To Tempt the Devil (A Novel of Lord Hawkesbury's Players) (18 page)

He lifted his head and screwed up his nose at her. “Wallow? You think I’m wallowing?”

“Yes,” she said boldly. “You have your life and your health. That’s more than many.”

He stood suddenly and paced the room, back and forth, like a chained bear in the baiting pit. It was pitiful. Worse
than pitiful, it was worrying. James might be alive, but she was beginning to suspect he was losing his mind.

“You’re right, Lizzy,” he said, abruptly stopping in front of her. He pulled her to her feet, depositing the things in her lap onto the floor. “You’re always right, that’s why I…I…love you.”

Her heart plunged into her stomach. She suddenly felt heavy-limbed and sick. A strange reaction considering she loved him too. Of course she did. She always had. They were so perfect for each other.

So why couldn’t she say it back?

Because of that kiss with Rafe. When she’d been kissing him, she’d not felt even a hint of confusion. She’d known exactly what she wanted. She wanted Rafe. She’d hardly thought of James at all.

He clasped her hands in his. “We
will
be wed when I have some money. I promise you. I’ll not leave you waiting forever. A woman like you must be cherished. A man can go far with you as his wife.
I
can go far.” He kissed her on the mouth. It was dry and chaste. “Don’t forget me in here. You won’t, will you? Lizzy?”

She squeezed his hands. “Of course not. But I have to leave. I’ve been gone too long.” She called for the warden to escort her out and glanced over her shoulder. The three prisoners watched her as intently as they had upon her arrival. James waved. She waved back and hurried away.

Rafe returned to the house after his third search of the area to find Lizzy sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of ale in hand and an empty trencher in front of her. He paused in the doorway and gave her the sort of glare he reserved for someone who’d
wronged him. She merely lifted her eyebrows, not at all concerned.

“Where have you been?” he growled. “I’ve looked everywhere for you! Why weren’t you here waiting for me?” He sounded like a shrewish wife. So be it. Lizzy needed to know how dangerous it was to leave in the middle of the day without him.

“Not much fun, is it?” she said, rising.

“What?” He came inside and flung the beard on the table.

“Waiting for someone to come home when danger is everywhere outside.” She dipped a cloth into a pot of water warming over the fire and wiped her trencher and cup. Didn’t she notice how angry he was? Didn’t she care that he’d felt sick when he returned to find her gone not once but three times?

His jaw hurt. He unclenched it. Tried to be calm. It didn’t work. “This is not the same thing. I can take care of myself.”

“It most certainly is the same thing.”

He sighed, but it came out more like a long, frustrated grunt. “Lizzy. Do not do that again. Understand? Never leave here without my permission.”

She turned to face him, her eyes narrowed as she fixed him with a glare that equaled his in ferocity. She was not the timid Lizzy he’d left behind. Something had changed. He was glad she was no longer afraid of him, but that didn’t soothe his ire.

“I am not your woman, Rafe. Not your wife, sister, daughter, or niece, so do
not
speak to me in that manner. Ever.” She stepped closer to him and shook the cloth in his face.

Right. So she was angry at him. He understood that. Interesting how anger made her body tremble and her breasts jiggle above the tight bodice.

He tore his gaze away and concentrated on her face. “Very well,” he said.
Not his woman
. No, of course she wasn’t. She was James’s. “I can see that you were worried when I didn’t return yesterday. Shall we call a truce?” He looked down at her
breasts again despite his resolve not to and his cock stirred. She had a luscious body. All soft curves and—

“Look at my eyes, Rafe. I haven’t finished yet.”

His gaze swept up.
Not his woman
. Christ. “Haven’t finished what?” Ah, yes, worry. She’d been worried about him too. He smiled. He couldn’t help it.

“Stop smiling. This is important!”

He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. It stopped the smiling. He apologized and nodded for her to go on.

“I followed you to the Marshalsea.”

“You did what!” he bellowed.

She gave him a defiant look. “You should have told me where you were going and I wouldn’t have needed to follow. You should have told me about James.”

He stared at her. His mouth fell open and he shut it again with a snap. “That was…” Resourceful. “…a foolish thing to do! Bloody hell, Lizzy, Treece’s men are everywhere. What if one of them had seen you? What if something had happened to you?” He strode off, came back to her, shook his finger, and almost told her she was to remain in the house forever but stopped himself. Perhaps it was a little extreme, and perhaps he should have told her where he was going in the first place. Besides, shouting at her might snap her out of the new ease she’d developed around him.

She folded her arms beneath her breasts, which only pushed them up more. He groaned. Was she trying to deliberately distract him? He forced his gaze up.
Concentrate
.

“I was at the Marshalsea an hour ago at least,” he said. “I came straight home. Where have you been since then?”

“Visiting James, of course.”

He choked on his expletive. “You went
inside
? Alone? Lizzy!” He scrubbed a hand over his chin. He should have told her. Should have taken her himself so he could protect her.
“Did anything happen? There’s a big prisoner in the cell with him. Did he…?” He swallowed. “Is he still there?”

“Rafe, don’t worry. I am unhurt, see?” She held out her arms. Naturally his gaze slipped to her breasts. “But I’m so angry with you for not telling me.”

“You’re angry with me?
You’re
angry with
me
? Ha!”

Her eyes darkened and he braced himself. He’d never seen her like this before, like a small intense storm ready to burst. “Yes, I am. You should have told me. James is alone in there and extremely vulnerable. What happens if you and I…” She gulped. “What happens to him if something happens to us? Have you told anyone where he is?”

“No. He didn’t want me to.”

“He is my friend,” she went on. “My very dear friend.” She looked away and he wondered if tears welled in her eyes but then she met his gaze once more and they were dry, but softer. The anger had disappeared, replaced by something else. Worry, yes, but other emotions too that he couldn’t place. “Are you aware that he’s going mad in there?”

“What do you mean? He seemed perfectly well when I saw him yesterday.”

“He’s not today. He’s agitated and distressed. I think he’s desperate to get out.”

Rafe sat down on the bench and lowered his head into his hands. “I should have stayed in London to take care of him these past years.”

She sat next to him and sighed. “He certainly needs a steadying influence in his life. I see that now.” She spoke quietly, as if talking to herself, convincing herself of something. It unnerved him.

“What is it, Lizzy?”

She seemed to make up her mind about something and turned to him. Her eyes were clouded, her gaze unfocused. “He needs me,” she said, her voice empty of emotion. “I hadn’t
realized how much until now. His mind is fragile. He’s not like us.”

Rafe wanted to touch her cheek and hold her face in his hands so he could look at her. Really look at her. Because he knew now that he’d been wrong too. Wrong about her. She wasn’t delicate. She never had been. Shy, yes, but not weak. She was strong and capable. The fact she’d conquered her shyness in most situations was a testament to how capable.

But he could not touch her or hold her. She wasn’t his.

“He certainly needs someone,” he said carefully. “It doesn’t have to be you.” He hadn’t known how much he meant it until he said it. The thought of Lizzy wedded to James wasn’t right. His brother was a good man but he was no match for her in spirit. In many ways he was still a boy, whereas she was very much a woman. “I’ll take care of him. Or we can do it together.”
You don’t have to marry him
.

She shook her head. “No, Rafe. He’s my responsibility. We have an understanding. We always have.”

“So?” He couldn’t believe he was about to say this. James was his
brother
. But he had to. Needed to. “An understanding can be easily set aside.”

She turned her face away. “I can’t do that to him. He doesn’t deserve it.” Her voice was flat, devoid of feeling, and her shoulders stooped.

He wanted to hold them gently, hold her, tell her to forget about her obligation to James and think about herself for once. “Tell me, Lizzy.” He came up behind her but didn’t touch her. Her hair curled at the nape of her neck, around her ears, small swirls of fine silk against creamy skin. He touched one curl and released it, watched it spring back up. She drew in a sharp breath and her shoulders tensed as if bracing herself. “What do you feel?” he whispered. He reached around and laid one hand on her left breast. It filled his palm so perfectly. “What do you feel in here?”

Her breath released in jagged puffs. She tipped her head back and rested it against his chest. Beneath his palm, her heart fluttered quietly like a small caged bird seeking release. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. He circled his arms around her and kept her close against him, her head tucked neatly under his chin. Everything felt right, perfect. They were exactly where they were meant to be—together. James would understand.

He had to.

He held her. Just held her. And she let him.

Then everything shattered.

The door smashed back on its hinges. Treece barreled through, sword raised and yelling, his men at his heels. More men banged on the front door, shouting for it to be unlocked.

Bloody hell.

R
afe shoved Lizzy behind him and she stumbled. By the time she recovered, Rafe had drawn his sword and engaged Treece and two others in a duel. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed a knife, then backed out of the kitchen.

But another two men broke through the front door, shattering the wood and sending splinters onto the rushes. She glanced over her shoulder. Rafe had already dispensed with one attacker. He lay bleeding on the kitchen floor.

“Rafe!”

“I see them,” he said, parrying Treece’s blade. “Come close.”

She did, one eye on the other men approaching from the front door.

“Up on the table,” Rafe said.

She climbed up and kicked out as one of the constables lunged for her feet. He reeled back and swore.

Rafe jumped over a blade as it struck at his legs. He landed on one foot and kicked Treece on the side of the head with the other.

Treece fell back and slumped against the wall. The two remaining men hesitated when they saw their leader on the floor, his eyes rolling up into his head.

Rafe dropped and caught Lizzy around the waist. He helped her off the table and together they raced out the back door. Only one man followed, but when he glanced over his shoulder and saw his fellow constables hadn’t joined in the chase, he gave up. Lizzy wasn’t surprised. Only a fool would have hunted a man like Rafe on his own.

She ran as fast as her skirts allowed and followed Rafe through small, crowded alleys, behind houses, over fences. When they reached the river she had to slow down or her heart would have burst through her ribs.

“Where are we going?” she said between gasping breaths.

He shrugged as he scanned the area. She still held his hand and could feel the alertness rippling through him.

“I know where,” she asked. “But it’s best we wait until dark.”

“Can you keep moving until then? It’s too dangerous to stay in one place long.”

She nodded. “It’ll help if I change into men’s clothing.”

They set off along the river until the houses grew fewer and the streets became muddier. It had begun to rain lightly, so there was no washing out to dry. They peeped into windows and finally found an empty kitchen with hose and a jerkin drying near the fire. Rafe crept in, took them, and turned his back to keep watch while Lizzy dressed behind the milk house. They left her women’s clothes behind and set off once again, circling back the way they’d come.

The urge to leave London entirely wasn’t as strong as Lizzy thought it would be. They could do it but she entertained the thought for only a moment before dismissing it. She couldn’t desert her parents, her friends, or James, and she did not want to be running away her entire life, never able to stay in one place long lest the authorities find them. They had to clear their names, once and for all. Rafe never suggested the idea to her.

Night finally came and she led him through darkness lit only by the occasional lamp outside the better taverns or brothels. Most folk had returned home but some revelers remained and the cool evening air was filled with bursts of their laughter and talk.

Soon the Rose loomed like a wide, squat castle tower. Lizzy and Rafe kept to the shadows as they circled the theatre and spotted two men watching each entrance.

“I’ll remove them,” Rafe said but Lizzy held him back.

“I have a better idea.”

She led him to the Bankside, the street running along the south bank of the Thames, an area renowned for its brothels. She chose one with a clean stoop—as good a method of choosing a brothel as any—and hired a girl from the thick-necked, black-toothed man who greeted them. He glanced at Rafe, eyebrows raised, but Rafe merely shrugged and handed him the dagger he kept strapped to his forearm as payment.

“I want it back,” Rafe said.

“Aye,” the man nodded, running his hands over the carved bone handle. “When you pay me in coin.” He filled a small leather pouch with money from a locked coffer and handed it to his whore.

Outside, Lizzy gave the woman her instructions and Rafe asked for her hairpin. She gave it to him and he sent her on her way. Lizzy and Rafe returned to the copse of trees near the theatre and watched as the constable stationed at the back door was led away by an amorous whore with enough money in her purse to get him drunk.

Lizzy and Rafe climbed the steps to the tiring house and Rafe used the hairpin to open the lock. They snuck inside and she led him through the darkness up to the storeroom, where she collapsed onto a stool. She put her head down on the central table and allowed a small sob of exhaustion to escape.

“My wig,” she groaned. “I left it at the prison and Treece’s man must have seen me leave. He must have followed me to the house then collected Treece and the others. I led him straight to us!” What a fool! Perhaps if she hadn’t been so angry with Rafe or worried about James or distracted by Rafe’s
touch…No, there was no excuse. She buried her face in the crook of her arm.

“Hush, Lizzy.” Rafe’s cool, steady hand rested against the back of her neck. His fingers teased her hair and loosened it from the pins. It tumbled down her back and across her shoulders. “It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

“But—”

“Shh.” His fingers massaged her scalp, the gentle rhythm lulling her. She was tired and everything ached but she wasn’t ready to sleep. Not with his body pressing into her back, solid and comforting, and his heavenly fingers working like magic.

He knelt down beside her and kissed her shoulder. “Do not worry,” he whispered. “I will end this.”

He said it with such conviction that she would have believed him if the situation weren’t so dire. She turned to face him and could just make out the swirl of desire in his eyes by the moonlight coming through the window. “Oh, Rafe,” she murmured. “It’s all so hopeless.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “It will be all right. I will end this. Trust me.”

She did. With her life, her fears…her heart.

She held his face gently in her hands and kissed him lightly on the lips. He responded with a harder, more urgent kiss that quickly warmed her all the way through to her bones. Her skin tingled with it, every part of her sang an exquisite tune as he dragged her to him and pressed against her. Hard. Fierce. Unashamed.

He kissed her chin, her throat, and that place beneath her ear that made her want to both giggle and sigh at the same time. Heat spiraled down her spine to her inner thighs as he unhooked the fastenings of her jerkin then unlaced her shift and freed her breasts. They ached with fullness. Her nipples tightened. She pushed herself into his hands and he massaged, his thumbs gently strumming the nubs until she could stand
it no longer and had to have more of him. Had to see him. Touch him like he was touching her.

She removed his jerkin and snaked her hand inside his shirt. He sucked air between his teeth as she teased his nipple. He tipped his head back and she licked the skin at his throat because she wanted to know what he tasted like there.

Delicious. Spicy. All man.

He groaned low in his throat and his eyelids fluttered closed. “You will be the undoing of me,” he murmured.

She didn’t have the wits to understand what he meant. All she knew was that she had to see him, have him, possess him. She pulled his shirt over his head and drank in the sight of his bare chest. It was too dark to see him in detail, so she used her fingers to trace every sleek muscle, every hard contour, and commit them to memory. She would always have those.

But it wasn’t enough. She had to taste him there too. She flicked a nipple with the tip of her tongue. His breath hitched. She grinned against his skin.

“Wicked wench,” he growled and scooped her up and planted her on his lap. He nuzzled her breasts and her smile vanished, swallowed by her gasps.

Oh God, she was drowning in sensations. Beneath her, Rafe’s length prodded her thigh. “I want to see you,” she whispered. “All of you.”

He gently placed her on the table and stepped out of the rest of his clothes. He stood before her, the moonlight polishing his right side to a soft glow and throwing his left into shadow. His bandaged wound didn’t seem to bother him. He was a magnificent creature. Powerful and beautiful.

Then she looked down.

She congratulated herself on not gasping, not making a single sound, although she felt herself grow hotter. Thank goodness her face was in darkness and he couldn’t see her.
It was on fire, like the rest of her. He was quite the sight to behold.

“You can touch it if you want,” he said, amusement edging his voice. He put his hands on his hips and then his member did a very curious thing. It moved. On its own. Well, she hadn’t expected it to do
that
.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asked.

“No! Not at all. I wouldn’t. I mean, it’s not a laughing matter. It’s very…serious. Your…um…”

“Cock.”

“Do I have to call it that?”

“You can call it whatever you like as long as it doesn’t include the word
small
.” His teeth flashed white in the darkness.

She grinned. “Very well. Your very large…rod just moved by itself. And when I held you last night, it grew. Does it always do that?”

He leaned closer and placed his hands flat on the table on either side of her. Trapping her. His lips brushed against hers. “Only for you,” he said huskily.

She snorted. “A pretty sentiment.”

“Trust me,” he murmured with a deep, dark rumble, “there is nothing pretty about what I feel for you. It’s primal. Basic. Fierce.” He drew in a deep breath. “I’ve never felt anything like it.” He spoke with wonder in his voice, as if the sentiment had taken him by surprise.

She cupped his cheek and caressed the curve of his lips with her thumb in a futile attempt to catch that tone, so unlike the sure one he always used. He turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand.

Then he stopped, straightened. “Lizzy.” He released a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his body. “We can’t do this. I can’t take you here like this. You’re an innocent. You must wait until your wedding night.”

He began to turn away before he’d even finished and she caught him by his arms. He didn’t shrug her off but she felt him shudder.

“What if I don’t have a wedding night, Rafe?” She hopped off the table and shook him until he looked at her again. “What if we’re arrested first?”

“Don’t.”

“I don’t want to die without knowing—”

“Stop, Lizzy, you’re not going to die. I won’t allow it.”

“We all die sometime, Rafe, and I don’t want to go to the afterlife without knowing
you
in that way.”

“Me?”

She nodded and hoped he could see it in the moonlight because she suddenly wasn’t capable of speaking. Her throat had squeezed shut. Tears stung her nose and burned her eyes.

“Me,” he said again.

She reached one hand around his neck and pulled his head down for a kiss. It was sweet and tentative until she wrapped her other hand around his penis. He groaned against her mouth and deepened the kiss.

She stroked his length, so smooth despite the ridges, and rubbed the droplet seeping from the tip around the tight head. He gasped.

“Your fingers…” he mumbled, “…are sheer torture.”

She grinned against his mouth.

“Lizzy, I won’t be able to stop soon. Do you understand? If you don’t want—”

“I do want. I want you, Rafe, only you.” She wanted him inside her and
beside
her. Always. She reached around and grabbed his rear. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since we met.”

He chuckled. “I think, wench, that you are trying to take advantage of me. I feel vulnerable standing here without clothes on.”

“Is that a subtle attempt to get me to disrobe?”

“Not subtle in the least.” He undid her jerkin and tossed it aside. She removed her men’s hose, then he took his time over her garters and stockings, drawing each one down her leg with frustrating slowness.

He kissed her foot, her knee, and trailed tiny kisses up her thigh to her…Oh my! He laughed. “Like that?” he asked.

“Yesssss.” She braced her bottom against the table and dug her hands through his hair, holding him in place. “Do it again.”

“Whatever my lady wishes.” He licked.

She cried out.

He licked again and she bit back another cry. A few more licks and she turned into a quivering mess, her body no longer in her control. She burned all over, hot liquid swirling through her, swamping her, drowning her.

Then everything tightened. Her skin, her breasts, nipples, and especially her nether region all constricted. It was like she was being wound up by his tongue and might unravel at any moment.

Then she did unravel in an explosive way. And it was like a release she didn’t know she needed, waves of pleasure flooding her inside and out, head to toe. Her heart thundered inside her, slamming against her ribs, its echoes pounding through her. She’d never felt so alive, so aware, her senses heightened to every touch, every breath on her sensitive skin.

He stood and cradled her gently against his chest. His heart beat loudly and erratically too, as if in sympathy with her own. He massaged the back of her neck and kissed her hair.

They stood like that for a long time until she caught her breath and her mind began working again. “Was that supposed to happen? I mean, were you supposed to do it like that?”

She felt him smile against the top of her head. “Did you like it?”

“Yes!”

“Then I was supposed to do it like that. And I will again. Every day, if you’ll let me.”

“Oh, I’ll let you. But now it’s your turn.” She reached down between them and gripped him. “Am I doing it right?”

He sucked in air between his teeth. “I don’t think you’re capable of doing it wrong.”

She tugged and teased and marveled at how big it grew in her hand. He dipped his head to hers for a kiss and gripped her hips. His breathing grew strained and sweat dampened his brow. Lizzy closed her eyes and listened to the thrum of his heart, the rhythm of pleasure through his body. It drove her to distraction, made her nerves jangle.