He, of course, had a bedroom of his own, which she expected him to use. On the nights they had marital relations, they also slept the balance of the night together. Sometimes he left before she woke; sometimes he didn’t.
She still found the mornings awkward, but not as awkward as walking in to find him lying on her bed, even if still fully clothed.
What did he expect?
What did she expect? The skin all over her body prickled, and pertinent areas tightened at the idea of just what might happen. He must want what she wanted. Suddenly, she fought for breath.
Valerie, at her heels, ran into the room and jumped up with her front feet against the mattress. Mitch reached down almost lazily and stroked her head.
“Oh,” Tessa said. “I didn’t see you at dinner, didn’t know you were home.”
“I was out. Just got back a short while ago.” He gestured to the room. “Hope you don’t mind. I…thought we might talk.”
Talk. That, heaven knew, wasn’t what she wanted from him. In truth they spoke little enough. Their intimacy all took place beneath the blankets.
But she stepped in and shut the door carefully behind her. The thick carpet muffled her footsteps as she crossed to the bed.
“Talk about what?”
He shrugged. He lay propped against the pillows, the collar of his shirt unfastened. Tessa thought about unbuttoning it the rest of the way, and her fingers tingled.
“Whatever you’d like.”
Tessa puffed out a breath.
He inspected her with careful eyes, starting with her hair, lingering on her mouth, and moving downward slowly. It felt like he touched her everywhere; she shivered.
“Are you chilly, Tessa? Would you like me to light a fire?”
Or he could warm her—start a fire indeed. The last few times they’d been together, he barely needed to touch her to set her aflame. A single caress, a single kiss—or, like now, one glance.
She sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out and touched her hand. “Lie down and talk to me.”
Unprecedented. Not a step she felt sure she wanted to take.
Gingerly she positioned herself against the pillows beside him, the green satin coverlet soft beneath her, and searched her mind for something to say.
Before she could find it, he asked, “What did you do today?
“Me?” She tried to think. “We had another meeting at the Meadows Club.”
“Oh?”
“You should come with me some time and hear Mr. Ellison speak. And Mrs. Michaels. She’s quite eloquent.”
“For an automaton.” His usual response when she mentioned Lily.
“But not like you’d think.”
Mitch took Tessa’s hand in his. “Would you like it if I came with you? Because I meant what I said, Tessa—I’ll do whatever you need, be whatever you need to make you happy.”
Whatever she needed? Would he take her in his arms? Kiss her until she forgot who she was—who he was?
She turned on the pillow and looked at him. Bright hazel eyes gleamed a question at her, black hair ruffled against the white linen.
She didn’t know what he saw in her eyes, but he lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss into the palm. “Tessa, tell me—do I have a chance?”
Caught like a fly in a web, she repeated, “A chance?”
“With you.”
She didn’t want to answer that, didn’t even want to think about it. Instead she moved forward into his arms.
For the first time ever, she gave herself to him with the light still burning. There could be no pretense when he stopped kissing her and gazed into her face. She could see the emotions in his eyes when he reached for the buttons on the front of her lacy white blouse. As he unfastened them slowly, one by one, another shiver traveled all the way to her toes.
“Tessa, Tessa, let me have my way with you.”
His way? And what had they been doing all these nights?
As if he heard her thoughts, he whispered, “There’s more. More than we’ve already shared.”
“More?”
“Let me show you.”
Oh, God. Could she stand more? Could she stand not having more?
“Yes,” she breathed. “But put out the light first.”
“No, I want to see you. All of you.”
He shifted and cupped her breasts one after the other through the open front of her blouse. “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”
“The light. Please.”
He froze and gazed again into her eyes. “I want you to know it’s me.”
“I do.”
“I don’t want you pretending I’m somebody else.”
Tessa whimpered. She wanted him so much she could taste him. But she wanted the light out.
He reared up on the bed and began shucking his clothes, his gaze on her all the while.
He had a nice body, she decided, now that she could see it properly. Well-muscled yet lean in all the right places. Nothing like Richard, but Richard was a rat of the first water who wouldn’t recognize loyalty if it rushed up and bit him.
She liked the way her husband’s black hair tumbled over his forehead when he bent to kiss both her breasts. Loved the way the hair on his chest narrowed to a line which led downward to…
Oh, mercy, she’d never seen that in the light either. Heaven help her.
“Put yourself in my hands, Tessa.”
Nearly lost, she uttered the agreement, “All right.”
After that they abandoned all need for words. She watched through half-slitted eyes while he sampled the skin of her shoulders, her neck, and both her breasts. He planted open-mouthed caresses on her arms and hands, and on her belly, removing her clothing as he went and making his way ever downward. When he kissed her thighs, pushing her ruffled petticoat aside, and urged them apart, she stiffened. But only for an instant—she’d placed herself in his hands, after all, at the mercy of his mouth, and that was where she wanted to be.
Still, the light changed everything, made it more immediate and, somehow, twice as intimate. When she felt his hot breath and then his mouth at her most private place, her fingers curled into the coverlet. For an instant she feared she couldn’t bear it.
Then, a woman surrendering, she opened herself to him.
****
“There, I told you. Didn’t I tell you? Tessa? Tessa, look at me.”
After she shattered, he’d worked his way back up her body, fastened his mouth to hers, and slid inside her, where he’d released his seed. Now he cuddled her close against him, his arms tight around her, his cheek against her hair.
She drew away just far enough to look into his eyes. She felt embarrassed, half ashamed of her body’s response to him, and at the same time so satisfied it shocked her.
But she said, “I’m looking.”
He cradled her face between his hands. “Do you see? We’re good together. Good.”
That word couldn’t begin to describe what her body had just experienced. She whispered, “I didn’t know—I never thought men and women—”
“They do. We will. It can be like this for us always.”
Oh, lord.
“Tessa, I love you.”
She stopped breathing entirely. Again she gazed into his eyes and for the first time—the very first time—saw him.
Not the King of Prospect Avenue, not the tough, not the hard man, but one with a spirit that flared like light, who sought to disguise his vulnerability and yet let her see it now. A man who, more than anything, wanted to love.
Wanted her love.
“Oh, Mitch,” she groaned. She placed her palm against his cheek and said again, “Oh—I can’t…”
“Hush. I know you can’t say it back to me.”
She almost wished she could.
“It doesn’t matter. I can wait. Wait till you’re able to say it, until I become the man you need me to be. I want you to know I’m trying to buy Carter’s. If I succeed, we can improve things there.
You and me together, we can.”
“That’s wonderful.”
His face quickened with gladness. “You think so?”
“Oh, yes. It’s only right that you should make things better for the children there, boys like you were.”
“Tessa, does it matter to you that I came from there, from nothing?”
“No,” she answered truthfully. “Only what you do with your life.”
“The man who owns a controlling share in Carter’s—Morton Fink—is refusing to sell, so far. But I’ll get ’round him.”
The expression in Mitch’s eyes changed when he spoke the name Fink—they narrowed, and their light dimmed.
“Isn’t he—”
‘He ran the place when I lived there, was the master.”
“And cruel.” Suddenly she could read him, feel his emotions the way she never had before. She caught her breath. “If he refuses to sell—”
“I’ll persuade him.”
“How?”
“Never you mind about that, Tessa. I will. And if not, after he’s dead it’ll pass to someone else who’ll be bought. You’ll see.”
“Mitch, it doesn’t have to be that orphanage.”
“Yes, it does.”
“You might acquire any of them. The important thing is that they get improved, one at a time.”
“No, you were right when you said it should be Carter’s. Look at this.”
To Tessa’s surprise he moved in the bed, rolling away from her until he could show her his naked back. The golden light from the steamlamp washed over his skin and revealed a network of scars. They criss-crossed in a pattern of ridges, some deep, all thick with age.
She gasped. “Oh, Mitch. Who—Fink?”
He turned back and lay in his former pose, forearm across his eyes. “He gave me the worst of those the day before I ran away.”
“Why? Why would he beat you so badly?”
“He wanted to break my spirit.” Mitch seemed to ponder it an instant before he added, “But it wouldn’t break.”
Emotion flooded over Tessa such as she’d never before felt toward this man. How could anyone grow up in such a place, face such harsh discipline, yet keep his spirit intact? Come out of it to make a success of himself, fetch his fellows out after him, give them employment.
By whatever means.
At that instant she believed she understood him better than she ever had, even wondered if she might, some day, come to love such a man as this.
Despite what he might do to Morton Fink? Ah, but what did Morton Fink deserve?
“Mitch, I’m sorry for what happened to you. It shouldn’t happen to any child. But that’s the past, right?”
He lowered his arm; they gazed into one another’s eyes. “You’re my future, Tessa.”
She crawled on top of him, fitted her body to his. Another first—she’d never before showed herself as eager for him. She’d also never imagined being anyone’s future—his world. But the very idea went to her head.
Perhaps, she thought, she couldn’t save all the orphans in the city. Just this one.
Chapter Thirty
“You look happy,” Lily Michaels told Tessa as they sat down at their table in the tea shop. “Much happier, so I have to say, than when we first met.”
Tessa shot her friend a look of surprise. It couldn’t be denied that Lily Michaels, automaton or not, had become one of her closest friends. They’d fallen into the habit of meeting like this for tea and confidences.
Neither could it be denied that Tessa felt happier. Nearly a month had passed since her husband told her he loved her. Life had acquired a pattern she could only deem satisfying, even comfortable, sharing meals with him in the evenings, and kisses at parting. Marital relations most every night, so searingly hot she could barely stand to think about it. The things they did together got left in her room, during daylight hours.
Or did they? Perhaps they colored everything else. And brought warmth to her cheeks now.
“You are blushing,” Lily observed. “Is it because your husband has become your lover?”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“I am remarkably observant. As I have said, I was constructed to respond to nuances. In addition, the first book ever I read was called, The Adventures of Miss X. Therein, Miss X learned many fascinating intimacies from her lover. I still use them on my husband, Rey.” Lily tipped her charming head. “He never seems to tire of them despite the repetition.”
“Really? Do you—er—still have that book?” And what might Mitch do if she acquired new skills and practiced them on him? Her skin tingled, just thinking about it.
“Yes, I still have every book I ever owned. They are like friends. Would you like to borrow it?”
“I believe I would.”
“Lending books is a noble practice. I have borrowed many books from my good friend Pat Kelly.”
“How is his wife, Rose, doing?” Lily spoke often of her friends, and Tessa couldn’t help but sympathize with Rose, given her kidnapping ordeal.
“Better. I sit with her sometimes while Pat is away. He does not like leaving her alone.”
“I can understand why. Has he discovered who snatched her?”
“Not yet. There are only a few clues. But Pat will not give up. He is very protective of Rose.”
Tessa tried to imagine being married to an automaton, even one as sophisticated as Pat Kelly, and failed. Lily’s husband, Rey, and Rose Kelly certainly didn’t seem to mind their unusual matches.
“And”—Tessa lowered her voice—“how go your efforts to adopt?” She’d quickly learned that Lily’s dearest wish was to either adopt or foster a child, since she would never be able to give her husband one of his own.
“Our application is still being reviewed, so we are told. Usually it does not take this long. I fear the delay presages a refusal.”
“You don’t know that for sure.” Tessa covered Lily’s hand, which rested on the table, with her own. “No one who’s met you could doubt you’d make a wonderful mama, warm and nurturing.”
“I keep thinking of them shut into those terrible institutions. I know what it’s like to be shut away, and powerless.”
“I know.” During their shared afternoons Lily had confided certain details of her past as a high-class and high-priced prostitute.
“But let us speak of more cheerful things. Since your husband has become your lover, you yourself may soon conceive a child. I am given to believe that often happens during the first year of marriage due to the frequency of sexual relations.”
Lily, as Tessa had learned, usually spoke with frankness bordering on the blunt. She’d come to not mind.
But a baby—Mitch’s baby…Tessa couldn’t say the idea hadn’t crossed her mind lately, especially considering all they’d shared together. And yes, she did happen to be late, but that could be due to emotional upheaval, or so she assumed.
She wondered how Mitch would react to news of an impending child. He must have thought of it too, when he came to her again and again.
“It’s rather soon for that,” she hedged. “Besides, if Mitch succeeds in buying Carter’s, he’ll have lots of children under his care. Say, Lily—if that happens, perhaps he could see to it you’re given one of those poor boys.”
“You think so?” Lily’s blue gaze went wide.
“I don’t see why not. But remember, you can’t tell anyone he’s trying to acquire the orphanage.”
“I will not, Tessa. As you know, I am excellent at keeping secrets.”
****
“Boss, I think he’s ready to sell.” Tiny stood in front of Mitch’s desk with his flat cap in his hands and several of the other boys at his back. Tiny’s eyes gleamed.
“Come in,” Mitch told them. “Shut the door.”
They filed into the office the way feral cats might. To be sure, the boys who’d come from Carter’s always had an edge. And these four had all come from Carter’s.
“Tel
l me.”
Tiny exchanged sidelong glances with his companions. “We been doing like you said, Boss—hanging ’round his house, making sure we can be seen from the windows. He knows we’re there because he sends his steamies out to shoo us off. We go. But we always come back a while later. And at night—” Tiny paused.
“At night, what?”
A ripple passed through all four boys. Tiny closed his eyes for a minute like a man savoring something. “He knows we’re there then, too.”
Lou offered, “He’s a hard nut to crack, old Fink. But we found a way in, see, Boss—through the coal chute.” Lou held out his hands, the palms of which still showed black dust. “Good thing he starved us in our youth, eh? Else we’d be too big to fit through.”
Another of the boys, Harry, spoke in turn. “He had his servants check all the doors and windows but automatons aren’t too imaginative. Neither are the police, sometimes. If they were, we wouldn’t still be in business, right?”
“Good job, boys,” Mitch said.
“We try harder. That old bastard deserves a fright—and more.”
“So”—Mitch played with the pen on his desk—“how do you know he’s ready to sell?”
“He got all shaken up last night,” Tiny replied. “His servants had to call the doctor for him. I reckon a suggestion—posed in the proper way—should about finish the job.”
“Do it,” Mitch told them. “Whatever it takes.”
All four boys grinned—sharks now, rather than mangy cats.
Lou mumbled, “Our pleasure, Boss.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“I wondered if you would mind skipping our usual visit to the tea house today,” Lily Michaels proposed. An almost eager look appeared in her blue eyes. “I’d like to suggest something else.”
“Oh?” Tessa adjusted her hat and pulled on her gloves. They’d just left a meeting at the Meadows Club that she’d found deeply upsetting. Mr. Ellison had proposed raids on three more orphanages—considered among the worst in the city—and had taken them over a disturbing list of statistics, citing the numbers of children who had died during the last year in such institutions.
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