Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

F leur was weary when they returned to Chelsea Street. She told herself not to look toward Miss Wilson's townhouse but she found her gaze drifting that way regardless of her intentions to remain strong against the pull. She saw several lights shining in the windows and wondered what Flavian was doing in that moment. He had never been the type to read, and unless he was doing something to occupy his time, his boredom could be relentless.

She could withstand the misery she was currently feeling, the utter loneliness, if she thought he was truly happy. She wasn't thrilled at the prospect of having Harriette in their lives but she would endure it if she knew that Flavian's heart truly was content.

As she walked up the steps to Drake's residence, it was as if her feet were encased in lead. She wanted nothing more than to take to her bed and sleep for a week.

Perhaps it would be best if she didn't wake up at all.

As her slipper touched the base of the staircase, a strong, warm hand touched her shoulder. "You should know that things are becoming more…complicated with you here."

She fought the urge to close her eyes and lean back into his embrace. As angry as she was with him for being so cold and calculated all the time, she missed that connection to someone. She had always had her brother to lean on when it mattered, when the world became too much to bear.

She nodded her head in response, not sure what else she was supposed to do.

However, when she started to move forward, the pressure increased, holding her in place. "Fleur…"

She held her breath for countless seconds, the time passing slowly. But when it was obvious he wasn't going to say anything further, she allowed her shoulders to sag. "Good night, Drake."

This time, he let her go.

When she reached her bedchamber, she was surprised to see Erin sitting in a chair and working on some embroidery. When Fleur entered, the maid quickly rose to her feet. "Miss Davies. I thought you might need some help undressing."

Rather than argue or claim that she just wanted to be alone, she found the assistance was actually quite welcome. "Thank you."

Once the gown and undergarments had been discarded and Fleur donned a new silk nightdress, the maid departed. Fleur slipped beneath the covers, eager to close her eyes and lose herself to dreamland.

Unfortunately, as much as she tried to relax enough to do so, she found it quite hopeless. The fire had burned down in the grate but she wasn't cold. In truth, it was as if her body was lit on fire.

She got up and began to pace the room. Perhaps she could tire herself enough for sleep to claim her. But it was apparent that was not going to work either. She was too restless, too aware of the man sleeping under the same roof for her to get any rest.

Sinking down in the single chair that Erin had vacated earlier, Fleur laid her head back against the edge of the chair and stared at the ceiling. It was plain and white with very little to recommend it, and yet, she found it somewhat comforting. There was something about the simple design that reminded her of the house she had grown up in with Flavian and their parents in Oxfordshire.

Her heart ached, yearning to return to those days of carefree abandon. She had thought times were hard as a child but they had been absent of the cares she suffered as an adult.

She released a heavy sigh just as the door opened and a man was silhouetted in the frame.

Drake.

He glanced about the room until he spied her. "Are you well? I could hear movement…"

His voice trailed off as if he were uncertain of his welcome. Odd, since he never seemed to have a care for that before. "I'm fine. I just couldn't sleep."

"I would offer you a book to read but I'm afraid the library is rather ill stocked at the moment. I can see to it that some novels are procured?—"

She waved a hand and he fell silent. "Don't worry yourself on my behalf." She got up and moved toward the bed. "I am starting to get a little sleepy now," she lied. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you."

He reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Fleur."

All he had to say was her name before she spun around and found herself in his arms. Their lips instantly fused together, drawn into a passionate kiss, as Drake held her close enough that she could feel his heart pounding in rhythm to her own.

She moaned as her breasts were crushed against his chest, finding the pressure completely enticing. She had never been this close to a man before and she was finding it quite enthralling.

Fleur was glad that he had dispensed with most of his finery, leaving just his shirt and trousers on. She removed the hem from his trousers and allowed her hands to slide up the side of his ribcage as she broke away long enough to slip it over his head and toss the garment away. She looked at his muscular chest with its pattern of scars, the vivid memory of his lifeline marked forever upon his body. She ached for his pain, but more than that, she ached for him.

She brought his head back down to hers and they resumed their tumultuous embrace.

His hands roamed upward until they cupped her breasts through the thin material of the gown. Her breathing hitched as he found her nipples and toyed with them until they were taut peaks. She moaned, pressing further into him. It wasn't enough.

She wanted more.

"Take me to bed, Drake. Make love to me."

He instantly stilled; his breathing harsh as he tore himself away from her. His eyes were like molten silver as they lit on her. "This isn't about love," he growled. "You have to know that before we go any further. This is for mutual satisfaction."

Fleur swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I suppose it was a… poor choice of words." She shook her head. "We don't have to continue?—"

He came back, putting his hands on either side of her cheeks. Forcing her to look at him, he said, "Please don't tell me to stop now. I just wanted to be clear." He closed his eyes as if he were in physical pain. "To be honest, I'm not sure I have enough of a heart left to love. It barely keeps me alive anymore."

Her own heart going out to him she covered his hands with hers. "I don't accept anything more than tonight. Tomorrow is never promised to us. But I cannot send you away, because it would be a lie."

His eyes were intense in their probing, and when he met her lips this time, it was gentle and absolutely… perfect. She knew she was making the right choice by giving herself to him. She would never have any regrets about this night.

* * *

Drake could tell the moment Fleur fully opened herself to him. It was humbling, to say the least. For a man who had lived most of his life causing others to bow to his mercy, she was the one who held him in her grasp. He could never allow her to know the power that she held over him because it would be his demise. He'd made that mistake once and discovered that the women he believed cared about him was using him for what he could provide. He had taken his revenge, although not before it had nearly broken him first.

He was confident that Fleur truly cared about him, but there would always be that small doubt that remained. But he could offer her one thing. As an innocent, she deserved everything he could offer her to make the experience, if not wondrous, then it could at least be bearable.

Gathering her nightdress in his grasp, he lifted it until he could whip it off and over her head. She was clothed in nothing more than the moon's soft glow and he was nearly brought to his knees by her astounding beauty. From the peaks of her full breasts to the triangle of hair at the apex of her smooth thighs, she was perfection in itself. He almost hated to taint such a breathtaking display of trust and innocence but he vowed that if there was one thing he could do to atone for his sins, it was to take care of her to the best of his ability. Tonight, and as long as he was honored enough to have her at his side.

He dipped his head and made a trail with his tongue along her neck and down the curve of her shoulder, and along the length of her collarbone. She raised her hands and threaded them through his hair. He continued to move down further, until he caught one of her breasts in his mouth. Sucking and lightly biting each hardened tip, he massaged both mounds of flesh. Her breathing hitched and he could feel the steady beat of her heart.

He continued downward along her stomach and around her navel until he was on his knees in front of her. He paused to glance upward. "Move your legs apart."

She looked at him quizzically. "Why?"

His fingers dug into her hips, holding her close to him. He could smell the musky scent of her desire and it was driving him mad. He couldn't wait to taste her and bring her to the heights of bliss. "Just do it."

He sighed when she finally obeyed. He kept eye contact until his tongue darted out and he slid it up the center of her core. Her green eyes rolled back in her head and the smooth column of her throat was revealed. After that, he was dedicated to his task. He licked and teased her until the point her legs were trembling and she was pleading and calling out his name.

Drake knew that she was close to her release, so he stood and lifted her into his arms. Carrying her to the bed, he laid her down on top and then returned to give her the pleasure she was desperate to obtain.

It didn't take long before her body tensed and she arched off of the bed, her fists clutching the counterpane on either side of her. Drake watched her breasts quiver as wave after wave of the orgasm swept over her.

When she started to settle, he stood and removed his trousers. Kicking them to the side, he positioned himself at her entrance. While she was still dazed, he slowly began to press inside of her. He was almost overcome by her wet heat. She was gripping him so tightly that he had to grind his teeth together so he didn't spill himself too early. Without a sheath, he would have to pull out of her. It would be misery to do so, but he concentrated on the glory of this moment.

When he reached the barrier of her maidenhead, he leaned down and bit the tip of her nipple, causing two areas of sensation that he hoped might lessen the first. As he breeched her core and slid all the way to the hilt, he saw her eyes widened slightly, her mouth opening on a slight exhale.

"Breathe," he said softly.

She nodded and eventually her body began to ease following the intrusion. When he could tell she had relaxed, he started to move. His hips pumped slow and steady at first, but as her breathing started to become harsh once again, her nails clawing at his back, he increased his pace until beads of sweat started to form on his brow.

It was the sweetest torture he had ever endured.

As her body started to convulse a second time, Drake watched her face glow with a carnal awareness. She bit her lip and when her eyes opened to reveal a dark, emerald green, it was enough to send him tumbling over the edge.

With a hoarse shout, he withdrew from her just as the first hot jets of his ejaculation pattered the inside of her silky thighs.

His arms no longer willing to support his weight, he collapsed beside her. It didn't take long for his breathing to return to a normal pace, although he knew it would take much longer for his body to recover from such an experience. He had bedded many women over his lifetime but this was the first time it had seemed… different somehow. As if some part of him understood that this woman was special.

He turned his head to look at her and he was concerned when she continued to stare at the ceiling. Rolling to his side, Drake reached out to touch her chin. "How are you feeling?"

She looked at him and adopted a considering expression. "Strange. I never knew what lying with a man would be like."

His body tensed. "And now that you have?"

The corners of her mouth lifted. "I didn't think it would be quite so… appealing."

"Appealing?" For the first time in months, perhaps years, Drake found himself smiling. He had heard many things about his sexual prowess from various lovers but he'd never been told he was appealing before. It seemed so proper and virginal that he had to appreciate the sentiment more than anything that preceded it. "I suppose I will take that as a compliment."

She hit his arm playfully and his grin grew. "You should." She rolled onto her side and put her hands beneath her cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.

He lifted a brow. "For what?"

She shook her head. "No reason really. I just felt like saying it."

He leaned forward and kissed her. It seemed like such a natural thing to do that he couldn't resist. "Then you're welcome."

* * *

Fleur wasn't surprised when Drake left her to own devises a short time later. He likely thought she might want her privacy. She was grateful for his consideration because with all of her slight twinges and changes that her body had just undergone, she was feeling not just awkward but unsure of herself. She supposed she was truly a courtesan now but strangely enough; she didn't really feel like a fallen woman. Instead, she felt protected, and dare she imagine, cared for as well?

She didn't know if Drake would ever make any sort of sentimental declaration. He wasn't that type of man, and knowing that at the beginning helped her to understand this connection for what it was—lust. There was a strong attraction between them and as long as they shared that, it was enough for her. At least it kept most of the loneliness she had been feeling inside at bay.

When a tub was filled with steaming water the next morning, ordered especially by the master of the house, as well as a breakfast tray filled full with tempting delights, Fleur had a smile on her face as she headed downstairs later that morning in an apricot day dress. She had told the maid she wanted to leave her dark hair flowing down around her shoulders, hoping that it might tempt Drake into interlude that afternoon. She was feeling a bit sore from their previous exploits but she was also eager to repeat the performance.

However, when she checked the study to find it empty, she was disheartened. She quickly located the housekeeper and inquired about Mr. Porter. "He stepped out not thirty minutes past," she said.

Some of her spirits fell. She hadn't expected Drake to laze in bed with her all day but she thought it would have been courteous if he'd told her he was going out. "Did he say when he would return?"

"No, he did not. But I can say he wasn't alone. He left with the footman."

A chill of foreboding snaked up Fleur's spine, although she couldn't really say why. She murmured something that must have sounded enough like a dismissal, as the other man departed.

Standing in the midst of the still empty foyer, Fleur set her hands on her hips and wondered what she might do now. Drake had already banned her from the kitchen and there was a housekeeper that took care of cleaning the small bits of furniture that Drake had provided.

It was then she decided to find out where he spent his nights. She knew he didn't leave the townhouse but she had never asked him where he slept. She burned with curiosity so she decided to investigate.

Passing by the rooms that she knew were still empty of any sort of furnishings, she found her steps had taken her back to the art studio.

When she walked inside, she noticed that there had been some changes.

Gone was the array of unfinished paintings that had lined the wall and the covered painting on the easel was conspicuously absent as well. She wondered where they had all been stored, because she knew he hadn't had time to complete them all. And something told her he hadn't destroyed them either. Although it had been a part of his past that he might not care to revisit, there was surely some sort of tie to something that had been such a large part of his personality. She imagined it would be difficult to brush it off completely.

Fleur took one more glance about the room and then she spied something curious on the opposite wall. If she hadn't been looking that closely she would have easily missed the difference in wallpaper, the slight bit that was more worn than the rest.

Curious, she walked over and ran her hand down the section as a furrow crossed her brow. Something told her there was a secret beyond here. As enigmatic as Drake was, it certainly made sense that he would protect himself by any means necessary. Having multiple lodging houses throughout London was one way he was able to do that. But what about if he was interrupted in the middle of the night?

Thinking this had to hide some sort of secret compartment, she pressed the edge of the trim and found it solid. Pushing and pulling around the area proved the same. It appeared that nothing was out of the ordinary.

But then her focus slid to the light fixture a short distance away. She didn't know why it would make a difference that it was askew but she immediately walked over and adjusted it.

Her heart stopped when there was a definite click.

Her gaze swiveling back to the wall, she gasped when it was slightly ajar. Pulled forward like a moth to a flame, she reached out a trembling hand, wondering what might lay on the other side.

It was heavy, taking all of her strength to move it back. What lay before her was nothing but a dark passage. She worried her lower lip. It wasn't as though she had a lantern at her disposal, but neither did she want to miss this rare opportunity when Drake was gone and she was left to her own devises. Surely it wouldn't go that far and she could feel her way forward until light appeared again.

She dared to step forward, fully concealed behind the false wall. Taking a single step forward, her foot stepped on a stone. With the sound of a catch, the wall behind her swung shut, trapping her inside where no one could hear her scream in the darkness.

* * *

By the time Drake returned to the townhouse with Amos it was well into mid-afternoon. He hadn't known the severity of the situation the messenger had passed along, or how long the errand to the other side of the city might take, but he knew he should have sent word to Fleur. He hadn't meant to be gone so long. She was likely worried by now—or furious.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and attempted to prepare himself for her wrath. Most women didn't take too kindly to being loved and then thoroughly deserted. It might not have been so devastating should Fleur be one of his former paramours who knew the interlude was temporary, but it was different with her. They both knew this relationship held more meaning, but neither were willing to put a firm name to the attraction.

He hadn't intended to leave before dawn that morning, but when Amos had found him and told him what news he'd received, Drake had no choice but to investigate. Supposedly one of his residences had caught fire and while Drake had received threats like this many times before with nothing to back up the claim other than the opportunity to try to catch him out in the open, this time the information had proved true.

Before the hackney had made it, the sky had turned a dangerous shade of orange to rival that of the early dawn. Dark clouds had plumed into the air, mixing with the rest of the chimney smoke of London, and as they finally reached their destination, they saw several men trying uselessly to combat the angry flames.

Drake and Amos had immediately gone into action to offer their assistance. A blaze this large could easily affect more than just one residence. Several houses were in threat of turning to rubble if it couldn't be contained. Old wood and close confines were a recipe for disaster in the East End.

Tirelessly they worked, packing buckets drawn from the water pumps scattered about the area. It wasn't enough to combat the scorching inferno, and soon Drake's house was reduced to ash, as well as the lodging houses on either side of it. People were standing about staring at the ruinous scene with a mixture of horror and desolation. Drake couldn't allow these families to be displaced, so he offered the address of another residence and decided it would be put to better use by someone who needed it more than he did. It wasn't as though he didn't have more to utilize at a moment's notice.

After the worst had died down, Drake collapsed to the ground, his lungs heaving with the combination of his efforts and the dangerous vapor he'd just inhaled. Sweat poured down his face and mixed with the stains from the fire. He swiped a hand across his forehead to keep the worst out of his eyes and looked at Amos. "Something tells me this wasn't the work of Miss Wilson. If she wanted me dead, she knows where I live. The same goes for Avalon."

Amos narrowed his visible blue eye. "It could have been intended as a warning."

"Possibly," Drake returned with a mumble. "But I don't think so. You know I don't believe in coincidence or fate. This was a murder attempt. But from a new foe or one of the many friends I've gained over the past I have yet to ascertain."

Amos snorted. "It would be easier to make a list of who doesn't want to see you six feet underground."

Drake echoed his statement with a curt nod. "I need to find out the cause. That will help to narrow things down a bit." Having recovered his equilibrium, he got back to his feet. "It will be a good idea to check in on the rest of my residences to see if they have been compromised and add additional security to Chelsea. Right now, it's the safest place because of its proximity. The powers of London won't take too kindly to some of their notable residents being in jeopardy. It turns out I won't have to bring on extra protection because it will be provided once rumor gets around." He absently rubbed his jawline. "I have other uses for Avalon should he decide he's still on my side."

"And if not?" Amos prompted.

Drake's gaze was hard. "I have never tolerated betrayal in any form from anyone. He is no exception."

Amos got up and for the first time there was concern in his focus. "Are you sure it's wise to test the loyalty of the Blue Boys?"

"I won't be testing anything but his word," Drake countered.

After that, other than the house he'd dedicated to the lost family in the street, the rest of Drake's residences around the city seemed secure enough. However, Amos promised that he would send someone around each day to see if that might change so this disaster wouldn't happen again.

Standing in the middle of the foyer in Chelsea, the housekeeper rounded a corner and stopped short when she spied them. "Oh, my." Immediately she set to work ordering that respective baths were to be prepared. Drake would be grateful for the chance to clean up but first he needed to ensure that Fleur was well.

When he asked about her, Mrs. Honeywell replied, "I haven't seen her since this morning, but she hasn't left the house to my knowledge."

An instant charge of warning shot up Drake's spine, but he told himself not to arrive at any conclusions until he'd had a chance to ask the rest of the staff.

Erin, her maid, was the next to be questioned. The slight frown bothered him further. "She didn't touch her lunch but then, I don't recall seeing her since this morning either."

Drake's mind was racing by this point, but he managed to keep his composure intact. The exhaustion that had swamped him earlier vanished as he rushed from room to room looking for any sign of her. It wasn't until he reached the studio that he could feel the fine hairs rising on the back of his neck.

"What is it?" Amos asked at his side.

"I'm not sure…" Drake moved to the wall and looked closely at the fixture there. It had changed since the last time he'd been in the room. " Devil take it ," he grumbled under his breath as he opened the door to the secret passage. There was nothing on the other side, but he knew where it led. Turning to Amos, he instructed, "The blasted woman is too intuitive for her own good. Stay here in case she finds a way to return."

With that, he disappeared on the other side.