Then Came You Read online

  He struggled to sit up. “Tell me who has him!”

  “Derek Craven.”

  “That underworld swindler who surrounds himself with whores and thieves—”

  “Henry’s absolutely safe with Derek, you have my w—”

  Lily broke off with a gasp, leaping from the bed as Alex reached for her with a snarl. “You bitch!” He was caught short by ropes that bound his wrists and ankles to the thick bedposts. Sharply his head snapped from right to left. He saw what she had done. Shock froze him from the inside out. Then he roared and began to tug in a storm of fury, causing the massive bed to tremble and creak. He fought the ropes like a wild beast experiencing confinement for the first time. Apprehensively Lily watched him. She relaxed as she saw that the sturdy bed frame would withstand the ferocious punishment. Finally Alex’s struggle subsided. His lean frame was racked with labored gasps. “Why?” he demanded. “Why?”

  Lily eased back onto the bed and looked down at him, her smile a fraction less confident than before. In spite of her triumph, she didn’t like the sight of him bound and helpless. It seemed unnatural. And the ropes had already chafed his wrists—she could see the redness his tugging was causing. “I’ve won, my lord,” she said calmly. “You may as well accept it with good grace. I admit my tactics lacked sportsmanship…but all’s fair, as they say.” She rubbed the sore muscles at the back of her neck and yawned. “As we speak, Zachary is at Raiford Park. He’ll spirit Penelope away to Gretna Green tonight, and they’ll be married. I volunteered my services for the task of detaining you. By the time I release you, it will be too late for you to do anything. I couldn’t let you have Penny, not when Zachary loves her so. He’ll make her happy. As for you…your damaged pride will soon recover.” She smiled into his bloodshot eyes. “I told you that you’d never have her. You should have taken my warning seriously.” Her head tilted coquettishly as she waited for his response. Perhaps he would acknowledge it had been a game well-played. “Well?” she prompted, wanting her victory tribute. “I’m interested to hear your opinion of all this.”

  It took Alex a long time to reply. When he did, his voice was nothing but a scratching rumble. “My opinion? You should start running. And never stop. And pray to God I never catch you.”

  Only Raiford could seem so menacing while tied hand and foot to a large piece of furniture. It was no idle threat. His words were laced with deadly purpose. Lily dismissed it blithely, deciding she could handle whatever trouble he might pose. “I’ve done you a great favor,” she pointed out. “You’re free to find someone else now. Someone far more suited to you than Penny.”

  “I wanted your sister.”

  “She never would have pleased you. Good God, you don’t really want to marry a girl who would always be frightened of you, do you? If you have an ounce of sense, you’ll choose someone with a little more spirit the next time. But no—you’ll probably propose to another meek, gentle lamb. Bullies are always drawn to that sort.”

  Alex was dizzy from the ache in his head and the failed attempt to free himself and despairing, incredulous with rage. Everyone he loved had been taken away from him—his mother, his father, Caroline. He’d let himself believe that he would never lose Penelope—that, at least, it had seemed reasonable to depend on. He thought he would go raving mad if he had to endure any more. His jaw twitched violently.

  “Lily,” he said hoarsely. “Untie the ropes.”

  “Not to save my life.”

  “It’s the only thing that will.”

  “You’ll be unleashed in the morning,” she promised. “Then you’ll be free to collect Henry, return home, and plot your revenge. Do your worst. I don’t care, now that Penny is safe from you.”

  “You’ll never be safe,” he rasped.

  “At the moment I feel quite safe.” She smiled impudently. Then she seemed to recognize the emotions that writhed beneath his fury. The wicked amusement in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something softer. “You shouldn’t worry about Henry,” she said. “He’ll be perfectly fine tonight—Derek’s factotum is making certain he stays out of trouble.” She smiled wryly. “Henry filled my ears with praises of you during the carriage ride to London. A man who wins such devotion from a child can’t be all that terrible.” Watching his face, she put a hand on either side of his lean torso, her slight weight poised over him. “But it isn’t Henry that’s bothering you. What is it?”

  Alex closed his eyes, trying to block out the sight of her, the sound of her voice, wishing to God this were a nightmare that would end soon. But she continued to dissect him with her soft words, heedlessly raking over raw wounds.

  “No one’s ever forced you to do anything before, have they?” she asked.

  He concentrated on his breathing, making it steady. He tried to block out her voice.

  “Why so distraught over losing my sister? You can go out and find someone else just like her, if that’s what you really want.” Lily paused and said thoughtfully, “If you’re so intent on having someone who won’t interfere with Caroline’s memory.” She noticed the catch of his breath. “For shame,” she said softly, and shook her head. “Few men would mourn for so long. It reflects either on your capacity for love, or your remarkable stubbornness. Which is it, I wonder?”

  Alex’s eyes flew open. With a tingling shock, Lily saw that the depths of gray had changed from ice to smoke. She felt an odd surge of compassion. “You’re not the only one who’s lost someone,” she said quietly. “I have too. I understand all about self-pity. It’s useless, not to mention unbecoming.”

  Her condescension drove him wild. “If you think losing that snub-nosed little viscount is comparable to what I went through with Caroline—”

  “No, I’m not referring to him.” Lily stared at him in mild surprise, wondering how much he knew about her engagement to Harry Hindon. He must have gotten it out of Zach. “What I felt for Harry was infatuation. The one I loved and lost was someone else entirely. I would have died for…this person. I still would.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s private.”

  Alex lowered his head back to the pillow.

  “Perhaps your temper will cool tonight,” Lily remarked, delicately rearranging his collar, as if he were a plaything. She knew her careless manner would incense him further. “When you think about this sensibly, you’ll realize it’s the best for all concerned. Even you.” Noticing his hands straining at the ropes, she touched his taut arm. “Don’t. You’ll only end up with blisters. You may as well relax. Poor Raiford. It must be difficult to accept the fact that you’ve been bested by a woman.” Her dark eyes danced with sympathetic laughter. “For the rest of my life, I’ll treasure this memory. The earl of Raiford completely at my mercy.” She leaned over him, her smiling mouth hovering just above his. “Just what would you do if you could free yourself, my lord?”

  “Strangle you. With my bare hands.”

  “Would you? Or would you kiss me as you did in the library?”

  His eyes flickered, and a flush edged his cheekbones. “Consider that a mistake,” he muttered.

  Lily was stung by his contemptuous tone. Her experiences with men—Harry’s desertion, Giuseppe’s angry disappointment, even Derek’s lack of sexual interest in her—had all taught her that she lacked whatever it was that made a woman desirable. Now Alex had joined the list. Why wasn’t she like other women? What mysterious thing made her so unappealing? Some devilish impulse urged her to show Alex how powerless he was. She leaned close, her breath wafting over his chin. “You had me at a disadvantage in the library,” she said. “Have you ever been kissed against your will, Alex? Perhaps you’d like to know how it feels.”

  Alex stared at her as if she’d gone mad. Smiling impishly, she dipped her head and pressed a light, close-mouthed kiss to his stiff lips. He jerked his head back as if he’d been touched by fire. She was doing her best to torment him. First a kiss. Next she’d probably start plucking out his chest hairs one by one.

  Li
ly studied him in the silence. Something had made his breathing choppy. Was it anger? Or was it possible that her kiss had affected him? She was intrigued by the thought. “Should I consider that another mistake?” she whispered.

  Alex stared at her, transfixed. He couldn’t make a sound.

  Lily moved the necessary half inch to bring her lips to his. Alex inhaled quickly. This time he didn’t try to move away. Softly she brushed her mouth over his, giving him nothing more than questioning pressure. Alex tolerated her kiss with his eyes tightly closed, as if she were subjecting him to some acutely painful torture. His shoulders and chest turned rock-hard with the tension of his arms pulling on the ropes. She touched the side of his smooth, hot neck with her fingertips, and he gave a single gasp against her lips.

  Astonished, Lily pulled herself higher onto his chest. She wanted more…something…but she didn’t know what, or how. Then there was movement, his head turning slowly on the pillow, adjusting beneath hers. Lily curved her small hand behind his neck, instinctively pressing harder with her mouth. She felt the sleek push of his tongue, and she was shaken by a jolt of pleasure that made her want to answer the silken movement. Alex felt the way Lily shivered, her breath striking his cheek in a rush of surprise. Expecting each moment that her lips would be withdrawn, he strained upward in hunger, seeking more. But she did not pull away—she stayed against him, open and sweet.

  Alex clenched his fists. He was trapped by her sinuous body and the bed and his own helplessness. Excitement flooded through him, centering in his loins. Nothing would stop the hardening rise of his flesh, coming to life in heavy, twitching surges. He ached and groaned, and damned himself. Ripping his mouth from hers, he buried his face in the perfumed curve of her throat. “No more,” he said gruffly. “Either untie me or stop this.”

  “No,” she said breathlessly. She had never felt so daring and giddy in her life. She laced her fingers into his thick hair. “I’m t-teaching you a lesson…”

  “Get off me!” he said fiercely. He almost succeeded in frightening her away—he felt her give a little jump.

  But she persisted. Still holding his gaze, she eased further over him until she was draped on him full length. He shuddered and bit his lip. The weight of her body bearing down on his aroused manhood caused him to press upward without conscious thought. It wasn’t enough. He wanted more—the softness of her flesh surrounding him, the cling and pull of her body as he thrust within her. Somehow he managed to speak very quietly. “Enough. Lily…enough.”

  She was breathing very fast, looking as reckless as she had during the hunt, hurtling over impossible jumps. Alex couldn’t fathom what was going on in her mind, until she spoke. “Say her name now,” she urged in a thick voice. “Say it.”

  He set his jaw so hard that he felt it tremble.

  “You can’t,” Lily whispered. “Because it’s me you want, not Caroline. I can feel it. I’m a living, breathing woman, and I’m here. And you want me.”

  A thousand thoughts raced across his brain. He searched for Caroline, but she wasn’t there…nothing but a blur of memories, faded color, muted sound. None of it was as real as the face above him. Lily’s mouth remained just above his, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her lips.

  He didn’t answer, but she could read the truth in his eyes. Lily should have pulled away in triumph, glorying in her victory. She was right, after all. Instead she made a low sound and kissed him again. Disarmed, unable to retreat, all he could do was surrender. Her hands were on his face, his neck, exploring gently. Alex groaned with the need to touch her, hold her tight between his thighs. Instead he was spread beneath her. It was killing him slowly. The ropes tore at his wrists until they were raw.

  Lily gasped at the rhythmic goading of his hips. She tried to move away, only to find that he had caught her bottom lip with his teeth. “Turn your head,” he muttered, his warm breath rushing into her mouth. “Turn it…”

  She obeyed, and he let go of her lip, his mouth opening to receive the twisting pressure of hers. Lily gave a small sob of pleasure. Compulsively she gathered tighter against him, impelling her breasts against his hard chest, her stomach flat against his. The friction between their bodies caused her gown to ride up to her knees, but she didn’t care; she couldn’t seem to make herself care about anything except the urgent need building inside.

  There was a knock at the door. Lily stiffened at the sound. “Miss Lawson?” came the butler’s muffled voice.

  Weakly she dropped her head to the pillow, the puff of her breath tickling Alex’s ear. He turned his head against her buoyant curls and inhaled the sweet fragrance.

  Burton spoke again. “Miss Lawson?”

  Lily raised her head. “Yes, Burton?” she asked unsteadily.

  “A message has just arrived.”

  She froze. That could mean only one thing. Burton would never intrude on her privacy unless the note were from a particular source.

  Alex watched Lily intently. The blush drained from her face. There was a gleam of something like fear in her eyes. She seemed dazed. “It can’t be,” he heard her whisper. “It’s too soon.”

  “Too soon for what?”

  The sound of his voice seemed to recall her. She wiped her expression clean and rolled away from him, jerking at her skirts. Carefully she avoided looking at him. “I must bid you good night, my lord. I th-think you’ll be comfortable here—”

  “Not likely, you little tease!” He watched in fury as she fumbled to restore her appearance and left the room. He shouted a few choice obscenities after her, adding, “I’ll see you in Newgate for this! And as for your damn butler—” The door slammed, and he fell silent, glaring at the ceiling.

  Lily faced Burton in the hall, too distracted to worry about her disheveled appearance. There was a note poised on the silver tray in his hands. The paper was sealed with a dirty blob of wax.

  Burton proffered the tray. “You instructed me to deliver them to you upon their arrival, no matter what time—”

  “Yes,” Lily interrupted, snatching the letter. She broke the seal, and scanned the scrawled lines. “Tonight. Damn him! He must have people watching me…always seems to know where I am…”

  “Miss?” Burton had never been privileged to know the contents of the letters, which arrived at the terrace on a sporadic basis. He had come to recognize them by the elaborate, untidy handwriting, and the strange appearance of the bearers. The letters were always delivered by ragged boys fresh from the street.

  “Have a horse saddled for me,” Lily said.

  “Miss Lawson, I should like to point out the inadvisability of a woman riding alone in London, especially at night—”

  “Tell one of the maids to bring my gray cloak. The one with the hood.

  “Yes, miss.”

  Slowly she went down the stairs, keeping hold of the railing as if to steady herself.

  Covent Garden was an especially unsavory area of London, where every worldly pleasure from the conventional to the unthinkable was to be had for a price. There was advertising both visible and verbal: printed bills and notices plastered on every wall, the din of swindlers, pimps, and prostitutes shouting invitations at every passerby. Regency bucks, coming from the theaters with their light-o’-loves, teetered drunkenly to the market taverns. Lily took care to avoid all of them. A drunken lord could sometimes prove as dangerous and inhuman as a professional criminal.

  As she crossed through pools of gaslight and shadow, Lily felt sympathy for the parade of prostitutes trodding the thoroughfares. There were young girls and haggard old women and every age in between. They were either thin from starvation or bloated with gin. They all wore the same weary look as they rested on steps and posed on corners, producing painted smiles for any prospective customer. Surely they would never have turned to such an existence had there been any other choice.

  There but for the grace of God, Lily thought, and shuddered. She would kill herself rather than turn to such a life, even the life o
f a courtesan wearing diamond clusters and servicing her protector on silk sheets. Her lip curled with disgust. Better to be dead than owned by a man and forced to serve his physical needs.

  Traveling south on King Street, she passed the churchyard. She ignored the catcalls and jeers thrown at her from the roofed shacks that served as shops and dwelling places. Cautiously she went across the street from the market entrance. The two-story arcade was fronted with a pediment and granite Tuscan columns, an oddly regal design for a place containing such squalor. She reined in her horse and paused in a shadow. There was nothing to do but wait. Ruefully she grinned as she saw a pair of young pickpockets nimbly working the crowds. Then she thought of Nicole. Her face turned to stone. My God, what kind of existence was she leading now? Was it possible, young as she was, that she was already being used to turn vice into profit? The notion brought stinging tears to her eyes. Roughly she rubbed them away. She couldn’t give way to emotion, not now. She had to be cool and self-controlled.

  A lazy voice came from the darkness nearby. “So ’ere you are, then. I ’ope you bring what I want.”

  Slowly Lily dismounted and clutched the reins of her mount in one hand. She turned in the direction of the voice, and forced herself to speak steadily, though her entire body was trembling.

  “No more, Giuseppe. Not a farthing more until you give me back my daughter.”

  Chapter 7

  Count Giuseppe Gavazzi had all the striking splendor of a figure from an Italian Renaissance painting—boldly prominent features, curly black hair, rich olive skin, and lustrous black eyes. Lily remembered the first time she had ever seen him. Giuseppe had been standing in a sunlit Florentine piazza, surrounded by a group of Italian women who hung on every word he spoke. With his flashing smile and dark beauty, he had taken Lily’s breath away. Their paths had crossed numerous times at social events, and Giuseppe had begun to pursue her ardently, ostentatiously.