His Lordship Possessed (8 page)

I wrenched out of his grip and folded my arms. “Let

them. Rina has Wrecker.”

“Walsh has twenty Wreckers out there tonight,”

Dredmore said. “Th ey’ll surround the place, put a few

guards on the outside doors, and cut the kneecapper’s

throat. Th en they’ll look for you, Charmian, and they’ll

take their time. Especially with the women.”

Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed against it. “I’ll

call Rumsen Main and speak to Inspector Doyle. He’ll

send his men over to protect the house.”

“His superiors won’t permit it,” he told me.

“I’ll tell him what you told me—”

“Walsh owns the police commission; he’ll already

have warned them to stay out of his way.” Dredmore

sighed. “Even if your friend Doyle found a few survivors

tomorrow, the commissioner would be more inclined to

give Walsh a medal for cleaning up a disgrace to the city.”

Almira came in carrying a tray with a bottle of

champagne and a silver bowl piled high with strawberries.

“We’ve trouble downstairs,” she said as she thumped

down the tray. “Two blokes with a warrant, wanting you,

Kit. Th ey say they’re Yard but they look like fi sts for hire.”

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“So you should have no problem telling them I’m not

here,” I suggested.

“Th e warrant’s for a search of the place,” the cook

told me, “and Rina’s had to let them in.” She glanced at

Dredmore. “If you mean to fool them, milord, you two

had best get busy.”

He nodded, and once the cook departed he took my

arm and tugged me over to the bed.

I resisted. “Th ere’s no need for that. We can play

cards.”

He straightened my wig. “Cards, in a brothel. Yes,

that should be quite convincing.”

“Oh, very well.” I drew back the coverlet and sheets,

rumpling them in the process. “I’m not taking off my

clothes, and neither are you.”

“Agreed.” Dredmore turned me round and pushed

me onto my back, reaching to pull up my skirts. “New

lingerie?”

I glanced down and seized his wrists. “Borrowed, not

mine.” I heard a shriek from down the hall and cringed.

“Take off your jacket.”

Before he did Dredmore retrieved the champagne and

strawberries and brought them to the bed.

“Don’t bother with that,” I urged when he uncorked

the bottle with a loud pop. “Just come down here and

kiss me.”

“Men do not kiss harlots,” he said as he straddled me

and yanked at my bodice, tearing it open. “Not on the

mouth, anyway.”

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I muffl ed my own shriek as he poured some

champagne on my front. “Lucien.” Th e cold, bubbly stuff

felt shocking on my skin. “What are you—?”

As the door fl ung open he popped an over-large

strawberry in my mouth and put his to work on my

champagne-soaked skin.

“Police,” a rough voice called out, and I closed my eyes

briefl y.

Dredmore made a vague gesture I couldn’t see,

mesmerized as I was by the sight of his lips on my breast

and the feel of his tongue as he licked some drops of

champagne from one tight, reddened peak.

“We’re here for a woman,” the intruder added. “Name

of Charmian Kittredge.”

Dredmore raised his head an inch. “Th is one’s called

Ginger,” he said as he stared down at me and used one

hand to cover my now-rosy breast. “If you want her, you’ll

have to wait your turn. I’ll be another hour.”

A crude snicker answered him. “Not tonight, sir. Sorry

to bother.”

As soon as I heard the door slam I removed the

strawberry, which I’d bitten in half, from my mouth.

“Good.” I chewed and swallowed, and then on impulse

off ered him the rest. “Your reward, sir.”

Dredmore took a bite, watching me as he removed the

remainder from my grasp and brought my hand to his

mouth. One by one he sucked the traces of juice from my

fi ngers, causing a terrible heat to gather inside me. I could also feel his muscles tightening under his garms, and the

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hard bulge of his shaft now pressing between my legs.

“We can’t,” I whispered. “Th is is a pretense,

remember?”

“Is it?” His eyes gleamed as he lashed my palm with

his tongue before he caught my mouth with his.

Th e taste of the strawberry sweetened the kiss, which

was not at all sweet, but wet and deep and passionate,

and seemed to last an hour. I was very glad I was not a

harlot, I thought as I worked at the buttons of his shirt

and opened it to bare his chest. Th ey had no idea what

they were missing.

“I like this lingerie,” Dredmore mentioned as he

tugged the knickers out of the way and found the open

crotch with his hand.

“So do I.” As his fi ngers breeched me I arched up,

catching my breath when I felt my body receive him

with a soft slickness that should have been embarrassing.

“What if someone comes in?”

“I am a deathmage.” He shifted over me, reaching

down to open the front of his trousers. “I’ll kill them.”

“Lucien, you can’t, ah.” Words deserted me as he

worked the swollen head of his penis past my folds.

Nothing had ever felt so good, or so right, as the way

he came into me. I found my voice somewhere. “You’re

determined, then? I cannot persuade you—”

“Charmian.” He penetrated me with a single, forceful

movement. “Be quiet and think of England.”

As I relished the stretching sensation his shaft created

inside me, his advice made me frown. “God, why?”

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What followed was, like our fi rst time together in his

gardens, utterly astonishing to me. Dredmore moved

in me with what should have been the most basic of

motions, pressing deep, dragging out, and then forging

back in. Magic was made from the delicious friction

involved, perhaps, or the way my body responded, rather

like a mad creature on its own. I could not keep my hands

from him as the pleasure built between us, and the damp

sounds of our coupling grew louder and faster and wetter.

Dredmore seemed equally undone; he bent his head

to alternate between kissing my mouth and sucking at

my breasts, while I scored his shoulders with my nails

and pressed my lips to his chest. Th e room seemed to

dim as the ache inside me swelled, tormented now by the

hard thrusts of his shaft into me. I could feel the heat we

stoked growing liquid and spreading out, melding us in

our frantic movements.

I found I could not wait for him as I hurtled through

the dark and shattered under him, my whole being

consumed by the delight of it. Distantly I heard his voice,

rough and shaking as he jerked atop me, and the luscious

pulse of his seed jetting and fl ooding my clenching

sheath.

I murmured some nonsense, holding him fast to me

as we drifted together, bound by body and heart. Now I

understood why women could not resist men; they were

our physical completion.

Dredmore eventually withdrew from me, turning onto

his side and gathering me against him. He seemed to

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take quite a long time studying my face. “What are you

thinking?”

“If someone had come in,” I answered truthfully, “I

think I would have killed them. Th at and we should never

play cards.”

He nodded slowly and brushed some hair back from

my eyes. “I should like to spend the next week in this bed

with you, but we must go.”

I recalled the unfortunate aftermath of our fi rst

lovemaking and gave him a narrow look. “To where,

exactly?”

“A place safer than this.” He propped himself up on

one elbow. “Th ere is something I have to show you.”

I glanced down. “I believe I have seen everything you

have now.”

“Th is you have not.” He rose from the bed and off ered

me his hand. “Come.”

I went to the armoire and found a reasonably decent

dark blue gown with white braided trim, and after

washing up at the basin in the corner I dressed in it.

Dredmore came to button up the back for me and draped

his cloak over my shoulders, pulling up the hood to

conceal my head. “Stay behind me on the way out, and

don’t say a word to anyone.”

“If you’re thinking of imprisoning me again,” I told

him, “you’ll lose more than a horse this time.” Which

made me think. “Someone will see us leave the house.

Walsh will know you have me.”

“Of course he will,” Dredmore said as he led me to

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the door and opened it a gap to look through and check

the hallway.

I frowned. “You
want
him to come after you for saving me.”“I want him to believe I did my job.” He glanced back

at me. “Last night he hired me to kill you.”

“I see.” His confession struck me hard, and left me

feeling numb and daft, as if he’d already shoved a dagger

between my ribs. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was too busy making arrangements to get you out of

the country.” He saw my face and took my cold hands in

his. “I intended to tell you when I returned this morning,

only to fi nd you’d escaped right back into Walsh’s hands.”

“You might have said something last night.” But I’d

barely given him a chance to tell me anything before

my temper had gotten the best of me. “How much am I

worth dead?”

“Twenty.”

I felt a little miff ed. “Surely I’m worth more than

twenty pounds.”

“You are. He gave me twenty thousand.” He checked

his watch. “Connell will have the coach out back by now.

Come.”

Still reeling from the thought that my death would

be worth a small fortune to Nolan Walsh, I followed

Dredmore out into the hall and down the back stairs.

Almira intercepted us by the kitchen.

“You sneaking away without paying, milord?”

Dredmore placed enough coin in her hand to make

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the cook gasp aloud. “If anyone asks,” he told her, “please

tell them that you saw me leave with Miss Kittredge, and

that she was fi ghting me.”

“Miss Kit?” Almira peered round him. “You’re not

fi ghting this gent.”

“Tell anyone who asks that I did.” I pushed back the

hood enough so that she could see my face. “And please,

do tell Rina I’ll be in touch when it’s safe.”

Dredmore hustled me out into the side alley, where

Connell was waiting with the coach. I peered up at him,

hoping to see a hint of Harry in his face, but the man

ignored me. Dredmore retrieved a woolen blanket from

the rear-facing seat, wrapping it about me before he

scooped me up and placed me on his lap.

“I can sit over there,” I told him.

“Th is is warmer.” He glanced out through the side

window before clamping an arm round my neck. “We’re

being watched. Struggle.”

Out of refl ex I did, and then I caught a glimpse of two

nobbers trotting toward the coach. “Let go of me, you

bastard,” I cried out, loud enough for them to hear before

the horses were slapped and the coach took off .

Dredmore released me as soon as we were out of view

and called up, “Go to the blackstone, Connell. Stay to

the alleys.”

I slid off his lap as soon as he removed his arm, but

stayed close to him. “You have a house in the city?”

“Several.” He tucked in the blanket round me before

leaning his head back and closing his eyes. A shaft of

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light from a gaslamp we passed briefl y illuminated his

weary features.

“You haven’t slept.”

“I imagined I’d fi nd you in some gutter today,” he

said, his voice low. “With your throat cut and your blood

draining into the sewers. It was not an image I found

conducive to slumber.”

“As if your beheading that snuff mage should give me

sweet dreams?” I pulled the blanket up under my chin.

“Maybe it would have been better all the way round if I’d

ended up in the gaol.”

“Better.” He turned his head to regard me. “Walsh’s

consortium controls most of the city, including the police

and the courts. You’d have been found dead in your cell

within an hour of your incarceration.”

“Speaking of murder for hire, why would Walsh off er

you twenty thousand, simply to kill a nobody like me?”

My feet were freezing, so I tucked them up under me.

“He’s frantic to see you dead, but I can’t fathom why,”

Dredmore admitted. “It’s gone beyond the truth behind