She let out a wild cry, even as he met a brief moment of resistance as he breeched her maidenhead. For a startling moment, he thought he’d hurt her and paused until she panted, “More, more. Deeper,” with such insistence that he couldn’t help but obey.
He rocked into her, matching her cries as her body unfurled to accept him. He couldn’t help but move, faster and deeper with each thrust, as she squeezed and welcomed him. It was pure bliss to feel her tightness enclose him, to have every nerve in his cock screaming in victory as the friction of their mating urged him on to a release as old as time.
His thrusts grew demanding as the glorious tension in his groin roared to an undeniable climax. Pleasure and light and everything good slammed through him like thunder as he exploded, too overcome with need to pull out and spare her the risk of a child. In fact, knowing that he was spilling inside of her, that his seed might join with her to form new life, made his orgasm so much better than it would have been otherwise. It was only as the initial rush began to subside that he realized her body was throbbing around his in a powerful orgasm of her own.
“Yes,” she groaned, radiating heat, her head thrown back in ecstasy. “Thaddeus, yes!”
He continued to move in her until the last of his passion was spent. Then he collapsed atop her, unable to summon the energy even to withdraw from her. His cock felt as though it was exactly where it belonged. His heart was where it belonged as well, with hers, in every way.
It was only when enough sense returned to him that he realized he might be crushing her and he used the last of his strength to pull out and prop himself above her.
“My darling,” he panted, bending to kiss her. “My own, dear love.” He kissed her again, longer, wondering how long it would be before he was capable of making love to her again. Although, as much as having her tied aroused him, he wanted to have her freely as well. “I love you,” he told her, kissing her one more before rocking back.
He pulled up his breeches and refastened them, then climbed off the bed and set about gathering his clothes and dressing.
“I can climb down the ladder,” she said, tugging at the cords binding her with a different sort of urgency. “I know I can, if you show me how.”
“No,” Thaddeus said, returning to the side of the bed. His shirt and waistcoat were on, but his shirt was untucked and his waistcoat unbuttoned. “I didn’t come to take you away with me tonight.”
“What?” Her eyes were suddenly round with alarm. “Did you come her only to ravish me, then?”
He met her question with a rakish grin. “The ravishing was unintended, but delicious.” He leaned in to kiss her startled mouth.
“But I don’t understand,” she said.
He stepped back, searching for the quilt. He found it on the floor, but before he covered her, he drank in the sight of her body. The bedclothes were rumpled beneath her. In the lamplight, her skin had a flushed glow. Her sex looked as though it had been thoroughly used, which led him to change his mind about simply covering her and leaving.
He searched around for a washstand, found a cloth, wet it, and returned to the bed to clean up the evidence of what they’d done.
“It’s too dangerous to carry you away tonight, love,” he said as he gently washed her.
She moved as though his ministrations aroused her all over again. “But why?” she asked breathlessly. “Why can I not come away with you right now?”
“I couldn’t live with myself if your father fired any of the servants who have risked so much to help me without references,” he said.
“So you would leave me to my father’s evil plan to spare a handful of servants you don’t know?” Panic filled her eyes.
Thaddeus finished his washing, returned the cloth to the washbasin, and returned to cover her. “Do not worry, my darling. I came tonight merely to tell you that I have a fool-proof plan.”
“You do?” Hope filled her face once more.
“I do.” He bent down to kiss her, tucking her disheveled hair behind her ears. “I will steal you away from the wedding right under your father and Lord Cunningham’s noses. They won’t know what is happening until it’s too late.” He kissed her again. “And then we will run away and be safe together forever. Do you believe me?”
She hesitated for only a moment before saying, “I do. I have faith in you. I’ve always had faith in you.”
“Then keep that in the center of your heart,” he said, taking one final kiss. A huge part of him hated to leave her. He wanted to stay with her, not just to go another round with her in bed, but to protect her against every manner of evil. Instead, he said, “By this time tomorrow, I swear, we will be free of your father and Lord Cunningham forever. Until then….” He rested a hand on the side of her anxious face, then backed away toward the window. “Know that we will be victorious in the end.”
He reached the window, opened it again, and threw his leg over the windowsill, catching his foot in the top rung of the ladder. “I love you, my darling,” he said before escaping into the night.
Chapter 5
In spite of the fact that her body was thoroughly worn out after her blissful encounter with Thaddeus, Imogen couldn’t sleep a wink that night. She alternated between reliving the stunning glory of making love with Thaddeus and the wealth of sinful, delicious feelings that being tied up while he ravished her inspired, and being terrified about what the morning might bring.
She’d only just managed to doze off when her bedroom door cracked open while the night was still deep.
“Who is it?” she whispered, caught between fear of her father or Lord Cunningham and hope that Thaddeus had returned for her after all.
But it was Mr. Monk’s voice that whispered, “Go back to sleep, my lady.”
He moved to the window, opened it, and proceeded to drag something back into her room. It must have been the rope ladder Thaddeus has used to reach her room.
“Thank you, Mr. Monk,” she said as he stole out of the room with the ladder.
Mr. Monk paused at the door to say, “We are all behind Lord Herrington, my lady, and are offering any help we can.”
He slipped out of the room before Imogen could tell him to thank the other servants.
Mr. Monk wasn’t her only visitor before the morning light streamed in through the curtains.
“I heard noises coming from your room last night,” Alice said as she crept into the room at first light, shutting the door behind her. “Curious noises.”
There was no point in hiding anything from her sister. “Oh, Alice, it was wonderful,” she sighed, relaxing as Alice undid the cords holding her ankles. “Not even The Secrets of Love could have described how wonderful it was.”
“It certainly sounded exciting.” Alice’s eyes lit with mischief and she untied Imogen’s other ankle before moving to her wrists. Her grin vanished too quickly. “You should give thanks that Father wasn’t home last night. You and Lord Herrington nearly woke the dead with your carrying on.”
“I will give thanks that we will never be in this situation again,” Imogen said, sitting up and rubbing her wrists once Alice undid the last cord.
Alice sat on the side of the bed with a frown. “Why did he not simply steal you away when he left? It seems rather rakish to bed you the way he so obviously did and then to fly off into the night.”
Imogen climbed off the bed, wincing as she tested her sore muscles and stiff joints. She made her way to the chamber pot behind the screen in the corner of her room, talking as she went. “Thaddeus said that he could not, in good conscience, risk Father dismissing any of the servants because he would most certainly do so without giving them a reference.”
“That would ruin them,” Alice agreed.
“He says that he has another plan, a better plan.” She finished behind the screen, then came out to finish the job at the washbasin that Thaddeus had started the night before. Even cleaning herself reminded her of Thaddeus’s touch, arousing her even as she focused on the
hope of his words.
“What kind of plan could be better than rescuing you in the dead of night when Father and Lord Cunningham are away and thoroughly distracted?” Alice asked, fetching a robe from the wardrobe and bringing it to Imogen.
“I don’t know.” Imogen took the robe, wrapping up once she was clean.
Alice arched a doubtful eyebrow. “He refused to whisk you away from the house and he also failed to inform you of his plan?”
Imogen shook her head. “I know you have your doubts, but I trust Thaddeus. I have full faith in him to do whatever is necessary to save me. We will be together forever, I know it. I—”
Her bedroom door swung open before she could go on and her father marched in. He looked first at the bed, and when Imogen wasn’t where he assumed she would be, he turned a murderous glare on her and Alice.
“How dare you disobey my orders?” he boomed, crossing the room to them in a few steps. “And you are even worse for turning against me.” He grabbed a handful of Alice’s loose hair and shook her. “Go back to your room at once, you disobedient slut. Your turn will come soon enough.”
“Father, please don’t,” Imogen pleaded with him.
It was no use. He marched Alice to the door and threw her into the hall. At least one of the maids was there to catch her and comfort her.
When her father was done, he whirled to face Imogen. She expected to be struck again like Lord Cunningham had struck her the other night, but her father’s eyes were bloodshot and he was paler than usual, as if he’d enjoyed his evening out with Lord Cunningham a little too much. He didn’t have the energy for more than one battle.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, as if confirming what Imogen suspected he was thinking. “Put on your wedding gown and come downstairs at once. We leave for the church within the hour.”
“So early?” Imogen asked with a gulp. Would Thaddeus have time to execute his plan if they proceeded with things hours before weddings usually took place?
Her father didn’t answer. He merely marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Imogen glanced from the door to the window, wondering if she had it in her to flee. But Mr. Monk had taken the rope ladder, and she truly did trust Thaddeus, even if everything seemed to be going against them.
She dressed as fast as she could, surprised when one of the maids showed up to help her. It seemed out of character for her father to allow her to have help. He must have been desperate from his night out. That or so confident in his victory that he had become lazy. Either way, Imogen hoped she could use it.
“Where is Alice?” she asked when she met her father in the front hall a short time later.
He already wore his overcoat and hat and seemed even more out of sorts than he had in her room. “She is forbidden to come,” he grumbled. “You are forbidden to ever see her again.”
Imogen gasped. “But surely…I must return here to gather my things…my book—”
“Once you’re in Cunningham’s hands, you’ll stay there,” her father snapped. “He has no need for any of your foolish things.”
“But my clothing.”
“He’ll give you new,” her father roared, irritated at being interrupted. “If he wants you clothed at all.”
Imogen’s mouth dropped open, but she didn’t have a chance to say anything else. Her father grabbed her wrist and jerked her toward the door. Mr. Monk tried to drape her coat over her shoulders, but it fell and her father gave him no time to pick it up. The carriage was waiting, and just as the autumn chill hit Imogen, adding to the shivers that had already overtaken her, he tossed her up into the seat.
They were silent as they rode to the church, just a short distance away. Imogen was too afraid to say a word, and her father pinched his face into a scowl, closing his eyes. Imogen glanced out the window as Mayfair rolled by, searching desperately for any sign of Thaddeus, but there weren’t any. The houses were silent, and only servants scuttled about on errands. It was too early for anyone else to be out.
Her dread deepened when they reached the church and Lord Cunningham was waiting for them.
“Not a moment too soon,” Lord Cunningham said in a gravelly voice as Imogen’s father climbed out of the carriage, practically throwing Imogen to the pavement ahead of him. Lord Cunningham’s face was red and his breeches were tented obscenely. “Whatever that whore gave me last night is still working. I need her spread and wet in short order. And I don’t care about the wet part.”
Imogen shied away from Lord Cunningham with a whimper she couldn't control. She glanced desperately around for Thaddeus, but the street was nearly empty. A young boy raced about on his errands at one end of the row of buildings and a girl with messy hair seemed to be idling her way along on some errand with a basket over her arm. Thaddeus was nowhere to be seen.
Imogen’s father grabbed her arm and yanked her forward. “Right. Rev. Josephs said he’d be ready. Let’s get the formalities over with. As soon as the ink is dry on the license and our agreement, you can do whatever you want with this one. I’ll even hold her down for you if she makes trouble.”
Fear welled up within Imogen. She trembled so much as her father dragged her into the church and down the aisle behind Lord Cunningham that she stumbled twice. She searched the rows of pews for Thaddeus, searched the organ loft, the darkened corners, and even the rafters above them. The church was empty, but for the priest waiting at the front and a young man that must have been some sort of curate helping out. For a moment, Imogen wondered if the curate was Thaddeus in disguise, but the man was shorter and stouter than Thaddeus.
“There you go.” Her father pushed Imogen toward Lord Cunningham as they came to a stop at the front of the church. He scowled at the priest. “Get on with it.”
“Very well,” the priest smiled benignly, coughed once, then opened the book of prayer in his hands. Imogen stared hard at him, trying to communicate her desperation, but the man merely coughed again, hummed, and began the service with, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of this man and this woman.”
Panic tore through Imogen. Where was Thaddeus? It was impossible to think that her father and Lord Cunningham had outsmarted him. He must have known the wedding would be early. He was intelligent and cunning, and he loved her far too much to let this travesty continue.
“…which is an honorable estate, instituted by God in the time of man’s innocency,” the priest went on, interrupted only by another cough.
Prickles broke out along Imogen’s skin and her breath came in shallow gasps. It was going to happen. The service was going to proceed, and before Thaddeus could swoop in to save her, she would be married to Lord Cunningham. All she could look forward to then was a wretched life as the unwilling recipient of his prick.
The priest coughed yet again before saying, “First, it was ordained for the procreation of children—”
“And the getting of them,” Lord Cunningham added in a sly voice.
The priest answered with a cough. At first, Imogen thought he was irritated by the interruption, but instead of going on, he coughed again and pressed a hand to his chest. “—to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord—” he attempted to continue before breaking down once again.
This time, his coughing fit turned into deep, racking gasps. The priest’s eyes went wide and he dropped his prayer book. Imogen watched in horror as he began to wheeze and struggle for breath. He clasped both hands to his heart before dropping to the floor.
“Quick,” the young curate said, dashing forward. He met Imogen’s eyes. “Get him a glass of water.” He pointed to the open door to the vestry a few yards away.
Hope as powerful as cannon fire burst through Imogen. This was it. This was Thaddeus’s plan. She broke away from Lord Cunningham—who, along with her father, had rushed forward and crouched by the priest to see what was going on—and dashed for the vestry.
Her hopes proved founded as soon as she whisked through the door. Thaddeus was
waiting there for her, just out of sight of the chapel.
“Quick.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along to a door at the other side of the room. “We haven’t got much time. They’ll realize something is wrong when you don’t come back.”
“Too right we will,” her father’s angry voice boomed behind them.
Imogen yelped, putting everything she had into dodging through the back corridors of the church along with Thaddeus. It shocked her how quickly her father had figured out Thaddeus’s plan. She held onto Thaddeus with a grip like iron as he took her out into the alley behind the church and on.
“Stop, you bastard,” her father shouted as he chased them. “You won’t get away with this. You have nowhere to go.” He was far too close for Imogen’s liking. The only thing she and Thaddeus had in their favor was that her father was older and worn out from the night before.
“Follow me,” Thaddeus said over his shoulder as they darted down the narrow path between two buildings that appeared to lead back to the main street. “I have a plan and I know where I’m going.”
“I trust you,” Imogen said, though she was already beginning to wonder if her lungs and her legs would hold up.
They burst out to the street half a block away from the church. Imogen’s father still wasn’t far behind them. Worse still, Lord Cunningham had made his way out of the church through its front door. He spotted them the moment they charged into the street. Thaddeus tugged Imogen away from the church with purpose in his steps, but Lord Cunningham tore off after them.
“Don’t let them get away,” her father shouted as Lord Cunningham reached his side.
“I have no intention of letting that whelp make off with my prize,” Lord Cunningham said.
Imogen let out a sound of fear, but Thaddeus reassured her with, “It’s all right. It’s just up ahead. Run with me and be ready for anything.”
The Faithful Siren Page 5