Page 44 of Eliza and the Duke
He let out a breath and turned back to the street. He spottedthe carriage. It came slowly down the lane, separating itself from the other traffic to approach them.
“Did you ever try to leave?” she asked. “Before…when you were a child?”
“Once, a long time ago,” he answered. “I beat up a man for Brody. He was a rival, led a gang.” He paused, debating whether or not to say more, but she deserved to know. Sheshouldknow. Perhaps it would make her keep her distance. “The man died. As soon as I found out, I resolved to leave. The next day, I ran away and used the money I’d saved to buy a train ticket to Dover.”
“But you came back.”
“I came back for Mary. I couldn’t leave her here alone. She ran away from the workhouse and took me with her. I could do no less for her.” He hadn’t been thinking clearly when he’d left for Dover. He’d panicked. When he’d come back, she hadn’t been ready to leave because she still believed in Brody, so he’d stayed. Every day he wondered what their lives might be like now had he forced her to leave with him. Would she still be alive?
Eliza nodded as if she could possibly understand what his life had been like then. “Where did you go?”
“The sea. I’d always wanted to see it. I took the train from St. Pancras to Dover, got off, and walked to the shore. There was a little stone house there near a cliff. It seemed abandoned, so I rested there. Fell asleep and woke up the next morning. That’s when I knew I had to come back.”
They were silent as they waited for the carriage to navigate its way through traffic. After a moment, she asked, “Have there been others…that you killed?”
He’d been waiting for that question. “A few.” He looked at her to gauge her reaction. She didn’t meet his eyes, and he feltthe need to add, “They were all during fights with bad men.” All of them had been Brody’s rivals, men who would’ve killed him if he hadn’t killed them first. Still. Death was death. “I’m not proud of what I’ve done.”
She looked up at him, and there were tears shining in her eyes. Something about that made pain slice through him so acutely that he caught his breath.
The carriage pulled to a stop at the curb. Simon cleared his throat and called up a greeting to the driver and opened the door.
“I’ll take you home,” he said.
“Jones, Devonworth’s driver, is waiting for me at the British Museum. He thinks I’ve been there all this time.”
“To the British Museum,” he called up. “Keep driving until I tell you to stop.”
The driver, McCullough, agreed. Simon helped her inside and climbed in behind her. The inside of every carriage that the club owned was as plush and comfortable as the club itself. This one had a tufted velvet interior in dark crimson. The buttons and knobs for the windows and the little carriage lantern were gilded and shining. It was truly like stepping from one world to another.
The moment the door closed and the carriage took off, she turned to him. “I want you to know that I don’t fault you for anything you’ve done. I can’t possibly understand the life that you’ve lived. I just want you to know that I admire—”
He covered her mouth with his hand to stop her. He wouldn’t possibly survive adoration from her. It would undo him. “Don’t, Eliza. This has to end now, tonight. There is no future where I’m not me and you aren’t destined for more.” Her eyes became liquid and he had to look away.
Taking his hand from her mouth, she put it in her lap andheld tight. “Then I want to make the most of the next few minutes,” she said.
Startled, he looked back at her. From the look on her face, she meant more of what had happened last night. He couldn’t deny her that, because he wanted it more than he wanted his next breath. He drew her into his lap and kissed her.
Twenty-Three
If all they had wasthe time it took them to drive back to Bloomsbury, then Eliza intended to make it count. She kissed Simon with her whole heart. When he pulled back to catch a breath, she chased his lips. He laughed softly into her mouth and nibbled her bottom lip, scraping it pleasantly with his teeth before he gave it a tug. The answering dart of need that shot through her was unexpected but welcomed.
She’d never experienced this sort of kissing before. Her kisses with Olek had been fumbling at best and left her feeling nearly drowned. Simon made kissing an art form with just enough teeth and tongue to keep it interesting. His tongue was velvety and smooth, and she loved when it brushed up against hers. It felt indulgent. She could have gone on kissing him all day, but they didn’t have that long.
She pulled back when she really couldn’t breathe anymore. His eyes shined out at her like jewels, mischievous and deep. “Will you touch me like you did last night?” she asked. Itcame out in a whisper, because somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that it was naughty to ask for such a thing.
He grinned at her. Without saying a word, he leaned over and released the tie holding the heavy curtains open on the far side of the carriage. Then he did the same on the other side, effectively hiding them from the world. Early-evening light seeped in through the cracks. A small lantern was set in the front wall of the carriage, too small to give much light, but enough that the yellow glow caressed the angles of his face.
Somewhere along the way she had forgotten that she’d originally deemed him not classically handsome. He was breathtaking. His nose was better than straight because the slight bump in the bridge was evidence of a life well fought. She loved how it gave him history and character. His brow might be prominent, but she loved to watch it crinkle when she perplexed him, and how it made his eyes deep set and mysterious. His lips were perfectly soft and firm at the same time. She kissed him again, marveling at the flicker of heat inside her when his tongue plunged into her mouth.
One arm was at her back, while his other hand worked its way under her skirts. His rough palm slid over her calf and knee before his fingers delved between her thighs. There was entirely too much fabric. It bunched around his arm and her waist and made her start to sweat in the summery heat of the vehicle. A bead of it trickled down her spine, but then his fingers found her and she forgot to notice. He pressed against her, the cotton fabric of her drawers between them. She braced her left foot on the ground to widen her legs and make room for him.
His fingertips teased her, moving up and down her sex in a maddening rhythm that had her arching her back toward him.The damned fabric was still between them. “Simon, please,” she complained.
“Shhh…” he said against her lips and took her mouth in a deep kiss. “You’ll get what I’m ready to give ye,” he teased her.
She throbbed for him and she could feel that the underwear was soaked. “We don’t have time,” she whined against his lips.
He shushed her again, but at the same time he finally found the part in her drawers and dipped his finger inside like he had done last night. He teased her, only giving her enough to intensify her ache. She squeezed her eyes shut, too enthralled with his touch to continue kissing. His lips found her cheek and then her ear. She shivered when his hot breath touched her there and then his teeth tugged at her earlobe. God, she loved his teeth.
