CHAPTER 13
Preoccupied with her own thoughts, Pip moved about the house in an unhappy daze. She was faced with a dilemma that was becoming more and more painful with every passing day. Even the fear of the one-eyed man had momentarily vanished from her mind, and though she was conscious of missing her brothers, of longing to see and talk to them, the majority of her thoughts were centered on how she was going to resolve the powerful attraction that existed between herself—a guttersnipe, bastard, and thief—and the wealthy, wellborn master of the house. To make matters worse, her problem was tangled up not only with the nearly irresistible magnetism that existed between them, but also with the changes that living in his house had made within her.
In St. Giles, she had accepted life as she had found it, and if, occasionally, she had wondered if there was some other future for her, she had been too busy thieving, and lately worrying about being forced to whore for the one-eyed man, to spend much time on speculation about her destiny.
But living in Royce’s house had opened her eyes to an entirely new world. It wasn’t just that the house was richly furnished with all manner of elegant objects that she had never dreamed of, let alone touched or seen; nor was it the enjoyable, regular meals; it wasn’t even the pleasure of having her own little room with its hard, narrow bed, or of wearing a dress nor the joy of discovering what it meant to be really clean, that was making a radical impact on her. What affected Pip the most, aside from her preoccupation with the master of the house, was the notion that she was doing honest work, that she did not have to constantly be sizing up the person next to her with an eye to picking a pocket, that she needn’t fear she would suddenly feel a rough hand on her shoulder and be instantly carted off to Newgate. No, here in Royce’s house she was at ease with herself for the first time in her life, and she found that she delighted in the orderly routine that ruled the lives of his servants. She liked rising every day at dawn to join the others in the kitchen for a hasty meal before they went about their appointed tasks; she liked knowing that on Mondays and Fridays she and Hazel would be thoroughly cleaning the upper rooms; she liked knowing that on Tuesday she would be helping Ivy in the kitchen and that on Wednesday she would work with Sarah as the older woman patiently attempted to teach her how to mend linen and sew a fine seam; and she even liked knowing that every evening she would be helping Alice wash and dry the mountain of dirty dishes, the completion of that task signaled the end of her chores for the day.
As a matter of fact, she thought half-forlornly, half-blissfully, as she absently dusted the mantel in Royce’s study, there was little about living in Royce’s house that she didn’t like, aside from his unsettling presence and the disturbing sensations he made her feel. And while she knew that someday she would have to leave the sanctuary of this house, the things she had learned while living here would remain with her forever. Never again, she vowed with a little scowl, would she be a thief! Never! She was not going to live the rest of her life in fear of being transported to some godforsaken penal colony or hanged on Tyburn! And since at the moment the chance of sailing for America seemed extremely slim at best, she was going to have to consider precisely how she intended to make her living once she left Royce’s house. Which brought her back to her very painful dilemma. Was she, in spite of her best intentions, going to become a whore like her mother?
Until she had met Royce Manchester, she would have sworn vehemently that she would rather die than allow herself to become a rich man’s plaything, but that was before her young body had been assailed by the heady desire that one man’s kiss could arouse. Now she wasn’t so certain.
Frowning blackly at an unoffending silver candelabra as she briskly whisked her dustrag over it, she asked herself for perhaps the hundredth time—would it really be so very awful if they became lovers and she let him buy her fine clothes and install her in a snug little house? Her lip curled. Every instinct cried out against what she was considering, yet ...
Moodily she walked about the room, dusting and cleaning, her thoughts dark and brooding. What else is there for me to do? she asked herself viciously. Of course, I could aspire to be a servant in someone else’s house, she reminded herself uncertainly, but recalling the shocking tales from the other servants, horrifying tales of rape and sadistic beatings, Pip doubted that she would tamely bear any such abuse by brutal and disagreeable employers.
So what was she to do? she wondered exasperatedly. Hope that miraculously she and her brothers would gain passage to America? Hope that the one-eyed man would abandon his ugly plans for her? She snorted. That bloody well wasn’t likely to happen! And while she was safe now, what would happen when either Royce grew tired of protecting her or he returned to America? She couldn’t count on him standing between her and the one-eyed man forever, could she?
Furious with herself, she narrowed her eyes and stared grimly at the lovely carpet that lay on the floor. If she couldn’t sink what pride she possessed and simply live to be at his command, she had better think of something else! Pacing the floor with restless energy, she considered the options available to a woman in her position and came to the conclusion that unless she wished to be a servant all her life, or intended to return to thieving, she had only one other way of gaining some sort of life for herself—selling her body—and that if she didn’t want to end up like her mother, she was going to have to put a very high price on herself. Her small chin took on a stubborn tilt. If Royce Manchester wanted her badly enough, he should be willing to pay a high price, a very high price.... It was a repugnant thought, one that horrified her, and yet the St. Giles part of her, the part that had seen accomplished harlots of nine or ten hawking their pitifully young bodies to passersby, the part of her that acknowledged that her own mother had been a high-priced whore, commended her hardheaded practicality.
The whole business was too ugly, too sordid, to contemplate! But despairingly she reminded herself that women in her position had no business being squeamish or even hesitating when a toff like Royce Manchester expressed an interest in them. He’d already asked her what she would do if he made her an offer, and she’d be a fool if she let him off too cheaply. There were her brothers to think of, too! If she could bring herself to the sticking point, she stood an excellent chance of gaining what would be, for them, a small fortune, fortune enough to even buy a farm in the new land and to enable her brothers to fulfill their dreams. And if she had to sell herself to gain them all that—at least she would have chosen the man she wished to take her virginity, and not the one-eyed man!
Defiantly Pip tossed her black, curly head, deliberately ignoring the feeling of shame that curled in her stomach at the knowledge of what she was seriously considering doing. Quashing her reservations, ignoring the feelings of degradation and regret that hammered in her brain, she set her soft mouth in a grim line. The next time Royce Manchester decided to kiss and caress her, she thought obstinately, she’d make it very clear that while she had no objections to his touch—he was going to have to make it worth her while!
Her decision made, she should have felt relieved, but she was conscious of only a black emptiness within herself, and listlessly she continued to move about the room, not even aware of what she did. She was so lost in her unhappy speculations that she did not hear the door open and shut behind her, and the first indication she had that she was not alone was when Royce murmured with amusement, “I believe that you have dusted that particular picture quite enough.”
Startled, she whirled around, her heart slamming into her chest at the sight of the object of her thoughts standing a scant few feet behind her. He was garbed quite casually for this time of day, especially in London. He wore a white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the open neck giving a tantalizing glimpse of curling, tawny hair at the base of his throat; formfitting russet breeches hugged his muscular thighs, making Pip intensely aware of his potent masculinity. A crooked smile curved his mouth, and the thick, tawny hair on his head was tousled a
s if he had run his fingers through it several times. There was a teasing glint in the depths of those tiger’s eyes, and Pip was almost breathless simply staring at him.
Embarrassed by her reaction to him, she ducked her head and muttered some inane reply. Intending to put as much distance as possible between them, she hurried toward the door, but she had not taken more than a few steps before Royce reached out and caught her arm.
“Don’t go rushing off so quickly,” he said easily. “I have been looking for you. I want to talk to you about some plans I have made for you.”
Her mouth suddenly dry, she glanced up at him. Was he going to ask her to become his mistress? Oh, Lord, she hoped not! Despite all her good intentions, she dreaded the idea of following in her mother’s footsteps and compromising herself before sheer necessity demanded it.
It had taken Royce a great deal of steely determination to go in search of Pip with the set intention of telling her what was being planned, and he had sworn savagely to himself that not by so much as a blink of an eyelash would he betray how very much the thought of her leaving his house, of her leaving England, filled him with an odd feeling of despair. It should be easy enough to do, he had told himself repeatedly; after all, she meant nothing to him—even if he did find her devilishly enchanting! There would be other women—her intrusion into his well-ordered life and everything connected with her had been merely a fascinating little diversion. A few weeks from now he would be hard-pressed to remember her name, let alone what she looked like. Unfortunately, when he came upon her in his office and had barely begun his prepared little speech, Pip looked up at him, those fascinating gray eyes with their long, black lashes fixed earnestly on his face, and to his intense annoyance, he felt all his good intentions fading. All of them.
Cursing himself for being a lustful bastard and hoping that she had not noticed that there was now a prominent bulge in the front of his breeches where there had not been one before, Royce continued rather irritably, “I saw your brothers, and it was decided that the most practical manner of eluding the one-eyed man would be for all of you to sail to America. I’ve already seen my agent about arranging passage, and in not too many days you all should be on your way to an American port.”
Stunned by his words, Pip stared up at his lean, dark face, her eyes widening and her lips unconsciously parting. Leave him? she thought with a queer pang. Leave him and never see him again? She shook her head dazedly, as if unable to believe what he had said. America. He was sending her away to America. Was it only a short time ago that her one wish in life was to escape to America with her brothers? She fought down a wild desire to laugh and cry at the same time. How ironic—now that her dearest wish seemed to be on the verge of coming true, all she felt was a dull ache in the region of her heart.
She took a step nearer to him, one small, slim hand resting lightly on his chest. Her head tipped back, her eyes dark as the clouds heralding a thunderstorm, she asked recklessly, “Is that what you want? For me to leave?”
Royce might have been able to suppress his baser instincts if she had simply accepted his word without question, if only she had not touched him... . Through the fine material of his shirt he could feel the heat of her hand, and his body responded violently to her nearness, the ache between his legs becoming nearly unbearable, the hungry desire coiling even tighter in his belly, increasing his already rampant arousal. Did he want her to leave? A bitter smile curved his chiseled mouth. Oh, yes, he wanted her to leave ... as much as he wanted the sun to stop shining, the moon to stop rising, and his heart to cease beating....
In spite of all his good intentions, the proximity of Pip’s warm body proved too great a temptation; his desire for her and the fact that he was seldom denied something he wanted combined together to override everything but the growing need to have her in his arms again. Unwisely Royce ignored any lingering doubts he may have had and let the passion that was within him dictate his actions. A frankly sensuous smile curving his lips, he brushed her mouth with his and murmured, “No, I don’t want you to leave... . At this very moment, all I really want is to carry you over to that very comfortable sofa against the wall... .” His lips slid along her jaw, his teeth gently nipping the soft skin as into her ear he whispered, “I want to lay you there and strip every single piece of clothing from your body until you are naked in my arms ... and then I want to make love to you. That’s what I want!”
Pip’s breath caught in her throat, the blood thundering so loudly in her head that she could not think, could not concentrate on anything but the turbulent emotions Royce’s words evoked within her. Dazedly she shook her head, trying frantically to clear her mind of the blatant erotic images that were insidiously filling it. This was wrong! She mustn’t let this happen! And yet ... and yet, Royce’s mouth was warm and caressing against the curve of her ear, the gentle bite of his teeth exciting, and a treacherous wave of desire curled in her belly.
Sanity not yet entirely clouded by the powerfully fundamental sensations Royce was so easily conjuring, once again Pip shook her head, trying frantically to remind herself of all the reasons why she should fight against him. “No,” she muttered thickly, painfully, “Don’t do this to me. Let me go.”
“Let you go?” Royce repeated huskily. “You can ask that of me?” Intoxicatingly his mouth touched hers, and against her lips, and as if the words were torn from him, he groaned tautly, “I cannot!”
Sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her with all the pent-up passion within him, and mesmerized by the fierce delight of his embrace, Pip felt her desperate clutch on reality shatter. In a part of her mind, she knew she was going to regret this, knew that her life and the path she was following were going to change irrevocably, and yet she was powerless against the elemental forces that rejoiced at his touch, helpless against the primitive needs that clamored within her slender body.
Oblivious to their surroundings, conscious only of the sweet yielding form in his arms, Royce kissed her urgently, his mouth hard and demanding against hers, his hands roaming feverishly over her slimness. He wanted to touch her everywhere at once, his fingers skimming down her taut back, his hands fondling her firm buttocks, urging her against his arousal before sliding swiftly upward to caress the gentle swell of her breasts. There was a desperation about his movements, as if he were obsessed by an uncontrollable fever that could only be assuaged by the possession of Pip’s slender body.
Always in full command of his emotions, never had Royce been so aroused, so driven by desire that he could think of little else but how frantically he wanted her, how very much he needed to bury his aching flesh deep within hers. A sophisticated man to whom lovemaking was a finely honed art, Royce suddenly found himself gripped by such a consuming passion that the only real thing in the world for him at the moment was Pip’s soft, clinging body. Drowning in a whirlpool of desire, a fierce desire that would not brook any denial, Royce groaned softly as his tongue plunged deeply into the honied warmth of Pip’s mouth. A tremor of sweet delight wound its way through his big body as he thoroughly searched her mouth, his hands dropping to her buttocks again to lift and crush her against him.
Lost in a world of heady sensations, very aware of his powerful arousal, of his hands tightly cupping her bottom, Pip felt her entire body respond to his nearness. His kiss was devastating, the bold, piercing exploration of his tongue making her heart pound, making her slender body ache and throb with a strange yearning. She could not get close enough to him, compulsively arching herself up against him, trying to ease the aching demand that had hardened her nipples and had the area between her thighs pulsating with a liquid warmth. The sheer size and heat of him pressing so intimately against the juncture of her legs excited her further, and she knew that she would die of wanting if he did not also fill her body as completely as his tongue filled her mouth. Instinctively Pip met the increasingly urgent thrust of his tongue with her own, a jolt of pleasure streaking through her when he muttered, “Yes, kiss me back ... oh, y
es, sweetheart, taste me as I taste you... .”
Helplessly Pip complied, her small, warm tongue flicking into his mouth, nearly driving Royce to his knees with the flood of intense pleasure that raced through his body. Restraining his baser instincts, he encouraged her to explore his mouth as he had done hers, his tongue gently gliding against hers, urging her to kiss him as deeply as he had her. It was a sweet torment as he held his own passions in check and let her learn the taste and contour of him. A groan broke from him and he said thickly, “Oh, Jesus! I cannot bear it any longer, I must, I must ...”
Pip was only dimly aware of what he was doing; she felt herself shifted slightly, heard the sound of ripping cloth, and then, to her fervent gratification, felt the warmth of his hand on her naked breast. The insistent tug of his fingers on her nipples had her twisting wildly in his grasp, the driving urge for something more not giving her any respite, the sharp ache between her thighs growing more pronounced as the seconds passed.
The weight and texture of those hard little breasts was nearly Royce’s undoing, and with a muttered oath, he lifted her slightly and almost ravenously began to suckle on the naked flesh he had exposed. Pip’s gown was hanging in tatters at her waist, but unaware or uncaring, she pushed herself up frantically to his searching mouth, the scrape and bite of his teeth on her swollen nipples wringing a small moan of helpless delight from her.
She was on fire, beset by emotions so fundamental, so basic to life itself, that she could not control the primitive commands of her body. Desperately her fingers clawed at his shoulders, the desire to touch his naked skin nearly overpowering, and to her satisfaction, she suddenly felt the material of his shirt give way and she purred with pleasure when her fingers encountered the warmth of his bare skin.
Incapable of concentrating on anything but the merciless desire that gripped him, Royce was ignorant of the fact that Pip had managed to divest him of his shirt, but he groaned deep in his throat when he felt the touch of her hands on his naked chest. Her fingers seared his flesh wherever they touched, and when she instinctively caressed his own rigidly erect nipples, Royce thought he would disgrace himself.
Whisper To Me of Love Page 21