Chapter 18

Tessa squirmed left, then right, testing her wrists against tight hemp rope.

To no avail.

By her calculation, Smiley and Frowny had left five minutes ago, which made it imperative that she free herself and see to Julian, who still hadn't regained consciousness.

It had taken Smiley and Frowny a full ten minutes to drag Julian down here to the cellar, and in case they'd thought to do him more violence, she'd informed them that this great barge of man—their words—was, in fact, the Marquess of Ormonde.

That had snapped them to attention. "Jagger didn't say naught about a lord," said Frowny.

Smiley directed an obsequious smile toward Tessa. The man was rattled. "Now, when this fellow wakes up, ye tell him there was no harm intended to ye or him. A small fright was all that were meant."

"Then ye had to pick up a poker," groused Frowny.

Smiley nodded. "Aye."

Tessa snorted with no small amount of disbelief. "Are you saying I am at fault?"

Smiley nodded, pensively, as if he'd given this question a great deal of consideration. "Lots of folks would see it that way, aye."

"You," said Tessa, "invaded my house."

"And ye couldn't leave it be." This, from Frowny.

Tessa attempted to follow the logic…"So, to your mind, we're even?"

Smiley tested his nose. He'd stuffed a handkerchief up each nostril to stop the most profuse of the bleeding. Now, it was the occasional trickle. "Not quite."

Tessa sighed. "When are you going to untie me?"

Smiley was already halfway up the narrow staircase leading to the ground floor. "Yer servants will be here soon enough," he tossed over his shoulder.

And that was Smiley and Frowny gone.

Which left Tessa alone with Julian, who had emitted the odd groan but hadn't come to full wakefulness.

She tamped down the fear that wanted its head. Fear would do neither of them any good and only cloud her mind. She needed to think.

A few hours yet remained until the housekeeper and cook arrived. Since Tessa didn't have enough duties to keep a full staff occupied, especially with Saskia and Viveca gone, they only came for a few hours a day to see the house cleaned and the kitchen provisioned. She didn't entertain, and there was only one of her. The logic only followed.

Of course, servants in the house would've been useful in the present circumstances. A few hours was too long to wait. Julian might need assistance, but she couldn't tell right now as they were propped against a crate, their backs to one another.

"Julian," she said, testing.

That got a groan.

It was better than nothing, but not enough to assuage the fear increasing with every beat of her heart.

She shimmied her bottom until she'd positioned herself at the corner of the crate, where she began moving the rope up and down. A few seconds later, she realized it would take hours, perhaps years, for blunt wood to rub through thick rope. Julian might not have that sort of time.

Testing fingers fumbled around the crate, picking up a few splinters for her trouble. She wasn't sure what she was looking for…

Until she found it.

The head of a nail that hadn't been fully knocked in. Though it was sharp enough to scratch through skin—that would need to be tended later—it wouldn't be enough to cut through rope.

Think.

And she had it.

She lifted her arms enough to snag the knot of rope on that sharp bit of metal and caught her first bit of luck. She didn't need to cut through the rope if she could simply unknot it.

She went to work—scooching, shimmying up and down, side to side…working up a great big sweat.

"Tessa?"

She stopped, panting from her exertions. "Julian?" she asked, never so relieved to hear her name in all her life. "Are you all right?"

"Someone's taken a hammer to my head," rumbled low from his chest. "And my hands and feet are bound."

"You were struck on the head by my fireplace poker."

"That would explain it," he said. A hesitation. "Where are we?"

"In my cellar."

"Why?"

"Apparently, I needed time to think."

"Jagger."

"Aye."

"He's gotten out of control."

Tessa grunted in agreement and kept working at the knot. It seemed to have loosened an increment…

"Have you considered involving the law?"

Tessa stopped. "It wouldn't do."

"Why?" No mistaking the wariness in the question.

"East End rules." Of course, a marquess would know nothing about those. "The law doesn't get involved. We sort it between ourselves."

"And that's working for you?"

Tessa snorted and continued tugging at the nail, praying she didn't actually pry it loose.

"You're going to have to take him seriously."

"Aye." She'd already decided that much. It was only a matter of time before Jagger got the bright idea to go after Saskia and Viveca.

And that could not be allowed.

"What are you doing back there, anyway?" Julian tossed over his shoulder.

"Trying to work the knot loose," she said, really digging in. "I think I'm…almost…there." Of a sudden, the knot came loose, and Tessa was able to shake free of the rope. "Got it!" she exclaimed with no small amount of triumph.

"Good lass."

After clenching and unclenching her hands to get the blood flowing again, she bent forward to untie the rope binding her feet. Then she was in a crouch and scrambling around to Julian's side of the crate. She grabbed his face between her hands and stared deep into his eyes.

"What are you about?" he asked, cautiously, as if he were wondering if she, too, had been coshed on the head.

"When I was a child," she said, searching his eyes, "a neighboring man was knocked silly by a falling piece of limestone on Fleet Street. The construction had been new and shoddy. He said it was nothing, but one of his pupils was dilated to the size of a penny and the other tiny as the head of a pin. He laid his head on his pillow that night and never woke up."

"And my pupils?"

"They look like they should," she said, relief soaring through her.

"Tessa," said Julian, holding her gaze steady. "I'm all right."

Her throat went suddenly tight. She could only nod, even as she realized her hands were shaking. He would feel that.

Then she caught it—the scent of him. Sweat…the tang of blood from Smiley's bleeding nose…cedarwood…him.

She still had his face clutched between her hands, and she couldn't seem to let go.

And all the while his gaze remained steady on her…steadied her. His gaze the only thing keeping stark fear on a leash.

"I was so scared," she whispered around a suppressed sob.

"It's understandable," said Julian. "There were two of them."

She shook her head, adamant. "I…I wasn't scared of them." He needed to understand this. "I was scared for you." She swallowed the bile that had suddenly risen in her throat. "I thought you might not wake up."

His eyes searched hers. "Tessa, I'm awake. I'm all right."

She inhaled a trembling breath and felt the press of tears behind her eyes.

"Now," he said, "if you would untie my hands…"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course," she said, sparking into action, relieved to have something practical to do.

She shifted around to his back, her fingers setting to work. The rope was loose in ten quick seconds, and while Julian shrugged his shoulders and shook his hands to encourage feeling back into them, Tessa moved to his feet. It wasn't until the rope went slack that she felt it—Julian's gaze upon her.

Somehow, she said, "You're free."

A beat of time crept past before he said, "Am I?"

Time…space…the elements of the physical world slowed and fell away. Her lungs forgot how to breathe, and her heart forgot how to beat. He shifted forward and reached out, his hand finding hers, fingers tangling together. A strong hand…a sure hand…a capable hand…The sort of hand that held a woman steady in place and didn't let her fall, even if she stumbled on occasion.

A woman would never want to be free of such a hand.

Then he tugged, and that movement, so small as to be almost insignificant, was enough to flip time over and send it speeding through the air around them. It was a release of fear…a surrender to the moment…Unexpected…fierce…demanding…A release into each other borne of the primal. She was on top of him, straddling him, her dressing robe falling off her shoulders, and taking his face in her hands and pressing her mouth to his, pouring all of herself into this kiss, even as he grabbed and pushed her chemise over her hips. And still she held and kissed him, his fingers unbuttoning the falls of his trousers, the cloth shoved aside, leaving his hard velvet length exposed, sliding along her slit.

Desperation.

There was no other word for it as Tessa lifted several inches, reached down, and wrapped her fingers around him, positioning him at the entrance of her sex. "Oh," she breathed into his ear, "how I need you inside me."

An addict speaking words of madness to her craving.

She lowered onto him, inch by inch, stretching around his thick length, taking him deliciously inside. A long animal groan slid from her throat. His hands held her hips all the while, forcing her to take him slowly, not give in to the mindless ache and impatience clawing at her. She was a woman unleashed.

She hardly knew herself.

Except she did.

"Easy, darling," he spoke into her mouth.

"I don't think I can, Julian," she said in a rushed whisper. "You're all I want, and I'm greedy."

She'd been doing all sorts of things these last three weeks—spending her evenings at The Archangel…making tea blends—but this…oh…this was what she'd been wanting to do—again—every second of every day. Join with this man…feel him inside her…know for certain that what she'd felt the first time had been real.

It was.

Further, it was as good as she remembered.

Nay.

It was, somehow, better.

This instinctive, primal drive toward one another was real…and right…and inevitable. Even as she was having him, she couldn't get enough of him.

She didn't pretend to understand these forces, but she understood this…here…now…Her, atop him…penetrated by him…holding onto him as if he were the only safe harbor in the world. Perhaps he was…

Even as her mind wanted to insert logic into this act, as she did with all other areas of her life, she might have to accept that logic held no sway in the air that existed between two lovers. This wasn't a place for reason…It was where one surrendered to feeling. Logic would only push away this desperate intimacy…of his kiss…of the feeling of him inside her…

They were alive, so very alive…

And this act was a celebration of that fact like none other.

They were fated for this.

She'd never believed in fate—until this moment.

Tension began coiling inside her, and her body took over and she rode him along the razor-fine edge between pleasure and pain. His mouth on her neck…trailing to her decolletage…giving a nipple a long, languorous stroke with his tongue…Pleasure streaked through her. He did it again, and she grabbed his hair and held tight as he continued to pleasure her nipples. Then, without warning, the coiling tension burst free, and she was crying out and pulsing her climax around him, and the next instant, he was shouting his release into her clavicle, his breath a warm rush across her skin, and they were tumbling over that edge together—only one another to cling onto as the void claimed them as a single entity.

Such was the power of this act—this union.

An act of the body…an act of the soul…an act which transcended both.

An act which contained a mystery that ever held a bit of itself out of reach.

But, oh, now Tessa saw. How one would ever seek understanding—its path pleasure, but its destination…what?

A celebration of being alive…

Connection…

Completion.

As she descended into her body, leaving such lofty thoughts in the ether where they could wait, she shifted an increment back and met Julian's summer-blue gaze, already upon her. The look within held both satiety and challenge.

"You're coming with me."

She wasn't sure what she'd expected his first words to be, but it hadn't been those. "Am I?"

"Aye."

"Is this to be my second kidnapping of the day?"

His jaw clenched and released. "Not a bit humorous."

"And where, pray tell, are you taking me?"

"To my family seat in Suffolk—Nonsuch Castle."

A laugh of disbelief escaped her. "You're absconding with me to your castle?"

"If you choose to see it that way."

He was utterly serious, and for reasons she couldn't quite articulate, she didn't feel like arguing about it. In fact, she rather thought she'd like to see Julian's castle—to see him in his native element.

"May I change clothes first?" she asked. "And I need to send word to the servants not to come today."

A no looked poised on the tip of his tongue, but he glanced down at her scantily clad form and said, "Ten minutes. The ruffians might come back." Clearly, she looked as ravished as she felt.

She nodded and, reluctantly, unwound her arms from around his neck, and slid off him. A pang of loss winged through her. The opaque emotion that passed behind his eyes said he might have felt it, too. Then she pushed to a stand, her legs just able to support her, and he shifted his attention to the falls of his trousers and the sliver of a moment was gone.

Right.

And now she was off to his castle—but not for the reason he supposed.

She didn't fear for the safety of her person from the likes of Blaze Jagger, the invasion of her home notwithstanding.

But here was an opportunity to know Julian better, and she'd never been one to shy away from opportunity when it presented itself.

Before she returned to London, she would understand the vital piece of the equation of this man that she'd been missing.

The piece that would solve him—and perhaps make him whole.