Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

S he couldn't see her hand in front of her face. It didn't matter if her eyes were open or closed, it was the same sensation. It was both disorienting and terrifying, but without knowing how to get back into the room behind her, Fleur knew she had no other choice but to move forward and hope it led to more light.

Putting her hand against the wall, she slid it along, moving her feet slowly and cautiously lest she encounter any steps along the way and tumble to her death. It was not a pleasant image, to be certain. At nearly the same time that image was fresh in her mind, she hit a step. Thankfully, it led upward, so she started the ascent.

Fleur kept telling herself that this would bring her closer to solving the mystery surrounding Mr. Drake Porter. She wondered if he would ever truly open himself up to her, so she was going to have to find a way to understand him on her own.

Perhaps the answers she sought could be found at the end of this labyrinth.

Inching her way along, Fleur concentrated on steadying her breathing and not giving into the panic that was hovering just below the surface. Right foot, left foot . Eventually the stairs ended and she was back on level footing once more.

Time ticked by with endless precision as she waited for the end of this maze to appear. Finally, her foot hit something and she sighed with relief. Moving her arms out in front of her, her palms felt wood. She prayed it was another door. Feeling downward, she felt a knob and turned it. If it was locked, she wasn't sure what she might do. Who knew how long it would take anyone to find her?

Thankfully, luck was on her side as it opened. A blessed window shone magnificent light into the room and she could have cried with relief. She rushed to it and looked outside, finding that she retained a similar view from her bedchamber. It appeared she was still in the house but in some sort of attic. Now that she considered it, she found it odd that she had never seen an attic opening in this house, but obviously Drake had the space altered to suit him, complete with a secret room in which to hide.

Knowing that if she needed to escape, she could climb out onto the roof, Fleur turned and began to inspect her surroundings.

She turned to see a cot along one wall, beneath a single painting of a man in the midst of a dense forest. Fleur walked over and lightly touched some of the professional brush strokes. She wondered if Drake had fashioned this piece but then she saw it was signed from a well-known artist. She was surprised that he might have such a piece in his collection and yet, chose to display it in such dismal surroundings.

Turning from the image, she walked over to the crude desk sitting in the midst of a scattering of newsprint clippings. Wooden shelves were filled with ancient leather-bound tomes that looked as old as England itself. She bent down to read some of the titles and was surprised to find most of them had to do with law. But there were other items dedicated to agriculture, nautical expertise, science and philosophy. There were also books dedicated to the study of Latin, French, and Italian. There was a wealth of knowledge in this room, most of which she had only glimpsed in a museum. And yet, Drake had this treasure trove completely at his disposal.

She moved toward the desk and began to inspect the clippings. There was a tallow candle that had burned halfway, wax overflowing onto the handle and spilling onto the desk. A pair of wire rimmed spectacles and a magnifying glass were also present among the chaos. She picked up the latter and began to rummage through the various articles that had been removed for whatever importance he had deemed necessary.

She read about men losing everything to gambling debts and living the rest of their lives in debtor's prison. In every article that she read, they shocked her to her core, because something told her this was a personal accounting of Drake's conquests through the years, including the ruination of a prominent baron, Lord Devonshire.

Suddenly, a horrible thought struck her and she began to riffle through the newer articles that hadn't been tinged with age. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but something told her she would know it when she saw it.

And there it was.

Her hand shook, her eyes widening in shock as she spied an article about Mr. Porter himself. It was clipped from a scandal sheet, showcasing a ghost of the underground that had been deemed, ‘The Devil,' for his dark dealings among the outer fringes of the city. He was feared by many with some going so far as to claim his actions were nothing more than historical folklore, that a simple commoner couldn't possibly have that sort of drastic reach.

With numb fingers, she allowed the paper to flutter back to the desk. She had believed that there might have been some redeeming qualities to the man she had shared her bed with the night before, but she had to doubt that conviction after what she'd just read. There was no denying the offenses he had done in his lifetime. To imagine that he had gone to such lengths to gain the success he had now was almost too much for her to comprehend. He had to be ‘The Devil' in order to commit these offenses so effortlessly, so coldly.

She heard the scuff of a boot and she glanced up to see Drake's silhouette framed in the doorway. She gasped in alarm and moved backward until she hit the bookshelf. For many tense minutes she waited for him to speak.

He said nothing, did nothing. His expression showed nothing.

Finally, the damning evidence of his misdeeds caused her to speak. "Is this true?" she whispered in horror. She pointed at the desk. It wasn't as though he could deny any of it. The truth was there in literal black and white.

"Yes."

A part of her respected the fact he could admit to such heinous activities without restraint, and yet, a part of her trust crumbled right then. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, perhaps for him to deny it all, or try to find a way to explain the nightmare that was printed there. But it was obvious he wasn't going to do either. Nevertheless, she had to try to find a way to make some sort of sense out of it all. "Is this some sort of… trophy room for your exploits?" She shook her head in disgust. "A place you can go to bask in all the chaos you've inflicted on so many others?"

The condemning accusation hung in the air for a long time, so long that she didn't know if he would even answer. "I had my reasons."

It was a cryptic answer, but she supposed it didn't matter if he went into a grand detailed explanation or not. The damage was done. These people were dead or spending the rest of their lives in misery. Because of him.

A sickening thought abruptly occurred to her and she put a hand to her stomach to quell the sudden nausea. "Is this what you'd intended to do to my brother? To me ?"

His gaze was as hard as steel. "No."

"Really?" she demanded. "Because these articles would suggest differently." She lifted her chin defiantly. "They call you ‘The Devil.'"

His expression didn't alter. "I was that man at one time. I didn't care about anyone but myself and what I could gain," he returned flatly.

"What's different now? What's changed?" she snapped. Her chest ached to the point she wondered if her heart was breaking. She had told herself that she hadn't started to develop feelings for this man, but apparently her heart didn't understand that refusal.

Rather than answer her query directly, he moved to the painting. Standing in front of it, he spoke quietly in that velvety voice. "Do you know why I bought this particular painting?"

She didn't reply. She wasn't sure she could, her throat was so tight.

"For the first time in my life I could connect to something. The man in that dense forest."

He exhaled heavily and Fleur closed her eyes. She didn't want to hear this. She didn't want to allow herself to feel empathy for someone who would eventually hurt her, that would cause her demise as he had so many countless others. A leopard seldom changed his spots and she had no doubt he would have treated her brother just as shabbily if she hadn't intervened and taken his place. The single reason she wasn't expunged from his life now was for reasons of his own that she couldn't begin to deduce. She'd believed it was merely revenge, and looking at the articles scattered about the desk, she could easily think that was the sole reason.

And yet…

The gentle way he had made love to her the night before also told her that perhaps there might be a small bit of redemption left inside of him, that his heart wasn't completely as black as coal. Unfortunately, that was the part that drew her to him.

He turned to her and she told herself to stand strong against the magnetism that called to her, that made her yearn to go to his side. "For years, I was that lost soul, searching for some sort of light in the darkness. I had wealth and respect, everything I had demanded for myself, but it wasn't enough. I wanted more, but I didn't know what that was. All I knew was that I didn't think there could be anything innocent and pure left in my miserable existence, and then—" He took a step closer to her. And another. And another, until he stood directly in front of her. "I saw you."

She told herself not to fall, not to drown in those silver pools as she had the night before, but it was difficult to stand against such a virile man. In an attempt to withstand the pull, she snorted. "In Greenwich? I'm sure you were instantly smitten."

He shook his head as he touched the side of her face, and she leaned into the embrace, like a soul that was already lost and eager to complete the damnation. "In that club. You looked so lost, but also… brave and determined. I couldn't take my eyes off of you." She shivered as he traced a finger down the side of her neck, but it wasn't due to revulsion. "I can't change who I was," he uttered, as he leaned closer, until their lips were mere inches apart. "But I know I don't want to stay on that path. I want to be different."

She told herself not to be pulled deeper into his web but she couldn't resist his siren's call. It was deafening.

With a groan, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him as their mouths fused together. She wanted to resist the attraction, but the passion wouldn't be denied. It was too strong, like a tidal wave of awareness that pulsed through her, telling her that she was alive. With every beat of her heart, she was drawn into the carnal world of desire. Her thighs burst into flames, her core pulsing with raw need.

Fleur had always thought of herself as a good person, doing her best to survive by honorable means, but perhaps she had a dark streak within her. It was surely the reason she was drawn to someone like Drake, a man who had sold his own soul several times over for personal gain. Or perhaps she wanted him because he was a fallen angel begging for a redemption, for a second chance. Forgiveness had been her largest failing when it came to Flavian. She supposed nothing had changed with Drake.

As he loved her, the anticipation rising within her was almost frightening in its intensity. Surely it had to be something devious and evil to allow her body to feel such strong sensations. And to allow the next words to tumble out of her mouth with such bold abandon. "Touch me, Drake."

He didn't hesitate or question her motives; he simply lifted her skirts and swiped his finger along her core. Splinters of white-hot light erupted throughout her body and she tensed, knowing the bittersweet pinnacle was already so close within her grasp. "More," she panted. "Don't stop."

He readily obliged and without kisses or gentle prose, he took her to the heights of pleasure. Fleur's eyes fluttered closed as she clutched his broad shoulders. Tremors wracked her body, and before she had enough time to recover her senses, she reached out and kissed him passionately. "Make me yours, Drake. Now. "

She didn't have to ask twice.

He spun her around and as she clutched the bookcase, he impaled her from behind. She moaned when he filled her completely and without restraint. He answered with a low groan as he thrust in and out of her as if possessed. And perhaps he was, but it wasn't some demonic force that propelled him.

As the ecstasy began to build higher, he lightly bit the curve of her bare shoulder. As he expelled everything that he had within her, Fleur found her second release.

She sobbed his name as her fingernails dug into the wood. Her head spun from the force of their tryst and it took a moment before she understood that he was pulling out of her.

As her focus began to clear from the lust filled haze, she could feel her skirts fall back into place. Now that their passions had cooled, Fleur wasn't sure what to say or do. It wasn't like last night when he had taken her virginity. Today was a new day filled with dark secrets and an eager, sexual coupling. It had nothing to do with tenderness or caring. This pairing had been heavy and demanding.

Raw.

Once Fleur had gathered her emotions enough to turn around, she acted as though they hadn't shared anything untoward as she nodded toward the cot. "Is this where you sleep every night?"

He sighed, as if he didn't want to have this conversation. "When I make it up here," he said evenly. "Generally, I stay in the chair in my study."

"That can't be comfortable," she noted primly.

"Trust me when I say I have not always had luxurious accommodations in my lifetime. The cot, or the chair, are better than many places I've tried to rest." His eyes darkened. "Do you have an alternate suggestion?"

"Surely we can manage to stay in the same chamber, considering it was yours to begin with. Now that I have fulfilled my courtesan duties that you paid for so handsomely, I see no reason to keep you out."

She swallowed hard over the lump of guilt in her throat. She had spoken harshly to Flavian before and had regretted it. No doubt it would be the same with Drake. She had wanted this—had practically demanded for him to turn her into a courtesan.

Last night she hadn't felt like a fallen woman, just a changed one. Today, she understood there was no going back. She was effectively ruined. But not just her virtue.

She was ruined for all other men.

* * *

Drake despised uncomfortable silences, and after that little quip Fleur had made, the tension had returned with a vengeance. Determined to steer the conversation away from what had just happened, he gathered the lantern he'd left outside the door and led them back through the dark passage to the studio. "How did you find that room?"

"I noticed the slight difference in the wallpaper coloring and then the crooked light fixture." She shrugged as he shut the wall. "It wasn't difficult to figure out after that."

"Hmm." He silently admitted that he was impressed, but then he wondered if it was that easy for Fleur to learn his secrets, how easy would it be for someone else to do the same?

"Where were you all day?"

He had been anticipating the question earlier. Now it seemed even more dismal since she'd found his secret room that was no longer so secret. "I received word this morning that one of my lodging houses had been sent up in flames. When Amos and I went to investigate the claim, we discovered it was a total loss."

He wasn't surprised when she looked horrified. But that didn't mean he approved.

In truth, he hated it. He didn't want empathy. Or pity. He had never felt comfortable with people feeling sorry for him. She should understand, after seeing that room, that he didn't deserve it. If there had been any time that he was worthy of such regard, it had long since passed when he'd started handing out his own brand of judgment.

"You think it was done on purpose." He sent her a glance that must have been speaking, because she added, "You could be in danger!"

Again, there was that keen perceptiveness. "I'm not sure yet, but until I know for certain, I would ask that you don't leave the house without proper protection, either me or Amos."

She nodded her assent. "Do you have any idea who it might be?"

He looked at her hard. "You saw those articles. I have more enemies than friends. There are several possibilities, but it will take some time to sift through who would go to such lengths to see my end."

"I'd like to help. It does concern me, after all."

He couldn't dispute the truth. He would rather she wasn't involved at all, but he had brought her into his circle which made her a victim just as much as he was.

He inclined his head. "Amos and I are going to compile a list. After that, it's a matter of elimination."

She winced. "I hope you don't mean literally."

He believed she was serious but the slight lift of her mouth told him she was teasing. He was grateful for the brief reprieve. Thus, he offered an olive branch in return.

"Are you hungry?"

Her eyes lit up. "Famished."

As they started to head downstairs, she asked, "Where did you take all of your paintings? I noticed they were all missing."

"I had Amos gather them up and take them to another house." He paused. "Coincidentally, it was the same one that burned this afternoon."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was a part of my life I would soon forget."

There was a brief silence, and then she noted, "Perhaps that is what happened today. The person responsible for the fire might have thought you were staying there which is why it was targeted."

His mouth kicked up at the corner. "You're almost too intelligent for your own good, Miss Davies."

She offered a coy expression that would have hit him directly in the heart if he wasn't so sure that particular organ was dusty from so many years of neglect. It was odd to feel any sort of emotion other than anger or frustration and he wasn't sure if he would even know joy if it struck him directly.

"I shall take that as a compliment," she preened, and then threaded her arm through his. With a faux pout, she moaned, "Does this mean no more outings? I have all those new clothes and no chance to wear them."

Drake snorted. "I have never been one to hide from anyone, no matter what their end result may be. I will be more wary of my surroundings as your escort, but I will not be waylaid. I thought you might like to see Vauxhall this evening. I understand it's going to be quite a show."

Her green eyes instantly lit up and Drake felt as if he had accomplished some great feat. He vowed he would do whatever it took to keep that blazing look in her gaze. "I have long wanted to visit the pleasure gardens."

His focus warmed on her and he bent down slightly to whisper in her ear, "As to the pleasure part of the gardens, I am more than happy to supply that portion of the entertainment."