Page 43 of The Beauty and the Boxer
“Might I suggest you visit your club, sir?Or perhaps a match with one of your pugilist friends?”
“They’re all setting up for competition nextweek.” He pushed his chair back under his desk. “It seems everyoneand everything is doing splendidly then.” Portage smiled. “It’sawful.”
Portage frowned again as his shouldersslumped.
“Sir, I promise that we will be very busy inthe next few days, but perhaps a reprieve could do you somegood?”
“A reprieve?”
“Yes, maybe a short holiday or something? Atrip to the seashore maybe?”
Portage couldn’t have known, but the meremention of the seashore made Jack think of Meredith,. He knew therewas nothing to be done where she was concerned and so he had triedvery unsuccessfully to put her out of his mind, especially sinceshe, Simon, and Sarah had left for Mountebank’s the previous night.No doubt she was flirting with some kindly gentleman with thin hairand a weak chin at that very moment over breakfast.
The hostility in his heart nearly made himgrowl.
He had been miserable ever since she lefthis presence that day in the stables and while being awake was itsown particular kind of hell, night was much worse. Images ofMeredith, hair down and wrapped in silk had invaded his dreams. Histhumb moving over her cheeks and lips, only to be pulled into hermouth, the velvet touch of her tongue on his fingerprint. He hadwoken last night, drenched in sweat, ripped from his dream just ashe was about to enter her when the godforsaken sound of a barn owloutside his bedroom window boomed throughout his room.
Cursing like a man on his way to thegallows, Jack had gripped the counterpane in his fists, furious andhard and unsatisfied from his tormented dream. The dark, emptybedroom that had so often been a haven away from the world feltpeculiarly empty in that moment as flashes of the ghosts of hisdreams crossed his mind.
“Meredith,” he had breathed, his bare chestlifting and falling with his ragged breath.
His hand had moved down his body, wrappingaround the almost painful length of him. Imagines of Meredith,mouth open, gasping beneath him as he filled her, moving betweenher legs brought him a powerful and much needed release as heturned, spilling his seed into the damp sheets.
It had satisfied a minute part of him, butJack had woken, hours later, still hungry for her. He had hopeddesperately to find some relief, but had only found himself moreagitated. The memory of last night filled his mind, causing him topause in the doorway.
What was wrong with him?
“Mr. Archer?” Portage said withquestion.
Jack’s teeth clenched, annoyed that Portagewas still in his presence, though he knew that the secretary had noidea what he was thinking about. Still, a wave of mortified furywashed over him.
“Goodbye, Portage,” he ground out as hemoved past him and out the office door.
He may have brought himself to release lastnight, but he would not do so again. While few things in this worldcould cause him embarrassment, touching himself like some foolishyouth was one of them. Had he any brains, he would have gone toMadam LaMont’s last night to find a release, if only a substitutefor the woman he actually wanted.
In fact, as he came down the office stairsand out the front door, he decided that he should go there rightnow.
Unhitching Drachma from one of the severalhorse posts around the side of the Archer and Archer Building, Jackcrooked him around and headed to the far part of town where therenowned madam lived with her house of whores. It would bemechanical, he knew, more transactional than anything, but if hecould be rid of this haunting need to have Meredith, even by afraction, it would be money well spent.
It wouldn’t be what he wanted, but damned ifit wasn’t what he needed. Meredith had been willing, eager even, inthe stables that day in the rain, but his own conflicting feelingsof what that meant exactly had stopped him from continuing.
Damn him.
Jack knew that despite Meredith’s previousexperiences, whatever they might have been, he would need to handleher with caution. She was technically a part of his brother’shousehold and while he would never cause her harm on purpose, healso wasn’t sure that he simply wanted a dalliance with her.Meredith made him feel significant, but not in the way that being abusiness owner, or champion fighter had ever made him feel. Withher, it was different. He felt important because she cared abouthow he felt and he wasn’t sure if anyone besides himself had evercared about his feelings. It was bloody confusing.
Still, he knew he needed to be rid of thisdamn, constant, sexual build up that had plagued him for weeks, ifnot months now. A moment in her presence might have sated him, butshe was at Mountebank’s home and while he had been invited, hecouldn’t think of a good enough reason to attend, except thatMeredith wanted him to go.
She had asked him to attend, albeit, only asa friend for her to lean on while she was paraded about. Jack hadinitially hated the idea of going as support, but an inner battlehad been waging within him since she had requested his presence.While it hadn’t been nearly enough of what he desired from her, hefound that he suddenly wanted to be whatever she needed, whenevershe needed it and that thought alone made him second guess his ownjudgment.
As Drachma galloped through the streets ofBristol, Jack considered how dangerous it was to doubt himself.During his years in the ring, he never allowed himself to hesitateas it would have been deadly, but with Meredith he couldn’t helpbut consider their friendship from all angles. It was exhausting.So much so that he wondered if he should be grateful for their timeapart. Better be away from her so that he could think clearly.Although, as he rode with a desperate quickness, another unwelcomethought began to form in his head.
What if hewaswhat she wanted? Whatif he went to Mountebank’s and she was glad to see him? Not only asa friend but something else? Something more. Surely it was afoolish thing to hope for and yet he couldn’t stop himself frombeing enveloped in just that. Hope.
The house of LaMont sat in the middle of anarrow street, one of a dozen brick buildings that were flanked bya tavern and another home that Jack new served as the privatequarters of LaMont and her ladies. He came off his horse in asingle motion, handed Drachma to a young man, and flipped him aguinea to bring him around back, before knocking on the front door.A massive, burly man with thinning black hair and a scar over amilky, obviously blind eye came to the door.
“What?” he sneered in a cankerous tone. Whenhis good eye landed on Jack, however, his mouth quirked up,revealing a set of yellow teeth, the front two of which weremissing. “Jack Archer!”
“Hello, Bull,” Jack said as the man pushedthe door back. “Is Lottie busy?”
