by Shana Galen
Marlowe stumbled inside the warehouse and immediately cut to the right. It was darker there, and Satin couldn’t kill her if he couldn’t see her.
“What the devil?” Satin asked as he stared at the empty warehouse. “Ye’re dead, girl.”
Marlowe sucked in a breath as Satin turned the pistol on her. Apparently, she wasn’t as well hidden as she’d thought, because he was aiming straight for her. She ducked her head, waiting for the blast, and then heard the yell.
***
“No!” Gideon screamed, lunging forward. He’d dropped to the floor of the warehouse just as the door swung open. He looked up, saw the way Satin’s mouth turned down, the glint of the snapper, and he ran.
***
Dane saw Satin raise the pistol, and he hefted his sword. He was almost to the doorway when something large and heavy slammed into him, sending him sprawling. The man was instantly on top of him. Dane managed to hold on to his sword, though the other man attempted to wrench it away. Dane swung his left hand, landing a decent blow to the man’s chest, just below the throat. “Damn it, Dane!”
Dane pulled his next punch and stared at the man above him—his brother. “What the devil are you doing?”
“Saving you, you bloody idiot.”
That was when they heard the roar of the pistol.
***
“Gideon!” Marlowe screamed. She’d thrown her hand up at the flash of the powder, but she dropped it in time to see Gideon fall. “No!” She rose to her knees, only to be knocked back by the butt of Satin’s pistol.
“You thought to bilk me?” Satin screamed. “Me? I’ll smash you and then hack you into tiny pieces, you little blackguard.” He raised the snapper again, but Marlowe brought her foot up, catching him in the nutmegs. It was a glancing blow, but enough to make Satin double over. Enough to buy her an extra moment to scurry out of his path. And then he was bearing down on her again. He lowered the snapper, and she rolled to the side, wincing when the pistol smashed into the floor. That was the end of the weapon, at least.
But Satin was not done with her yet. He lunged at her, landing hard and knocking the breath out of her. This was a fight she couldn’t win. Satin had every advantage. But she knew how to fight dirty, and she’d inflict as much pain and damage as she could before she met Old Mr. Grim. She let out a scream and went wild, scratching, clawing, and kicking in every direction. Satin landed a shocking blow to the side of her face, and she saw stars, but she didn’t stop fighting.
And then suddenly someone was yelling, and she hoped it was Satin. She hoped she’d drawn blood. But his weight fell off her, and she heard another voice from far away. It was a moment before she could convince her body to cease struggling, and then she opened her eyes, and there was Dane.
Eighteen
Marlowe stared at him, her eyes wild and unseeing. And then she blinked and stilled and was back. Dane moved, taking her in his arms. But she wasn’t one to be held and coddled. She pushed back.
“Where’s Satin?”
Dane nodded to his brother, who was securing Satin’s wrists with iron. “We have him,” Dane reassured her. “You did it.”
But Marlowe shook her head and pushed to her feet.
“Your face is bleeding, darling. You’d better rest.”
“No! Gideon,” she said on a sob and staggered forward. Dane cocked his head and then made out the shape of a man on the warehouse floor near the window. Marlowe stumbled toward him, falling to her knees and gathering him in her arms.
It hit Dane as hard as a hammer in the breadbox that she loved the man. His jealousy hadn’t been misplaced. He watched, unable to move, as she bent over the man’s form and wept. Would anyone have mourned him with so much passion? Would his death have been anything more than a notice in The Times?
Dane rose and forced his legs to move across the floor, to comfort Marlowe. If Dane was second choice, then he would take it. He’d been born to be an earl. He’d always had the best of everything. But none of it mattered if he didn’t have Marlowe. Nothing mattered without her.
The man on the floor shifted, and Dane caught his breath. “Marlowe.” But she didn’t hear him. Her face was buried in her hands as she wept. “Marlowe, he’s alive.”
“What?” She looked up, her tear-stained face incredulous. Slowly, Gideon turned over, groaning loudly.
“Thank God,” Brook muttered behind them. “The last thing I need is a dead body to explain.”
“Your concern gets me,” Gideon muttered, sitting and tapping his heart with his fist. “Right here.”
“Are you hurt?” Marlowe asked as Dane came to stand behind her.
“Just my pride. I hit my head on the floor when I ducked. I don’t think I have a slug in me.” He looked down at his chest, seemed to be checking if everything was in its right spot. Marlowe didn’t wait for him to complete his inspection; she fell into his arms. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but Dane clenched his hands and didn’t interfere. He glanced at his brother, who was hauling Satin away. The sympathetic look his brother sent him was far from welcome. Dane had never been the object of pity before.
Marlowe helped Gideon to his feet, and Dane followed them out of the warehouse.
“Don’t suppose any of you could lend me a hand with this thief,” Brook said. “I caught him rifling this warehouse.” He winked.
“I’ll kill you!” Satin yelled. “I’ll kill the whole lot of you.”
“I’ll help,” Marlowe said. She stepped forward, pulled her arm back, and hit Satin across the face. She might be small, but she had a good arm. Satin’s head snapped back. He didn’t lose consciousness, but she shut him up. She stepped closer to him. “That’s for all the times you beat on people smaller than you. I hope you think of me when you drop from that scaffold at Newgate. I can’t wait to see your neck stretched.”
“Why, you—”
Brook stepped in front of Satin. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Will he hang?” Dane asked.
“With everything we know about him? We’d hang him twice if we could.”
Dane heard Marlowe let out a sigh, and he could see her shoulders slump. It was over for her now. She was finally free.
“I’ll go with you,” Gideon said. “I’d like to make sure he doesn’t escape.”
Brook raised a brow. “You’d voluntarily enter a prison?”
“I didn’t say I’d enter, but I’ll see you get there.”
“Let’s go, then.”
The two of them started away, and Dane cleared his throat. “Brook?”
His brother turned back.
“Thank you. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
Brook smiled. “I know that must have hurt. Sometimes it’s not so bad having a hero for a brother.” With a tip of his hat, Brook walked on.
Marlowe looked up at Dane. “I see why you don’t like him.”
“He has his uses.”
“That he does.”
Dane glanced down at her hand. She held a gold chain in it. “What’s that?”
She smiled. “My last dive.”
All her flash talk was making his head spin. “I have a horse and wagon to return. And then, Miss Marlowe, how would you like to spend your first night free of Satin?”
She shook her head, and Dane resisted taking her face in his hands to have a closer look at the welt on her cheek. She’d have a bruise tomorrow, and her head must be aching right now. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted a bath?”
“No.”
“Well, believe it. You really have corrupted me, Lord Dane.”
Dane took her hand. “That’s only the start.”
He ordered her a bath when they arrived back at the town house, and one for himself as well. He had work, details to see to, but it could wait until after he was clean. When he’d b
athed and shaved, he dressed in trousers and a linen shirt and made his way to the library, where Crawford waited for him. Dane spent the next hour giving orders and writing missives to his solicitor. He was bleary-eyed and ready for his bed when Brook opened the library door. “Thought I’d find you here.”
“Is Satin in prison?”
“He’s under lock and key,” Brook said, going to a small tray where Dane kept several decanters of spirits. He poured a brandy and sipped it.
“Good. And Gideon?”
“He’s gone back to”—Brook gestured vaguely—“wherever it is he goes.”
Dane shook his head. “It’s a hovel. You should see how they live. Tomorrow I’m for Seven Dials and hiring Marlowe’s friends. They can start as grooms or tigers.”
Brook lifted a brow. “We’ll be robbed three times over.”
Dane shrugged. “I have to give them a chance.”
“What has gotten into you?” Brook asked. “You were never one for charity or benevolence. What was it you once said? For the poor always ye have with you?”
Dane glowered at his brother. “That was Christ. I said—well, never mind what I said. I was wrong.”
Brook started. “Pardon? Could you repeat that? I didn’t hear you.”
“You heard me. I was an idiot before—”
“Go on. I’m listening.” He grinned.
“—but I’ve changed.”
“I suppose I don’t have to ask why. Is she here?”
Dane looked at the ceiling. “She’s upstairs. Asleep, I imagine.”
Brook sipped his brandy. “And are you going to ask her to marry you?”
Now it was Dane’s turn to register shock. “Are you mad? I can’t marry her.”
“Even if she is Lady Elizabeth?”
“Even so. Her life before…the scandal…the past Earls of Dane would rise up from their graves.”
“I never thought you were the sort of man who cared what anyone said about him. But, come to think of it, you’ve never done anything that would cause anyone to talk. You’ve been the perfect heir to the earldom. Until Marlowe. I think she’s good for you.”
Dane made a face. “She is not good for me.”
“You’re right. She’s bad for you, and that’s just what you need. Why, for the last few years, I’ve worried every time you gave a speech in Parliament that you might start an epidemic of yawning.”
“I hope you are amusing yourself.”
“I always do.” He raised a finger. “But I have a feeling that whatever happens in the next few days, no one will be yawning.”
Dane pushed past his brother. “I am for bed.”
“One last thing, Brother,” Brook said, causing Dane to pause at the door. “I received word this evening that Lord and Lady Lyndon have returned to Town.”
Dane turned. “That was quick.”
“Apparently, they were already en route to London but hurried their journey to arrive as soon as possible. I imagine they will call in the morning.”
“I’ll tell Marlowe.”
“You’d better do more than that,” Brook called after him, “or you will lose her.”
And just what the devil did that mean? Dane wondered as he climbed the stairs, candle held aloft to light his way. He’d almost lost Marlowe tonight, and he wouldn’t risk it again. Dane pushed the door to his bedchamber open, momentarily surprised when Tibbs didn’t greet him. But, of course, he’d told the man to go to bed. Tibbs had made certain the fire burned in the hearth and set out a glass—no, two glasses of wine—for him. Two glasses?
Dane’s gaze traveled to his large crimson-and-gold-draped bed, and he sucked in a breath. Reclining on her side with her elbow propping up her head, was Marlowe. Her hair was down about her shoulders, a rich swirl of chocolate against the white of her linen chemise. Her thin linen chemise. He could see the faintest hints of her skin through the fabric.
“I thought you were never coming to bed,” she said, smiling at him.
“How did you get in here?”
She raised a brow. “I opened the door.”
“Of course.” He was having a bit of trouble thinking with her so close and looking so utterly alluring. “And why did you come?”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
“Yes, and thank God.” He crossed to the bed, and before he reached her, she sat and opened her arms to him. He pulled her to him, the heat of her body seeping into him, making him realize how cold he’d been. She smelled of apricot, and her hair was slightly damp from the bath she’d taken. His lips found hers, and she returned his kiss with eagerness. In fact, he found himself struggling to reject the urge to push her onto her back and thrust into her right then and there.
She broke the kiss and looked up at him, her hands pushing his hair back from his forehead. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to kiss you?”
“I had no idea, or I would have come to bed much, much sooner.” He bent to take her mouth again, but she placed a finger over his lips.
“It was when you pulled that tilter—that sword—from your walking stick and brandished it at those three boys.” She giggled. “The looks on their faces! And you, with one hand on your hip, one leg before the other, as though you were ready to duel.”
Dane nodded. “In hindsight, I probably did not need to assume proper fencing stance.”
“No, you did not, but I am glad you did.” Her voice lowered a fraction, and Dane’s breath caught in his throat.
“Why is that?”
“Because watching you made me feel incredibly ill.”
Dane’s eyes narrowed. “That was not the answer I was expecting.”
She laughed. “But, as you pointed out, what I think is illness is actually arousal. Watching you, I was incredibly aroused.”
“Were you?”
Her eyes darkened to a deep sapphire. “I still am.”
“What shall we do about your…condition?”
“There’s only one thing to do.”
“What’s that?”
She rose, leaning close to his ear, and whispered in vulgar, quite descriptive terms exactly what she wanted. Dane had never heard a lady speak like that, and at the moment he was quite thrilled that Marlowe was no lady. When she was done, his throat was dry, and he could not seem to speak. Instead, he nodded, then digging his hands in her hair, brought her mouth to his. Her hands fisted in his shirt, and she kissed him hard, dipping her tongue into his mouth so he could taste her. She tasted of the wine and of Marlowe.
His hands found the hem of her chemise, and he ran his fingers along the warm, sleek skin of her thighs as he raised the material to her waist and then to her shoulders. She lifted her arms, and he stripped the garment away, dropping it on the floor and inhaling sharply.
The room at the public house had been dark, too dark for him to appreciate what he saw now. She was lovely. Her legs were long and slender, her hips slim but sweetly curved. Her waist was small. He placed his hands on either side of it and moved them upward to cup her breasts. They were full and heavy, the nipples a dark rose and hard with arousal. He brushed a finger over one, and her head rolled back. He repeated the motion, and she moaned.
She’d told him to take her quickly, but he was not in the habit of following orders—even if said orders were most agreeable. Instead, he lowered his lips to her hardened peak and feathered kisses over the tender skin, making it pebble. He teased her with his tongue, lightly at first, and then flicking her until her back arched. One hand slid behind her, holding her where he wanted her, holding her against him, while the other explored the swell of her hips and bottom, trailing over her skin until he cupped her sex. She was warm, and he took her nipple into his mouth. He sucked gently and felt her grow wet.
His finger slid easily inside the moist heat of her, and he stroked in and out, teasing
that small nub at the center of her. Her body moved to match the rhythm he set, and her breathing sped up, punctuated by small cries of pleasure. His own member was hardening. The more he aroused her, the more aroused he became. And yet he could have pleasured her all night and taken nothing in return. This was for her. He wanted to give her everything she desired and more.
Dane slipped another finger inside her, and she cried out again, “Yes. Oh, yes.”
He slicked his fingers over her center again, and she began to tremble. She was close, so close he could feel the first tremors of her climax rippling through her. But he wanted to give her more. He wanted pleasure to crash through her until she was so stunned she could not even think. He wanted her to feel as he did every single time he laid eyes on her. And so at the last moment, he pushed her down on the bed, spread her legs wide, and took her with his mouth. She bowed up, crying out as he teased and sucked and stroked her until she was shaking and pleading that she could stand no more.
He rose on his knees, loosed the fall of his trousers, and her eyes opened. They were half-lidded with pleasure, but she reached out and stroked his hard member. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for. Hard and fast.”
“If that’s what you want.” In one move, he turned her onto her stomach then came down on top of her. She turned her head to the side to look up at him, and he murmured in her ear, “Do you want this?” His tongue teased the delicate skin behind and below her ears, and she squirmed against him. He prayed she agreed, because he had never wanted a woman—never wanted anything—as much as he wanted this.
“Yes.”
His hands gripped her hips, raising them. He kicked her legs apart and opened her. On her elbows, her head turned so she could see him, she smiled. He would have driven into her, but he was no brute. He would not risk hurting her. Instead, he entered her slowly, inching inside until he filled her. She moaned, and he moved, stroking her. Taking her hips in his hands, he thrust in and out, holding his own pleasure back as long as he could. When he felt it mounting, he reached for that small, tender nub at her center and stroked it.
“Dane,” she cried as she tensed around him.