An Inescapable Attraction

by Sydney Jane Baily

  "Tea or coffee?" was all she asked, in her heavy accent.

  "Tea," Eliza said, gazing distractedly at the mountain of food before her.

  Charlotte coughed in precisely the way Eliza's father's housekeeper, Mrs. Longwood, used to do to remind her to use her manners.

  "Please," Eliza added hurriedly, and as Jeanine placed a cup of steaming tea down beside the plate, she said, "Thank you."

  How did Charlotte not expand like a ripe blueberry if she ate like this each morning? Eliza and Thaddeus had eaten such sporadic meals over the past weeks, this was practically an assault to her senses. It smelled divine, however, and even though unused to so much food, she tucked in.

  "You're right, by the way," Charlotte said, picking up on Eliza's earlier remark. "It was incredibly good fortune that a man such as Reed would come into my life when he did. I shudder to think of myself still stuck in Spring City, sitting behind my desk with life passing me by."

  It was a long confession for Charlotte to make, and since Eliza's mouth was full, she only nodded in agreement.

  Charlotte sipped her tea and then added, "It was fortunate for him, too. He was going through his life with his heart all locked up because of something that had happened to him years ago."

  Eliza drew in a big breath and choked on her toast. She coughed, tears springing to her eyes as Jeanine rushed forward to wallop her on her back. After a few moments of the woman's firm palm smacking her between her shoulder blades, Eliza waved her away. She sipped her tea to rinse down the rest of the crumbs, all the while thinking that Charlotte could so easily be describing her.

  When Thaddeus seemed to use her so callously that night in his barn, never even making mention of it, Eliza, too, locked her heart up despite how she yearned for him. She turned easily to Riley, who, as far as she was concerned, was no threat to her heart whatsoever.

  Indeed, if Thaddeus had made any kind of promise or even the smallest of declarations, Eliza would have fought her father in order to marry him—no matter his reputation for lacking ambition, for drinking, and for generally being a ne'er do well.

  "I'm truly glad it worked out for both of you," Eliza added, when she could breathe and talk again.

  Charlotte shook her head, looking bemused, as if surprised to find Eliza in her kitchen. "Frankly, I didn't expect to ever see you again, at least not this side of the Mississippi."

  "Nor wanted to, I should think," Eliza said, seeing by Charlotte's expression that she'd hit the mark.

  "We weren't exactly friends," said Charlotte with tactful understatement.

  "No," Eliza agreed, "nor even neutral acquaintances. I went out of my way to pick at you whenever our paths crossed."

  This time it was Charlotte who coughed, perhaps startled at Eliza's blunt confession. Jeanine slapped her on the back until her eyes watered, and Charlotte held up her hand.

  "I'm fine," she croaked out, and Jeanine sailed out of the room with a load of kitchen towels. "Very helpful woman, our Jeanine," Charlotte remarked.

  "I can see that," Eliza said, but she wasn't going to change topics now she'd made her confession. "But it's true what I said."

  "Do you want to tell me why?" Charlotte asked, grabbing a napkin and wiping her mouth.

  Eliza shrugged. "I suppose 'because I could' is not enough of an answer for tormenting you."

  She was relieved to see Charlotte smile at that remark, despite their years of antagonism.

  Eliza continued, "I resented you for having your family when we were younger. I wanted everything you had, until you didn't have it anymore."

  "You mean my mother."

  "Most specifically, yes. And of course, you had a sibling and I didn't."

  "But you don't feel in the least bit sisterly toward Thaddeus, do you?" Charlotte remarked, getting right to the point.

  Eliza felt her cheeks heat.

  "That's all right," Charlotte said. "I can see where he'd turn a woman's head. He's always been somewhat larger than life. If the boys started drinking, he'd get drunk. If they played in the mines, he'd have to camp out down under. If they learned to shoot, he'd have to develop perfect aim. And of course, there's the gambling. He either wins big or loses bigger."

  "And there are the women," Eliza said, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

  Charlotte faltered, then spoke. "On the rare occasions when Thaddeus came back to visit, he'd end up out drinking with Dan. You know that."

  Eliza nodded. "Dan," she repeated, "who can share stories the way wildfire spreads through sagebrush." With Dan in town, everyone in Spring City knew that Thaddeus put his boyish good looks to use to gain a bit of female company—from coast to coast.

  Charlotte put her hand over Eliza's, and Eliza jumped at the touch. Then they locked gazes.

  "I don't wish you any ill," Charlotte said, sounding utterly truthful. "What's past is past, and growing up together in Spring City seems a lifetime ago." She paused, apparently searching for the right words.

  "I don't want you to get hurt by one of my kin. I don't know if my little brother is ready to grow up, so I can't advise you to hitch your wagon to him. Do you understand me?"

  Eliza nodded, grateful that she hadn't had to grovel out an apology after all. Instead, they'd moved on to unfamiliar territory.

  "I'm trying to be cautious where your brother is concerned. Thaddeus can be rather confusing at times. For whatever reason, right now, he's decided to focus his attention on solving my problems," she paused, "though it seems to me, he has a few of his own. Maybe you can help him. Someone needs to talk to him about what he carries in that bag of his."

  Charlotte frowned, a light of interest flaring in her eyes. "I will. You can be sure of that."

  The moment passed and she took her hand from Eliza's. "Why are you up so early?"

  "I need to go shopping," Eliza admitted. "Along the way, between escaping from Jack Stoddard and then fleeing with Thaddeus and being abducted once or twice, I've lost all my clothes."

  "Blazes!" Charlotte exclaimed. "But you had the prettiest gowns in Spring."

  Eliza shrugged and shot her a quick grin. "Still do, probably. I left most of them behind. But they don't do me much good packed up in my house."

  Charlotte eyed her thoughtfully. "The shops are magnificent. I'll take you myself. Nothing opens for another hour anyway, so eat and then we'll go." She stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I have to check on Emory."

  Eliza was startled by how quickly Charlotte had taken over. "You don't have to accompany me. I'm very capable of managing my life, despite the pickle that Thaddeus described last night."

  "I'm sure you are, but it's pleasant to have a friend in the city. When I first arrived, my Aunt Alicia took me around the shops. Frankly, it's not nearly as fun to shop alone, don't you agree?"

  And with that, she was gone. How strange! She and Charlotte were going shopping. Why, Eliza had never had a woman friend in her whole life, and to think, her first one would be Thaddeus's sister. Anyone else and she would be filled with mistrust, but Charlotte was inherently honest and true and, at the end of the excursion, Eliza was certain she wouldn't be wearing a garment such as the one Josephine had thrown her way.

  Eliza could eat only a few more bites. Pushing the plate to the center of the table, she tapped her fingers and waited.

  When Charlotte did not readily reappear, Eliza hoped Thaddeus would come down to breakfast in the meantime. She hadn't seen him since dinner the previous evening, after which he'd headed out for a walk without a word to anyone.

  Though he'd seemed perfectly placid, Eliza could tell by the sharp glance he'd sent her way that he still simmered with annoyance—apparently at her not wanting to carry on amorous congress in his sister's house.

  Knowing what she knew of Thaddeus, he had likely as not ended up in a bar. Her stomach compressed, threatening to return the delectable breakfast. What if he hadn't come home but instead had visited some woman he knew in Boston?

  After draining her tea cup
, she pushed uncertainly to her feet. Humming quietly to herself, she climbed the stairs, passing her own bedroom door, and continued along the hallway toward Thaddeus's room. She slowed her steps as she approached the nursery where he'd slept—if he'd come home at all.

  Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, she wondered if he might have brought a woman home with him. Her heart pounded, as she tried to banish the thought. Surely, he wouldn't do that, not in his sister's home. Would he?

  Burning with curiosity and a little dread, she turned the doorknob and crept inside. The curtains were closed against the early morning light, but she could see him, alone, tangled in the sheets of a his young cousin's too-small bed; his unclothed body stretched diagonally, one foot hanging off the side, almost reaching the floor where the blanket had already fallen.

  Closing the door behind her, she felt drawn involuntarily closer to gaze at him, recalling all they'd been through. She couldn't help but smile.

  Without a sound, not realizing she was still moving, she approached him. He lay on his back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes, the other hanging off the side of the bed. His exposed chest rose and fell in easy slumber, and she looked her fill of his sculpted muscles.

  Fascinated, staring at the darker hair showing just above the sheet that twisted low over his hips, she took another step. They'd been sleeping in the same room since he'd found her, except for on the trains, but she'd never had time to stare leisurely at him, unclothed as he was now. Wickedly, she wished the sheet had fallen off him along with the blanket.

  He was splendid, and her heart felt full as it always did in a calm moment when faced with Thaddeus Sanborn, or even a memory of him. He was so perfect in form as far as she was concerned. She loved the timbre of his voice, the familiar scent of his skin, the way his green eyes darkened to show his moods, the sexy sound of his laughter, not that lately they'd had much to laugh over.

  Unwittingly, she reached her hand out—perhaps to lightly touch his skin, maybe to move the lock of hair off his forehead, she hadn't decided—when with lightning speed, his arm snaked out and grabbed her, his other arm lifting from his eyes. She squealed in surprise. She was captured.

  "Ellie," he said, pulling her down and across his body without waiting for an explanation.

  He tilted his head to look at her, a profound desire stirring in his gaze. Blinking at what she saw, a sensation of heat pooled low in her belly while passion flared throughout the rest of her. She licked her lips, feeling breathless.

  He groaned and dragged her up his torso; then she could feel what was under that thin sheet. He was rock hard and ready. Both his hands were on her buttocks now, grinding her against him. At the same time, he claimed her lips, tasting her like a starving man.

  She relaxed onto his warm body, feeling tingly where their groins touched and where her breasts lay heavy on his chest. His hands released her to begin pulling her gown up, and the cool air caressed the back of her legs above her stockings. She didn't struggle, and when he had both her dress and shift up around her hips, with nothing but the thin sheet between them, he stilled his movements.

  "You're not wearing drawers." His voice was raspy as he replaced his hands on her bare rear end, caressing her skin. He kneaded her soft yet firm flesh, and she sighed. Their faces were mere inches apart.

  Something else she needed to buy this morning.

  "Neither are you," she teased.

  He grinned, and it did funny things to her insides, which were already performing tumbles of excitement. He managed to pull the sheet out from underneath her hips and the scorching heat of his skin against hers was her undoing.

  "Don't you know better than to sneak up on an armed man?"

  "You're not armed," she countered and was rewarded with a thrusting of his hips, causing his rigid shaft to stroke against her exquisitely sensitized sex.

  Her breath caught in her throat. She'd missed him in her bed, not only the previous night but those nights on the train, too. Indeed, she had not slept as soundly without his presence.

  But sleep was the last thing on her mind right then. She let her legs fall on either side of his hips, and the tip of him slid just inside her opening. Closing her eyes, she laid her head on his chest and listened to the thundering beat of his heart that belied his languid attitude.

  With his hands at her waist guiding her, he eased her body onto his erection, sheathing himself inch-by-inch, until she was fully seated.

  God help her, he felt so good. She was captive, absolutely wanton, sprawled across his naked body. She didn't even know if the door was locked or if someone might enter at any moment to witness them in this sordid position. She didn't care. She couldn't stop him now if she wanted to. And she absolutely did not want to.

  Lifting her hips with his strong hands, he began a deliberately gradual gliding retreat, though she could feel her body trying to retain him.

  She moaned, maybe too loudly, for he claimed her lips again, moving one of his hands to the back of her head to hold her close. Each noise she made, he took into his mouth.

  With his other hand, he made lazy circles over her exposed buttocks, all the while continuing his unhurried strokes.

  When she pulled back against his hold on her head, he released her.

  "Where... where were you?" She was panting, lost in him already but fighting to think clearly. "Last night."

  At first, he didn't seem to hear her as he continued to slide languidly in and out of her woman's passage. She arched her head back and closed her eyes. But then he spoke.

  "Went for a walk, a drink." He groaned, his mouth against her arm next to his head.

  "Is that all?" she persisted, needing to know. Please say yes.

  He smiled and lifted his head to kiss her neck before he let his head drop back onto the pillow.

  "Yes, Ellie." He gave an energized thrust, and she gasped again. "I looked in on you," he added, "all alone in that big, comfy bed."

  While she was sleeping, he'd been watching her. She shivered.

  "Almost joined you."

  He thrust again, and she moaned with satisfaction.

  She would have let him.

  "Didn't want to humiliate you," he added, surging into her.

  "Thaddeus, I didn't mean—"

  But he pulled her head back down to his and planted his lips on hers.

  Her body grew taut as the physical pleasure built; in her core, everything heated and liquefied and melted. She kept her eyes closed and let his hands work their magic over her body, only wishing he had removed her dress entirely, so he could cup her breasts.

  In another moment, she could think no more. Her sheath compressed around him, seeming to milk the length of him; she heard him murmur her name as she lost herself in exquisite sensations, reaching an explosive pinnacle before every muscle in her body clenched then, at last, relaxed.

  Thaddeus rolled her beneath him, holding her hips still, as he surged into her again before taking his own release and collapsing beside her.

  They lay in silence for long moments, his hands lightly stroking her hip. Her racing heart finally slowed, and she realized they were both hanging off the side of the small bed.

  "Eliza, are you ready to go?"

  They froze at the sound of Charlotte's voice.

  Chapter 11

  Eliza knew her face had gone beet red at hearing Charlotte. Thaddeus put his fingers to her lips, quietly pulling her to a sitting position and then onto her feet.

  "She'll be right out, Charlie," he said, sounding nearly normal. He took a moment to smooth her hair and help her arrange her clothes.

  "We were discussing our meeting with Reed," he added loudly, and Eliza rolled her eyes.

  He had to hang back out of sight, since he was stark naked, but touched her cheek and whispered in her ear, "Go on, you're dressed. She'll never know."

  Eliza breathed deeply, hoping the flame in her face had died down to a dull pink. Under her shift, she was sticky and realized that Thadde
us hadn't pulled out of her as he had before. But what could she do?

  She grabbed the small towel from the washstand, and turning her back to him, she lifted her skirt and wiped the residue. Tossing the cloth into the bowl, she opened the door and stepped into the hall without looking back.

  "I'm ready," she said brightly, wishing she had time to clean up properly, but she would have settled for putting on drawers. She had a feeling Charlotte Sanborn Malloy had never ventured out without her undergarments on.

  But Charlotte scarcely glanced at her—or, at least, decided not to comment on her disheveled appearance. "Let's get you outfitted for Boston."

  * * *

  Charlotte delivered Eliza to Reed's office after lunch, newly clothed, including undergarments. Eliza was still smiling at the morning she'd had. Besides the intimate adventure in bed with Thaddeus that she'd found to be both wickedly thrilling and deeply satisfying, her shopping trip had been one of the most fun things she could ever remember doing.

  Eliza marveled at how Charlotte had changed from the introverted girl she'd known in Spring City to a society maven who could navigate the shops, steering clear of tasteless items on sale while still finding the best prices, and who knew the shopkeepers and, more importantly, their fitting room assistants.

  Soon, Eliza felt more like her old self, clad in a gown of brilliant blue satin trimmed with white lace. Her money hadn't gone as far as she'd hoped, and she pictured the diamond ring that was now in the bottom of her bag in her room on India Wharf. If she sold it, she could shop until there was not much left for anyone else in Boston. But without that ring as security, Stoddard would undoubtedly kill her.

  "Come on in," Charlotte said, leading her into the waiting room of her husband's business on Scollay Square. Eliza took in the elegant robin's egg blue walls with white chair rails.

  A gentleman with a close-cropped moustache sat at a polished reception desk with two speaking tubes attached. At seeing Mrs. Reed Malloy, he picked one tube out of its bracket, whistled sharply, and then spoke into the end of it, "Mr. Malloy, sir. Mrs. Malloy is here."