She knew they would all come upon her at the oddest times, whether she wanted them to or not. He was part of her now, even when he wasn’t with her. She would hear him, feel him, taste him, smell him. She would see him in rumpled sheets and whisky poured and bath water steaming. When she sat on the landing outside her door to absorb the quiet, the shadow of his presence would be there with her.
He journeyed the length of her body, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and she’d never been more grateful for her height, for every inch that made the sojourn one that happened without haste, that went on seemingly forever. When he started back up, kissing her calves, the backs of her knees, the inside of her thighs, he took a detour to the heavenly haven she would only ever share with him.
His mouth, his gloriously wicked mouth, worked his incredible magic, as she dug her fingers into his shoulders, wound her legs around his waist, gazed down on him as he lifted his eyes to hers, daring her not to look away, but to hold his gaze while he plundered.
Her breaths came in short shallow puffs, and his eyes darkened, letting her know how very much he enjoyed watching her come undone. Feel my rapidly pounding heart, she wanted to whisper, the scalding heat coursing through me, the nerve endings that seem to be shooting forth bursts of fireworks, small and large, all colors.
But even without giving voice to all the astonishing sensations traveling through her, she suspected he knew because he became more diligent in his efforts, applying pressure with his tongue, closing his lips tightly around her, sucking, soothing, swirling.
Watching, always watching. Witness to her nipples growing even more taut, to the fine layer of dew gathering between her breasts. Hearing, always hearing. The whimpers and moans that escaped unheeded through her parted lips. Feeling, always feeling. The trembling of her thighs as the pressure mounted. Tasting her, inhaling her fragrance. All of her sensations were wildly alive, and in his dark eyes, she could see he relished and shared in them as well.
He knew the torment she experienced because he did all in his power to increase it, to ensure when the release finally came—
She was screaming his name, bucking, her back arching, but always her gaze was locked with his.
Shooting upward, he plunged deep and sure, before her spasms could subside, while she was still lost in the throes of a cataclysm that was so intense, she might never recover. She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, holding on as he pistoned into her, over and over, while he rained kisses over her breasts, her throat, her face.
And then he left her, and she clutched him tightly as shudders rocked him, and he spilled his seed in his hand. The temptation to urge him to stay inside her had never been stronger, but she understood the wisdom of his actions. With his head on her belly and one arm wound securely around her, he held her near while his tremors mingled with hers, eventually subsiding into oblivion.
She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, hadn’t wanted to miss a single minute of the time left to them. She knew a burst of panic when she realized he wasn’t in the bed, feared he’d left without a final goodbye, but then she saw him standing at her window, the curtain pulled back on one side allowing the moonlight to filter in and lovingly caress one half of his lovely backside. She did love the length and strength visible in his corded muscles, the way they all came together so beautifully to form such perfection. She loved even more how satisfying it felt to her hands to run them over all the abundant ropes of sinew.
His gaze was focused on some far-off object she couldn’t see, and she wondered if it were even visible to him or if he were seeing instead possibilities and impossibilities. “Thorne?”
“I was just thinking that I never had the opportunity to teach you to appreciate good horseflesh.”
Slipping out of bed, she padded quietly across the floor, pressed her chest to his back, and wrapped her arms around him. “We always knew we would never have more than this.”
Within her embrace, he turned and cupped her face between his hands. “But I want more. With you.”
“It was always to be temporary, Thorne.”
“When it matters the most, you’re always so damned practical.”
Lifting her hands, she brushed her fingers over his hair. “Make love to me again.”
And he did, again and again. With her on top, him from behind, spooned around each other, then finally once more face-to-face, with her beneath him, relishing everything about him.
She could have sworn she did indeed hear a lark trilling outside her window that morning as they both dressed, he in his ballroom finery and she in her plain shirt and skirt. Last night she’d been a princess, but she was once again a tavern owner as she walked him to the door. “I’m not going to follow you down.”
He merely nodded and cupped her cheek with one hand. “You are a remarkable woman, Gillie Trewlove. I am a better man for having known you.”
“Find a bride who will not leave you standing at the altar.”
Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Goodbye, Gillie.”
Then he walked out of her flat, out of her life. And she, who had no memory of ever crying, curled up into a ball on her sofa and wept.
Chapter 25
From the outside, the small house in the rookeries of London’s east end gave the appearance of abandonment, dilapidated and worn, but inside it provided a wealth of warmth and love. Even as a girl, after scrubbing steps all day, Gillie had looked forward to returning here, where her mum’s arms would come tightly around her and the aromas of cinnamon and vanilla would waft about her, where a freshly brewed cup of tea was always waiting for her.
“You’ve not been to see me in a while,” her mum said now, releasing her hold on Gillie and stepping back. “I suppose it has something to do with those worry lines between your brows. You never was any good at hiding your troubles from me. Let me prepare you a cuppa and then we’ll have a nice little chat.”
Only it wasn’t going to be a nice little chat, no matter how much her mum wanted it to be. A cup of tea wasn’t going to help. Neither was all the liquor in her stores at the tavern. “I’ve done something really stupid, Mum. I went and fell in love. And now his babe is growing inside me.”
In spite of the precautions they’d taken or tried to take. Perhaps he hadn’t left quickly enough, perhaps some of his seed had spilled inside her before he’d withdrawn completely. It had been nearly a month since she’d seen him; two since she’d first welcomed him into her bed. Her breasts had become tender, but she’d thought it was just because they were no longer bound, and the freedom she’d given them didn’t offer enough support. Then she’d looked at her calendar and realized she’d not had a menses since she’d first been intimate with Thorne. She’d always hated being cursed each month, so she hadn’t missed the inconvenience of having to deal with it, not until she comprehended what its absence portended.
Sympathy washed over the dear woman’s face. “Ah, you silly girl.”
“I’m sorry, Mum, I’m so sorry.” Tears welled in her eyes, clogged her throat. “I know it’s shameful and you’ll never want to see me again—”
Her mum’s arms came around her once more. “Oh, pet, now you’re being an even sillier girl. You come over here and sit down.”
Her mum guided her to a chair by the fireplace, and even though no fire burned, Gillie suddenly felt warmer. The woman she’d loved for as long as she could remember knelt in front her, gave her a handkerchief, and took the hand that wasn’t busily wiping away the irritating avalanche of tears. “You’re not the first to lose her head over a fella and do things she wished she hadn’t.”
She sniffed, an incredibly unladylike noise. “That’s the thing, Mum. I don’t wish I hadn’t. I’m glad I did. As I said, I love him. So much. I always knew we couldn’t have forever, but it was enough to have for now. Until we couldn’t have that anymore either.”
“He won’t do right by you, then?”
Shaking her head, she wiped away
the last remnants of her tears. Putting everything into words, saying it aloud was making it easier. “He’s a bloody duke. He’s to marry some lord’s daughter, someone who knows all the fancy ways of being a lady. I told him I wouldn’t step out with him any longer. But I’m going to keep it, Mum. The babe.”
“Gillie—”
“I know it’ll mark me. I know people will probably stop coming to my tavern, but I’ve been saving my money, so maybe I’ll sell my place and move to a little cottage in the country. I don’t know. I just know I can’t give it up. It’s all I’ll have of him, but it’ll be enough.”
Her mum squeezed her hand. “Then we’ll make that be enough, won’t we?”
“You don’t have to stand by me, Mum.”
Brushing Gillie’s hair back from her face, her mum offered a tender smile. “Where else would I stand, love? You’re my daughter. I’ve raised six children who came to me because of a bit of naughtiness. I’m not going to turn my back on a little one who belongs to one of my precious children.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
She patted her hand. “Now don’t you be fretting. Everything will work out.”
She was accustomed to doing for herself, so it was with a bit of resentment she accepted the recent limitations of her body and decided hauling kegs would be tempting fate to take the precious babe from her. Although the suspicious perusal Roger gave her when she asked him to bring up a box of assorted whisky bottles tempted her to plant her fist in the center of his face.
“You’ve never needed my help before.”
“I don’t need it now. It’s just that you’re brawny and it’s silly for me not to take advantage of that, especially considering how well I pay you.”
“Not like you to put on airs.”
“Not like you to question my orders.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been different of late. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s like your monthly is lasting forever.”
She sighed heavily. “Get the damn bottles.”
With a negligent shrug, he headed out of the room to do her bidding.
“You should probably tell him,” Finn said, leaning against the counter. Her brother had arrived a few minutes earlier, removed his cap, and been studying it as though he’d forgotten its purpose.
“He’ll figure it out soon enough and then he’ll probably quit.”
“I doubt that. I think you underestimate how much you’re loved, Gillie.”
“Until there’s scandal.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Can I have a word?”
She moved up to the counter. “Of course.”
He jerked his head to the side. “Over there.”
She followed him to a table in the very back corner of the tavern. They hadn’t yet brought back the shutters on the windows, so they were deep into the shadows. Finn pulled out a chair for her, waited until she sat before taking the place opposite her. She wasn’t accustomed to her brother being quite so accommodating. Not that he was ever rude but all her brothers understood she could fend for herself, preferred it.
He took the seat opposite her, clasped his hands on the table, and met her gaze head-on. “I love you like a sister. I’ll never love you more than that. I don’t have it in me to do so, but if you’ll marry me, I’ll do right by you and this babe.”
“Finn—”
“It’d be a marriage in name only. I’d never expect you to honor your wifely duties.” She’d never seen her brother blush before. The deep red blotching his skin was a sight to behold. “As I said, I think of you as a sister.”
“I know you do, Finn,” she said quietly. “I think we’d both be miserable if we tied the knot. But I do appreciate your willingness. Besides, someday you’re likely to meet someone who’d make you regret already having a wife.”
“My heart’s locked up tight, Gil. The offer will remain should you change your mind.”
Laying her hand over his tense ones, she rubbed them, trying to get him to relax, knowing he was battling memories. “Still love her so desperately, do you?”
His response was simply to look beyond her as though gazing into the past.
“What was her Christian name?” she asked.
His gaze, hard as a diamond, cold as ice, came back to her. “I’ve not spoken it in eight years. I’m not going to do so now.”
Pressing her forearms to the table, she leaned forward. “You called her Vivi, but what was her real name?”
“Christ.” He shoved back his chair.
“I think she’s here.”
He froze, stared at her. “What do you mean here?”
“In Whitechapel.”
“Why would she be here?”
“I don’t know but—” She reached into her pocket, brought out the miniature Thorne had given her, and placed it on the table. She’d debated with herself a thousand times whether she should tell Finn what she suspected, whether it was to his benefit to bring up the past or to leave it buried. “I thought she looked familiar, but I’d only seen her once and that was years ago. She’s somewhat older in this painting.”
Slowly he sank back into the chair. He didn’t touch the portrait but neither did he take his eyes from it. “Where did you get this?”
“From Thorne. I was trying to help him find her. She left him standing at the altar.”
Leaning back in the chair, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not surprised. She has a habit of breaking her promises.” He studied her for a long moment, shook his head. “I hope you didn’t give the scapegrace your heart, Gillie.”
“Tell me the pain lessens over time.”
His expression was one of sadness and sorrow. “Wish I could, but I won’t choose now to start lying to you.”
Not exactly what she’d wanted to hear, but a little over a month after saying goodbye, it was what she’d begun to suspect.
That night business was booming at the Mermaid, and she wondered how long before it might begin to dwindle. As long as her bosom jutted out past her stomach, perhaps none would be the wiser concerning her condition. And if she stayed behind the bar, few would be likely to get a good enough look at her to detect that she was increasing. As her stomach was beginning to round, she was rather certain she’d gotten with child the first night she and Thorne had come together.
“Hello, Gillie,” Aiden said as he slapped a hand on the bar. “I’ll have a pint of dark stout, the darker the better.”
She poured his drink and set it on the counter. “Enjoy.”
He took a long, slow swallow, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Have you got a minute?”
“For you, anytime.”
“Good. Let’s go over there.” He led the way to a vacant table with other vacant tables around it, held out a chair for her—
“I haven’t lost the ability to see to myself,” she muttered as she sat.
“Didn’t think you had. I was just being polite.” He set his glass on the table, grabbed a chair, swung it around, and straddled it. “I’ve been doing some thinking of late.”
“Glad to hear you’ve taken up a pastime.”
“Very funny, Gillie, very funny. That’s what I’ve always fancied about you, your humor.”
“You’re too easy to tease, Aiden.”
“That I am. I also have an extremely successful business that I’ll be expanding soon. You have a good business here—”
“I have an excellent business here. It sees me in good stead.”
“But imagine if we were to combine our assets. We’d be quite the couple to be reckoned with.”
She stared at him. “And how exactly would we combine our assets?”
“Through marriage.”
“You’re asking me to marry you?”
“I’m suggesting you marry me. You’re not really my sister.” He leaned toward her, an earnestness in his eyes. “Look, Gil, life is going to get really hard for you. I know a gaming hell owner isn’t ideal husband material, but it beats
the alternative. You know you’re going to get ostracized.”
“I know.”
“People are likely to start drinking elsewhere.”
“I know. I’ll probably end up selling the place.”
He grimaced. “But you’ve worked so hard. You’ve poured your soul into the Mermaid.”
She placed her hands over her belly. “But now there’s something—someone—else I want to pour my soul into.”
For a moment, his eyes dipped to the shelter she’d created before meeting her gaze. “We’d have fun, Gil. I could show you a good time, better than that fancy duke showed you.”
She very much doubted that. Still she grinned at him. “Drink up, Aiden. Free drinks are all you’re going to get from me.”
“Bugger it, then. I won’t touch you, but I will give you marriage and respectability—”
“I love you, Aiden, but after a time I think we’d each be plotting how to kill the other with the least amount of bother.” She shoved back her chair and stood. “But thank you for the suggestion. It means the world to me.”
“Will you send a girl over with a couple of more pints? I’m going to need to drown my sorrows at you turning me down.”
“Such rubbish,” she muttered with a smile before heading back to the bar. Still it made her feel special that Aiden and Finn were willing to saddle themselves with her. But if she couldn’t marry for the sort of passionate love that could exist between a man and a woman, she didn’t want to marry at all. She thought about Thorne and the atmosphere in which he’d grown up, with nary a whisper of love. How could one learn to love if one had never been loved?
She got to the bar to find Beast waiting for her. His hands were clasped around a tankard so tightly his knuckles were turning white. “Gillie, I wondered if I might have a word.”
Cradling his jaw with one hand, she smiled tenderly at him. “No, Beast, I won’t marry you.”
Relief washed over his features as he slowly released a breath he might have been holding since he walked in. “I wouldn’t be bad as a husband.”
When a Duke Loves a Woman Page 30