Madness

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  “We can’t, darling. It’s going to happen in a second if you do that again. And then your cousin is really going to kill me. I’m not taking you on the bathroom floor like some mindless brute, do you hear me?”

  “Then let’s do what you did before. Please. I need you. Need you so much,” she panted, stroking his high cheekbone.

  Eventually he gave a reluctant nod. He positioned himself as he had a few moments previously and wrapped his arm around her legs to still her, not trusting Gabrielle to keep herself safe from his huge manhood, which he feared would split her tiny body in two.

  For she was certainly most slender, the tiniest and most lithe girl he had ever met, yet all woman with it, her body a lush oasis of delights in the desert of his existence.

  He brought them to another incredible climax even more powerful than all the others combined. She clung to him fiercely, almost sobbing out her need for him.

  He sushed her with his mouth, curving her neck backwards to deepen the kiss so that she would not try to pull him into her more than welcoming body.

  But she could see what he was doing. “Please, if this is all the time we have...”

  “No, I’ve told you. I just can’t do this to you. And they will be here soon. Try to sleep.”

  “I can’t. I don’t want to lose you. Have you vanish into thin air.”

  He shook his head sadly. “I’m a ghost, a dead man.”

  She ran her hand along his abdomen before he could stop her. “You feel awfully lively to me.”

  “Stop, please. Don’t you understand, I feel dreadful enough about what we did already?” he hissed.

  “Was it so terrible for you?” she asked, her hurt unmistakable in her tone.

  He kissed her hard, then said, “It was heaven on earth. But I’ve awakened something inside you now that it will be hard to quench. Just think of this is a pleasant fantasy. But I’m not a real man. The terror of the circumstances has made you feel, well, romantically inclined towards someone you would never otherwise give the time of day to.”

  Her eyes flashed fire. “Is that what you think this has been between us? Some mere reaction to the danger and my near-rape? I'm so hysterical that I've decided to throw myself into the arms of the very next man I meet?” she accused as she jerked her body away from his.

  Simon nearly cried out at the loss of her warm softness. “Not exactly. Just that you would be inclined to view your rescuer as some sort of hero. But I’m a madman.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re more sane than most people I’ve met outside these gates. A real madman would be gibbering and would most certainly have taken all I had to offer, and more.”

  He moved his head to nuzzle her hair. “Please, dearest, it’s getting late. I would like to spend our last few minutes in your arms, revelling in your softness, not arguing with you about what’s really for your own good.

  "You’re so young. It would be a dreadful mistake to rob you of that which can never be replaced. And while some women can have many partners without any thought for the consequences, I suspect you’re not one of them. I think once you give your body and heart, they can never be regained.

  His hand moved from her shoulder down the curve of her back to cup her more tightly to him. “It would be the height of folly and selfishness to become your man for one night and leave you with nothing but memories and regrets.”

  “But it doesn't have to be like that, Simon. I'll come see you whenever I visit Lucinda and—”

  He shook his head regretfully. “I told you. I don’t know what lies they will tell you about what I've supposedly done. All I can say is I served my country loyally, and this is the way they’ve repaid me.”

  “But why—”

  “Please, don't ask me any more, lovely Gabrielle. I’m going to have another seizure and might wake your cousin. It's a miracle we haven't already."

  "He works so hard, he must sleep like the dead when he does finally get a chance to rest," she said with a sad smile.

  "So no more arguing. I don't want to lose a moment of these precious moments together, for however long we're gifted with them. Let me just kiss you, feel you beside me, feel your lush softness? I promise I shall be careful, not take your maidenhead.”

  “Do it, please, just take it. I need—”

  He shook his head and kissed her, lifting his head many moments later with a sigh. “I never knew there could be such pleasure in something so simple.”

  Of course his hands had not been still, and Gabrielle barely had the strength to reply. Her whole body had vibrated like one of the celestial spheres as he had brought her to some strange fit of her own.

  “What, what did you do to me? This shaking, trembling?”

  “It’s called an orgasm or climax, my dear. La petite mort. The little death. It’s the pinnacle of pleasure in the act between a man and woman. If a man is patient with you, you can experience it over and over again. With a man it is as you’ve seen, sound and fury, then nothing for a time. A good lover can keep you on the edge like this for hours—”

  “And how is it you know so much about women's pleasures?” she asked, with a sudden stab of jealousy the likes of which she had never known.

  “Before Bedlam, during the war, I lived in a brothel. The army put me there for safe-keeping. I talked to the women, learned about their bodies, what pleases a woman.”

  Her eyes widened in horror.

  “Yes, I did more than talk too, but you have to believe me when I say I’m not the rake you would imagine me to be. It would be like, er, living in a bakery. After a time you’d get sick of cake."

  She gave a short laugh of disbelief, but from the serious expression in his eyes, she could see he was in earnest.

  "I also have to like the woman I bed. And while there are many admirable things to like about many women, they were a temporary solace, and only ever willing. No money ever changed hands. If they were willing to teach me, I learned. Otherwise I performed my duties in the war as and when required."

  "I see."

  “And I want you to see more, so you don't make the mistake your sister made, and give yourself to a man who is unworthy of her. Most men only care about their own pleasure. But lovemaking can be a fine art. I longed to possess those skills to do as the marriage service says, worship my wife with my body. When the time came of course, for I have never been married.”

  “Have you ever come close?”

  He shook his head. “A man like me?”

  “You keep saying that, but I don’t underst—”

  “Don’t ask!” he said almost desperately, pressing one finger to her lips. “It will trigger off memories. Then I’ll lose you.”

  “Let me guess, you were, um, different in some way, different from your brothers. A bit, er, eccentric? Too clever, in fact?”

  He nodded, relieved. “You do understand.”

  “I too know what it’s like to feel as if I don’t belong. To feel alone in the crowd and long for just one person who really understands me.”

  He nodded and kissed her, bestowing upon her a smile which was pure sunshine. “Yes, that’s it exactly. Oh, you do understand. At last, for the first time in my life I’ve met someone who can grasp this too.”

  She cupped his chin and kissed him deeply. His hands moved over her body with an assuredness of touch that had her need vibrating into his throat as he smothered her cries of joy. Whoever had taught him, he had certainly mastered every lesson. Mastered her.

  Now his touch changed, one clever finger easing into her carefully, invading her secret softness, urging her to total surrender.

  She reached for his surging manhood, intent on not allowing him to evade her again. Before he even realised her plan, he was poised at the gateway to her body like a serpent about to strike. A length of velvet about to stroke...

  The sound of footsteps and gibbering caused him to roll away from her side with a curse. He stood braced by the door ready to take on all comers to defend the pale, wil
d-eyed woman whose desire was so evident that she might as well have shouted it out loud for the entire asylum to hear. He knew he would take the vision of her lovely face, wrenched with urgent desire and longing, to his grave.

  Antony was already up and running for the door as well.

  “I say, does anyone in there need help?” someone called from the other side of the door.

  Antony and Simon looked at each other for a moment. Simon pointed to Lucinda and nodded.

  “Yes, I’m Dr. Herriot. My cousin Lucinda is injured. I fear a possible miscarriage. There’s also an unconscious man in here.”

  Simon was already scrambling back to the pallet. With one last blistering kiss for Gabrielle, he lay down and closed his eyes.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. “Remember, if they ask, you say that I was unconscious nearly the whole time. I love you. For however brief a time we had, it was a joy. Goodbye.”

  “No, no, Simon. I’ll find you!”

  He shook his head, and looked from Antony to her. “You must not. Please. It’s over. It must be. I must have you safe. Goodbye, dearest Gabrielle. Forget you ever met me, my love, and be happy.”

  He kissed her hands, shut his eyes, and crosses his arms over his chest like a dead man in his winding sheet.

  Chapter Six

  Antony had delayed as long as he could moving the heavy dresser in front of the door out of the way to allow them access to the bathroom.

  Then the orderlies were in the room and hauling Gabrielle and Simon away from one another.

  A tall, distinguished looking man asked Antony, “You are well, unharmed?”

  “The women were nearly raped by some barbarian outside, which was why we fled in here. But yes, Gabrielle and I are fine. Lucinda I’m not so confident about. I fear a miscarriage. Can you not release her into my care? We will sign—”

  “I’m sorry. It is for her husband to decide.” He signalled for the orderlies to take her.

  "But she is having his child. Surely—"

  "I'm sorry, I have my orders."

  “Then at least ensure she has a private room while she recovers from—”

  “There are none to be had.”

  His smug, superior look irked Antony so much that the normally mild-mannered doctor grabbed him by the neck cloth and slammed him against the wall.

  “You will find her one for the same price you are charging now for her supposed care, or you shall find a fully detailed report on precisely what happened here today plastered all over the front page of every newspaper in the country.”

  “And what makes you think you can all walk out of here alive?” the man demanded coldly, his dark eyes glittering.

  Gabrielle gasped. So Simon had not been exaggerating the danger.

  Antony’s eyes narrowed. Something was seriously wrong here…

  He said a heartbeat later, “I am sure I must have misheard you. But listen to me most carefully now,, so there can be no more confusion between us. My cousin has been injured by an inmate outside whom you were supposed to have been in charge of. She is in danger of a miscarriage of the Earl of Oxnard's son and heir.

  "And I have other powerful friends who will not take kindly to me being threatened, or disappearing without a trace. I think the Duke and Earl I am acquainted with will be most happy to launch a Parliamentary inquiry into matters here if I were to vanish. I’ve already been away from my clinic far too long. If I fail to return there will be a huge hue and cry amongst my colleagues--”

  The stranger nodded and stepped back at last. “Yes, in fact they are waiting for you outside. But I would make sure you stayed silent about—”

  “You know my terms. A private room, now.”

  “Antony, no," Gabrielle protested, "we need to help both—”

  He shook his head, warning her to silence. He looked at Simon as they dragged him out on the pallet. He was so huge it was hard to move him any other way.

  She understood the warning at once. She decided honey instead of vinegar ought to work even better on the arrogant man facing them.

  “Naturally we are most distressed about Lucinda, and while we understand how difficult private accommodation is to come by, I feel sure her husband will be more than grateful when he is apprised of all you've done for her, Mister, er, Doctor...?”

  He remained silent, and only moved to block her when she tried to get closer to Simon to touch him one last time.

  “But in the meantime, she needs to be tended to. I shall go back to the clinic to replace all of the medical supplies and linens and so on that were lost in the attack upon me, and change my frock. Then I shall be back and will expect to find her in her own room, if not the infirmary.”

  She batted her eyelashes at him shamelessly, making her eyes soften into limpid aqua pools.

  He blinked, shook his head as though waking from a dream, and said, “The infirmary is full, alas, but a private room— Give me an hour.”

  She smiled sweetly, though she longed to slap the supercilious look from the man’s face. "Thank you so much. You are too kind."

  Antony had been gathering up all of their supplies, and she took a last look around the room to make sure she was leaving nothing of value behind. Two men brought a wood and canvas stretcher for Lucinda, and with one last look at the room which had held such terror and such bliss, she turned on her heel and left.

  At last they were out of the bathroom, and retracing their steps back through the common ward in the dim light, following Lucinda and the two orderlies.

  As they went, Gabrielle saw relics of the carnage which had taken place the night before, and shivered with revulsion.

  Antony clutched her around the waist as he led her past the body of her assailant. His throat had been cut from ear to ear, creating a river of blood on the dingy floor.

  She shivered and was sure she was going to be ill. Well, Simon had asked for help in getting him down and put away in a place where he would not be a danger to anyone. Someone had taken advantage of his helpless state to slaughter him like a trussed-up pig.

  Their grim companion paused and once again placed himself between her and her patients.

  "An hour," she said firmly, as they unlocked the gate to let them out, and the stranger began to turn for the steep flight of stairs leading to the upper storeys.

  "Aye, Miss."

  Gabrielle steeped out into the courtyard and shivered with cold. It was freezing, the tiny watery rays of the dawn not yet warming the damp stones.

  She trembled and wrapped her arms around her waist, thinking all the while of Simon’s huge body, his warming presence.

  Where had they taken him now? How badly was he suffering without her? Without any opiates?

  As they made their way to the front gate once more,

  She had never been so glad to see the outdoors in her life. She stumbled out of the front gate almost blindly, right into the arms of Oliver Neville, the second permanent doctor at the Bethnal Green clinic.

  He caught her to him and half led, half carried her to the waiting carriage. “My God, Gabrielle, we were so worried. What on earth happened?”

  Their assistant Clarissa was waiting also, and immediately applied a dose of hartshorn under Gabrielle’s nose.

  She shoved the bottle away with a grimace. “I’m all right, really.”

  “Let’s get you back home,” Clarissa said.

  “No, the clinic, please. There is still much work to be done.”

  Clarissa looked as though she would protest, but Antony's grim nod silenced her.

  She sat back against the leather seats and closed her eyes, trying to process all she had been through in the past twelve hours. The attack, her rescue, her sister being so ill, Simon and his revelations….

  It had seemed like just a blink in time when she had been in Simon’s arms. Now she could truly understand how people could throw all caution to the winds, forget everything, morals and decency and even common sense in the face of such powerfully passionate
longings and emotions.

  She rested silently as Antony told their colleagues all that had happened. Well, most of it, for he only mentioned Simon from a doctor’s point of view, namely his seizures.

  She saw Clarissa staring at her and blushed. Damn, was it so obvious...

  Antony finished by saying, “I’m going back to the clinic long enough to get food and more supplies. There are wouded everywhere. Can we call in every doctor we have available to tend to the clinic and lend hand if you and I go back into Bedlam, Oliver?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll send the messages around at once,” the blond doctor said promptly. “Tell me what we need and Clarissa and I shall pack it all up. We can be ready to leave again in, say, half an hour.”