was the most thrilling moment of her life, more so than any moment she had fighting crime on the streets. Hours passed, and she was no closer to knowing how they could be together. Tired and somewhat disheartened, she dragged her feet home.

  Once in bed, she stared at the ceiling, swallowing tears she would not allow to fall.

  Honora peeked into her room. “Are you awake?"

  "I am now,” she muttered. “Come in."

  Honora made her way across the room and sat down on the bed. Relief sat up and propped a pillow behind her.

  "Let's talk, Leafy."

  "About what?"

  "About why you fight."

  "Oh."

  "You revel in it."

  "It fills me with the passion of real life."

  "Yes. But there's more to it. You were always adventurous, even when we were small children. I remembered when you snuck out and followed our brothers one night."

  "They liked to find themselves mixed up in brawls."

  "Especially Raphael."

  "He was a hero to me. I never saw him lose a fight. I mimicked his fighting moves. I went to him and showed him what I could do. He couldn't believe his eyes. He said that I executed my punches in perfect form."

  "So he went against his better judgment and showed you some more. As did Daniel."

  "Yes, but they both told me that I was only allowed to use those moves if I were ever threatened. It was unladylike to do so otherwise. I told them I agreed, but I did not. I practiced constantly when I wasn't singing or studying. They never knew how sharply I had developed my skills. I was much better than they imagined. I always watched them practice from some hidden spot."

  Honora scooted further onto the bed and pressed her back against the headboard. “And then you would sneak around and try to find trouble yourself."

  "So that I could practice what I learned."

  "Then Leafy, when we were in Asia, the holy man saw you practicing. He said that your focus was sharper than that of most Westerners he had ever seen."

  "My musical studies had something to do with my strict discipline. He was impressed enough to take me as a secret student. He let me break up trouble a few times."

  "Fighting is very important to you."

  "It always has been. Honora, what is your point in all this?"

  "What is the root of that? Is it pride? Do you need to prove something as a woman?"

  "No. That is not it."

  "Tell me, Leafy. I have always wanted to know."

  "I like helping people. I discovered that I had a talent for it. I like helping disadvantaged people. I saw so many in my travels, on the streets, so many helpless people. I would go out and do what I could for those in trouble."

  "And you grew to enjoy the action as well."

  "Yes, it is quite exciting. Living on the edge, free."

  "Leafy, I want you to think for a moment. Is it the fighting itself, or what it leads to that you love so much?"

  Relief thought for several moments, deeply contemplating the question. Then she spoke.

  "Honora, you know it cannot be called into question that I derive pleasure from the fight."

  "Is it a means to an end that you are trying to reach?"

  "I never thought about it so much before."

  She didn't like to hurt others. She pondered her sister's words. “No, I use the fighting as a means to an end, to help out people in trouble."

  "I knew it.” Honora snapped her fingers.

  "What is thrilling is finding those people. Walking around in dangerous situations is exhilarating. It helps me to understand real life."

  "Because you know that your risk is low, you do not have to fear your own death so much. You can protect yourself. The thrill is in discovering ways in which you can make a difference, not in knocking someone out."

  "That's right. But it sometim
es gratifies my temper to land my fist in a lowlife's face. It is exceedingly rewarding uncovering trouble and solving it. It is wonderful knowing that I have helped to make an innocent person's life better."

  "Leafy, could you take things in a slightly different direction?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Help people in other ways?"

  "Honora, there are a lot of desperate people who are out there on the streets, in the dark with nowhere to turn. No one is going to save them."

  "Still go out there, in the thrill of the night, Leafy. Still help those people. Only help in a different way. Do not actively seek out fights with men three times your size. Only fight when you or someone else is attacked."

  "I do not instigate fights unless I am in a competition."

  "I have seen you approach bad men and antagonize them, tempting them to throw punches at you. You would duck and laugh at them and then throw punches in defense."

  "Yes?"

  "To show off, Leafy."

  "What are you arriving at?"

  "Don't do your showing off so much in that way, Leafy. Save that gratification for the music room."

  Relief frowned. Her sister's words disturbed her because she touched upon a new concept-but they had merit. She continued to listen carefully.

  "Approach men like that differently, without such a cocky little attitude as if to say, ‘I'm small but I can take you down; try me!’ It mocks them into action."

  "Why are you saying all of this to me now, Honora?"

  "Because you are so in love with your husband, and you want to be with him. You are searching for a way to make that possible. For how long are you to endure not being in his loving arms?"

  "I have never said any such thing."

  She gave Relief a serious look. “Do you think it is necessary? I read people too, Relief. I know my own sister. I want your happiness."

  "You would make a man very happy, Honora. You truly understand people. I want your happiness, too. We will find you a great husband."

  "That is nice of you to say, Leafy, but do not change the subject. What do you think of everything I have already said?"

  Relief reached for Honora's hand and held it. “You might have touched upon some truth that I have refused to ponder before."

  "Your husband knows that you value freedom, Leafy, and he loves you enough that he has proven it with actions that I am sure cost him dearly. He does not want you to feel held down and suppressed. He loves who you are."

  Relief took in a deep breath. “Perhaps, I could help people out with a little less fighting. It might be possible to cut back."

  "It is possible, Leafy. Do not do so much provoking. I know some of those criminals deserve to be humiliated but it does not have to be at your hand."

  "Perhaps not."

  "And Leafy, you can stop them with your intelligence at times. It does not always have to be with your fists."

  "You mean by setting traps for them."

  "And Leafy,” she rushed on, “what if you were to train others to help you in this endeavor? Find a few lads and teach them everything you know; delegate your tasks."

  "That's not a bad idea, Honora."

  "Could you be happy with all of this? Could you live a full life with this change?"

  "I believe I could, as long as I could still go out on the streets and do these things. Nobody knows it is really me. You know that it is not for the glory."

  "It is for the fun."

  "Yes."

  "Your husband can more than make up for any fun you cut back on from the streets.” Honora lifted her brow suggestively.

  Relief placed the quivering fingers of one hand over her belly. “Indeed he could. I enjoy his company so very well. He is a pleasure to be with. And I dare say—” she lifted her hand to her now hot neck and released a slow stream of air past her lips. “I have fantasies as wicked as his are likely to be."

  Honora's face lit with a huge smile, and she inclined her head in understanding. “And you could still make a difference in the lives of those poor souls out there."

  "Yes.” She lowered her hand to her lap. “I have to think about this. I love Benjamin. He's crazy to love me, but he does. He loves the real me, as mad as he believes me to be.” She swallowed a lump in her throat, feeling tender love for him.

  "He's the only one besides myself that even knows the real you. Our family does not even have all of that information. The people that you are a hero to only see one side of you, your wild and reckless side. Your husband sees that and your more tender side, and he wants to spend his entire life with you. He let you walk away to prove true love, Leafy, but one can see in his face, that he's quite miserable about it. I think him a man deeply in love. You cannot let a man like that go. I won't let you."

  Relief put her arms around her sister and pulled her into a hug, squeezing her eyes shut. She hoped Honora could absorb the love that beat in Relief's heart for her.

  Darling, precious sister.

  "You do know me best, Honora. So your advice is the most valuable to me. Thank you. I shall contrive to consider it carefully."

  "I love you, Relief."

  "I love you, too.” She pulled away.

  "Do you know any handsome men who might be interested in a saucy American girl?"

  "I will search high and low for you."

  "If they are as exciting as your husband and are and not starched."

  "I fancy there are more than a few of those."

  Honora clapped her hands together like a child waiting upon Christmas day.

  * * * *

  He hosted a party at his house because some of his friends questioned him about never seeing him anymore. They wanted to see how the new Lady Cheltham was getting along in her new life. She was rarely seen in public.

  Relief agreed to host it with him. She acted the proper lady all night long, the proper Viscountess, even singing to entertain their guests. Lord Cheltham's friends chatted in little groups in a large parlor of the townhouse, waiting for dinner to be served. Relief glanced at her husband, warmed and enchanted with him. He met her gaze and held it, speaking his thanks with his eyes.

  A loud bang from the direction of the library sent Lord Cheltham and Relief rushing away from their guests to see what it was all about. He held his hand up to stop her when they neared the library.

  He edged along the wall toward the library's door. She circled around and slid inside a secondary door just as an intruder threw a book at her husband's head. His friends rushed into the room. Dazed, Lord Cheltham raised his hand to the injured area. Anger surged through her.

  Her husband was attacked again! It sent her temper soaring.

  Relief did a one-two punch and knocked the intruder senseless. Suddenly, she regretted her actions. She should have let him handle it.

  Lord Cheltham shook his head and blinked. He glanced at his wide-eyed friends.

  Lord James, a longtime friend of his, spoke with amusement in his voice. “It seems your wife has come to your rescue."

  Lord Cheltham grew red with humiliation. “This party is over.” He turned toward his silent and dutiful butler, Jones. “See them out, please, and then take care of him.” He tossed a glance at the man lying on his floor. Looking at his friends now, he made a brief apology and strode out of the room and up the stairs.

  "Madam!” he shouted. “Come with me, now!"

  She picked up her skirts and followed him up the stairs. When she was facing him in their chambers, he started pacing, with his fists clenched.

  "Benjamin?"

  He paced the room again.

  "Benjamin, please."

  He stopped and cut the air with his palms in anger. “How could you do this to me?"

  She stood rigid on the spot clenching her hands, reeling with remorse. “I'm sorry. I acted on instinct."

  "It's time to retrain your instinct, madam!"

  She stepped back, alarmed and wondering about his intentions.

  "Oh my God, are y
ou going to take me prisoner again?"

  A blanket of pain melted over his features. “Prisoner?"

  "I'm sorry, Benjamin, I—"

  "I do not want to hear it.” He shook his head and tore his gaze to the floor in a gesture of disgust.

  "I'll take my leave.” She trembled, her heart pounding. She'd hurt him, and she was terrified he'd reconsider his feelings for her.

  "Do me a favor, Relief,” he gritted his teeth and brought resentful eyes to hers.

  She waited in anticipation of his next words.

  "Wait until my friends have all departed, will you? I am already quite humiliated. By a miracle, they do not know that we are living apart. That would not be at all becoming.” He turned his back on her.

  Her heart sank.

  She nodded and stepped around him with tear-blurred eyes.

  Twenty-nine

  He shifted through paperwork with agitation, then just gave up and tossed the stack onto his desktop.

  He was not going to get any work done in this state of mind.

  His impeccably tailored butler, Jones cleared his throat.

  "My lord.” He bowed, glancing down as if sorry to interrupt him.

  "Yes?"

  He brought his eyes up. “A Miss Honora Moore is here to see you."

  Lord Cheltham frowned and stood up as Honora rushed into the room. Instead of her usually polished appearance, her hair fell disheveled over her shoulders, and she twisted her hands together. A streak of dirt smudged her face, and her dress was torn at the top.

  "Oh my God, Honora, what has happened?” He circled around his desk, took long steps to her and grasped her hands.

  She threw herself into his arms, weeping. He ran his hand gently over her hair in an effort to calm her, although his franticness grew.

  "Shh, little one, tell me what is the matter."

  "They have her, my lord."

  He went tense.

  "Relief?” He said, his voice strained. He pulled away to look into her face. “My God, Honora, tell me who!"

  "The man who was trying to kill you and his hired help."

  He closed his eyes a moment. “Please, start from the beginning. What happened?"

  "Relief and I were shopping, not far from here. She wanted to purchase a nice gift for you as an apology for what happened."