David got to his feet. “What sorts of things did you steal?”
Vivian inspected him. “All sorts. Anything a man had. There’s a market and a fence for everything. No doubt I’ve lost my touch for it.”
David patted his pockets, and then produced a fine cambric handkerchief. “This?”
“Aye, that would fetch a few pennies,” she said. “Fine cloth, no marks.”
“Only a few pennies?” he exclaimed, remembering the bill for a dozen such handkerchiefs. “It’s worth a pound at least.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Not in St. Giles. A few pennies buys a day’s worth of bread, enough to make it worth a body’s while to steal.”
That silenced him. David tucked it back into his pocket. He’d known she had been hungry, and he’d known she was a thief. It was easy to forget that the latter occupation kept away the former affliction. She stole to survive. And in her place, David wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do the same.
“Walk across the room,” she said then, breaking into his thoughts. “Stuff it down more inside the pocket.”
“Are you sure you can get it?” he asked, pushing the handkerchief deeper into his pocket.
Her lips curled. “We’ll see,” she said with a small smile. “Now walk.”
“Why must I walk?”
“I can’t do it if you just stand there,” she explained. “First, a body doesn’t notice being jostled and bumped as much while walking. And, your clothes move when you do. It’s easier to reach into a pocket that’s open a bit.”
“As you say.” David strolled across the room. Vivian watched him for a second, then walked past him. Their shoulders brushed, nothing more. In a crowded street, he wouldn’t have noticed it at all. She didn’t look at him but kept her face forward, and she walked briskly, yet not too quickly. David reached the end of the room and stopped. He was certain there was no earthly way she could have taken the handkerchief; he’d not felt a thing. He reached for his pocket, and found it empty. “You’ve got it,” he said incredulously.
She turned and lowered her gaze demurely. “Have I?”
He pushed his fingers all the way to the bottom of the pocket, to make certain. “It’s gone.”
“Didn’t you feel it?” Now she smiled at him, her eyes dancing with glee. “I thought sure a great fellow like you would know all the tricks.”
“You only brushed against me,” he said slowly. “I never would have suspected. Where is it?” Her hands were empty, clasped in front of her.
She widened her eyes. “Where is what?”
David knew then how she’d gotten away with it for so long. Who could doubt her innocence, with that open, guileless look on her face? Who would want her to be guilty, when she looked young and almost angelically virtuous? “You little devil.”
Now she laughed, and the innocent look was gone. Now she was a woman flush with excitement and triumph. David started across the room toward her. “I wouldn’t have it anymore, in the real case,” she said. “I would have passed it off to someone within a few steps, to avoid being caught with it.”
“But I know you do have it.” He let his eyes slide over every inch of her, until her cheeks were deep pink. “The only question is…where?”
“You said you wanted to see how it was done,” she said as she dodged his hands. “Don’t you care to know?”
“Now I just want it back.” He caught her this time, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. “Let’s see…I should check your pockets.” He slipped one hand into the side slit of her dress, making a show of running his hand all around, stroking her hip. Vivian laughed, wriggling a bit. “Hmm. Not there.” He checked the other pocket just as thoroughly. “Nor there.” His gaze fell to her bosom.
“Don’t you dare,” Vivian said.
“Dare? I dare anything,” he said softly, as his fingers trailed up her side to skim the swell of her breast. “I’ve been robbed, my dear.”
“At your request,” she said, her breath catching as his finger dipped between her breasts.
“Most certainly,” he whispered, drawing lightly on her skin with his fingertip. Vivian shuddered, unconsciously arching her back and pressing closer to him.
“I can’t think what you’ll ask next,” she said, even as he unfastened the front of her bodice to slide his hand inside. “You’re a demanding one.”
He laughed softly at that. “You have no idea.” Her bodice fell open; he had undone the front and now spread the sides apart, exposing her shift. “Untie it,” he said in a low, wicked voice. Her fingers trembling, Vivian untied the string holding her shift closed. It loosened above her corset, revealing the handkerchief she had tucked deep between her breasts.
“Tsk, tsk,” he murmured. “I’ve caught you with stolen property, madam.”
Vivian blushed. “I suppose you’ll want it back.”
His eyes darkened as he examined the handkerchief, and its surroundings, closely. “No, I think it’s well situated for the moment.” With leisurely movements, he unfastened the dress and peeled it from her shoulders to send it to the floor in a puddle around her feet. He untied her corset, loosening it enough to free her breasts. Finally he pulled his handkerchief out, and Vivian shuddered as his fine linen whisked across her skin.
“Thieves must make retribution,” he said, winding the kerchief around her wrists, joining them together and knotting the ends just below her thumbs. “Let us see how you can repay me for my lost kerchief.”
“It’s not lost,” she protested. “You had it in your hands.”
His smile was slow and dangerous. “Let’s see to that, then.” He lifted her hands and ducked his head through them, so that her arms were caught around his neck, held in place by the kerchief tying her hands together. He was so much taller than she, he had to stoop, and even then Vivian felt stretched, almost on her toes.
“Are you going to hang me, then?” she asked breathlessly, as his breath on her exposed bosom turned all her skin to gooseflesh.
He chuckled. “Why, yes; I’ll hang you around my neck.”
Vivian couldn’t help laughing. Her heart skipped a beat. She tugged and pulled against the handkerchief, and only succeeded in losing her balance and stumbling against him.
“Mmm, yes, do that some more,” he said, watching her breasts as she twisted.
“Untie me,” she said.
Pure deviltry sparkled in his eyes. “Not yet. And don’t think you’ll get free on your own. I’m frightfully good at tying people up.”
“Oh? You’ve done this often, then?”
“No,” he said. “Not often enough.”
“I see. Now what, since you’ve got me at your mercy?” Vivian could see why he was a rake. Surely that roguish, wicked smile would tempt any woman to throw scruples to the wind and take whatever pleasures he offered. Here she was, standing in her shift and corset with her hands tied together, and her heart was pounding in anticipation of what he would do next.
“First, you shall be flogged.” He pulled up the back of her shift, exposing her bottom. Gently he slapped her with one hand, then the other. It didn’t hurt, but made her skin sting and tingle. “Do you repent?”
“You asked me to do it—ow!” she cried as he slapped her lightly again. “Stop that!”
He laughed under his breath. “Repent, fair sinner. Else you’ll be drawn and quartered.” He drew one finger firmly up the line of her spine, from between the curves of her bottom to the base of her neck, and then across her back. Vivian quivered. That also didn’t hurt, but it sent a shock through her whole body.
“I won’t,” she whispered. “I’m not sorry…”
“Are you not?” His hand was on her hip, now between her legs. She gave a soft sigh, her knees relaxing to allow him. “Are you sorry?” he asked, probing with his fingertips.
“Nay,” she said. “Not a bit.”
“Wicked wench,” he breathed, his lips grazing hers before settling over them.
His kiss
was like a drug. Vivian threw herself against him, shamelessly allowing him to pull up her shift and caress her bared bottom and stomach. He was her own Blue Ruin, she thought. When he held her like this and touched her like this, she wasn’t herself. Under his spell, she was neither alert, nor wary, nor suspicious. Bad things happened to girls who didn’t keep their wits about them at all times, in Vivian’s experience, but when David kissed her, the world around her could come to a fiery end and she wouldn’t notice. Nor even care.
Oh, but who could blame her? Surely there wasn’t a woman in the country who wouldn’t lose her head when his clever hands were there, just so, moving over her belly and her ribs, her hips and her bottom, between her legs. She was barely balancing on her tiptoes as he ran his fingertips down the back of her thigh and raised her knee to his hip, exposing her completely.
“Are you sorry yet?” he murmured, sliding one long finger inside her.
“Yes,” she choked. “No! Not a bit…not yet…”
He laughed softly, pushing another finger into her, his thumb teasing that too-sensitive spot until she gasped. “You will be. Put your legs around my waist,” he commanded in that low growl, releasing her and unfastening his trousers. Vivian lifted her shaking legs one at a time, and he caught her under the knees, pulling her up until her legs were snug around his waist and she was looking down at him. David’s expression turned almost fierce as he slowly lowered her, one arm under her bottom, the other beneath her, guiding his rigid sex into her.
“That’s it, hold on to me,” he told her as he slid inside her. Vivian moaned, clinging to his neck. “Ride me as you wish…”
“I don’t know how,” she managed to say. He chuckled again, his palms cupping the curves of her bottom, and lifted her. He took a few steps, and Vivian felt the wall at her back.
“You’ll learn,” he said. “Like…this.” He slipped his forearms under her thighs, bracing his hands against the wall. Vivian clung to his neck and flexed her legs, trying not to fall, and succeeded in raising herself a few inches. “Now relax,” he said into her ear, and Vivian understood what he meant.
She took up the movement, slowly at first and then with enthusiasm, up and down again and again as he whispered wicked things in her ear. He told she was beautiful. He told her she drove him mad. He told her to go faster, he told her to go slower, and he told her to talk back to him and tell him what she wanted. Vivian wasn’t sure if she did what he asked or not. All she was aware of was him, large and strong and beautiful, and the way she felt in his arms.
Abruptly he squeezed her around the waist, lifting her away from him and putting her back on her own feet. “Turn around.” His voice was rough and he sounded out of breath. He ducked out of the circle of her arms and ripped the kerchief from her wrists. “Turn around.” Unsteady, Vivian let him turn her around and press her to the wall. David pushed his knee between hers, his hands at her waist holding her up against him. Within a second he thrust into her again, and Vivian’s stomach contracted; it felt different this time, deep inside her. He nudged her feet wider apart, his hands gripping her hips to hold her in place, and then he began to move, long hard driving thrusts that rocked Vivian onto her toes and made her feel lightheaded. She spread her hands flat on the wall and pushed against him, driving her body down onto his.
“Touch,” he rasped in her ear, touching her earlobe with the tip of his tongue. His fingers wrapped around one of her wrists, dragged her hand down her belly. “Yourself. Me. Touch me.” He pressed her fingers to the place where his body joined hers. Vivian felt the thick hot slide of him inside her, and spread her fingers, so that he thrust between them. David groaned in her ear. Again and again he moved, harder and faster, deeper and deeper until Vivian felt tears running down her face and realized she was sobbing. Her bones seemed to be vibrating with the pleasure. She thought she might faint, at any second—he pushed her hand out of the way then and replaced it with his own, his fingers finding that perfect spot with unerring accuracy. In the space of a heartbeat, he sent her over the edge, moaning, bucking, and crying with release. He pushed deeper inside her than ever, pinning her to the wall with his weight, and went still with a harsh exhalation.
Vivian felt shattered. How could he do this to her, so easily? She had never been a trollop. She had fended off the boys and men for years. Now she was completely undone by a sly sideways glance from him, this fine gentleman who seemed to know the deepest secrets of how her body worked. What had come over her?
The one thing she knew was that she was happy. Blissfully, recklessly, happy, in a way she had never before known in her life.
“Good Lord,” she said faintly. “Never thought that would happen over a picked pocket.”
He laughed, a deep rumble in his chest that made Vivian feel warm with contentment. His arms were still around her, one around her hips, the other around her chest, his fingers curved around her breast. She rested her cheek against the wall and smiled dreamily as he nuzzled the back of her neck. Never in all her life had she felt so at ease. So safe. So…peaceful.
David breathed deeply, his face pressed against her hair. His mind felt scrubbed clean. His body felt blissfully exhausted. His soul felt at ease. And his heart…
His heart, he knew, was no longer his own. The sharp-witted little thief in his arms had plucked it right out of his chest. She understood him; they were alike, in more ways than David had ever thought possible. And he understood her. David couldn’t say that his life would have turned out any differently than hers, if he had been in her place and she in his, although he was quite certain she would have made a more respectable lady than he made a gentleman. She recognized the wilder side of him, and wasn’t repulsed by it. She had compassion for his failings, and a tolerance for his mad impulses. She drove him wild, and made him laugh, and excited protective instincts he never knew he had. David wasn’t certain he would ever meet another woman with all those characteristics.
Gently he lowered her back to the floor, holding her as she swayed a bit on her feet. She gave him a look full of lazy amusement, without a trace of outrage or dismay that he had just made love to her up against the drawing room wall, and David knew he was lost. Unable to speak, he stepped away from her and put his clothes to rights as she did the same for hers. He scooped up her dress from the floor and helped her back into it. It was rather a plain dress; he much preferred her in the blue silk gown. She did the buttons on the front and brushed off the skirt, back to normal to all appearances, except for the color in her face and the brilliant sparkle in her eyes.
“Well.” She flashed a saucy grin. “There’d be a lot more crime, if all thieves were punished so.”
David made himself laugh. A thief. She was a thief, and he kept forgetting it in wild flights of fancy. As she crossed the room, a light bounce to her step, David felt unmanned. He had unwittingly taken her from that life, but he couldn’t send her back to it. He couldn’t bear to think of her starving…getting caught with her fingers slipping into someone’s pocket…catching a pistol ball in a highway robbery gone awry. He couldn’t do that to her.
He just didn’t know what he could do.
Chapter Sixteen
The end of the idyll came suddenly and without warning.
“My lord, the duke of Ware to see you.” David frowned, and Hobbs extended his silver tray with Ware’s card on it. Ware? They had once been friends, years ago, but he hadn’t spoken to the man in years. Perhaps he did business with Marcus. “There are some men with him,” added the butler then, his voice ever-so-slightly distasteful, and David felt a premonition of dread. “Some men” probably did not refer to bankers and solicitors calling to negotiate profitable business. “Some men” generally referred to ruffians, moneylenders, and Runners.
“Show them in,” he said warily. Hobbs bowed and left, and David got to his feet. Which sort of men would they turn out to be? He went to the cabinet and got out a bottle of the whiskey he’d taken from Exeter House, poured a generous fin
ger, and tossed it back. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, feeling the familiar defensiveness creeping over him. It was like being summoned to his father’s study all over again, even though—for the first time in years—he honestly had no idea what he could have done wrong. He’d cheated no one, wasn’t in anyone’s debt, and hadn’t so much as flirted with another man’s wife. There was just something, something he couldn’t put into words, that gave him a bad feeling about this visit.
“The duke of Ware, my lord,” Hobbs announced. His voice dropped a level. “And some other…gentlemen.” It was clear from his tone that they weren’t any sort of gentlemen at all, something David could clearly see for himself. They weren’t gentlemen; if David had to lay money on it, he’d wager they were from Bow Street.
“Ware.” He bowed his head, and Ware nodded back. No trace of expression betrayed his thoughts, but it was always that way with Ware now.
“Reece. I trust all is well with your brother.”
David gave a faint smile. “Yes. I’ve never seen him happier.”
Ware nodded again. “No man in London deserves it more.”
“No,” David agreed. The two other men hovered just at the edge of his vision. So far, David had avoided them, but now he cast a brief glance their way. Yes, most certainly legal authorities, and grim ones, too. He steeled himself to a coming disaster, wishing he had an inkling what it would be. “Won’t you be seated?”
Ware took the seat closest to the desk, and his two companions crowded onto the tiny sofa behind it. “Care for a drink?” asked David, keeping up the unconcerned air. One of the strangers opened his mouth as Ware flicked his fingers in dismissal.
“Thank you, no.” The man behind him closed his mouth with a distinct huff. Ware paid him no mind. “I have come on a mission of some delicacy. Some questions have arisen…” He paused. “Some distasteful questions,” he amended. A clear rebuke to the men behind him. “I have offered my assistance in answering them.”
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