Pearl on Cherry (42 page)

He reached out for the man’s arm, intending to grasp it and break the damned infernal thing off, but his quickness this time backfired.

The man took William by the upper inner arm and flung him over his head.

Whhhhhopap!

William thudded to the ground, and his back screamed in pain.

Images of his father blinded him a moment later when the man’s heel came toward William’s face.

William rolled out of the way, jabbed at the back of the man’s right knee, tumbling the man to the ground right next to him.

He pushed the man onto his stomach, shoved a knee into his spine and was about to snap the man’s arm back and break bone when Rebecca cried his name.

In that moment, he looked up and could see the lust for blood in her eyes.

Cherry girl.

The thought of her seeing him this way, but this time hellbent on destroying everything and everyone around him, was more than he could bear.

He rolled off the brute he was about to destroy, stood up and waited.

The man lumbered to his feet, and William stood there, staring at Rebecca as if in apology when the final blow slammed into William’s right temple and he flew three feet to the side, hit a chair and stopped breathing.

The man was on top of him, crunching his ribs into kindling.

William allowed it. What was his life if Cherry couldn’t stand him?

She left him here so he could wallow since he was shutting her out.

Well, then he deserved to be walloped.

Women clustered, yanking at the behemoth above William, but his bloodied fists kept pounding William into the floor.

Finally, Tyrone shoved the man off. “Enough. He’s barely breathing.” He pointed for the man to step aside.

“The winner is Scott Landings!”

William groaned and squinted. “Why’d you stop him? You hate me.”

“That’s what you think, but I never stopped liking you. Just because you’re a foolish bastard and I envy your happiness does not mean I dislike you. Quit imagining yourself the martyr, my friend, and you’ll find you can actually enjoy your life without self-inflicted guilt. Now—” He extended his hand, William took it and Tyrone yanked him up to standing. “She left. What are you going to do as a broken man to get her back?”

William shook his head. “I don’t know if she even wants me anymore.”

“When a woman leaves tearless and fuming like that, it’s not because you’ve broken her. It’s because she was the only one rooting for you in the crowd, but you couldn’t see it because your own bloated ego was in the way.”

“What do you propose?”

“Well, seeing as how she basically sold herself to me as a starlet on my stage for you to have this tonight, I’d suggest you give her this back first.” He pulled a paper out of his pocket and passed it to William. “Rip it up in front of her face. Tell her thank you, but she’s freed. Tell her I’m happy to be friends with you both.” He took a breath and puffed his cheeks for a moment. “But I must say, if she ever has to sell herself again for the likes of you because she thinks she’s saving you, next time I won’t pull Satan off your ass if he’s eating your gut for lunch. You’d deserve it.” He smacked William on the arm.

“Thank you.” William stared at the contract in his hands. “She really does love me?”

“Yes, you besotted fool, she really does. Quit fucking wasting time. Go find her. Undoubtedly, she’s in your home, tending to your staff, taking care of others in an effort to care for you. Stop being an ass. Take her help, fix your body and then your head. Be the man she needs. Stop fulfilling your father’s idea of what you are.”

“Have you seen him?”

“Yes. He’s bad. Far worse than you. But I’ll make sure he’s all right. Now.” Tyrone pointed at the door. “You’re not welcome in my club again unless you and your cherry girl are straight again.”

“You’d help us? Truly?” William’s stance shifted into a poised man, ready to handle anything. “I like her. She slapped me today—put my head back on straight. That’s a woman I can respect. Let her do the same for you.”

William nodded, speechless, and shuffled out the door, ignoring the throbbing in his veins.

What could he say to ever make this up to her?

In a cab on the way home, all he could think about was Cherry’s soft lips twisted up into a smile of approval and then her in his arms as he apologized and told her he was a miserly pig for telling her to keep away from his money and to keep out of his affairs.

* * *

Clarissa yelped when William scooped her up out of her bed and woke her in the process.

He kissed her face repeatedly as he carried her, limping his way into his bedroom.

“You’re hurt!” she gasped.

“Yes. But not as much as you. I’ve damaged your faith in me.” His eyes stung and crinkled at the corners. “I am so sorry.”

“You are back with me? My William? Not this unthinking man that is lost in the dark?”

“I am back, because you showed me the way.” He tucked her into his bed with care, removed his soiled, bloodied clothes, but before he could get in bed with her, she was up, examining his wounds.

“You need medical attention,” she said, touching the tender spots on his ribs.

“Broken ribs cannot be helped.” He winced when she prodded one that was particularly tender.

Christ, it hurt to breathe. But then, it hurt simply being him, so in some ways this was better—distracting from the pain in his chest and wounded soul.

“Let me call for Samuel. We will take you to the hospital.” She tipped her head up and watched his face.

“No. I want to rest. And the police are still suspicious of him with Giuseppe’s death. He should stay here.” William sighed. Samuel was safe for now, but how much longer could William cover for him? “If we think my health bad in the morning, then we’ll go. For now, I want you in my arms. We need to talk.” He beckoned her into his hands.

She went into his hold willingly. “I missed you, my love. You were so absent in spirit and mind.”

“I know. I apologize. What am I to do when I cannot absorb the blackness in my soul without it tainting you?”

She exhaled and went stiff. “That’s the problem right there. Do not hold it in. No one can contain the toxic excrement your father sends your way. Share it with me. That’s all I want. Together we can hold on.” She kissed his neck, snuggled into him and made the most exquisite cooing sounds. “You smell like Heaven, even though you’re filthy and bloodied to the core.”

“Wash me?” His voice softened into something he barely recognized.

“Gladly, sir.” She moved to his side and draped his arm over her shoulders.

For once, he showed his weaknesses—physical and mental as he hissed with each step, leaning into her a little and letting the pain manifest itself in harsh breaths and wincing.

She pulled him into the bathroom and started the shower. As her fingers removed what was left of his clothing, he broke down. His face twisted in anguish. “I almost lost you.”

“Yes, you almost did.” She nodded, her fingers methodical as she bared his skin to the air.

“Would you have left without a tear?”

“William.” She straightened and went motionless. “Every time I cry, it’s because I am helpless. Every day I love you more, and I am more helpless. I rather doubt I could’ve gone a day without weeping for you when alone.”

“Thank you!” He grabbed her back in his arms and cried without her ever realizing it.

It was silent, it was pleading, but it was there nonetheless, buried in her soft brown hair all around him. He nuzzled into her neck, inhaled her scent and let the shame wash away.

“You love me?”

“I do.” She stroked his back.

“You’ll still be my wife.”

“Say when, Ferrismore, and I’ll take your name.” She molded into him further.

“Tomorrow. Let’s leave for France. Let’s do what my father stopped us from. My plan is to contact some boutiques. I want to sell my naughty lingerie. No more hiding.”

She nodded and sighed. “Thank God. This game of hide and seek can finally come to a close. I don’t need to be chased any more than you need to hide. We’re found, aren’t we?”

“We are.” He held her tighter until all he could do was feel his ribs pushing into hers.

Over the next twenty minutes, she managed to soothe him, wash him up with her gentle hands and breathe life back into him.

He lay in bed afterward, soaking up her goodness.

“Clarissa, if you ever want to use our money, you have my permission. I was out of line when I said you weren’t to—”

“Shhh . . .” She stroked his chest. “Money is not for me. That was something I did against my nature. All for you, my love. Think not of it again. I won’t touch your money whether you give me permission or not.”

“But I want you to. It’s ours—not
mine
.” He drew lazy patterns on her back with his fingers, staring at the ceiling.

“Call it what you will. Just as you are not about to clean your own laundry because it’s not in you, touching your riches is not in me. Share if you like, but I won’t delve into your purse again.”

“Delve into my head instead—that’s what I prefer.” He inhaled, and of course his ribs throbbed so his breath hitched. She went rigid at his side. “I prefer I open my damnable eyes and see when you are taking care of me. You arranged tonight for me—even dealt with Tyrone. I am grateful you care enough to do unpleasant things. I won’t take it for granted anymore.”

She chuckled. “That is all you have to say?”

“You want me to account for more? What have I missed?” He scratched her back and hummed.

“You miss why I do it.” She snuggled into him a little more. “I do it not just because I want to care for you. Any nurturing soul can do that.”

“Then why? What’s the impetus?”

“You, silly man. I want to know everything about you, know what you know, be what you need me to be. And how am I to do that if I shy away from anything uncomfortable? When you decide to walk through hell to punish yourself, I will clear the way. Not because I’m kind or tenderhearted like you think I am, but because I cannot fathom a world worth living in if you’re not in it.”

His chest exploded in heat, and his heart swelled so much, his ribs felt run through with a lance.

“Well, it seems I must pluck my angel girl out of Hell now and put her back where she belongs. Do you think God will allow me near you now after making such a muck of things today?”

“He will. I know He will. He’s seen inside you like I have, and the blackness is purged. My William is back, and that, dear man, is worth celebrating in the cosmos.”

He smiled. “Sing?”

“Yes, sir.” She hummed at first, then drifted into some sweet lullaby.

Before long, he was sleeping, and it felt like he truly was in the clouds with an angel, because the pain he’d been draped in for weeks had dissipated.

All that remained was his cherry, and she was sweeter than ever.

* * *

The banks were slowly crumbling. All William could do was hold on and invest his money as wisely as he could.

He roamed down a Paris street with Cherry at his side and let her wander while he fretted over the most recent letter.

“Will, look!” She pointed at a parasol in a shop window.

“You like it? Will you finally let me buy you something?” He tucked his pocket watch away along with the letter.

“No, sir. I’m not talking about that, though I do think it delightful.” She gripped his arm and pulled him closer. “After a month of being here, this is it! I can tell. They’d sell our lingerie. Look.” She pointed once more.

Inside the store was a very beautiful, fair, strawberry blonde woman, stripping a corset and working on it with furious fingers.

“Why is she doing that?” His brow furrowed.

“Can’t you see what she’s doing?” Clarissa almost pressed her nose to the window. “She’s trying to do what you’ve done, but she’s unaware of how to trim the boning.” She yanked him toward the door.

They stepped inside, and he froze.

This was a place of ill repute. How was this seedy shop on a respectable street?

He leaned into Clarissa and whispered, “I’m not selling my wares to prostitutes. That’s not my intent with my laces.”

She turned to him and smiled. “Not prostitutes. Watch.”

She stepped up to the woman. “
Excusez moi, pourriez-vous me diriger vers les nouveautés en terme de corsets bon pour la santé
?” She pretended to look around for the health corsets she’d just asked about.

The strawberry blonde looked her over, and her lips pursed. “
Ma chérie, nous ne vendons pas ceux-là. Trop démodé et inadapté aux gens de la scène
.”

Clarissa fought of a smile. She figured they wouldn’t sell them since they were out of date and Paris was a more progressive place for those on the stage, and she was right.

“
Oh, êtes vous une actrice?
” Clarissa chirped, once more biting back a smile. She already knew this woman was an actress. The signs were all there, but she wanted to draw the woman out.