Chapter 7

7

W hat in the name of Hamlet’s light-skirt mother was that damned man doing? Lily glanced at the old tambour mantel clock, one of the few possessions she’d brought with her from Edinburgh. Not quite two o’clock in the morning, and her supposed reading tutor had just moments ago passed by her bedchamber door on his way to the narrow stairs that led to the third-floor servants’ chambers. For the third time since the entire household had retired for the night, Lily had been lying abed for hours listening to his booted footsteps as he prowled the house like some bedlamite member of the night watch.

Lily had managed to avoid Mister Barker-Finch, Ari, for the rest of the day after…after that kiss. Just the thought had her touching her fingers to her lips. Ridiculous. She’d been kissed more times than she cared to remember from her first one at the age of twelve backstage at the Theatre Royal in Edinburgh to her kisses from the earl who was quite skilled and always tasted of tooth powder. None of them compared to the raspberry jam and coffee taste of Aristotle Barker-Finch’s searing sensuous lips as he’d kissed her senseless.

“You started it,” he’d said which was all too true, but Queen Mab and all the fairies, he’d finished that kiss and damned near finished her. Which was why she had not ventured from her chambers the rest of the day, and she’d taken her supper on a tray in the sitting room next to her bedchamber. He’d made her a prisoner in her own home, damn him.

She wanted him. Badly. In a way she’d never wanted a man before, and staying out of his way was the only thing that would keep her safe. She was no sheltered miss. She enjoyed every aspect of physical desire and refused to feel shame in answering the honest call of her body. This man, however, was different. She’d sensed the dangerous allure of him the moment she met him. Damn his eyes!

With a vile oath she flung back the sheets and counterpane and wiggled to the edge of her tester bed. The fire in the hearth provided light, but not nearly enough heat as it had died down considerably since Young Mary had added the evening’s last scuttle of coal. She slid off the bed, shoved her feet into her wool mules, and slipped into her night rail. If she couldn’t sleep, she could at least do something improving. With a branch of candles she lit from the fireplace, she made her way into her sitting room.

Her desk stood between two long windows and the light of the November moon bathed most of the room in a silvery light. She’d brought the pieces of parchment onto which she’d written her letters, her name, and her tutor’s name upstairs with her. After a few hours practice this afternoon, her hand had grown steadier and she’d memorized the entire alphabet, writing the letters over and over again. She had to grudgingly admit the arrogant, handsome barrister had been right about one thing. Once she began to think on the letters, she knew more than she could credit.

Once she settled at her delicate rosewood desk, she pulled a clean piece of parchment from one of the pigeonholes across the back and took up her quill to write. A white streak raced from her bedchamber across the sitting room and out the door, which should have been closed. Lily dropped the quill and hurried out into the corridor. She heard bootsteps overhead so Barker-Finch was still upstairs.

“Titania,” she called softly. “Titania!” An icy breeze whisked up the corridor from the far end where the window looked out over the back gardens. By the time Lily reached the window, which should not have been open at all, Titania had slithered under the slightly raised casement and leapt into the nearby leafless ash tree. A piece of parchment fluttered on the window sill. Lily snatched the paper up and stuffed it into the pocket of her night rail.

She raised the window higher with surprising ease and leaned out toward the branch where her naughty kitten perched, blinking at her innocently. The November chill swept around her and took her breath away. She tried to draw her night rail more tightly around her, but the light fabric was of little help.

“Titania.” Lily’s teeth began to chatter. “Come back inside at once.” The kitten slid down the center trunk of the tree and sauntered out into the gardens, head and tail high. “I’m going to lock you in the butler’s pantry, you little fiend.” The footsteps overhead had stopped. She peered out the open window one more time and made her decision. With an exasperated sigh, she touched the inset door and took the servants’ stairs down to the back corridor of the ground floor. She’d left the branch of candles in her sitting room, of course. After a bit of searching, she found a lamp on the table by the door that led into the gardens. With a taper she lit from the stove she soon had her lamp ready and ventured out into the cold night in search of her ridiculous pet.

After she’d walked around the edges of the garden, lamp raised like some heroine from a gothic novel, she still could not find even a sign of Titania. The wind had picked up and the only part of her that was not frozen were her feet, safely ensconced in her heavy wool slippers. A sudden rustling in the hedges at the back of the garden drew her attention. She hurried down the graveled path, the stones biting into her feet in spite of the sturdy soles of her mules. Her night rail caught on some bare rose bushes. She stopped to try and pull the fabric free.

“Titania,” she muttered. “I have ruined a perfectly good night rail thanks to your nonsense. No cream for you for the rest of the—” She stopped speaking with an abrupt gasp. The lantern fell from her limp fingers and winked out as it rolled onto the grass. Two large shadows stepped out onto the path ahead of her. She opened her mouth to scream and began to back up, but bumped into something solid and warm that smelled of coffee and bergamot. An arm snaked around her waist and lifted her around to stand behind that solid figure.

Ari!

“Stay close,” the barrister ordered. Under the light of the moon, she saw he held a large cudgel which he tossed from hand to hand. “Well, lads, what’s it to be? A hasty retreat or cracked skulls? I know my preference.”

“Don’t know owt ’bout yer preference, m’lor’,” a third man announced as he joined the other two from the shadows. “Seeing as there’s three o’ us and only one of you.”

“You’d better hope you fight better than you count,” Ari said. “Have him in your sights, Rutherford?”

Lily had begun to look around for a weapon of some sort until she heard her footman’s voice from somewhere above her. When she looked up, she saw Slow Rutherford leaned into a crook of the ash tree, one foot braced on a branch with a pistol aimed at the trio of intruders.

“Yer man can’t see well enow to hit one of us, and he only has one shot.” The last man who’d made an appearance took a step back.

Ari lunged forward and struck the first two men in the head in quick succession. One of them managed to punch him in the jaw on the way down. Lily shrieked in spite of herself and backed toward the door into the house. Ari brought the cudgel down on the man who’d punched him one more time. A shot rang out, and the third man squealed and turned-tail, scurrying to the back gate that led to the mews. Titania chose that moment to scamper out from beneath a hawthorn bush.

“Titania!” Lily ran past Ari to scoop up her kitten.

“God’s teeth! Rutherford get down here.” Ari scooped Lily, kitten and all, up in his arms and backed towards the door. Some crashing followed by a stream of Seven Dials’s most creative curses announced Rutherford’s precipitous arrival on the scene. The footman pulled a second pistol from the waistband of his breeches.

“You’re lucky you didn’t blow your bollocks off,” Ari said as the footman walked past him to stand over the two unmoving villains.

“Too bloody right,” Rutherford replied. “One of my brothers is on his way to the watch. Another’s gone for the earl’s Bow Street friend.” He glanced back to meet Lily’s gaze and then looked to Ari once more. “Take care of her, sir. I’ve got these two.”

“Wait,” Lily struggled to get down. “You can’t leave Rutherford out here alone.” Ari turned and walked into the house.

“He’s not alone,” the barrister said. “He’s got the pistol.”

“He’s got the—” Lily used her free hand to punch his shoulder. “Put me down this instant.”

“You promised not to hit me again.” He strode into the foyer just as the front door burst open and Young Rutherford and Tall Rutherford, accompanied by a member of the watch, and a somberly dressed gentleman hurried inside. “In the garden,” Ari said. “Do you have this in hand, Colwyn?”

“Always,” the somberly dressed gentleman said. “Though you will have to beg my wife’s pardon at some point.”

“I look forward to it.” Ari started up the stairs with as much ease as if Lily weighed nothing and had the ability to say even less.

“Take care of Miss Venable,” the gentleman said. “We’ll take care of this.”

“You’ll take care of…Mister Barker-Finch, this is my house. You will not carry me about as if I am some invalid incapable of managing my own affairs.”

“Your own affairs? Madam, you cannot manage that piece of fluff you call a kitten. Not to mention your inability to manage staying indoors in the middle of the night when you know there might be some fiend lurking in the dark ready to do you harm.” He reached the second-floor landing, marched to her open sitting room door, and stepped inside before he kicked the door closed behind them.

“Put me down, you ridiculous man.” Lily punched his shoulder again as he crossed her bedchamber and reached her bed.

“With pleasure.” He dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed from such a height she nearly bounced off the thick feather mattress onto the floor. Titania squeaked indignantly and leapt from her arms to scamper across the bed to the large velvet cushion at the foot where she sometimes chose to sleep.

“Of all the—” Lily kicked at the barrister as he began to run his hands up and down her arms. “What are you about now?”

“Are you injured?” he asked as he moved to check her legs. He removed her mules and rubbed her feet.

“Of course I’m uninjured. You and Rutherford saw to that.”

“There’s blood,” he murmured as he continued to handle her suddenly very aware body.

“Blood? Where?” Lily shrugged out of her night rail and smoothed out her muslin nightgown. She glanced at him and saw he was in his shirtsleeves—no jacket, no waistcoat, no neckcloth. He nodded at his sleeve, marred by a bright red stain from elbow to wrist.

“Blood. Where are you injured?”

Lily glanced up. His face was a mask of concern and some barely contained emotion that both thrilled and frightened her. His eyes still shone with the feral primitive light of a man fresh from battle. His scent of bergamot and coffee had been replaced with the smell of sweat, blood and fully aroused male. Her skin flushed hot and damp. Then she saw the source of the stain on his shirt. His bottom lip, swollen and trembling as his breath came in rough, loud pants, had been split and the blood beaded, welled, and dripped from the wound.

She rose onto her knees and reached out to touch her forefinger to his lips. Their eyes met and locked. Lily pulled the sleeve of her nightgown over her hand and blotted the blood with the fabric. She pressed gently and raised her other hand to push his disheveled hair away from his face. He covered her hand with his and pressed her palm to his cheek.

“I am not injured,” she said quietly. “All is well.” She drew her sleeve-covered hand back. The bleeding had stopped. Very slowly she leaned up and brushed her lips over his. When she tried to back away, he slid his free hand to her waist and then around her back to pull her against his chest.

“Lily.” He spoke her name in a dark, hoarse whisper.

She framed his face with her hands and flicked her tongue across the seam of his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her and seared his lips to hers. Their tongues met, undulating and thrusting against each other first in his mouth and then in hers. Lily sifted her fingers through his hair to clutch the back of his head and hold him in place. She plundered his mouth, sucking his tongue then pulling away to kiss the corners of his mouth, his chin, then back along his cheek to his temple.

Ari dragged his lips from her mouth down the middle of her throat to nip at the hollow there. He used his teeth to tug at the ribbon at the top of her nightgown. Once loosened, the ribbon slid away and the thin muslin slid down to catch on the curves of her shoulders. The heat of her body made the touch of the fabric irritating and confining. She shrugged until the top of her nightgown fell down to catch on her taut nipples. He pressed kisses from one of her collarbones to the other. She crossed her arms between them and tugged the annoying garment to her waist.

He raised his head. His eyes widened and he leaned back to gaze at her breasts. “Magnificent,” he murmured as he cupped them in his hands and ran his thumbs across the sensitive tips, grown impossibly tight and painful from the fire of his regard. He teased and gently squeezed molding her breasts together whilst he slipped his tongue over the tops and between them.

When she could bear no more, she guided his head down and he drew one nipple between his lips to suckle as he continued to massage the other. Lily threw back her head with a low moan and then gasped when he slowly drew down his teeth and bit lightly on her nipple. He tugged a few times, flicked his tongue over the very tip and then moved to the other breast ministering to that nipple and breast in the same fashion.

He suckled hard and she fell back onto the bed, holding his head to her breast and trying to kick her nightgown away from her body. Ari grasped her hips and pulled the nightgown down to drop onto the floor. He kissed his way down her body, his large warm hands still holding her in place at her hips. When he reached the curls at the apex of her thighs, she spread her legs wide and watched as he glanced up her body and gave her a wolfish grin.

He ran his tongue between her nether lips and her body bucked as she fisted the counterpane and arched her back. He teased and tempted, licked and suckled her cunny until she was ready to scream. He used his tongue and lips to bring her to the very edge of ecstasy only to start all over again before turning his attention to the one spot she wished him to touch.

“Ari,” she begged in spite of herself. “Please. Oh! Oh! What—” She did scream as he pushed first one finger and then two into her cunny, slowly pumping them in and out across a place inside that sent shards of pleasure coursing through her. Faster and faster, he thrust. With his free hand he reached up to squeeze her breast and pinch her nipple. She raised and lowered her hips to match his rhythm in an effort to bring on the cataclysm she so desperately desired.

“That’s it, love,” he muttered. “Take it. Take your pleasure. That’s it. What do you want? What, Lily?”

She heard what he said but was in the throes of such an overwhelming desire all she could do was toss her head and gasp incoherently. He covered the top of her cunny with his lips and drew the spot she needed into his mouth to suckle hard as she braced her feet on the bed and rode his unrelenting fingers to a heart stopping explosion of pleasure so intense she feared she might never descend back to earth.

He continued to wring shudder after shudder from her until she finally had no more strength and subsided limp and weak onto the counterpane. His head rested on her thigh, his hot breath wafted across her still sensitive cunny. Her legs twitched. She reached down to stroke his hair. She had no notion how long they lay that way. Finally, he kissed his way up her body, hot open-mouthed touches of his lips to her damp flesh.

“I have to go,” he murmured against her ear and then nipped her earlobe.

“Go? Where? I’m not finished with you.” She could barely speak or keep her eyes open.

He laughed darkly. “That is good to hear. I’m not finished with you either, but I need to see to what has happened here tonight.” He kissed her soundly and crawled back off the bed. With a few twists and tucks he righted his appearance and headed for her chamber door.

“Ari,” she pushed herself up and stared at him in disbelief. “You cannot be leaving now. Not after…”

“Sleep,” he ordered. “I’ll see you in the morning. When I will teach you to spell and write anticipation.” He grinned and slipped out the door.

“Anticipation?” She screamed softly in frustration. “Anticipation my arse, you fiend.” She started to leave her bed in search of her night rail when she spied Titania before the fire batting at a scrap of parchment. “Give me that.” Lily jumped from the bed and padded across the carpet to snatch the parchment in one hand and the kitten in the other. She scooped up her night rail and returned to her bed. The parchment had writing on it in an untidy scrawl. The letters were easily made out, but she wasn’t certain what it said. Eleven letters.

A sudden chill swept over her and she held Titania close. Her life had been upended this night, and she had a sense not all of the events were for her good.