Wrong Place. Wrong Time. Right Viscount.

Chapter 12

“And he had an absolutely massive cock,” Lord Churchill said to the group sitting on the terrace. A large gathering of the Ton was there, some having tea, others playing games on the expansive lawn. Alec was seated across the table and a few seats away from Jocelyn and Elle, the women politely listening to Lord Churchill regale everyone with stories of his recent travels.

Elle snorted and choked on her tea, quickly covering it all with a cough. Jocelyn gave her a stern look and Alec would have bet a kick under the table, and Elle pulled her lips in—trying to hide a smile? Alec watched their exchange with curiosity from his spot. Elle briefly met his eyes, but cut them away quickly. Did she…did she understand what the term cock could mean? His eyes widened, but he swiftly schooled his features, smiling blandly at Lord Churchill but looking at Elle out of the corner of his eye. Most ladies didn’t even know basic knowledge about their own bodies, let alone about a man’s or the various terms for such things.

“Are you alright, Miss Montgomery?” Lord Churchill asked gently.

“Yes, yes, of course. Apologies Lord Churchill.” She cleared her throat delicately and then asked, “How was it that you came to have knowledge of Mister Rutherford’s…cock?” Her lips twitched at the corners and Jocelyn looked skyward, as if praying for patience, though there was a trace of amusement there as well.

“Oh, well, he had it out for all to see, of course. Right there in his front garden, if you can believe it.” Elle’s face turned red with the effort to keep herself from laughing, and even Jocelyn looked to be on the verge of tears. Oh yes, Elle knew exactly what that word meant. She surprises me at every turn. The meeting between her and his father had been perfect, though he and his childhood follies and mishaps seemed to be the crux of their conversation and endless laughter. He smiled at the memories. Though the courting was a farce, he had wanted his father to like Eleanor, for her to enjoy Jonathan’s company, and he couldn’t put his finger on why precisely. It didn’t truly matter if they actually liked each other in the end, but for some reason to him, it did.

Since that first dinner, they had become thick as thieves, Elle coming to see Jonathan several times and the two of them talking for hours about everything and nothing it seemed. More than once, just as dessert had been served, Jonathan would need Alec to fetch something for him, only to come back to his plate empty and Jonathan and Eleanor looking innocent as cherubs with chocolate on their fingers. Alec always pinned them with narrowed, accusing looks, but that only made the two of them break into fits of laughter and, admittedly, made him smile more often than not.

Elle seemed inexplicably at ease with Jonathan, the two of them having some strange connection that Alec couldn’t understand. He asked Elle about it and she simply shrugged and smiled, saying that Jonathan reminded her of her own father. There had been a sad edge to the smile then, but Alec didn’t press. It was clear that she had loved her father and missed him, and if spending time with Jonathan eased whatever ache she felt in his absence, then Alec would be the whipping boy to a hundred embarrassing tales from when he was a boy, a thousand. Anything. He frowned inwardly, not wanting to examine that particular thought too closely, and pulled himself back to the conversation at hand.

“How interesting,” Elle said, voice shaking subtly. “And did you stroke his cock?”

Now Alec coughed into his fist and Jocelyn quickly cut in at Lord Churchill’s confused look.

“Elle, why don’t you go explore the gardens? Lord Churchill has some of the most beautiful gardens in all of London,” she said with an indulgent smile towards the old man.

“Yes, I would like that very much, if that’s alright with you, Lord Churchill.” She inclined her head, giving him that brilliant smile of hers that seemed to melt even the coldest of hearts. As expected, Lord Churchill’s confusion ebbed, giving way to beaming pride.

“Yes, yes, of course, my dear, of course.”

“I shall accompany you,” Alec said quickly, standing from the table. This earned him a few knowing looks, a handful of smiles, and one or two barely veiled scowls.

He escorted Elle across the lawn, avoiding a lively game of croquet, and towards a white gazebo near the garden, crawling ivy and small pink flowers winding their way around the columns and roof, their perfume enveloping them as they stepped within the space. Elle leaned her arms on the railing, looking out over the gathering.

“So,” he said, leaning beside her. “You find cocks funny?” She snorted out a laugh, but this time, didn’t try to hide it. He eyed her. “Now I know for sure that you understand that particular term.” She hiked one shoulder. “It isn’t something a lady would typically be aware of,” he added, urging her to answer his unasked question, the one burning his tongue in its desperation to escape: How do you know? Were Americans in the habit of saying such things in front of ladies? Had she heard it somewhere else? His mind flitted to a secret gaming hall he liked to frequent, where the rules of society didn’t exist. Men and women mingled and gambled and drank and danced, free of the strangling etiquette that was constantly surrounding him. Could…could Elle have been to such a place? Would she want to go? He imagined taking her to Puck’s and found that he rather liked the idea.

“I told you the first night we met that I never claimed to be a lady.” She grinned and returned her gaze to the lawn and garden surrounding them. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “most of them don’t have the foggiest idea about sex, have no idea what to expect on their wedding night.”

“Well, of course not,” he said dryly, “God forbid a woman understand how she become with child.” As a physician, Alec had always disliked how little women were told about all manner of things, but especially sex and childbirth. Why shouldn’t they be told of such things? It wasn’t only a natural part of life, but for most women, it was considered their duty to produce heirs, sometimes as young as sixteen or seventeen. They should be prepared, should be made to understand what would happen to them, to understand how their own bodies worked for God’s sake. But, for whatever reason, the rest of society didn’t agree with him on that front. Shocking, he thought with an inward roll of his eyes.

Elle glanced sidelong at him, and that calculating look blazed in her eyes, the one that made his pulse race, though he had no idea why. Nonchalantly she said, “Most of them may even go their entire lives without knowing what an orgasm even is, let alone experiencing one.”

Alec’s mouth gaped and his elbow slid off of the railing, sending him flailing like a duck.

“Or-orgasm?” he repeated, hoarsely, the word coming out as a question. His mind was whirling. He’d never heard a lady say the word, had never in his wildest imaginings envisioned having a conversation that involved this topic with anyone, especially not Elle.

She turned to face him, her smile mischievous. “Climax? Completion?” she said innocently. “Perhaps you use a different term here.” God in heaven. Believing that women should be educated in the ways of sex and reproduction, and hearing Elle talk about…about climaxing were two very different things. Why was this so…arousing to him? Why was his throat so dry he could barely swallow, his heart beating so fast he feared she might be able to hear the thunder of it within his chest, his cock suddenly throbbing so insistently it was painful?

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “Eleanor. Have you…have you been with a man?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking, though he knew he shouldn’t. Despite how casual they’d become with each other, it wasn’t a proper thing for him to even think about, let alone actually ask. But the words had left his lips before he could stop them. He braced, prepared for her to be outraged at his behavior, but her grin only widened.

“Would it make you think less of me if I had, Alec?” There was amusement in her tone, as if the question were humorous for a reason he couldn’t understand.

His mouth opened to respond, but no words came out. The part of him that had been raised in high society said that of course he would. She was unmarried and being with a man would mean that she was…tainted.

But the part of him that was imaging her in the throes of passion, her golden hair spread across the pillow, her lips parted on a cry of ecstasy as he rose above her…absolutely would not.

Before he could say anything, she turned and held his gaze, leaning towards him ever so slightly.

“But come now, Alec. You know that a woman can find release without a man…don’t you?” Her voice was pitched low, a velvety sultriness to it that he’d never heard before but he knew would replay over and over in his mind for far too long to come.

He watched raptly as she slowly trailed her fingers down the bodice of her sky-blue gown, over her stomach, lower still…His breath caught as thoughts filled his mind. Terrible thoughts. Brilliant thoughts. Thoughts that made his cock pulse and his pulse race. Thoughts of Eleanor alone in her bed, fingers drifting downward beneath the covers, stroking and teasing before slipping inside—Dear God.

She pulled her hand away, resting it on the railing again. His wide eyes met hers and they were filled with amusement. Amusement and something else. Before either of them could say or do anything more, Rosie called for them to come join the croquet game. Elle held his gaze for a moment longer, something burning there that he longed to explore, but she quickly shut it away, as if a blanket had been thrown over a fire, smothering the flames. She smiled and gestured towards the lawn, as if they’d just been discussing the weather and not things that were unacceptable and ungentlemanly and wholly erotic.

“Shall we?” she asked sweetly.

***

Elle had made a grave mistake. She’d wanted to mess with Alec in the gazebo, push the limits of their newfound friendship and the freedom that came with it. But the way he’d stared at her as she hinted at things, running her fingers down her body, the way his tongue had absently darted over his bottom lip, the way his eyes had flared with desire…Well, her plan had backfired. Big time.

A small ember had flared to life as their gazes held, as her mind ran wild with images of kissing him, of showing him just how much she knew about sex and pleasure. Now, it burned in her chest and she couldn’t snuff it out. She laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling, and as her thoughts wandered yet again, the ember grew hotter and hotter. She kicked the blankets off, the room suddenly stifling. She knew that the thoughts weren’t going to go away on their own, that the fire was only going to burn and burn until it consumed her wholly—or until she did something about it.

She trailed her fingers downward, under the edge of her nightgown. It had been a while since she’d done this with everything else going on. Time travel and being told you’re stuck two hundred years in the past kind of puts being horny on the back-burner, after all.

Now, the slightest touch had her gasping and arching her hips upward, as if she hadn’t been touched in years instead of months. She didn’t try to keep Alec from her thoughts. Their relationship was fake, their courtship merely a mutually beneficial friendship in disguise, but she couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him. Why shouldn’t she fantasize about him? What harm could it do? Not a damn bit.

So, she did fantasize about him. She let herself imagine ripping the shirt from his broad chest, running her hands over the sculpted muscles she could tell were hiding just beneath the fabric. She let herself imagine kissing him, wondered if his lips would be as soft as they looked, wondered if he would kiss her gently or like he’d die without it, slamming his lips to hers until they were breathless. She imagined his hands on her body as she delved her fingers, slowly thrusting, rolling her hips. A soft moan left her lips as she imagined him dipping his head to her breast, latching his lips around a tightened nipple, her fingers digging into his hair to hold him there. She imagined him groaning against her skin, his fingers trailing downward…

All too soon, it was too much and she plummeted over the edge of bliss, barely stifling a scream. She lay panting afterwards, surprised by the force of her climax. She hadn’t come that hard in…well, too long to remember, honestly. Was it just because it had been a while, or was it the thoughts of Alec? No. She couldn’t let herself start really getting into him, or worse, actually falling. This wasn’t serious, this was just a game. At the end of the season, they would part ways. She’d go back to Chestwick Hall and try to find a way back home, or, if that proved impossible, try to figure out what kind of life she could have here. He would go back to doing whatever it was he wanted to do, she guessed.

A pang sliced through her chest at the thought of not seeing him, of not walking through the park or having tea or smiling as Callum told stories of Alec and Rosie as children; of not watching his cheeks heat or him roar in laughter while Jonathan told Elle tales about him over lunch in the garden; of not having him in her life.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she groaned, throwing her arms over her face. She wasn’t just friends with him, not anymore. Once the mask had fallen away and she’d seen the real him, she’d connected with him in a way that she hadn’t connected with someone in a long time. Even without being able to share her true past with him, she somehow felt more like herself around him than she had in years. She couldn’t even explain it, other than to admit that she had feelings for him. Her stomach knotted, knowing that they were feelings that didn’t matter, couldn’t matter. It wasn’t like they could just date in this time. It was all or nothing here, so her answer had to be nothing.

Didn’t it?

***

As soon as she saw Alec the next afternoon, her cheeks flushed. The night before came flooding back, the things she’d thought, the release she’d found with his face flashing behind her eyes. He looked at her curiously, and she quickly teased him about his hair being a mess before he could somehow read her every thought. She forced herself to get her shit under control before that evening, when yet another dance would mean low whispers and their bodies being agonizingly close, but not nearly close enough. Doesn’t matter. We’re just friends. And unfortunately, friends with benefits isn’t exactly a thing yet.

She managed to keep her thoughts mostly PG-13 rated throughout the day, but when she saw him at the ball, they veered into NC-17 with squealing tires and burning rubber. He looked far too handsome tonight. Black coat, deep cerulean waistcoat and cravat, and everything just had to fit him like a fucking glove, didn’t it? She scowled inwardly, sighing at the same time. Life just really wasn’t fair.

When he smiled over the rim of his glass at her, or gave her a surreptitious wink at some inside joke, her pulse beat wildly, her skin flushing. She needed to get a grip, but she couldn’t quite manage it. She was going to blame the lack of physical contact for her overstimulated state, for the fact that a single sidelong glance or the merest press of their palms could make her shudder.

In between their usual banter and teasing gossip about the other party-goers, Alec seemed to be holding something back. He would study her, open his mouth to speak, hesitate, and then say something that Elle knew for a fact wasn’t what he’d originally planned.

“Will you please tell me what’s been on your mind all evening?” she finally snapped at him in irritation. They circled each other and she quirked a brow at him in challenge.

“What makes you think—”

“Alec,” she said in a low voice when he circled behind her, his body so close that she could feel his heat against her back. She momentarily wanted to melt into him, wanted so desperately to ignore all the rules and just turn and wrap herself around him, feel him in her arms, feel his heart beating against hers. She shook herself.

“I know you well enough by now to know. So, just say it already.”

A lead weight suddenly settled in her stomach. Was he going to call off their deal? Was there someone else he had his eye on for real? Why did that thought bother her so much? It was his right, his duty some would say, to find a wife and end this little charade. But that didn’t mean she was going to like it. She held her breath as she waited for his response.

“The first night we met, you told me that you weren’t a lady.”

She blinked, confused. “Yes…?”

“And you’ve reminded me of that fact several times since then.”

“Uh huh…” she confirmed as they slowly circled each other again, palm to palm.

“Would you say that that is still an accurate statement?” His lips were curling upwards slightly and the knot of unease in her belly unfurled. Whatever he wanted to say, it wasn’t anything she should be worried about. No, it was clearly something he was excited about, which only piqued her interest.

Her own lips tilted upward on one side. “I would say that is fairly accurate, wouldn’t you?”

He chuckled. “Well, I did not want to offend you by assuming.” They joined hands as they revolved in a slow circle, their gazes locked. “Meet me tomorrow night,” he said in a low voice.

Her brows flew upward. “What?”

“Meet me outside the door to the kitchens at ten o’clock. There is somewhere I want to take you. Somewhere I think you’ll enjoy, but it’s very…Well, few proper ladies would be found there. Proper gentlemen either, mind you, but if you recall, I never claimed to be such a thing.” He gave her a rueful smirk that made her stomach flip. God, why did he have to be so damned good looking?

“That sounds…interesting.” She eyed him carefully. “And you aren’t concerned about…being alone with me?” The idea sent a jolt through her. Anticipation. Exictment. Lust. A hearty mix of all three. “I mean, if we’re caught, won’t it be quite the scandal?”

He eyed her. “I suppose we should take care not to get caught then, shall we?”

Well, if he was willing to risk it, she was officially intrigued.

She nodded. “Alright then.”

Now his brows rose, as if he hadn’t been sure what her answer would be. Then he smiled, a wide, full smile that made her breath hitch.

Fuck, I’m screwed.

Elle excused herself to use the restroom and headed out into the night. She needed some air to clear her head and get a grip on herself. She wandered away from the house and into one of the many extensive gardens. It was rectangular, with large hedges acting as high walls around the entire thing. Four matching fountains sat near each corner and a larger, towering one occupied the middle of the space. Covered paths ran in between the corner fountains, ivy forming a living roof over each walkway, flowers trailing downward over the edges, and there were lanterns burning brightly atop white marble pedestals throughout the space. It was beautiful and deserted. The perfect place to take a time out from everything happening inside.

Elle left the cover of the pathway she was on and made her way to the fountain in the middle. She sat on the edge and trailed her fingers over the cool water. She wondered where Alec planned to take her, and couldn’t tamp down the spark of excitement that shot through her. She was eager for something new, something different, something fun. She was getting restless with the endless balls and teas and promenades at the park, but she was also nervous. Elle knew herself and she could only hold back for so long. Being alone with Alec might just be too much for her to handle. What would happen if she slipped? She really didn’t think he would be scandalized, but what would he think? Would he—

“And what are you doing all alone out here?” a cool voice asked from behind her.

She whirled, springing from the edge of the fountain as if it had been electrified. Henry fucking Astley stood a few feet away, half in shadow. Her pulse began to race. He’d followed her out here into the darkness and seclusion of the garden. Whatever he wanted, it couldn’t be good.

“Mister Astley,” she said stiffly.

“Miss Montgomery,” he replied, voice smooth as velvet but something about it, about him tonight, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He eased forward a step, out of the shadow, and she took a half step back. Elle had taken self-defense classes, and forced herself to relax and recall what she’d learned. Hands loose and open at my sides, feet shoulder-width apart, left foot slightly in front of my right, weight back.

“I wondered if I’d ever get you away from Kentworth.” His lip curled in clear disdain, and Elle couldn’t tell if it was because he truly hated Alec, or just hated that Alec had gotten in his way with her. She figured it was probably a bit of both. He moved closer to the fountain, seemingly admiring the sculpture in the center—a beautiful, weeping angel—and she shifted to keep him in front of her.

“It’s a lovely evening,” he drawled, sounding drunk, “I can hardly hear myself think in the ballroom.” He cocked his head to the side. “Can’t hear the music out here, though, can we?” His eyes glittered in the dim light and Elle ground her teeth, instincts flaring that the prick had a plan, and she wasn’t going to like it. Then she realized the situation they were in: she was out here, alone with a man. Rule Number One. Fuck.

“I should go. We shouldn’t be out here…”

Henry’s lips curled into a wicked grin and he wobbled ever so slightly. Definitely drunk.

“Ah, you’re right. It wouldn’t be proper of a lady to be found acting…unbecoming out in the darkness alone with a man.”

Elle stiffened and narrowed her eyes. “Unbecoming?”

Henry slinked forward a step. Elle braced herself but didn’t retreat this time. Fuck him. If he wants to start this, I’ll finish it. Reputation be damned. Rose was pretty much already engaged to Percy and she didn’t think that Percy would change his mind just because of Elle’s bad behavior. Hopefully. She wouldn’t do anything unless she absolutely had to, but she sure as shit would if he forced her hand. She waited, ready.

“Throwing yourself at me like a common whore,” he said simply. Elle’s nostrils flared as she inhaled sharply. This fucking asshole. “Now, we both know that no one would believe your word over mine, so you denying it will do absolutely no good. But as I am a gentleman, I will happily agree to marry you and avoid the gossip of your…misdeeds spreading throughout the Ton. It would be such a blemish on the MacTavish family, after all.” He sounded just like Matilda. Hell, maybe the bitch had put this idea in his head to leave Alec open for one of her daughters. No, surely she wasn’t capable of such manipulation? Elle really had no idea what people in this damn place were capable of. Marriage arrangements were far more cutthroat than she could have ever imagined, so…she wouldn’t put it out of the realm of possibilities.

She ground her teeth as Henry grinned, turning his attention from the fountain and meeting her eyes. He looked triumphant and Elle’s decision was made for her. Not fucking today.

She took a step towards Henry, and he blinked in surprise.

“I would quite literally rather fuck a cactus than marry you, Henry Astley.”

She wasn’t sure if he quite understood the full meaning of her words—did fuck even mean fuck here?—but as fury flashed over his face, she knew he understood the insult of it. She moved to step past him, but he grabbed her wrist, gripping tight, his eyes blazing. Henry had been an annoyance before now, the guy at the bar that keeps trying to dance with you no matter how many times you shimmy away, but overall harmless. She had never gotten the vibes that he would turn into the kind of guy that took things a step too far no matter how firmly you told him no—until now. She would blame it on the booze and the pressures of the season and whatever the weird pissing match between Henry and Alec was that she somehow wound up in the middle of—but that didn’t mean she would accept it. Not by a fucking long shot.

He wasn’t hurting her wrist, but he didn’t look as if he meant to let this go, to let her go. Elle merely looked pointedly at his hand and then back at his face, one brow arched in challenge.

“I’m going to give you eight seconds to remove your hand from my body, Mister Astley.”

***

“Have you seen El—Miss Montgomery?” Alec asked Daniel. She’d left the ballroom after their last dance and he hadn’t seen her since.

“No, actually,” Daniel said, sipping his drink. “Last I saw, she was dancing with you.” He shook his head. “I still can’t quite believe that you’re actually courting her.” Alec quirked a brow in question. “You’re a lucky bastard,” Daniel clarified.

Alec grinned and clapped his friend on the shoulder with a wink before striding off to find Elle. He snagged a glass of brandy and wound his way through the crowd. He didn’t see Eleanor, but he did see that prick Astley ducking out of the ballroom and out into the night. Alec was intrigued—and nosey.

He made his way outside and, for a moment, didn’t see Astley.

“Where in the devil…” He glimpsed Astley’s back as he strode purposefully across the lawn and towards the gardens. Duke Billingsly’s hedge mazes and gardens were famed, but Astley didn’t strike Alec as the type to admire such things. “What are you doing out here?” Alec muttered as he followed, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. He felt a bit like a spy in one of the silly stories he used to read as a boy, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. He hoped he found Astley doing something embarrassing, something he could mock the bastard with, or at the very least, laugh about with Elle. Thinking of Elle made Alec’s blood heat and his cock suddenly quite interested in the conversation.

“Not now, you bastard,” he said sternly to his crotch, shifting uncomfortably. This was getting out of hand. He could barely think about Elle these days without his thoughts spiraling to places it should never go. Improper places. Dangerous places. Delicious places he would give anything to explore.

Astley had disappeared into the fountain garden a few moments ago, and Alec crept along, still wondering what Astley could possibly be doing out here. Taking a piss, maybe? Seemed quite a long walk for that. Or perhaps he was having clandestine meetings under the cloak of darkness? Alec’s intrigued was definitely piqued at the thought, wondering what unlucky lady he might have somehow fooled into thinking he was worth throwing her reputation away for.

Alec eased his way through the opening in the hedges and ducked behind one of the large pillars that stood on either side of the path, holding up the trellises that made the roof of ivy and flowers. He glanced around the edge, doing his best to remain hidden, and his blood went cold.

Elle.

Alec couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Astley was out here meeting with Elle? No. No, no, no, this wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. Alec shook himself, trying to clear away the roaring in his ears and the light haze from the brandy. What were they saying? He needed to hear. Rage boiled hot and swift in his chest when he realized that Astley had his hand on Elle’s wrist, but before Alec could react, Elle spoke.

“I’m going to give you eight seconds to remove your hand from my body, Mister Astley,” she said calmly, though her voice was cold as ice. Only her demeanor stopped Alec from storming forward and beating Astley for all he was worth. She was unconcerned with the predicament, speaking to Astley as if he were an errant child.

“How dare you,” Astley seethed. “How dare you speak to me like—”

Quick as lightning, Elle struck out at him. Alec stood, mouth agape and frozen in shock. He’d never in his life expected to see something like this. She slammed the heel of her hand into his nose, and even from this far away, Alec heard the crack as cartilage snapped. Astley released his grip on her, his hands flying to his nose as he grunted in pain, cursing loudly. Elle reached out and grabbed one of his wrists, pulling him towards her as she twisted around behind him, bringing his arm with her and yanking it upward behind his body at an unnatural angle. He all but screamed and Elle kicked out at the back of his leg, taking him to his knees. His arm shot up higher behind his back and he cried out again, a whimpering sound slightly muffled by the blood streaming down his face and dripping to the stone.

Alec continued to stand frozen in place, eyes wide trying to take in what he was seeing. He’d never seen a woman move like that, so in control of her body and knowing just how to defend herself. He’d surely never seen anyone do it and attack a man in the process. It was…impressive. And strangely attractive?

“Now,” Elle said calmly from behind him, “I don’t think that you want to go and tell a ballroom full of people that a woman made you bleed and cry like a little girl. So, I’ll keep your secret and you keep mine. You know, the one about me being a harlot out in the garden and all that?” she spit, sarcasm thick in her voice. Is that what the bastard had said to her? Was that his plan? To force her into marrying him by threatening to tell people that she’d been in a compromising situation with him out here alone in the darkness? The anger from before flared again, hotter. Oh, when I get my hands on him…

“Does that sound like a good plan, Mister Astley?” Elle pulled up on his arm and he tried desperately to hold back his bellow of pain behind clenched teeth.

“Alright! Alright! I won’t…” he sobbed, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Wonderful,” Elle said with a smile, stepping back to let Astley crumple to the ground. “We’ll just pretend this never happened then, shall we?” She brushed a bit of dirt from her dress and Alec quickly slinked back out of the garden. He melted into the shadows of the tall hedge wall just outside and waited for her to emerge. Part of him wanted to go in and beat Astley bloody—or bloodier, he supposed—but he thought Elle had sufficiently handled that problem for today. He and Astley would row about this one day, but today was not that day. If Alec stormed in now, he honestly couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t kill the bastard. Plus, Astley was just petty and crazy enough to press the issue if he knew that someone had witnessed his disgrace, and Alec didn’t want anything to possibly come back on Elle or the MacTavish family for this. So, for now, he waited until Elle made it back to the house and then followed, leaving Astley alone and crying in the garden.

***

The next day passed both in a blur and so agonizingly slowly that Elle wanted to rip her hair out. Alec had given her no details about the evening’s plan and she could tell that he was loving her annoyance at not knowing. She’d asked him at least twenty times while they walked in the park and he had merely smirked in response, making her want to scream.

After dinner and a bath and false calls of goodnight to everyone, Elle waited impatiently in her room, pacing and fiddling with the black lace on the bodice of her scarlet gown. It wasn’t a formal dress, but it wasn’t quite a house dress either. She supposed it would do for a secret, covert operation.

At five minutes until ten, she silently slipped from her room, quickly scooting down the hallway and ducking into a small alcove just before the stairs beside a bust of some long-dead MacTavish with a stern expression on his face.

“Don’t you judge me,” she muttered to the statue. She stayed there for a few minutes, listening intently for voices or the sounds of footsteps. When she heard nothing, she exhaled softly and bolted quietly down the stairs. She didn’t encounter any of the staff and quickly made it outside, the cool night air kissing her face as she closed the door behind her, leaning back against it in relief, her heart pounding. She felt like a teenager again, sneaking out of the house to meet Tommy Hastings down by the river. Of course getting caught then meant being grounded and her dad putting the fear of God into Tommy until he pissed himself. Getting caught now meant being branded a dirty tramp and possibly being forced to marry someone just to save face. Oh what a time to be alive.

The small courtyard outside the kitchen was mostly dark, moonlight filtering through the sprawling limbs of a towering tree and throwing erratic pools of light and shadow dancing around as the wind blew. Elle squinted into the darkness, willing her eyes to adjust.

“Alec?” she whispered. She took a few cautious steps forward. “Alec?”

Suddenly a hand was over her mouth, stifling her scream of surprise. She instinctively fought, kicking backwards with a booted foot and shoving her elbow into a taut stomach. Alec grunted quietly in her ear. She relaxed as her fight-or-flight chilled out, and he released his grip. She whirled and smacked his chest.

“Ouch,” he whispered, amused, rubbing the spot.

“You scared the sh—you scared me,” she corrected herself, hissing at him quietly. He chuckled again and she felt his hand on her wrist, tugging her forward and around the house. She forgave him for scaring her almost immediately and grinned as they darted from shadow to shadow, giddy with excitement. They silently made their way to the street, down the lane, and finally into the waiting carriage.

They were both laughing by the time they leapt inside, Alec slamming the door behind them and rapping on the roof. A second later, the carriage lurched into motion.

“That was quite fun,” he said, running a hand through his hair. Disheveled as always, but gorgeous. She was glad to find that he wasn’t in finery this evening either, just a simple white shirt, black coat, and trousers. Nice, of course, like everything he owned, but not as if they were dressed to go to a ball.

“Very cloak and dagger,” she grinned, and then waved his confused expression away. “Won’t the driver find it odd that you’re gallivanting around town in the middle of the night with a lady in your midst?”

“Matthew has been sworn to secrecy, not to worry. Plus, it wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s been an accomplice to in my life,” he added with a grin.

Elle laughed at that, wondering what stories Matthew could tell her about Alec. She glanced out the window, trying to figure out where they were headed.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“No,” he said simply, grinning and leaning his head back against the seat, chest rising and falling quickly from their escape. She rolled her eyes but leaned back as well, catching her breath. After a few minutes, it finally hit her that this was the first time she’d ever been alone with Alec, truly alone with him, and she jolted upright against the bench. The carriage suddenly felt very small and very hot and, as Alec seemed to come to the same realization, his eyes snapping open, very, very tense. Their gazes met and held. Elle had the almost overwhelming urge to launch herself across the small space between them, to settle herself over his lap and wrap her arms around his neck, to finally know what it felt like to kiss him, to feel him beneath her as she straddled him, to hear him whisper sweet and dirty things in her ear. She balled her hands into fists and he swallowed hard, glancing away to look out the window.

Without looking back, he said, “you look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound quite as nervous as she suddenly felt for some reason. It was Alec, for God’s sake. They’d spent countless hours together over the past weeks, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t actually been alone with a man before. It was fine. Everything was fine. She was perfectly capable of being in a dark, confined space with the most attractive man she’d ever met, a man she may or may not be falling for, and not making a move.

Probably.

She shoved her hands under her thighs just to be sure they didn’t reach for him without her permission and he eyed them, but didn’t comment. They rode in silence after that, but the tension didn’t ease. If anything, it got worse and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

Elle blew out a relieved breath when the carriage slowed and Alec exited, giving her his hand to help her down. The street was dark, but Elle could make out what appeared to be a row of warehouses, large and square. Nondescript and, in the darkness, not very attractive. She could hear the sound of water lapping against a shore nearby. The Thames? They seemed to be right on the cusp of that invisible line where the good side of town turned into the bad side of town. Thoughts of Jack the Ripper came to mind and she shivered ever so slightly, glancing around nervously as she tried desperately to remember when, exactly, he had rocked London with his killings.

Alec led her along a narrow sidewalk and then down a darkened alley.

“You know, if you planned to murder me, you could have done it in the carriage,” she said quietly. He laughed as he steered her, his hand hovering just behind her.

“No murders planned tonight, I promise.”

“Another night then,” she quipped.

“Here we are,” he said, a smile in his voice. He gestured to a dark, plain door that looked like it had seen better days. The paint was weathered and stained, the wood slightly warped and dented towards the bottom as if it had been kicked. She glanced at Alec with skepticism, but he merely held up a finger, telling her to wait. Where in the hell was he taking her?

He knocked twice in quick succession, waited a second, knocked once more, then half a second, and two more knocks.

“A secret knock? Seriously?” she hissed. He gave her one of those cocky grins that she secretly loved, and a few moments later, the door swung open. A burly man with a thick black mustache looked at Alec with recognition and the hint of a smile. He shifted his gaze to Elle, bushy brows rising. He looked back to Alec.

“Never brought a guest before, Alexander,” the man said suspiciously in a thick Cockney accent.

“She won’t cause trouble, I promise, Jackson.”

“Maybe a bit of trouble,” Elle amended sweetly, and the man—Jackson—smiled widely, big shoulders shaking as he laughed. Several of his teeth gleamed silver in the moonlight.

“Oh, I like her,” he said, stepping aside to allow them to enter. Alec gently placed his hand on the small of her back as they walked inside.

“This way,” Alec said, steering her to the left when she automatically turned right. “I do believe you charmed old Jackson.”

“I am quite the charmer, Alexander,” she quipped and he chuckled, low and husky. They walked down a long, narrow corridor with crumbling plaster and piles of trash here and there. It smelled like fish and ash and body odor. At the end of the hallway, they went through another doorway that opened to a dark stairwell.

“Sure, go down the dark, deserted stairwell into the basement of the creepy building,” she whispered to herself. “Nothing bad has ever happened in that scenario before.”

“What was that?” Alec asked as he took a lantern from the wall and led her downward.

“Nothing,” she muttered, placing a hand on one of his shoulders to keep herself from falling. He stiffened slightly, but didn’t rebuff her. As they descended, she heard faint music and the smell got distinctly better. At the foot of the stairs, they went down another smaller hallway, the music louder now. Lanterns had been hung along the wall, illuminating the corridor. This one was much cleaner than the last, the wallpaper a deep red with black vines curling and stretching along it, like black snakes. At the end stood a large door, the same crimson as the walls.

“Welcome,” Alec said with a mysterious grin as he pushed the door open, “to Puck’s Lair.”