Page 9 of His Wicked Embrace
Her eyes flew open when the bedchamber door creaked. She turned, expecting to see Lawrence, but instead saw a dark-haired maid carrying a tray of food. “Excuse me, miss, the master asked for food to be sent to you.” The woman smiled, her countenance warm, and Zehra wiped her tears from her cheeks. She took a moment to collect herself, trying to paint a cheery smile upon her lips as she faced theservant.
The maid placed the tray on the table by the fireplace and lifted up a warm blanket. She gestured for Zehra to sit in one of the nearbychairs.
“You look dead on your feet, miss. Why don’t you sit here? The master has a fine chair by the fire, and it’ll do you some good torest.”
The tall wingback chair did look rather cozy, she had to admit. After she sat, the maid tucked the blanket around herlap.
“For the chill, miss,” she explained. “It can get a bit drafty atnight.”
“Thank you,” Zehra said, moved by the servant’s thoughtfulness. Her mother had rarely talked of England, but she said that the servants in England were far different from those Zehra had grown up with. She’d been raised to be held in reverence by those around her, and they would not dream of speaking to her, but this woman had treated her in such a friendly way. Zehra liked it. It made her feel less alone, and right now that mattered more thananything.
“There’s leek soup, some cold meats, and fruit. If you need anything else, just pull the bell cord by the bed and someone will be up to see to whatever you need.” The maid offered another smile and left Zehra toeat.
She looked at the metal dome over the plate and pulled it off. The delicious scents that teased her nose came as such a relief. She felt like weeping all over again. She went straight for the meat, wanting to soothe her hungerpangs.
A few minutes later, she’d cleaned the plate and was mopping up the last bit of soup with a slice of bread. For the first time in a week, she felt full. She leaned back in the chair, warmed by the fire and blankets, a sense of peace overcomingher…
She wasn’t sure how long she slept before she was jerked awake at the sensation of being moved. She struggled as panic overrode her rationality as memories of being bound and imprisoned on the slave ship came floodingback.
“Easy, love, it’s only me. Your room has been prepared. I was simply going to take you there.” The masculine voice was familiar, and she realized in her sleepy haze that it was Lawrence who was carrying her. “You will be left alone then, Ipromise.”
“My lord, please, I cannot sleep alone. Not tonight.” She clutched his shirt, curling her fingers into the fine fabric. She didn’t know why she’d suddenly begged him to stay with her, but for some reason as he carried her, she’d felt sure he would not harmher.
His fine features were shadowed by flame, and she realized the room around them was dark. The lamps had been extinguished, and only the fire remainedlit.
“You’re welcome to my bed. I can have a cot brought up if you wish for a servant to stay with you for the night. Or myself, if you prefer.” His eyes channeled the moonlight from the nearby window, making her breath catch with their bright intensity. In her own land the men she’d met had possessed dark eyes of a hundred different hues, yet this light color, like wheat mixed with emerald, was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Her own bright-blue eyes were rare, she knew, but she found the endless tumbling facets of green and brown in Lawrence’s far moreenchanting.
Lawrence cradled her to his chest as he walked to his bed and laid her down. Despite his kind offer, trying to reassure her that he desired nothing from her in return, his quick and uneven breaths betrayed him. It seemed he was struggling to remain the gentleman he claimed to be. Still, it said much of his character that he could fight these demons so well, and she did not wish to offendhim.
“You would have my thanks if you would stay in this room for thenight.”
Lawrence nodded. “There are plenty of blankets, but if you get cold, I have more. I’ll just stay here in the chair. Call if you need anything.” He turned away, and Zehra had a moment to study his fine figure silhouetted against the firelight. Then she lay back in the bed for a brief moment before she realized her gown was too tight, her breathing shallow. The gown she’d worn on the slave ship had been more comfortable than this, likely because the slavers had wanted easy access to the women they took and didn’t care for corsets or stays. She sat back up and tried to reach behind her to unbutton the gown, but she couldn’t. With a shiver, she looked toward Lawrence, who was still facing thefire.
“My lord, I have no way to unbutton this gown. The ladies at the White House left me rather helpless.” She eased off the bed and walked toward Lawrence. He swallowed hard, and she swore she heard him mutter a curse before hesighed.
“Yes, of course, how thoughtless of me. You mustn’t sleep in that gown. Shall I call up a maid tohelp?”
Zehra thought of the late hour and winced. She didn’t want to drag a maid from her bed. “No, we should let them sleep. I trust you, mylord.”
“Trust me?” He chuckled ruefully. “Very well,then.”
He twirled a finger, indicating for her to turn her back to him. She did, holding her breath as his fingers began to pull at the laces. She relaxed as the gown became loose against her bent arms and then fell to the floor. His sudden intake of breath made her blush and smile. There was a part of her that was boldly sensual, unafraid of such things in many ways. She was a virgin, but she was not uneducated in the ways of men andwomen.
“Please,Lord, don’t tell me you need help with the stays.” Lawrence’s voice was low and rough. She sensed she’d pushed him toofar.
“No, I can manage. Thank you, my lord.” She stepped out of the puddle of her gown and stripped out of her remaining clothes, leaving a pile of stays, slippers, and stockings on the floor. Clad only in her chemise, she climbed back into Lawrence’s bed and settled in for the night. She was so exhausted that she only heard him wrestling with the chair and a small pillow for a few minutes before she surrendered tosleep.
* * *
Avery Russell steppedinto the chaos of the White House, his eyes taking in the Bow Street Runners and the local magistrate, a man named John Dearborn, as they took statements from several brothel patrons. Three men were restrained by iron shackles and seated at a card table in the main gamingroom.
“Russell.” One of the Runners, a man called Sam Cady, nodded and spoke to Avery as he came over. “We’ve put a stop to the auction. Unfortunately, the madam threw her account books into the fire, destroying the names of the men who paid to attend. All of the ladies have been placed in an adjoining room,but…”
“Butwhat?”
Cady shrugged his large shoulders and nodded toward the restrained group of men. “One of the gentlemen here swears another man bought a slave, the first one to be sold. He and the girl aren’there.”
“Someone got away?” Avery’s hands curled into fists as he thought of some poor woman being carried away to a place where no one would find her, where she would be abused and defiled, where she would most likely neverleave.
