Never Turn Away (Kellington Book Six) (20 page)

“Are you hurt?” he asked, running his hands over
her.

“You saved me.”

“What the devil were you doing walking down the
street by yourself at night?  This isn’t Caversham.  It’s London.”

Now he was showing concern for her?   After hours of
keeping his distance in the ballroom?  She was pleased beyond belief that he
was so worried about her, yet perversely tried to shake off his protective
nature.  “This is Mayfair, after all,” she sniffed.

“And if you knew some of those society bastards the
way I do, you’d realize Mayfair isn’t safe.”

“You didn’t seem to care about those
society…bastards when they were dancing with me!”

“What the devil are you talking about?”

“Tonight!  You idly strolled through the ballroom
barely looking my way and certainly never even considering dancing with me. 
For all you cared, I was just some other nameless, faceless female you’d
dallied with.”

For a moment he was silent.  Then it all came out in
a jumble.  “My attention was on you the entire night, just as it has been ever
since I met you.”

“Because Lynwood told you to look after me.”  She
knew she was being churlish, but she did not care.

“From the moment you rescued that ewe, this ceased
being a favor for a friend and became an act of bloody torment.  Do you think I
liked seeing you dance with those toffs?  Don’t you think I wanted to take you
away from them, away from all of this?  Then I couldn’t find you after you said
you’d wait for me in the foyer.  When I finally did catch sight of you again,
what did I find?  You wandering aimlessly off and almost being run down by some
drunken villain on a horse.  Good God, woman, you’re going to drive me insane.”

“For your information…”

“I’m not done yet!  As for ‘dallying’ with you, I
have never felt for anyone what I did with you.  And I am cursed to be haunted
by the feel of you, the taste of you for the rest of my life.”  He pulled her
to him for a kiss.  And not just a kiss.  A soul-searching, scorching, incendiary
kiss.  It was passionate and insistent.  It said everything words were unable
to convey.

And she loved it.

But just as she was losing herself to him, he
withdrew and pulled her to her feet.

“Joseph Stapleton!  How dare you kiss me senseless,
then stop?”  She became aware of him hailing the Lynwood carriage.

He ushered her inside, gave instructions to the
coachman, then joined her.

“Are you taking me to Lynwood House?” she asked.

“No.  I’m taking you home.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Joseph held his breath as the carriage pulled up in
front of his house.  As they’d travelled through Cheapside, Evelyn had looked
through the window eagerly.  It was dark, so she could not see much.  But he
wondered what it was like to see the area through her eyes. 

After growing up in the stews, he was proud to have
moved to a part of town known for its solid homes and middle class environs. 
The houses were nowhere as large as those in Mayfair, but they were well kept
and spacious.  His own home, while somewhat narrow, boasted kitchens and
servants’ quarters on the lower level, a sitting room and dining area on the
ground floor, his beloved library on the first floor, along with his master
bedroom.  There were three additional bedrooms on the second floor, one of
which could easily be used as a nursery.  Though if Joseph were ever fortunate
enough to have children, he’d decided he would move his bedroom up to the
second floor to be nearer to his children.

As he helped Evelyn from the carriage, he grew increasingly
nervous.  They had not spoken on the journey.  He’d held her, as much to calm
his racing heart as hers.  He had not told her of his pride in his house.  All
he saw now was that it was but a portion of the size of her home in
Oxfordshire.   Because of the cold weather, the window boxes were empty and the
coal dust had settled on the buildings of his street, making them all look
dirty.  His shutters could use a coat of paint.

He stood with her for a moment in the cold, after
dismissing the carriage with a message to give to the Kellingtons regarding
Lady Evelyn’s whereabouts.  He wanted nothing more than to sweep her across his
threshold, yet he knew everything would change if he did. 

She squeezed his arm.  “Are you going to invite me
in?  Or do you wish to stand out here all night?”  Her smile was brilliant and
he had everything he could do not to kiss her right there on the street. 

Instead, he escorted her to the door, which was
opened by his butler, Goldberg.  “Welcome home, Inspector,” he said, as he
bowed to Joseph and Evelyn.

Joseph introduced his butler to Evelyn, as the
servant took their coats.  Joseph then dismissed the man for the night.  His
servant was too well-mannered to give any indication that he thought it was odd
that a lady was there so late in the evening. 

Yet that was all Joseph could think about.  She was
there.  In his home.  Finally.

He turned to her.  “Evelyn…”

“No, Joseph.  No more talk.  No more discussions of
honor or class or any other nonsense.  You brought me here for a reason.  Now,
take me.”

She did not have to tell him twice.

He swept her up in his arms, then strode
purposefully to the stairs, which he took two steps at a time. 

He walked into his bedchamber, kicking the door shut
behind him.  He put her on the ground, then they both began undressing each
other.  There were no words, only the urgency driving them both.  Though Evelyn
fumbled a few times, she was able to get him undressed quicker than he would
have thought possible.

Finally, they stood in each other’s arms, skin to
skin, kissing, with hands roaming over each other.  He led her to the bed, then
laid her on her back.  He moved on top of her, but had to hold himself back to
keep from falling upon her like an animal.

He pulled back, evading her arms that sought to hold
him.  He looked at Evelyn smiling up at him.  He wished it was daylight because
the candles did not let him feast his eyes as he wanted. 

He kissed his way down her body, put his lips to the
delicate arch of her instep.  Then he kissed his way back up her legs, darting
his tongue over her inner thighs.

He reached the heart of her and began to lick and
lave.  She instinctively pressed her thighs against him as she moved beneath
him.  She was already wet when he began, but he wanted to ease the pain he knew
she’d experience.

He kissed his way back to her lips, then supped,
gradually deepening his kisses until their tongues fully mated.  Then he gently
spread her legs and positioned his achingly hard cock at her entrance.

He hesitated.  “Do you want this?”

“Yes!” she said.

“But everything will change.”

“I know, my love.  I know.”

He gently pressed into her and almost blacked out
from the pleasure.  He had to go slowly, easing in to her, stretching her as he
went.  When he came to her maidenhead, he pressed forward then slid all the way
home.

He stilled then.  And for a moment, all he knew was
the warmth inside her, where his impossibly hard cock could feel the pulse of
her gripping him.  He kissed her and she tenderly touched his cheeks.

That was all the restraint he had.  He began moving,
still gently.  But decisively.  In and out.  With her, against her.  Surrounded
by her.  And slowly all the years of pain began to fade away.  All he knew was
her.

*                    *                    *

She could not think.  All she could do was feel. 
Joseph was inside her, stretching her, giving to her.  Owning her soul.  With
each move he made, she fell more deeply in love.  She was joined with him in
much more than body.  It was truly two souls coming together. 

She could feel him growing harder inside her.  She
could sense his restrained passion.  The muscles of his back – which felt so
good beneath her fingers – were tense.  His breathing was labored.  And his
physical responses excited her more.

As she began to spiral toward passion, he did, too. 
He was nipping lightly at her neck.  She was scratching her nails down his
back.  She could not be close enough to him.  Here in his house.  In his bed.

She lost control and flew away with passion.  He
slammed into her three more times, then she felt his seed pulsing into her.

Then he collapsed upon her and all was right with
the world.

*                    *                  *

Joseph groaned as he came.  Then as he lay upon her,
trying to catch his breath, he groaned silently once again.  He had ruined
her.  He really was a bastard for doing it.  Just as bad as the randiest lord. 
But he would not think of it now.  Not when he had her in his arms. 

She was boneless from the exertion, but he wanted to
get her under the covers before she grew cold.  She was little use in the
endeavor, so he worked around her.  He pulled the covers up around them, and
she nestled against him, just as she had in his bedchamber in Caversham.

They were silent for a moment, with just the sound
of their breathing.  He thought she might even be falling asleep.  But then she
spoke.

“You once told me you did not wish to speak of your
parents, of your life before Bow Street.  But I would like to hear it now.  I
want to know everything about you.”

“I can say with certainty you don’t.”

She reached up and touched his cheek.  “Don’t tell
me what I want from you.  Not here in your bed.  Please, Joseph, it’s important
to me.”

Joseph didn’t want to tell her, but he needed
something to make her distance herself from him.  Because at this point, he
hadn’t the strength to leave her.  And she deserved to know the truth.

“My mother was a prostitute.  She had no idea who my
father was.  It was likely he was one of her customers or possibly one of the
men who worked at the brothel.  She was as good of a mother as she could be,
though she had a problem with drink and opiates.  She died when I was nine.” 

“How horrible to lose your mother so young.”

“She’d been as good of a mother as she knew how. 
Her own mother had abandoned her when she was a babe.  Things could have been
worse when she died.  At least the madame allowed me to stay if I worked for my
keep.”

“But you were only a boy.  What could you have
done?”

“I did whatever I needed in order to keep a roof
over my head.  I ran errands, cleaned, worked in the stables.  I combed through
the alleyways in search of coins the customers may have dropped on their way
home, foxed to the point they couldn’t walk straight.  I had to share what I
found with the madame, but the few shillings I earned felt like guineas.  I
spent the next two years that way, but I knew I was on borrowed time.  The
madame was pushed out and her new replacement was ruthless.  She changed the
clientele and began offering specialty services.”

From the look of curiosity on Evelyn’s face, he
could tell she had no idea of the depravity that could be found in London’s
underworld.  And he didn’t plan to enlighten her.  “One night a fight broke
out.  Two men were beating one of the girls and I tried to help her. 
Unfortunately, the men had paid to beat her.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“Quite.  The new madame didn’t take kindly to my
intercession, so she had two of her bully boys beat me in the alley.  I was
strong for eleven, but those brutes were merciless – and there were two of
them.  They beat me within an inch of my life, then left me for dead in the
alley.”

He saw her wipe tears from her eyes.  No one had
ever cried for him before.

“For the next nine months, I lived on the streets. 
I barely survived.  I was weak from my injuries and thus in constant danger. 
But I was determined to get well and find a better life.  One night I was
rifling in the bin in back of a shop, hoping to find food.  The owner of the
shop heard the noise and came out with his pistol pointed, thinking he was
stopping a would-be burglar.  I thought I was going to be killed and it had
been three days since I’d eaten.  I’m ashamed to admit I fainted.”

He dared to sneak a glance at her.  She was still
crying.

“When I awoke a day later, I was on the softest bed
I’d ever lain upon.  In truth, it was but a cot well-stuffed with straw.  But I
was clean and wearing night clothes that were at once too short and too big
everywhere else.  A lady was trying to make me take some gruel.  And standing
behind her was the man who’d pointed the gun at me.  They were Mr. and Mrs.
Minsberg, the owners of a small jeweler’s.”

“Are they the same owners of Minsberg Milliners?”

“No, sadly, they are not the owners, though they
were kin.”

“Were?” asked Evelyn.

Joseph nodded.  He wasn’t sure if he could tell the
next part.  The pain was still too great. 

As if reading her mind, she kissed him.  “Please,”
she said.  “I want to hear all of it.”

“Very well, Evelyn.  But it is not pretty.”

“But it is your story and, therefore, of infinite
interest to me.”

“The Minsbergs were kind enough to take me in.  I
began running errands for their business.  They let me live in a room in their
home and for the very first time in my life, I had my own bed.  I had honest
work and was assured of food and shelter.  I felt like a prince.  The Minsbergs
taught me to read and do sums.  They were of the Jewish faith and told me of
their religion, while at the same time encouraged me to attend Christian services. 
They were the very best people I’d ever known.  Yet, they were continually
persecuted because of their religion.  By the time I was fourteen, I stayed
close to the shop as much as possible, hoping to discourage the bullies who
would shout slurs outside the store.  But the Minsbergs told me I must never
let the hatred of others affect me.  They even encouraged me to find a girl.”

“I imagine you did not need much encouragement for
that, though I am not sure I want to hear details,” said Evelyn, her eyes twinkling.

He kissed her.  “There was a tavern with a serving
maid I had my eye on.  She didn’t know I existed and I imagine I made myself a
real nuisance.  I was too young, too green and too poor.  But I lived her for
smiles.  I would stay at the tavern after the shop closed, hoping for a smile
from her.”

“Did you get one?”

“Not many.  But one night when I was wasting my time
in the tavern, I smelled smoke and heard the bells of the fire brigade.  There
was a massive fire close by.  As the drunks ran out to watch, I was gripped by
a real fear.  And for good cause.  The fire was at the Minsbergs’ shop.  They’d
been upstairs asleep, with no time to escape.  The bastards who’d set the fire
had doused the entire store with kerosene.  There was no way they could have
made it out.”

He stopped, once again consumed by sadness, anger
and regret, just as he always was when he thought about the events of that
night.  But this time it was different.  This time Evelyn took him in her
arms.  To his horror, he began to cry.  But she held him until he was able to
continue again.

“Did they find who was responsible?” she asked
quietly.

“There was never any question.  There was a gang of
five youths who took responsibility.  I had no doubt they’d done it.  They’d
thrown rocks through the window and painted slanderous words on the shop for
years.  They’d tormented every shopkeeper in the neighborhood, demanding
protection money.  But they’d been worse to the Minsbergs because of their
faith.”