Chapter Eleven
Eleven
The chophouse was quite busy, which augured well for the quality of the meal. We sat down, ordering chops, of course, since there wasn’t anything else on the menu. The server brought us ale, which was good, though not as delicious as Joseph’s.
“Why did you go tonight?” he asked, then took a sip. “More importantly, if you were going, why didn’t you tell me?”
I shifted in my seat. “Well, I didn’t want you to jeopardize your own situation by insisting on accompanying me, which I knew you would.
And,” I continued, gesturing toward him, “I was correct. You’re here.
And you knew where I was going to be, since you knew I hadn’t eaten.
” I shrugged. “It wouldn’t be unfitting for someone in my position to attend such an event regardless.
I do wish I had been able to observe more of the attendees, however.
You exercising your power to make me leave meant I couldn’t stay.
” I frowned at him, but he only smiled in return.
“I already took care of that, Hastings. Az’gen was there, as you know. Besides that, no one else from our group went. I would have been able to tell.” He gave me a narrow look.
“Besides, we already have a plan. I’m going to throw a party, and you’ll be there, and we can observe everyone and see who might want to thwart my father.”
“You mean assassinate him. Thwart makes it sound like they plan on swapping his sugar for salt.”
He scoffed. “It’s not as though anyone could actually kill him. The assassination attempts are merely to make him aware of the danger, to make him do something reckless.” He exhaled. “My father doesn’t always—that is, never—thinks before he acts.”
“Like a spoiled debutante,” I murmured.
I hadn’t thought about the fact that the assassination attempt was just that—an attempt. That the spectacle was the point, not the result.
So why did someone want to make a display of trying to kill the Devil? Was it to threaten him? Or was it to expose him to somehow weaken the government? Or perhaps something else I hadn’t thought of yet?
And who had threatened the Queen?
The chops arrived as my head was starting to hurt from thinking about it, and soon we were both engrossed in the enormous plates of meat in front of us. I hadn’t realized just how hungry I was until I found him giving me a curious look.
“What?” I asked after I finished chewing.
“You moaned.”
“I— No, I didn’t,” I said, feeling my face start to flush.
His smile was utterly wicked. “You did. It was quite an interesting sound, Hastings. I’d like to hear it more often.”
Oh dear. This was what I was trying to avoid. Though I knew I couldn’t. There was just too much of whatever-it-was running between us. Thankfully, we were in a public spot, or I might have been tempted into something entirely scandalous.
And I also had more chop to consume. Priorities.
I focused my attention on my food rather than on the Adonis seated across from me.
When I felt as though my stomach was about to burst, I finally looked up, only to see him staring at me.
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
He grinned. “You mean besides your nose, eyes, and mouth? No. I was just looking at you. You’re very pretty.”
I blushed. “Thank you. Though I am not.”
One eyebrow rose. “Are you saying I am wrong?” His voice was haughty, and I snorted.
“Of course not, my lord marquis, sir,” I replied in a mock-subservient manner. “I would never do anything so disrespectful, sir.”
He shot me a look of disbelief, then picked up his glass and drained it, signaling to the server for another.
“Have you decided when your party will be?” I asked, taking a sip from my own glass.
The chophouse had gotten less busy, so it felt almost relaxing, which was a novel feeling since getting this assignment. I hadn’t had time to even walk Dante—Hannah had been taking care of him—much less sit idly after a meal.
“In a week or so. I’ve spoken to the person in charge at Clarence House—he said we’re welcome to use their public areas. The only restriction he listed was no fire, which limits things a little.”
I did not want to ask.
“And you’ll be inviting?”
“The Queen and Prince Albert, of course, plus that obnoxious duke.” He waved his hand. “Your boss—that dog—plus that other one.”
“Lord Hennawi,” I supplied.
“And I suppose some other beings who want to come gawk at His Evilness.” He already sounded bored.
“Will it be a party like—?” I began.
“Like one of yours here?” he interrupted. “I imagine. Music, dancing, food, drink. Just, hopefully, not as tedious. Oh, and if you want to invite anyone, if you’ve got friends.”
I brightened, thinking how much fun Hannah and Lily would have. “Yes, that would be—”
“As long as they aren’t gentlemen,” he added with a scowl.
I was secretly pleased he seemed to be jealous. “No, they’re not. My housemates.”
“That’s fine, then.”
We settled our bill—he paid, despite my protestations—and he hailed a hackney to take me home, ignoring my insistence I could walk.
He took my hand, guiding me inside the coach, holding it for an extra moment.
I knew I wasn’t imagining the electricity between us, especially when he sat beside me, his shoulder against mine.
My breath caught as I anticipated our being alone.
“I don’t want you to be in any danger, Hastings,” he said, when we were inside the coach.
“Any more danger, you mean, given that I am consorting with a demon,” I pointed out. Danger I was willingly entering into. Danger I was welcoming, if I was being honest with myself.
“Not just any demon,” he replied. “You are consorting with me.”
And then he slid over on the seat, wrapped his arms around me, and lowered his mouth to mine.
I knew somehow that he wasn’t using any of his demon power this time. He didn’t have to. I wanted to kiss him as badly as he wanted to kiss me.
His lips pressed against mine gently at first; then his hold tightened on me, and his mouth pressed harder as his tongue licked my lips. I opened for him, and our tongues clashed in a sort of tongue duel, both of us devouring the other. It felt manic, intoxicating, and entirely subsuming.
My whole body was aflame, and I ached everywhere, wanting his touch on me.
Dangerous for any single woman cavorting with a gentleman, much less for this single woman cavorting with this demon.
Still, I couldn’t resist sliding my palms over his back, digging my fingers into his shoulders as I edged closer to him.
He let go of me for a brief moment to haul my body onto his, so I was seated crossways on his lap. He broke the kiss to bury his head into my neck, biting and sucking the skin there as I leaned my head back against him, likely making that same moaning sound he’d noticed before.
His mouth moved lower, to my upper chest, and one hand went to my shin, stroking under my skirt as I bit my lip to contain the overwhelming feelings.
I hadn’t done everything with Fred the greengrocer, but I knew what happened between men and women, and I could understand why many found it so difficult to stop once they started.
Thank God we were in a moving carriage and not alone with access to some sort of horizontal surface where we could be supine.
“Hastings, you drive me mad,” he murmured against my skin. “I’ve never felt like this.” I didn’t know if that was true or if he was just saying it, but it was gratifying to hear nonetheless.
His hand was now at my knee, and I mentally urged it higher, never mind my modesty and what a proper young lady would want. It was a new world, and I was a woman of the New World. As long as I didn’t harm anyone or myself, I should be able to do as I pleased.
Though the last part—harming myself—did apply to heartbreak, and if I allowed myself to develop feelings for this being, I would face an inevitable heartbreak.
But I couldn’t think on that now. Not when his mouth had returned to claim mine, not when his fingers were caressing my thigh, not when I could feel the evidence of his arousal underneath my bottom.
I wriggled, and he groaned, low and deep in his throat. Good to know that demons reacted similarly to humans in some ways—my experience with Fred the greengrocer was useful after all.
His hand gripped my thigh, and then one of his fingers flicked me there, and I gasped.
“You like that,” he said, his voice a low rasp.
“Mm,” I replied. “I do.” I wanted him to know he had my consent. I wanted him to continue.
He kissed me again, as feverishly as before, his fingers beginning a rhythmic stroke that threatened to tear me apart. I put one hand up to his hair, raking my fingers through it before sliding my hand to his chest, placing my palm flat.
“Oh, lord,” I gasped, as his fingers hit another critical spot.
“Say my name,” he urged.
“Marcellus,” I said on a gasp. “Marcellus,” I said again, this time more of a cry as I climaxed, his fingers working their magic as I reached my peak.
He made a noise of satisfaction, and then his movements slowed until they finally stopped, his kisses gentler, his touch softened.
He, however, was still hard underneath me, and I felt momentarily guilty for not having done anything to assuage that.
Not that it was practical, what with being in a hackney and all; unlike women, men’s moments were a lot messier, and one needed—in my experience—a few sturdy handkerchiefs to take care of the aftermath.
“My goodness,” I said after a few moments.
“Don’t you mean ‘my lord’?” he said smugly.
“I believe I already gave you credit, Marcellus,” I replied, emphasizing his name.
“Indeed you did,” he said, giving me a soft kiss.
“But, er, aren’t you uncomfortable?” I asked, my cheeks heating yet again. I shouldn’t feel embarrassed about asking after his pleasure, not after climaxing by his hand, but here I was.
I was British, after all.
“I am, but nothing I can’t solve myself,” he replied smoothly.
“When I get home and I’m alone in my room.
I’ll think back to how you felt in my arms”—he kissed my neck—“and how you sounded when you came”—he nuzzled my ear—“and how you tasted,” and he put his fingers in his mouth and licked them, keeping eye contact with me the whole time.
If I hadn’t already been weak-kneed and sitting down—on his lap, no less—I would have fallen to the floor on the spot. I was almost tempted to beg him to do it all over again, since my body felt ready for a second round, but I knew we were very close to my home.
“What time do you need me to come tomorrow?”
“Rather a dangerous question, don’t you think?” he said, his tone entirely filthy.
I knew I turned scarlet then. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean. Ten o’clock. You can help me plan the party.”
The hackney slowed, and I pulled the shade away from the window to see we were approaching my house. I slid off his lap, being extra careful not to damage any of his parts, and tidied myself up as best I could.
I knew Lily’s nose would be able to scent what had happened, so the chances of my not sharing were slim to none.
He leaped out of the hackney first, paid the fare, and then assisted me out.
“Thank you for a memorable evening, my lord,” I said, a mischievous tone in my voice.
“Memorable indeed, Hastings. And I thought I told you to call me Marcellus.”
“Only on certain occasions, my lord.” I looked up at him. “And on those occasions, you may call me Cora.”
His gaze was on my mouth, so palpable it felt as though he were kissing me all over again. “Good night, Cora.”
I nodded, then walked into the rooming house, my whole self tingling with all sorts of new feelings and emotions.