EscapeWithMe Page 6

  “And what happens then?”

  As Ryder strung kisses along the column of her throat, half a dozen words rose up that could describe the act, but they all sounded too modern or blunt. She had the feeling none of them would do justice to going all the way with Ryder.

  “Shall I show you?” he offered.

  Oh God yes. She nodded since she didn’t trust herself to speak. He leaned up and tossed aside his vest. As he untied the cravat at his neck, she saw that his eyes weren’t on her face. They were trained on the crux of her thighs. His erection was pushing against the front of his breeches.

  “You see how much I want you?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. He pulled his shirt free of his breeches with a jerk and then went after the fore-flap of his pants. When his hand slipped inside his breeches, she couldn’t help a little moan. His cock emerged and he lowered his hips to rub the head up and down the lips of her vagina. She lifted her legs and laid her calves against his rear, urging him to hurry.

  Some sort of commotion erupted in another part of the house. A door slammed and she heard yelling. Sam looked at the door, but Ryder gently turned her face back to him. He pressed one hand to the bed next to her shoulder, shoring himself over her and notching the tip of his cock between the lips of her vagina.

  “We’ll go slowly.” He gently pressed forward. She clenched at the uncomfortable tightness.

  “Just do it.” She pulled him closer with her legs and the discomfort worsened, but Ryder forced his hips back and removed the pressure.

  “Slowly, Samantha.” He almost sounded drunk, breathless and slurring just a little. He slid one arm under her shoulders and his lips were there on her mouth. She opened up without needing to be coaxed. Her arms wrapped around him and her thighs tightened against his sides.

  Another muffled slam. A girl shrieked. Then more yelling, a man and a woman.

  His hips pushed and the pressure returned. It hurt. She must’ve made a noise because he pulled back again. “That’s right,” he said between kisses. “Slowly.”

  He leaned on one elbow and swept his hand down her body to squeeze between them. His palm soothingly rubbed the lips of her vagina. “Does that feel better?” She nodded. He spread her open and nudged her with his cock. “But you want this, don’t you?” He pressed. She gasped and he left her again, massaging her with his hand.

  Sam couldn’t believe how crazy he made her. Only a moment before, she had found release and now she was throbbing for him again. She needed him to claim her. His fingers parted the lips of her vagina and the head of his swollen cock tested the barrier of her virginity once more.

  She heard footsteps coming up the stairs. The yelling was getting much closer.

  More pressure. She tried to relax, to ignore whatever was going on outside the door, to enjoy the weight of his body and the taste of his mouth. He pushed harder and she hissed. He pulled back.

  “Almost there.” He was watching her and if her cheeks weren’t already bright red, they would’ve been. He pressed. Her body stiffened as the pain spiked. He didn’t pull back this time, only paused for a few seconds and then pushed again.

  “Harder.” She fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled his weight down on her. He bucked into her. A hard pinch and then his cock was sinking into her, the entire length filling her up until the seat of his hips was wedged tightly between her thighs.

  She whimpered as he groaned. The walls of her vagina pulsed, stretched sweetly to accommodate the hard length buried inside. The streaking pain faded a little, and she realized she had gone stiff. A deep breath and her shoulders settled into the mattress. The wave of regret she had dreaded never came.

  “Samantha.” He sounded startled. “Forgive me. I tried to be gentle.” He brought his hand to her face and his thumb brushed aside the tear on her cheek. Why was she crying? She was relieved it was over, that it was an attentive lover who did it.

  The bedroom door slammed open.

  Sam gasped. Her eyes flew to the door where a strange man stood, his eyes wide with shock. A very angry Mrs. Hayes stood behind him. Realizing just how she and Ryder looked lying there on the bed with his hips between her legs, she experienced an entirely new plane of mortification. She hid herself against Ryder’s chest and was grateful when he attempted to shield her with his body.

  “Get out!” he roared.

  “You see?” Mrs. Hayes said with exasperation. “It’s like I told you. Mr. West is otherwise engaged. I’m terribly sorry, sir,” she said to Ryder.

  “Leave us,” he barked.

  “Of course—”

  “I’ll not leave without performing my duty,” the man interrupted. She heard him take a step into the room.

  Oh God, she was going to faint from humiliation if he didn’t leave in the next five seconds. Ryder was still inside her!

  “You will allow this woman a moment’s privacy,” Ryder said. “Both of you.” In this it seemed that Ryder was obeyed. She opened her eyes and looked back at the door to see that both Mrs. Hayes and the stranger had turned around. Ryder gently pulled out of her and she stifled any hiss of pain. He grabbed the blanket and covered her before quickly stuffing himself back into his breeches. She gathered the blanket around herself and sat up.

  Ryder stood up from the bed. “Who are you and why in God’s name are you here?” The dark-haired man turned around and lifted his hard jaw.

  “My name is Webb, and I’ve come to see you hang for murder.”

  Chapter Four

  Ryder couldn’t breathe, couldn’t coax his tongue into defending him.

  “Do you deny it, sir? Or shall I escort you to the magistrate’s office?” Webb asked.

  He felt Samantha’s gaze on the back of his head, heard her soft gasp of surprise. He was instantly disgusted with himself for his hesitation. He clenched his hands, pulled in a deep breath and forced his lips to speak.

  “I most certainly deny it. What proof do you have of any of this?”

  The man’s eyes flashed. “I’ve severalwitnesses who say you bribed a tidesman by the name of Simon Carter in full view of those working the docks in Lydd.”

  It took only a second for Ryder to realize Webb’s mistake, and to know that he had indeed found the right brothel. He needed to know the evidence against Phillip.

  “I don’t know any man by the name of Carter, nor have I ever been within fifty miles of Lydd.”

  “You lie,” Webb hissed. “Just ten days past your ship was docked there.”

  Damn it all. With witnesses and a dock record, it would be nearly impossible to avoid Phillip’s arrest. “I do not captain my father’s ship.”

  “Then can you explain why you are listed as captain and why the witnesses knew your name?”

  Phillip, you stupid fool. Ryder knew that collusion was common between so-called free traders and local officials, but to be so blatant…

  “Your witnesses say that I bribed him, but they do not say I killed him.”

  “The bribe was a half-anker of brandy. He was found dead next to the open cask the next morning. The physician says he was poisoned.”

  Dread compressed Ryder’s heart. Prison would be a lenient punishment. For the first time since he arrived in London, he feared for Phillip’s life.

  “I wager you’ll find it difficult to prosecute me, Mr. Webb, since I am Ryder West, Phillip’s younger brother.”

  Webb spluttered. He looked at Mrs. Hayes, who raised her eyebrows in ignorance of his silent question. He then shook his head. “Impossible. Ryder West is still in the colonies,” he insisted.

  “I arrived in London two days ago. My captain will attest to that fact.”

  Webb gnashed his teeth. He ran his hand through his graying hair, mussing it as he turned this way and that in an attempt to pace across the small room. “Ryder West. Not Phillip, but Ryder.” He fisted his hand in his hair. “Damn it. Damn, damn.”

  He abruptly turned to Ryder. “Tell me where your brother is. Carter was corrupt bu
t he did not deserve to die.”

  “I’ve not seen my brother since my return. Neither has my father, who is in no condition to tolerate your form of interrogation.”

  “William West is ill? Good riddance,” Webb spat. Ryder nearly put the man on the ground. His shaking fist ached to break a bone in Webb’s face.

  “Mr. Webb, I must ask that you leave,” Mrs. Hayes said. Ryder pulled his eyes away from Webb and saw that the same hulking man who had manned the front door now stood behind the bawd. “Mr. Hull will see you out, sir.”

  Webb spoke through a stiff jaw. “Of course, madam.” He turned to Ryder. “I know of your brother’s debts and habits. I’ll find him eventually.” Webb then addressed Samantha, having thus far ignored her. “You have my apologies, miss. Please forgive me.”

  Ryder looked over his shoulder at her. Her eye contact with Webb was brief and she said nothing to him. She dropped her gaze only to look up at Ryder. Her deep-red hair had mostly fallen from its arrangement atop her head, the thick locks hanging about her smooth neck and shoulders. Her unique locket dangled just an inch above the neckline of her chemise. Her cheeks were still flushed and she was doing her best to hide behind the bedclothes.

  The intimidating Mr. Hull was silent as he tailed Webb from the room.

  Rather than leave, Mrs. Hayes pushed the door nearly shut. “Far be it for me to linger, lieutenant, but I have information you’ll want to hear.”

  “About?”

  “Your brother, the one Mr. Webb is looking for.”

  “He has been here.” He had heard that Mrs. Hayes had dealings with his brother, and it was lucky coincidence that he overheard her name at the theater. Once he knew that Samantha was one of hers, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

  “Several times. In fact, he was here yesterday.”

  “Are you aware of his current whereabouts?”

  She nodded. “He’s to spend this evening playing faro at Mrs. Archer’s on New Bond Street.”

  “Do you know the house number?” Mrs. Hayes shook her head. “Very well. If you would oblige me by waiting outside, madam, I’ll be taking my leave shortly.”

  “Oui, monsieur. I’ll be at the stairs,” she said with a quick curtsy. She shut the door behind her. Ryder turned back to the bed just as Samantha let out a sigh of relief.

  “Well,” she said, “that explains a lot.”

  “Don’t let it concern you. In fact, I’d appreciate your silence.”

  “What would you give me for my silence?”

  He paused in the middle of tying his cravat, not anticipating Samantha’s question. “What would you want?”

  “I need you to come back tomorrow.”

  Grinning, he made a presentable knot in his cravat. He then leaned over her to grab his vest and stopped to speak in her ear. “Madam, rest assured that on the morrow, I shall return to spend the night between those beautiful thighs.”

  “You think I’ll let you do this again, huh?”

  He shrugged into his vest. “No matter the reason why you’ve asked me to return, I shall have you, and I shall finish the both of us with your legs around my waist.” Her face betrayed her shock, but she covered it up quickly.

  “We’ll see about that.” Her chin went up, her lips pressing together.

  A rough sound rose from the back of his throat. He tore the bedclothes from her hands and hauled her to her feet. Her gasp of surprise made his heart pound even faster. He kissed her, clamping her against him with one hand at her waist and the other cupping her delicious backside.

  He smugly noted that she did not try to turn her face away, nor did she attempt to keep his tongue out. Instead, she tilted her head to allow for a deeper kiss and sweetly parted her lips beneath his kiss. He took full advantage and pressed his still-swollen cock against her abdomen. He savored her taste, breathed in her clean scent and stroked her soft curves. He moaned at the thought of thrusting himself inside her.

  When she looped her arms around his shoulders, he remembered that he couldn’t stay. He growled in frustration and lifted his head. Her expression was surely the same as his—affected.

  “Would that the circumstances were different, madam,” he said gruffly. She flinched and dropped her gaze. She then sat on the bed.

  “Very different.”

  He buttoned his vest. “You are thinking of what Mrs. Hayes intends for you.”

  She couldn’t quite conceal the fright in her eyes. He clenched his jaw and smoothed his vest. What could he do? He didn’t have much more to offer her than Mrs. Hayes—either of them could land her in Bridewell as his own plans did not guarantee much safety. And what obligation did he have to offer her anything?

  However much he wanted to.

  She softly scoffed at his silence. “Just go. You’ll feel better when you do.” Her words were meant to sting and they did. His hands fisted and he punched them into the bed on either side of her, forcing her to lean back on her elbows.

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “To come back tomorrow. Neither of us can expect much more than that.”

  “Exactly.” He wanted his words to sting as much as hers did. The flicker in her hard expression told him he hit the mark. She knew of his brother but what did that earn her? His family deserved more from him than a whore he’d met only hours ago.

  You made her a whore. He growled at the thought and stood straight. He snatched his coat from the chair by the bed and without preamble left the room.

  “Ready then, sir?” Mrs. Hayes called. He nodded and met her at the top of the stairs. He noted with bemusement that she had coaxed her bodice down an inch to better display her bosom.

  “I’ll see myself out, madam, but…” Unable to bear the tightness in his chest, he reached into his pocket and pulled out another five pounds. Her eyes widened at the sight of it. “No one else is to touch her. I shall return tomorrow at eight.” He handed over the money and watched it disappear into the bawd’s bodice.

  “One last thing.” His hand shot out and grabbed her throat.

  Mrs. Hayes would have gasped if he had let her. Instead she made a croaking noise and frantically clutched his wrist. He leaned in, ignoring her weak punches against his arm and chest. Her throat flexed in his grip as she tried to breathe.

  “If you do not obey me in this—if I return to find that she has been molested in any way—you will pay me a pound in flesh for every pound I’ve just given you, and I shall make that bodyguard of yours watch. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. He let her go and went downstairs.

  * * * * *

  Sam laid her cheek against the mussed blanket, breathing out and closing her eyes. More of the poem made sense to her now. Ryder was likely the owl, and his brother the mouse, though Webb’s tenacious hunt for Phillip West could peg him as the owl as well. Knowing that, she had to ensure that Ryder would return, even if it was for an implied offer of sex. She’d follow the breadcrumbs and hope for some answers along the way.

  She heard the murmur of a short conversation between Mrs. Hayes and the lieutenant and then the sound of Ryder’s footsteps descending the stairs. She could still smell him on her, that heady mixture of vanilla and wine. The mild ache between her thighs evoked a full-body shiver as she recalled the weight of his body and the press of his hips. She clenched the bedding with the memory of his hands, his lips, his voice.

  For the hundredth time that day, Sam thought of Brian and what he had done to her, how he had manipulated her. The lieutenant and her inhibitions had clashed for—hell, ten minutes at most, yet Brian had never tried anything more than a kiss. She remembered anxiously inviting Brian into her apartment one evening after he had been particularly charming, but he simply gave her a chaste kiss and said he didn’t want to ruin her beauty sleep. The very thought of lying with Ryder again made her skin flush, but every time she had tried to imagine what it would be like with Brian, she only worked up anxieties about the way she looked.

  Mrs. Hay
es approached the bedroom. Sam looked up as the door opened.

  “A fat cull indeed.” Mrs. Hayes rubbed her neck. “He was about to give you a nice tumble, n’est-ce pas?”

  Sam frowned and sat up. “How could you lie to me?”

  “Very easily,” Mrs. Hayes said with narrowed eyes. “I could smell the desperation on you the moment that puff guts dropped his cabbages, and desperate girls believe anything.”

  “You tricked me.” She pounded her fist on the bed.

  “Miss Reed, you make it sound as though you did not at all suspect my trade. The downstairs salon alone should have given it away. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

  “What else could I have done? This was my only option—”

  “Well there you have it, mademoiselle.” Mrs. Hayes stepped close, looming over Sam. “For women in our situation, this is the only alternative. This is all I’ve known ever since Jane Douglas fed me the same lie thirty years ago. You wouldn’t have lasted more than a night or two if you hadn’t met me. Here you’ve good food and a bed. You’ll have a decent income if you do as you’re told. Your handsome jack tar has already paid for your board for the month.”

  Sam swallowed, swiftly coming to understand just how deep her ocean of problems was. The woman’s logic was sickeningly sound. “How do you do it? You lie with whoever pays most and without any respect or affection.”

  “What is it that you just did with the lieutenant?”

  Sam’s face burned with shame. She looked down at the bedding and swallowed the urge to cry. Mrs. Hayes was right. Sam had nothing and no one to protect her. She had pounced on her only opportunity for food and shelter, and she had been perfectly willing to give sexual favors to a paying customer. What moral high ground did she have to stand on?

  “Attraction is enough. You’ll learn that soon enough. Even then, money is usually the only attraction.” Mrs. Hayes walked around to the foot of the bed. “Now stand up.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll stand up now or I’ll have Mr. Hull come in here.”

  Again, the urge to cry nearly overtook her. She pushed herself to the edge of the bed and stood while wishing she had the guts to slap Mrs. Hayes. Though she towered over the shorter woman, she was docile as Mrs. Hayes pulled her chemise up and over her head.