Page 10 of A Very Roguish Boxing Day
Madame Heron strolled onto the stage, running a hand along Tom’s arm.“As you can see, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.May I have a starting bid of twenty pounds?”
The bidding began the way it always did.Lots of bidders at first, with most dropping out when it climbed to fifty pounds.The most Tom had ever fetched had been ninety-two pounds, of which he’d been allowed to keep half.Most men would’ve given their eyeteeth to receive such a sum for the chore of making love to a woman.
Except… as Tom had discovered over the years, he tended to attract a particular type of bidder at these things.He was the biggest brute in all of England, and the women who bid on him typically did so because they wanted to be, for lack of a better term, brutalized.
The first time a woman had asked him to hit her in the face, he’d thought he was finally losing his wits.When it became apparent she was serious, he had refused.Of course, he had refused!His mother raised him better than that, and the fact that he was the heavyweight champion of England wouldn’t have prevented Molly Talbot from going at him with a wooden spoon if she’d heard of him mistreating a woman.
But he slowly came to realize that this was a fantasy some women had.He tried not to judge.God only knew that some strange thoughts had passed through his head over the years while he was rubbing one out.
When it became clear that he’d best get used to this sort of request, he’d come up with a policy of sorts.A list of the things he would do—throw them over his shoulder and carry them up the stairs, toss them on the bed, pound them nice and hard, hold their wrists, and say whatever they wanted.But there were some things he refused to do, which included choking, hitting—other than a light swat on the bottom—and anything that was going to leave a mark.
He should have enjoyed it.And he did, at least, a little bit.He was getting his cock wet, after all.
But there was always that voice in the back of his head that asked…Really?Is this how everyone sees me?A big, violent brute?
Is this the only thing I have to offer a woman?
Realizing he’d been brooding, he smiled and flexed an arm.This was business, not pleasure.The more money he could sock away, the more cushion he’d have when he finally had to stop boxing one day.
Two ladies emerged as the top bidders vying for his company.One was a young blonde in a green dress who hadn’t bothered to wear a mask.She was pretty, but she had a spoiled look about her.What looked like a wedding ring flashed on her hand.No matter how pretty she was, Tom had a bad feeling about that one.
As for the other gel, he couldn’t see much of her on account of the cloak she wore.She looked shortish and plumpish, and a pair of spectacles occasionally caught the light beneath her hood.Unlike the brazen blonde, who didn’t mind who saw her bidding exorbitant sums for the privilege of spending the night with a man who hadn’t put that ring on her finger, Miss Spectacles kept her shoulders hunched and looked like she wanted to hide beneath one of the theater’s wooden benches.
The bidding came to her.“Seventy-two pounds!”Miss Spectacles called in a shaking voice.
The blonde responded with a smirk.“Seventy-three pounds.”
“Seventy-four pounds.”
The spoiled blonde openly pouted.“Oh, are we going to do this all night?One hundred pounds.”
You could’ve heard a pin drop.This was the highest bid of the night, the highest bid Tom had ever got.He wasn’t looking forward to whatever hoops this woman would make him jump through, but it would be worth it for fifty fucking pounds.
Madame Heron was just stepping forward to call it when Miss Spectacles shrieked, “Two hundred and fifty pounds!”
As she did so, she lifted her chin.This had the effect of causing her cloak to fall open.
Cor, but the gel had a nice rack of lamb on her.To be sure, she’d covered her apple dumpling shop in a swath of black bombazine that buttoned all the way up to her chin.
But Tom suddenly found himself feeling downright enthusiastic about the prospect of transacting business with little Miss Spectacles.
Madame Heron stepped forward.Judging by the sour look on the blonde gel’s face, Miss Spectacles had just delivered the knockout punch.Madame Heron made a sweeping gesture.“We have a winner!”
Tom couldn’t help but grin as he jumped off the stage.Two hundred and fifty pounds!Which meant a hundred and twenty-five for him.Not bad for a night’s work.
A few of the ladies pawed at him as he weaved his way through the crowd.Tom’s smile grew tight, but he didn’t say anything.He was used to being treated like a piece of meat, because that’s what he was, wasn’t he?Whether he was in the ring or on the auction block, he was valued for one thing, and one thing only—his muscles.No one gave a rat’s arse about his thoughts or feelings or any of that rot.
He'd once thought someone might, but that was when he’d been young and stupid.In any case, Gracie Fitzsimmons had thoroughly disabused him of that notion.He was the sort of man a woman wanted to fuck, not the sort she wanted to marry.At least he understood that now.
But this was no time to wallow.He had a job to do and damned if Miss Spectacles wasn’t going to be a satisfied customer.Reaching her in the crowd, he scooped her up in his arms and lifted her high against his chest.Hens always loved it when he did that, and sure enough, Miss Spectacles gave a breathy little gasp.
He leaned his head toward hers.“Gonna make it worth every penny, love.”He said it loud enough that the women around them burst into cheers.He carried Miss Spectacles down the aisle of the theater and straight through the door to the sound of whistles and shouts behind them.
Chapter6
Gwendolyn’s heart all but pounded out of her chest as Tom Talbot carried her out of the theater to the carriage that awaited them by the curb.
Only in her most embarrassing, most impossible daydreams had Gwen evenimagineda man scooping her up in his arms and carrying her.She might be short, but she wasn’t what you would call petite, narrowing the pool of men who were even capable of the task.
