She swallowed against the lump that clogged her throat. “If I were a son, I would be a surgeon already.” She wasn’t sure why she volunteered that—except she feared her father lamented her gender as much as she did.
“You are every bit as good as a son,” Max said. “And I bet your father would be the first to admit it.”
How could she be as good as a son? Her father couldn’t share his love of medicine with her as he would have with a male child. How many times had he admitted that he didn’t know what to do with her—or for her? She had done her best to meld into his world, but even there—especially there—her femininity stood between her and true integration.
But she had revealed more of the insecurity that plagued her than she had ever revealed before and didn’t want to say more. It was this situation, her vulnerability, that caused her to be so fearful and doubting. Otherwise, she would never question her own father’s love.
She changed the subject so she could salvage some of her pride. “Did you get that . . . that corpse off the sofa downstairs?”
“We did. It’s gone; you can forget about it.”
Forgetting would be impossible. Abby had seen a number of dead people over the years, but never had she been forced to contemplate the possibility of someone being murdered for the sake of anatomy—at least not so close to home. Burke and Hare had operated in Edinburgh, which was half a country away. It turned her stomach to think her willingness to pay for a corpse from this very gang might have caused such a heinous crime. “You didn’t take her to Aldersgate.”
“Of course not. Sir William Blizzard has a surgery coming up, on a gentleman of consequence, and wanted a cadaver to practice on.”
“He settled for a woman?”
Max hesitated but eventually responded. “He didn’t pay us as much, but . . . yes.”
“So you’re pleased with your night.”
“I’m tired, if you want the truth. And relieved to be back and find you safe.”
He sounded sincere, but how much could he really care? He was the one who had kidnapped her! Her own father hadn’t even bothered to track her down. If her father was concerned at all, surely he would have arrived at Farmer’s Landing by now.
“I have to go to the necessary-house,” she announced, rustling the bedding to cover a sniff.
“Come on. I’ll take you.” He got up and waited while she pulled on her gypsy rags. Then he lit a lamp and draped his coat around her shoulders. Why he hadn’t hung it on the hall-tree downstairs, as usual, she didn’t know. It made her wonder if he had been telling the truth when he said he had been worried about her. Maybe he had gotten home and immediately hurried up to see her . . .
That was probably nonsense, she told herself, something she made up to feel important to somebody.
“You should let me go,” she said as they stepped outside, but she didn’t sound all that convincing, even to herself. She was beginning to wonder if she didn’t belong at Aldersgate, either. After all these years of giving the college such dedicated service, hadn’t anyone missed her?
Maybe her father didn’t even realize she was gone.
Or had she been kidding herself all along, trying to fit in where she would never be accepted?
It was chilly and starting to rain when they trudged to the privy. Borax was taking cover under the eaves. He snarled to let her know he noticed that she had finally abandoned the safety of her room, but after a quick rebuke from Max, he whined and curled up to sleep. Even a dog could sense Max’s authority.
The weather and Borax’s reaction seemed fitting, given Abigail’s mood. Never had she thought she would be at such loose ends—grateful that her kidnapper had returned to curl up beside her (wasn’t a kidnapper someone she should hate?), disappointed that no one had come to find her (how could her father and her other associates at the college not have noticed she was gone?), afraid to remain where she was but too sad to fight for her freedom (where else would she go if those at the college didn’t want her?).
“Are you coming out anytime soon?” Max asked.
Once she had gone inside and taken care of her business, she had remained there despite the stench. It made her feel slightly better to make Wilder wait in the rain after what he had done to her. “Coming.”
Dashing a hand over her cheeks, she took a few more minutes to compose herself. Then she straightened her clothing and emerged.
“I’m soaked,” Max grumbled.
“If you want to have something to complain about, try being locked in a room all day without sufficient food,” she responded tartly.
“Was that eternity in the privy your attempt to punish me?”
“It was subtle, but I’m hoping it was effective.”
He chuckled as they approached the house. “I have a feeling I am going to miss you when you’re gone.”
“Are you trying to get my hopes up that I will be leaving soon?”
“Merely encouraging you. Your father will be here tomorrow, Abby. I can’t let you go with him, but at least you will be reassured that he is looking.”
When she said nothing, he sighed. “Wait here. I’ll get your mirror and brush set. Maybe that will cheer you up.”
When he crawled under the house to retrieve it, she didn’t even try to run. Borax would have sprung into action and taken a chunk out of her leg if she had. But that wasn’t the only thing holding her. Trying to escape suddenly seemed like it would require too much effort.
“Here,” he said when he returned with her package. “It made you happy this morning.”
“Because no one had ever given me anything like it,” she grumbled. “But now maybe I understand why.”
He took hold of her shoulders. “You are jumping to conclusions—the wrong conclusions,” he said with an emphatic shake.
He had a point. She needed to quit thinking and doubting and sleep, so she could gain some control over her emotions. Maybe her father had tried to find her but Bransby, thinking she wouldn’t want him to, hadn’t come forward to help.
Although such a scenario was almost inconceivable, she supposed that could be the case. Regardless, no amount of self-pity would change the situation.
Her prospects would look better in the morning, she told herself. She felt somewhat better after she had eaten. But once Max changed into some dry trousers—apparently he didn’t have a nightshirt—and she removed her outer garments and climbed into bed, it wasn’t long before she noticed something hard pressing against her backside. And the more she shifted around, the bigger it grew.
“Lie still,” he finally snapped.
But with her blood suddenly rushing through her veins and roaring in her ears, it felt as if she had slept long enough.
From the moment he had fallen into bed with Abby, Max had been fighting the desire to run his hands up under her shift, to seek out the soft mounds of flesh that strained against the thin fabric. The fact that her behind kept brushing his lap made the impulse that much stronger.
“Are you not tired?” She shifted again.
“I said I was, didn’t I?” He didn’t mean to be terse, but it was difficult to be polite when he was waging such a battle against his body.
“I guess you did.”
She sounded chastened, as if he had struck her, so he softened his voice. “I thought you were tired, too. You were asleep when I arrived.”
“That was before we went out in the dark and cold.”
“Might I remind you that you are the reason we were out for so long?” In spite of that small rebellion, he would have hugged her tighter. He felt terrible that he had to keep her from her home and wanted to offer as much reassurance as possible until he could return her to safety. But if she wasn’t aware of his arousal, he preferred she not encounter evidence of it.
“Do you really think my father might come tomorrow?” she asked.
; Did they have to talk about this again? Max wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the surgeon when he arrived, but he knew it would involve a great deal of lying, and he wasn’t looking forward to the encounter. “It’s a possibility.”
“So tonight could be our last night together.”
“I doubt it, but no one can predict what might happen.” As depressed as she had been a few moments ago, he didn’t want to extinguish all hope.
“Then maybe—”
“Abby!” He spoke her name through gritted teeth when she brushed against him yet again.
“What?”
“You need to hold still.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t relax unless you do.”
“But as long as you’re awake, maybe I will take you up on the offer you made this morning.”
His entire body went stiff as he blinked against the darkness. “What offer?”
“You don’t remember?” She didn’t seem embarrassed, only taken aback that he wasn’t as eager as he had come off earlier. “Or is it that you weren’t serious?”
Mostly, he had been amusing himself by teasing her. He liked that her reactions were so atypical of her sex. He had thought that maybe there would come a time when he satisfied her curiosity regarding the male anatomy—but he had never dreamed she would press him to act on those glib words when he couldn’t be as objective as she was. “I was serious, more or less,” he added to allow himself some wiggle room. “But . . . maybe another time.”
“Why not now?” she asked. “Your cock feels as if it’s erect, which would be much more interesting to see, since I have viewed many in a flaccid state already.”
Her approach was purely clinical. But as he snuggled against the warm softness of her body, he was having a difficult time keeping the same perspective. “I need my sleep.”
“It would only take a second.”
He was throbbing with the desire to enjoy her intimately, and she merely wanted to examine him like she might an unusual bug.
“If I don’t take this opportunity, I may never get another one,” she added.
He almost refused in no uncertain terms and rolled over. But he was too tempted to put her at the same disadvantage he was, to demonstrate what it felt like to be so aroused. Just the thought of obliterating her emotional detachment, of making her gasp and moan and strain to join her body with his, made him short of breath.
But she was a novice. It wouldn’t be fair to capitalize on her innocence. So he tried to distract her instead. “Tomorrow.”
“Why wait? Is there something wrong with you, something you are embarrassed to show me?” she asked.
His surprise distracted him. “Like . . . ?”
“According to what I have overheard from the students at the college, some men are very sensitive about the size of their . . . their manhood and whether or not it is sufficiently . . . impressive.”
He drew in a lungful of air as he attempted to calm down. “I assure you I have never had any complaints about my manhood.”
“Even if you are less than what you might wish when it comes to . . . to size or what have you, I want you to know you are completely safe with me. I won’t say one demeaning word, especially to Jack and Tom. Not one. I swear it.”
“That’s it,” Max said.
She widened her eyes in feigned innocence. “That’s what?”
He could tell she wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t know how she had challenged him—and a woman wily enough to try to manipulate a man in that way deserved to get what she was asking for, and then some.
Only he would deliver the education she wanted on his terms. “I’ll remove my trousers,” he announced. “On one condition.”
Her lips curved into a victorious smile. “And that is . . . ?”
“You have to give me something first.”
Her smiled faded. “Surely you have seen a naked woman.”
That would be a logical trade, but . . . his conscience wouldn’t allow it. “I commend your sense of fair play. However, there will be no need for you to disrobe. I am merely asking for a kiss.”
When she didn’t respond, he said, “So? What do you say? Do you agree?”
“I . . . don’t . . . know.” The slowness of her speech revealed her uncertainty. “You have kissed me once, have you not? And it wasn’t very pleasant. Is the sight of your cock worth tolerating more?”
There she went again, challenging him. He would shut her up on that score in a moment. But first, when had he kissed her? He couldn’t recall any such contact. Surely he would have remembered, since he had hungered for a taste of her ever since he had chafed her skin the night before.
He was about to ask her to clarify when his brain seized on the moment he had crushed his mouth to hers, and then he understood. “That wasn’t a kiss, Abby.”
“What was it?”
“An act of desperation. A show I was putting on for Jack to establish my dominance and control.”
“I see. I didn’t like it.”
“You weren’t meant to.”
“You can do better?”
“Why don’t we let you be the judge of that? Unless you’re too self-conscious in your own right,” he added quickly.
“About . . . ?”
“Your inexperience, of course. Some virgins are very sensitive about the way they fumble around.”
“You don’t think I can please you?”
“I wasn’t suggesting that. Merely allowing you to back out if you are too afraid I will find you lacking as a partner.”
“You won’t find me lacking,” she said. “I have always been a quick learner.”
“I bet.” Hiding a smile, he cupped her face with both hands and tilted it to where he could see her profile in the moonlight streaming through the window. “Does that mean we have a deal?”
She seemed slightly unsure, as if she could sense that he had just baited a trap for her. But she was too curious—or confident in her ambivalence—to avoid it. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, we do.”
He wanted to take her mouth as he wanted to take her body—with decisive authority. To show her what it felt like to get swallowed up in the pleasures of the flesh. But he forced himself to hold back and be as gentle as possible.
“Not bad.” She pulled away as soon as he touched his lips to hers, but he wasn’t about to let her off so easily.
“I’m not finished yet,” he said. “Close your eyes and, whatever you do, don’t talk.”
When she did as he asked, he moved his lips over hers with just a little bit of moisture, wordlessly coaxing her to feel the warm, languid heat that was pouring through him and was rewarded for his efforts when she began to relax and mold to his body.
“That’s it, Abby. Now maybe you’ll try a real kiss,” he whispered and parted her lips, touching her tongue with his to see if she might want to taste him, too. He knew such sensations were foreign to her, that she might need time to acclimate and tried not to go too fast. If she liked what he was doing, she would give him some kind of signal. . .
That signal came when she moaned and slid her arms around his neck, effectively holding him in place.
“You are indeed an apt pupil,” he told her.
“And you, a gifted tutor,” she breathed.
That was when he rolled her beneath him. He thought she might resist. This was beyond a mere kiss. But, no. She was clearly enjoying his ministrations with the same unbridled joy she had exhibited when he presented her with the sweetmeats and the brush and mirror.
The moment she spread her legs and arched into him, the fire inside him threatened to burn out of control. Soon they were kissing so feverishly that they were both panting for breath when he lifted his head.
“I like kissing,” she told him, as if he had merely stopped to check, and gui
ded his face right back to hers.
That was when Max began to feel his restraint slipping. Already settled between her legs, he began to thrust against her, and she lifted her hips to meet his, instinctively mimicking the joining of their bodies as much as he was.
It was her eager response that goaded him on. Only when he started to suckle her through her shift, and she cried out as if it was the most exquisite thing she had ever experienced, did he realize how quickly he was approaching the point of no return. And that brought him back to his senses. With a groan of frustration and regret, he rolled off her and faced the other direction for fear he would only reach for her again if he didn’t.
What had he been thinking? He was keeping this woman against her will. He couldn’t ravish her, too. That would make him no better than Jack and the others.
“Max?” she whispered. “Did I do something you didn’t like?”
No, she had managed to get him good and love drunk, despite her inexperience. That was the problem. She had him so desperate to steal her innocence he feared the slightest touch might cause him to forget who he was and why he needed to salvage at least a thimbleful of his integrity.
Squeezing his eyes closed, he tried thinking of Madeline, his deceased father, his mother, his obligations—anything to escape the clutches of the desire that drove him to scoop her back into his arms and finish what he had started.
“Max?” she said again when he didn’t reply.
“No. Nothing,” he managed to say.
“Then why did you stop? That isn’t where it ends. Even if I hadn’t read about sexual congress, I would know. My whole body aches for more . . . for you, in some way.”
He gritted his teeth against an avalanche of fresh temptation. It didn’t seem giving in could be too bad if she wanted the same thing. But, on some level, he knew better. “Don’t say things like that, Abby.”
“Why not?”
“Because I won’t be able to return you as I found you if you do. Don’t you understand? Unless you want to lose your virginity right here, at my hand, we need to put some distance between us.”
He thought she might press him to fulfill his side of the bargain, at least. She was as indomitable as she was insatiably curious, and he had made a deal with her. But she seemed to understand that such a request could be the spark that burned them both to ashes, because she didn’t demand that he follow through.
A Matter of Grave Concern Page 13