EscapeWithMe Read online

  Sam sat on the bed in front of the vanity, trying to work out what she would say to Mrs. Hayes when the woman returned. The only things she could think to say involved cussing, slapping and screaming.

  Looking up at the mirror, she studied herself for a long moment. Her skin wasn’t quite so pasty in candlelight, and the hairstyle and chemise made her shoulders look elegant rather than boxy. The locket at her neck reminded her of the drawing she had seen that afternoon. She shivered.

  Footfalls sounded on the stairs. Her stomach was churning. She stood and walked around the bed to face the door. She had to be firm. She couldn’t back down. No doubt Mrs. Hayes had brought along the marquess or, even worse, that middle-aged lecher with the paunch and the beauty patch next to his nose, anyone with a title and some money.

  The door opened. “Here we are,” Mrs. Hayes said kindly.

  Sam gasped, backing up to the bed. Behind Mrs. Hayes stood the one man who she knew wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Chapter Three

  “We meet again, madam.” Sam found a new adjective for Lieutenant West’s blue eyes—determined. It may have been a trick of the light, but his shoulders almost touched the doorframe as he stepped into the room. Sam looked at her patroness with shock, hoping that the woman might have mercy, but Mrs. Hayes had never looked crueler. With a smirk, she wordlessly shut the door.

  Sam couldn’t get her tongue to move, and the man in her room seemed content to let the silence continue. She heard Mrs. Hayes descending the stairs and watched the lieutenant’s gaze descend as well, taking in the sight of her in a chemise and stockings. Sam realized with squeamish embarrassment that the candles behind her probably outlined everything underneath her one thin layer of clothing.

  “Lieutenant, you need to know that I—I’m not what Mrs. Hayes presented me as.” The lieutenant set his hat on the table next to the bed. “Call it stupid or naïve or whatever you want, but I didn’t realize what she was until…” Sam backed up when he took a step toward her. “Oh God, I did suspect but I was desperate and kept hoping I was wrong.”

  “I have paid for your time.” He removed his coat. Damn, his shoulders were enormous. “And your time is all I entreat you to give me willingly. The rest is left to my own talents.”

  The urge to laugh nearly overtook her. This had to be a joke. This guy wanted to seduce her? This guy, who could probably get it for free from plenty of other women with minimal effort—willing women?

  She sidled around to the foot of the bed. As he turned to toss his coat on top of his hat, she agonized at how broad his back was. His trim waist and narrow hips were wrapped in snug breeches. He looked too good in those clothes. Too overpowering.

  “Let us talk, madam. We’ll start there.” He walked around to the vanity and she backed up even farther. He chuckled as he sat on the vanity’s stool. “I’ll not attack you, Samantha. Pray sit there and talk with me.” He gestured at the foot of the bed, which was well within arm’s reach of where he sat.

  Sam was hard-pressed to trust him. Both Brian and Mrs. Hayes had been charming at first, and more than just charming, Ryder West was magnetic. Flickers of potential danger were there in his face and his attention focused on her in a way that made her skin prickle. Brian had turned on that magnetism only rarely, and it had kept her ensnared for a long time.

  All she knew of Ryder was that he sought a man wanted by the authorities, and he was casually sitting in a brothel. Neither did anything to recommend his good character.

  As the awkward silence stretched out, the smoldering look he gave her made her fingers dig into the wood of the bedpost. Did he know how he was staring at her?

  Smiling unexpectedly, the lieutenant broke the silence. “Of course I don’t demand that you sit at all. Did I overhear that you are from New York?” She nodded. “You lived there all your life?”

  “I’ve spent the last few years elsewhere, but I grew up near New York.”

  “An interesting city. It will rival London someday.”

  Sam couldn’t help a small hmph at his comment. “You have no idea.” He arched an eyebrow and she scrambled to keep the conversation going. More conversation and less staring. “London is much older though. New York can never beat that.”

  “True, madam.”

  “So you’ve been to America? How did you like it?”

  His lips stretched into a nostalgic smile. “Very much. Were it not for certain circumstances, I may not have returned to England.”

  “Really?” It was pleasant to know he liked America, though maybe she was still annoyed at the marquess. “Wouldn’t you miss your home?”

  “My home has been aboard a ship the past ten years.”

  “You’re in the navy?” she guessed. He certainly had the look of a navy man. His sun-bleached hair and tanned face, not to mention his militarily clean-cut look.

  “Was. Until Parliament reaches a decision regarding our forces in the colonies, we are paid off indefinitely. However, I’ve no intention to resume my commission.”

  “Why’s that?” She rounded the corner of the bed and sat, though as far from the lieutenant as possible. His eyes flicked down to the toes of her stockings and then slid up her body.

  “You already know the answer to your question, madam. After all, you were witness to my conversation with the publican this morning.”

  “Ah, your search for the elusive mystery man,” she recalled. “Who is he?” The lieutenant smiled again and her stomach leapt at the sight of his wide grin.

  “I wish to know more about you. Why did you really come to London?” He leaned forward and set his elbows on his knees. “And don’t tell me that rubbish about being a Loyalist.”

  It was a good question, one she didn’t have an answer to. It certainly hadn’t been her own choice to wake up in London. When she remained silent, he sat up straight.

  “Shall I guess?” He made a show of looking thoughtful, rubbing his chin and studying her. “Actresses are assumed to hold two occupations, one on stage and one on their backs.” Sam blinked at his bluntness. “I do not believe you came here to do either. You were shocked Mrs. Hayes sold your evening to me, and an abbess like her keeps a very close eye on her nuns. You wouldn’t be allowed the freedom of other actors.”

  “I already told you I hadn’t known what Mrs. Hayes intended.” Sam finally got the nun joke, though it was way too late to beat the punch line. “You said you would guess why I was in London. You haven’t guessed anything yet.”

  “No, I haven’t.” He spoke with half of a smile, but it didn’t last long. “It is impossible that you are alone in London. Why does someone cross an ocean alone only to arrive a pauper? I wager you came with your husband, who was the true Loyalist, but he perished at sea and you’ve no money to return. Otherwise, the widow before me would not be so impoverished as to need the shelter of Mrs. Hayes.”

  She held up her left hand. “Why am I not wearing a wedding ring? Do you think I’m the kind of woman who would sell the only memento of her dead husband?”

  His gaze was unwavering. “Is that not a memento hanging from your neck?” Sam’s lips fell open and she touched the face of her locket. How had she forgotten it?

  “No one gave this to me. I found it.” That was a lie. She had “found” it at the shop and had decided to keep it as her birthday present to herself. Brian hadn’t seemed to notice.

  “Someone as beautiful as you should not have to resort to thievery. You would have all the gifts you could ever want.”

  Sam scoffed at the backhanded compliment, even if he had hit upon some truth. “Your flattery is misplaced. You’re trying too hard.”

  “Madam, I haven’t even begun to try.” Amusement pulled at the corners of his mouth, but his eyes conveyed something far different. “And no man in his right mind could ever say you were anything but beautiful.”

  That got her heart racing, but she couldn’t let him persuade her into anything, no matter how his words made her feel. She wondered
again why a man like him would patronize a brothel. He could easily scratch his itch with lots of other women, no matter her circumstances, and at least save himself the fee. Was it simply the times?

  “How much did you pay Mrs. Hayes?” Perhaps what he wanted from her wasn’t sex, but information. Did he want to know how much she had overheard?

  It was a few seconds before he answered. “I’d have paid ten times what she asked, if you are referring to the worth of a few hours of your time.”

  She slid closer to him, hoping her questions made him uncomfortable. Maybe she could turn the conversation around. Maybe she could guilt him enough to make him leave. “I’m curious, lieutenant. What was the price of my evening?”

  “More than twice a month’s wages for a typical laborer.” Her eyes bulged. Holy shit.

  She recovered quickly. “The Royal Navy must pay well.”

  “My small fortune is thanks to the prize money from sinking and capturing enemy vessels.”

  “American ships?”

  “Most of our engagements were with the French.”

  “Is that why you paid so much for me tonight, to claim another prize?”

  “Come now, madam. You were eager for my attention at the theater. I did not hide my regard—”

  “But you saw me with Mrs. Hayes and you knew what she was.”

  He rested his elbows on his thighs, and Sam realized just how close she was sitting to him. His knees were only a couple of inches from hers.

  “Tell me that you did not feel an attraction,” he challenged. “Tell me you did not feel a pull between us when our eyes met in the market.” His voice became a whisper and his eyes watched her mouth. “Tell me you do not want this.”

  She swallowed hard. Okay, so maybe he did want sex from her. “I did feel an attraction.” His knee touched hers as he eased closer. “But with payment comes expectation and obligation. There’s no desire or choice.”

  The corner of his mouth curled. “Only because the payment was given to Mrs. Hayes, the choice made by her, but if I were to present the decision now, what would you choose?”

  Sam pressed her lips together, afraid they might betray her feelings, but she couldn’t stop the voice in her head that eagerly shouted that she would concede, would lie beneath him the entire night, but why now and not any other opportunity with Brian? She knew the answer to that, though. Brian had never intended to have sex with her—it hadn’t interested him and she stupidly held a torch for him anyway. Then what did she have to lose now? If she did as expected, Mrs. Hayes would have no reason to use Mr. Hull against her.

  However, the lieutenant had already paid Mrs. Hayes and he said he wasn’t going to force her. Why should she have to let him do anything?

  She heard the soft scrape of the stool as the lieutenant slid it back and dropped to his knees in front of her. She jumped when his fingers gently touched her leg and she pushed his hand away, but even the brief brush of their fingers made her palms itch.

  “Wait.” The way her heart pounded reminded her of the kiss he laid on her hand at the theater. She knew she should move away from him, but she didn’t. If only he’d give her a moment to think.

  “I will give you the decision.” He slid his hands beneath her knees. “But you already know the answer, don’t you?” He tugged her to the edge of the bed, eliciting a gasp. He squeezed her thighs and leaned toward her. She realized he was going to kiss her and she held him back with her hands pressed against his chest. She tried not to notice the muscles beneath her fingers.

  “How can I decide if you’re touching me?”

  His wide smile wasn’t amused this time. It was sinful. “Then you haven’t decided to say no yet.” His hands smoothed up her stockings. She shivered, her thighs clenching.

  “I shouldn’t do this.” His hands slid all the way to the ribbons holding up her stockings. “Not like this.”

  “Not like what?” He leaned against her locked arms and pushed her onto her back. His wide shoulders blocked out the light from the candles. “What can I do to make you comfortable?”

  “You can give me some slack.” Her heart was in her throat and she could feel the pulse at her neck. When he lifted her knees, the skirt of her chemise slid up her thighs. She grabbed at it, pushing the skirt between her legs to cover herself even while trying to keep her other arm locked and holding him at bay.

  “You did not mind my forwardness at the theater.”

  “Well, this is a whole new level of forwardness.” She needed him to give up. He had to give up before she gave in. She wanted this so badly but couldn’t help but think she’d regret it. “I don’t know you, lieutenant,” she said desperately.

  “I wish to know you,” he whispered, “and call me Ryder.” His hands found the naked skin of her upper thighs and squeezed. He softly inhaled through his teeth.

  “You paid for me! Doesn’t that bother you?” His hands didn’t stop. They sought the curves of her waist and the flare of her hips. Swirls of tingling warmth bloomed wherever he touched her. His needy moan made it feel even better.

  “I don’t care about the money, Samantha.” His voice was rough. “I only care about your decision.” He slid one knee onto the bed and tucked it beneath her thigh.

  “But I’ve never…” Oh God, had she really taken this long? What was she so afraid of? What was she protecting? Good guys who cared about her had desired her. Why hadn’t that been enough?

  “What have you never, Samantha?”

  He was too heavy. Her elbow buckled and he fell against her. His groin pressed against the back of her hand, which was still shielding the crux of her thighs. His face was so near. A few strands of his hair had come loose from his ponytail and tickled her cheek. He smelled like vanilla and wine.

  “I’ve never been with a man before,” she admitted.

  He stopped moving and stared at her. His eyebrows were pinched, his mouth open. Had she turned him off? Had he realized his widow theory was incorrect? Had he believed her at all?

  He shifted his weight onto one elbow, revealing more of the candlelight. “Move your hand.” His voice sounded strange and his half-lit expression was serious. She shook her head. If he touched her, he’d find out just how much she wanted him. The thought of his fingers there…

  “Move your hand,” he repeated. “Let me touch you.” His fingers were on her wrist. His lips brushed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. “Let me touch you where no one else has.”

  The warm slide of arousal preceded a full-body shiver. That voice of his was an aphrodisiac, low and smooth with just a little edge to it, as though he smoked but only on occasion. She exhaled and closed her eyes. She lifted her hand away and laid it beside her head. He pushed up the skirt of her chemise, exposing her. When he touched her thigh, she turned her head away.

  “No, look at me.” His hand stayed where it was. “Look at me while I touch you.” She made a soft noise and turned her head back, shyly meeting his eyes. The way he stared at her…

  He cupped his palm against her and pressed his longest finger between the lips of her vagina. Arousal flashed across his face. His sharp groan surprised her.

  “Already wet,” he growled. Another of his fingers sank between her lips, though neither had penetrated yet. He massaged the aching flesh. She clamped her teeth together, softly hissing. It was like every nerve ending in her body ended right under his palm.

  Then he found her clit and she nearly bucked him off. “Oh God!” He laid more of his weight upon her, pinning her hip while the pad of his finger pulled up on that bundle of nerves.

  “Ah, you want more like this.” He pressed and rolled her clit. She couldn’t help the little noises eking out. Her legs were shaking. She couldn’t endure his gaze anymore and squeezed her eyes shut.

  He kissed her as his finger teasingly brushed past the entrance to her body. She convulsively gripped his upper arm, felt his muscles flex as his hand pleasured her. His firm lips slanted across hers, opening her up for
his tongue to slide inside. She had French kissed before but Ryder didn’t kiss as if he was simply excited. He kissed to arouse, to put her under a spell, and he excelled at it.

  She squeezed her thighs around the delicious force that swirled her clit. She lifted her hips into the press of his finger. He raised his mouth from hers to press kisses to her neck and the relief of fresh air did nothing for her sanity. Even with her eyes closed, the room was spinning.

  With a shudder, he curved closer to her. “The moment I saw you in that dress, I needed to have you,” he growled.

  “Ryder,” she moaned. “I—”

  She shouldn’t want him and what he did to her, but she did. She wanted his desire, his blunt ardor. Her world was in shambles and she needed this release, needed him.

  That hot, shimmering sensation washed over her, flushing her face and tilting the room on her. She clutched him close and moaned against his cheek. Her vagina pulsed, releasing waves of warm, wet pleasure. He slowed his hand but the flutter of muscles continued.

  Sam could barely keep her eyes open, too satiated to move. She lost her grip on his shoulders and her hands flopped onto the bed. Another heady pulsation of pleasure drew out a sigh of satisfaction. His hand still massaged her and she wondered if he could feel every little twinge. Through heavy eyelids she saw him smile knowingly. Oh yeah, he could feel them.

  “That was my first time to third base,” she said after a moment’s rest. “With someone else, at least.”

  “To what?” he asked with a light chuckle. “Is that an American expression?”

  “Uh, yeah, third base means what we just did.”

  “Do you mean to say that you’ve done this alone by yourself?” Her answer was a smile. He purred with approval and kissed her neck. “It would be most agreeable to witness that.”

  Hell’s bells! He was getting her hot and bothered all over again.

  “Is there a fourth base?” he asked.

  “Home base.” Hot shivers ran through her at the thought.