Instinct (5 page)

“I feel due
some attention,” said James over breakfast. “I shall accompany you
to the marketplace today, Sean.” His eyes locked on my own as he
spoke.

From beneath my
brows, I stared back at him, my left lifting with my arriving
smile. “Of course.”

***

Walking amongst
the stalls with James brought even more notice than usual. With our
looks so alike, only his neatly secured clothing pegged him as my
opposite—his polite mannerisms aside.

Female-wielded
fans fluttered like butterfly wings, as eyes of all colours tracked
our movement, whilst whisperings along the lines of, “Mr Holloway
Senior is quite the catch, you know,” chased us.

As usual, James
set his good example, dipping his head to all females who called
out a greeting in their breathless tones, but the way his feet
continued moving amongst the crowd, as though carried by purpose,
told me he already had an agenda set for our day.

We had passed
at least half of the stalls, and too many puffed-up bosoms and
primped hairstyles to count, before he leaned in close. “I have
found The Goat and Compass offers the most satisfaction of late,”
he said in a low voice.

I had already
anticipated that our destination would be one of the local
establishments. James never took any of the local females, unless
they advertised it as their ware, preferring a bed and hygiene over
my choice of a backyard or alley. ‘Most satisfaction’ to James
could probably be translated to ‘cleanest and most willing’. Of
course, the detachment they offered held much appeal, also.

Veering off to
the right, James did not release my elbow once—but then, he had not
once parted contact since our very first step into the public
realm. Obviously, I knew of his intention: to rid my mind of the
one who consumed it.

Little did he
know, I had already been advised of his plan.

As we pushed
into the muggy foyer of The Goat and Compass, we were greeted by a
rounded female, with breasts refusing to be encased by her dated
garments.

James nodded to
her, smiling with an underlying respect he rarely showed. “Miss
Carson.”

‘Miss Carson’
stumbled in her haste to circle the bar, a mass of steel, wiry hair
trailing behind from the back of her head. “Mr Holloway, ’tis a
pleasure to find you in my establishment, sir.” Her gaze swung to
me, and unenthusiastic disdain took over her features. “Must be the
other—”

“Is Clara
free?” James asked, the upward tilt of his eyes to the stairs
accompanying the flare of his nostrils. “I should like to book
her.”

“Clara is
always free for you, Mr Holloway, sir.” Her entire body
participated in her shimmy toward the stairs, where she called out
the girl’s name in a shrill screech. She turned back to us,
gesturing with her head. “And for your brother?”

“Mary, I
believe, would be quite suitable,” James said.

“You’ll find
Mary behind the third door on the left.” With an incomplete smile,
made worse by a couple of missing teeth, she pointed out the way.
“She’s unoccupied. You’ll not have to wait.”

As we climbed
the stairs, a petite redhead met us halfway. She had a ready smile,
as her hands smoothed across James’s chest, her fingers sliding
beneath his jacket and easing it from his shoulders.

“Wait for me,
Sean,” James said, lifting a giggling Clara over his shoulder. “I
will be no later than this afternoon.” He carried the girl off
across the landing to the right.

For a moment, I
stood on the top step and contemplated heading back down, but at
the assumption that Miss Carson would inform James if I deviated
from the proposed morning’s entertainment, I, instead, drew in a
deep breath and turned left.

The faded
wallpaper of the corridor scarcely clung to the walls, and had, in
fact, begun its first attempt to escape in one, or two, of the
upper corners. Amidst the swirls of ribbon and what appeared to be
peacock feathers of abstract design, doors lined both sides of the
upper corridor, all the way down to its shadowed end. Sounds of
pleasure—and pain—emanated from more than one of those rooms, yet
not, thankfully, from the third on the left.

Pausing there,
I rapped my knuckles against the flimsy wood.

“Come on in, me
lovely,” a high-pitched voice called out, and I eased down the
handle and pushed open the door.

Hair the colour
of a raven, eyes the palest of browns, and breasts that would give
a man altitude sickness should he climb them, graced the female
laid out in stark relief upon the bed.

James’s reason
for choosing Mary screamed at me in that single instant. She did
not resemble Jem in the slightest.

Mary smiled at
my approach, pushing up onto her elbows until her breasts took on a
new form with the movement. Curling just one hand upward, she
crooked her finger, a beckoning to come closer.

Obviously, I
complied.

The mattress
squeaked and dipped as I sat beside her, and my nose wrinkled at
the odour of men who’d come before me. I half expected to find a
less than appealing scent upon the female, also, if only by
association with the innate object, but inhaling, I detected only
soap and a faint smattering of cheap perfume. “How would you like
to double your earnings?” I asked her, adding my coyest smile.

“Depends,” she
said, revealing teeth in far better condition than the woman’s
downstairs. “I ain’t into nothin’ funny, mind.”

I shook my head
in assurance. “All I ask is that you breathe not a word of my
request to anyone—anyone at all.”

“An’ there
ain’t no funny stuff?” she asked.

Leaning in, I
touched her nose with my index. “I swear.”

She nodded, her
mouth spreading even wider. “Alrigh’.”

From the bed, I
stepped across the small space to the window in a couple of strides
and nudged the curtain aside.

Giles waited
below at the far corner, exactly as arranged.

Grasping the
rotting frame, I lifted the window and stuck my head out to give a
low whistle.

Wearing a grin,
he strode over. “See anyone?” he hissed.

I checked left
and right down the alley running along the rear of the
establishment, but found nought to cause concern. “No, Giles, get
up here.”

Although I
overlooked from the first floor, Giles leaped with ease to grasp at
the frame and swing himself inside. He smiled as he straightened,
his gaze landing immediately on the blossomed female on the
bed.

“Now ’ang on a
minute,” the girl said, clambering off until standing before us,
and I had to smother my smile at the way Giles’ eyes followed the
sway of her breasts. “You never said nothin’ ’bout no doubling of
men.”

“Shh.” My
chuckle broke free, and I stepped forward to quiet her, placing a
finger to her lips. “I swore, remember? We ask not for a double,
but for a switch of patron. All I ask is that you not breathe a
word of it.” I gave pause, allowing my offer to sink in, before
asking, “Do we have a deal?”

She narrowed
her eyes in Giles’s direction and seemed to appraise him. I knew
what she saw—the same as all other ladies saw; gentlemen, too.
Giles had a charm about him that seemed to put even the most
sceptical at ease.

After only a
second, or two, her head nodded and her smile appeared. “Yessir, I
reckon we do.”

“How long?”
asked Giles, as I hooked my leg over the window frame.

Hovering there,
I turned to him with a grin. “Three long hours, my friend.”

Their laughter
could be heard as my feet met with ground.

***

I arrived at
the forest undetected, and to avoid further chance of being
spotted, an old silver birch became my waiting place. Its broad
branches, which canopied the adjacent path, sprouted abundant
summer foliage and provided excellent cover, whilst allowing me a
clear view of the far cottage.

Within minutes,
Jem and her sister appeared in the garden. Quiet mumbles, although
too great a distance away to decipher, told me they conversed,
punctuated only by small spurts of laughter, as sweet as music.
Each round of amusement came with a glance toward the cottage,
followed by a second to the forest.

Moments passed
before Jessica called something which sounded like a farewell, and
the two females started out toward my hiding place.

Smiling, I
leaned forward to observe her approach, my lips widening at the
warmth spreading through me as each step brought her nearer.

When their
mother shot out behind them and called for their attention,
however, my smile vanished.

Pausing, Jem
and Jessica turned back.

“Stay with your
sister, Jem,” Mrs Stonehouse ordered.

“There is no
need to worry, Mother,” Jessica said. “She will be quite safe with
me.”

The woman
shifted her attention from one daughter to the other before rubbing
their shoulders. “Go, then. And be careful.”

Breaths I
didn’t realise I’d held escaped, when the two girls parted ways
with their mother and resumed walking. Their feet greeted the worn
path, and I balanced along my branch and onto another, which I used
to cross to a neighbouring tree.

Adept at
climbing, I ducked, shimmied, and swung, passing birch after birch,
oak after oak. Timber creaked beneath my weight. Leaves rustled
with my passage. I barely heard either as I concentrated on the
soft sound of Jem’s whispers below. Her words were not loud enough
to bring me their conversation, but each time she ducked her head
to hiss at her sister, Jessica answered with the gentle placement
of her hand upon Jem’s arm.

Eventually,
Jessica brought Jem to a stop upon the path, and I halted in my
pursuit, peering through the dense greenness. Her head twisted
right and left, as though she scoured for observers, before she
nodded toward the trees. “Go.”

“What should I
do if he does not come?” Jem asked, facing the forest.

“He will.”
Jessica’s hand at Jem’s back nudged her closer. “One hour, Jem. Be
here.”

My head tilted,
as Jem left the path and stepped into the shade. Ears tuned in to
the rhythm of her cautious breaths, I crawled along the limb until
directly above her and, with senses strained for disturbances,
slipped from my hiding place.

Breath gasped
from her, as I landed beside her, but my hand folded across her
mouth before she could cry out. Swinging my face into view, I
pressed a finger against my lips.

She stared at
me, her widened eyes narrowing, until a scowl coated her otherwise
unblemished features. Before I could move, she slapped my chest and
knocked my hand aside. “For goodness sake, Mr Holloway, you
frightened me half to death.”

My laugh barked
out of me. “Only half would suggest there is life in you yet.”

Her mouth
opened before closing. With a lift of her chin, and of her skirts,
she stomped off in the direction of the river. “You only have me
for one hour,” she called. “I suggest you use it wisely.”

“Don’t worry,”
I assured, my steps falling in line behind hers. “I intend to.”

***

The path to the
river no longer needed to be shown to her. Jem took her seat upon
the musty trunk without request.

With my knee
coming to rest beside her thigh, she had no time for composure,
before I took her face in my hands and brushed my lips across hers.
“I missed you,” I murmured.

She did not
answer—had no need to. The tilt of her head, offering her warm
mouth, gave all the response I needed.

Straddling the
trunk, I drew her close, my hand sliding to her nape to bring her
mouth back to mine. She smelled of blossoms and spice, and tasted
just as delicious. That, and her breaths snaking between my lips as
our noses brushed, had tingles shooting downward in a direct trip
to my groin, until the result of my excitement strained against my
trousers.

I had been
aroused by women on many an occasion, yet none had done so with the
ease Jem possessed. As I drew back and allowed myself to sink into
her amazing stare, her lip caught between her teeth, and I
instantly wished it was I who had her trapped so.

Lifting her
hand, she surprised me when her fingers folded around my shirt
front and pulled me forward once more. Her lips parted when I met
them, and tasting the dart of her tongue, I had to swallow my groan
at the contact.

I swept my
mouth across her delicate jaw to her ear. “Tell me you missed me,
also.” I needed to hear the words, to hear her voice, proof that
the unsteadiness I felt within myself ran through her veins,
also.

“I did, Mr
Holloway.” Her voice caught, as I’d hoped, and a tremor washed
through me as her breath whispered across my throat.

With a low
growl, I closed my eyes.

Why did self
restraint have to be so hard?

As much as I
wanted her,
needed
her, my mind insisted I wait—that Jem
would not thank me if demands were made.

Taking a deep
breath, and making a uniformed effort to un-tense muscles that
already prepared for attack of a sensual nature, I lifted my lids.
She stared right back at me, a slight lift to the corner of her
mouth, and swallowing down the lure of her curved lips, I forced
out, “Tell me about your week,” though hoarseness affected my
words.

Her brow
furrowed a little. “You want to hear—”

I nodded with
my cut in, “Yes.”

It took only a
moment’s hesitation before she seemed to understand my need for
distraction, and she averted her eyes, but not before a slight
flush visited her cheeks. “Well, after Mother had calmed down
somewhat, she did her utmost to keep me busy,” she said quietly.
“If not cleaning floors, I was washing clothes.” She gave a roll of
her eyes, as though at the unfairness of it all. “And when not
doing those jobs, she had me polishing ...”