A Matter of Grave Concern (12 page)

“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 guided 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.

“I don’t think I would be opposed to that,” she whispered.

“Abby, you can’t make such a monumental decision right now. Neither of us is in a position to think clearly at the moment.”

“Can we talk about it in the morning, then?”

“That would be advisable.”

After several seconds of silence, she said good night and slid toward the far edge of the bed, but it wasn’t two hours later that they found each other again. All it took was for Abigail to slide her hand down his arm and entwine her fingers with his, and it was as if those two hours had never elapsed. In the matter of a few short minutes, he had her clothes off, his mouth at her breast and his hand between her thighs.

Chapter 13

Abigail had never felt anything like the pleasure pouring through her—and not just because of the sexual nature of Max’s touch. Since her mother died, she’d had so little physical affection. Her father had occasionally patted her on the head when she was a girl and, in those first years, there had been a nanny to bathe and look after her. But, like her governesses, her nannies had come and gone so often that she hadn’t grown attached to any of them. One left to marry after only two months. Another moved to the United States before the year was out. Yet another, caught stealing from the larder, was sacked. After that, it was the servants at the college who kept an eye on her for her father, but they remained so distant and formal that she never felt they truly cared. Until now she hadn’t even realized how desperately she craved human contact and could hardly believe that Max, of all people, was making her feel important, even vital in some way.

Although she hadn’t meant to tempt him beyond his resistance when she reached out a few minutes earlier, she certainly hadn’t done anything to discourage him when he drew her back into his arms.
He
kept trying to break contact, however—at least at first. Every few seconds, he would pull away, try to catch his breath and overcome the temptation she posed. She probably should have done more to help him, since his self-respect seemed to hinge on his resistance. But they were locked in the same small room, where there was no way to escape such poignant desire. It simply would not recede no matter how long they stared into the darkness, willing their heartbeats to slow. As soon as she touched him, he had turned into her as if he had been lying there, battling the same impulse.

“What’s one night?” she asked. If she was never going to marry, she didn’t see why she shouldn’t take this opportunity to learn what it would be like to lie with a man. Max was a resurrectionist, which wasn’t an occupation anyone could admire—even her, despite the college’s dependence on the specimens they provided—but she liked him in spite of that. Truth be told, he was unlike any man she had ever met. He seemed so knowledgeable, so worldly and capable.

The rasp of his breathing sounded in her ear as his fingers sought out various places on her body she hadn’t even known could be so receptive to a man’s caress—and before long, the only thing that mattered was obtaining the satisfaction her body sought. Max could provide that. But when she started to undo the buttons on his trousers, he stopped her.

“Abby, no. We can’t.”

She froze, startled by his refusal. “
Why?
”

“Because what I have done is bad enough.”

“You don’t want me?” she asked.

He framed her face with his large hands as if he was trying to convey more than the words he was saying. “I want what is best for you. That means I have to think beyond this night.”

“You’re afraid I might conceive.”

“That’s part of it, yes. I won’t risk a bastard. And there can be no future for us. You understand, don’t you?”

She wasn’t asking for a future with him. Her father would never allow her to marry a member of the London Supply Company or any other sack ’em up man. When she returned to the college, whatever happened at No. 8 Farmer’s Landing would have to be forgotten.

“There isn’t any preventative we can use?” She had heard about sponges and something called a
womb shield
from Dr. Bartello, who taught midwifery every day at the college—at half past ten. But she had no idea where to get such items, especially late at night. She would have listened more carefully to that part of his lectures if she had ever dreamed she would have a need. But she had been more interested in
birthing
babies than preventing them.

He rested his forehead against hers. “Nothing at hand. And even if there were, abstinence will protect you far better. Besides, I have no experience with virgins, Abby. If I pressed inside you as I am dying to do, it would only hurt you.”

“You said it was pleasurable for a woman to ride a hard cock. And yours is certainly hard.”

“Indeed it is,” he said with a ragged chuckle. “But it’s something you have to grow accustomed to. Your body isn’t used to accepting a man.”

“I will adjust,” she insisted. “That is what women have done since the beginning of creation, isn’t it?”

“That’s your damn curiosity talking again,” he said gruffly. “But I can’t listen to that. I know you will live to regret giving me something so precious just for the sake of experience.”

She stared up at him. “That’s it, then?” She started to push him away, but he held her fast.

“Wait, it doesn’t have to end quite as badly as this.”

“Just go to sleep,” she said.

He had thought he would enjoy turning the tables on her, but that wasn’t the case—not if he couldn’t fulfill the desire he had created. “Abby, stop.”

“I don’t understand your refusal. You’re shaking with need.”

“I don’t deny it. But I would rather not hate myself when this is over.”

“Fine. Sleep, like I said.”

“In a few minutes. First, I’m going to give you a little something to remember me by, something to show you that making love can be every bit as pleasurable for a woman. That way, if you do marry, you will know to demand more of your husband. He should meet your needs as you should meet his.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked. “You just refused to go any further.”

He didn’t answer. He was too busy creating a trail of kisses down her abdomen.

Although she expected him to stop before he moved much lower than her belly button, he didn’t. He continued on that downward path.

Shocked, she tried to cross her legs. She felt so exposed and . . . and embarrassed. But he wouldn’t have it.

“Don’t fight me.” He held her thighs apart. “I promise you will like this,” he said—and she did. From the first wet glide of his tongue, she could hardly lie still and her enjoyment grew from there.

When she couldn’t take any more, Abby fisted her hands in the bedding and began to plead with him. “Max! Max, please. You are driving me mad, making me want . . . making me want . . .”

“I know what you want, and I am going to give it to you,” he promised. “All you have to do is trust me—trust me and forsake all inhibition and reservation.”

She was no longer resisting. She just didn’t know how to do as he said, couldn’t make it happen—and then . . .

A flood of sensation welled up and swept through her body, and she knew nothing could ever feel better.

When the first delicious spasm hit, she cried out in surprise—and heard Max make a similar sound, only his contained more frustration than exultation. He undid his trousers and lifted himself over her as if he would bury himself inside her. But, with a muttered curse, he dropped down beside her and guided her hand to what he had exposed instead.

When Abigail woke, she and Max were naked and tangled up in each other. She knew, as the daughter of the head surgeon at Aldersgate College, she should get up right away and put on her clothes. Only a strumpet could be so indifferent to the fact that she was lying with a man she had barely met without so much as her shift. But she was so satisfied and comfortable that it was hard to care enough to drag herself away from him. They had their privacy. And Max felt better against her bare skin than a yard of silk. Although he had refrained from taking her maidenhead, what they had done felt just as intimate. He had told her that those in the bawd-houses called it “tipping the velvet.” She wondered if those higher born knew about such a thing—but couldn’t imagine any of the wives of the surgeons she had met allowing their husbands to kiss them where Max had kissed her.

When she lifted a hand to smooth the hair out of her face, she realized Max was awake and watching her beneath the fringe of his dark lashes.

“You were right.” She offered him a smile.

He arched an eyebrow in question.

“A live cock is infinitely more interesting than a dead one.”

“For the love of God, Abby.” He rubbed a hand over his face, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

“That was a compliment,” she said, slightly put out by his reaction. “You have every right to be proud. Although I don’t have a great deal to compare you to, you are certainly not lacking in size—”

“Abby!”

He had choked out her name as if she had said something terribly wrong, which was puzzling. He had been willing to discuss his cock the morning before. So why was it wrong to mention it now that she could actually offer an opinion?

“You seem to have awakened in a sour mood,” she said.

“I’ve got to get you back to the college before I ruin your life. But if I return you . . .” He sighed. “Never mind.”

She might have promised him that she wouldn’t tell anyone about him or the gang so long as he freed her. But she wasn’t entirely sure she could keep that promise. Someone had to investigate the circumstances surrounding the death of the woman who had been on the sofa. If she maintained her silence that might never happen.

She studied Max’s handsome face, telling herself it wasn’t because she was suddenly reluctant to leave
him
that she had less interest in returning home.

“That sounds like the same problem you had yesterday,” she said, “so I don’t know why you have to be so gruff.”

“Today the problem is worse than it was yesterday.”

“Because . . .”

A muscle moved in his cheek as his gaze lowered to the place where the sheet barely covered her breasts. “I hadn’t bedded you yesterday.”

“You didn’t bed me last night, either.” She slid on top of him and felt gratified when his member stiffened in response. She loved that she had the power to arouse him so quickly.

“You’re flirting with danger, Abby,” he warned as he watched her with heavy-lidded eyes.

She gave him a sultry look. “So push me away.”

When he lifted his hand, she thought he was going to do just that. Max was not a man to be trifled with. But he didn’t. He cupped her breast while grabbing a fistful of her hair and dragging her mouth to his.

“Do you really want to provoke me?” he asked against her lips.

His kiss wasn’t nearly as gentle as those he had given her in the night but, after spending much of the past thirty-six hours with him, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. He was merely frustrated. He wanted her as much as ever but wouldn’t let himself take her.

“If you are trying to frighten me, it won’t work,” she said and ran her tongue against his as he had taught her hours before.

With a curse, he let go of her hair and devoured her kiss. Then his hands circled her waist, positioning her such that she could slide onto his hard shaft if she wanted to take the initiative.

Her heart pounded with the daring of it. She lifted her head to stare into his eyes, but he seemed to realize that she would indeed give him her virginity and lifted her to one side before rolling out of bed.

“Why am I letting you torture me?” he grumbled.

She made a face at his back. “You’re the one holding me here against my will.”

“No wonder it’s strange to me that you should be so happy!”

“You have introduced me to a new, sensual world. Is it so terrible that I am eager to explore it while I have the chance? Can you honestly tell me that any woman wouldn’t like . . . what did you call it?
Tipping the velvet
?
”

“That is not a term for you to repeat,” he said.

He sounded a great deal like her father. “Fine. I won’t. Apparently, it would please you better if we pretended to still be strangers this morning, which makes no sense—not now that we have been so intimate.”

“Don’t talk like that, either.”

“
Why?
”

He grimaced. “Because it reminds me that I have not acted honorably!”

“I thought you didn’t care about honor.”

“My honor was lost when I held you against your will. But I have to draw a line somewhere.”

“Then be miserable, if that’s what you want. But must I be miserable with you? Would you rather I was
un
happy?”

He sighed. “I fear I am setting you up for just that.”

She combed her fingers through her hair as she watched him dress, which was enjoyable in itself. “Because you were right?”

He wouldn’t look back at her. “About . . .”

“The fact that I would like your cock?”

“Abby, you have no idea what that kind of talk does to me,” he growled. “You
must
stop!”

She laughed that he could be so easily flustered. “
You
can be vulgar in an attempt to shock me, but I can’t do the same to you? Who would have thought that a body snatcher could be such a prig?”

He shook his head. “I never should have touched you.”

Suddenly, Abby felt a little sick. “Do you regret it?”

“Yes! No! I mean . . . I
should
.”

“But . . .”

Finally dressed, he whirled to face her. “I can’t feel good about it because you don’t know, damn it!”

“Don’t know
what
?”

“Anything!”

“Are you disappointed in my lack of experience?”