Chapter 9
9
Penny heard the wheezing breath seconds before hard fingers dug into her arm, pulling her roughly to the left.
‘Fucking hell!’ She didn’t need to see the man to know the guard had followed her. His stench identified him, even through the rain.
‘You’ll regret ever messin’ wif me, you little bitch,’ the hulk of a man hissed in her ear as he shoved her against a sagging brick building. Penny’s head cracked on the stone wall and white lights flashed behind her eyes. Before she could reach in her pocket for the knuckles, he grabbed her wrist, wrenching it up and holding it over her head, the rough brick ripping skin from the back of her hand as he cruelly leaned his weight against her.
Penny used her free hand to reach for his face, gouging her thumb into his eye. His guttural cry erupted in a rush of rotten breath. He took a step back, loosening his grip enough for her to twist her wrist free and snatch at the hat pin. Anything could be a weapon. A lesson she learned well in prison. She ripped the pin free and slammed the sharp copper spike into the man’s neck, sinking the pin an inch deep.
He howled in pain, stumbling backward. Penny turned to run, her hat flying off without the pin to hold it in place. She slammed into another man, this one taller and harder than his friend.
Bugger!
This wasn’t good. She could handle one large man. Two would be more difficult. But Penny didn’t back down from a challenge. Especially when she had no other choices. It was unfortunate that this particular challenge reeked of pickled herring and raw onions.
‘She stuck me like a pig!’ The guard behind her squealed, much like the animal he described.
‘And you’ll be next if you don’t move aside.’ Penny clenched her mouth together to stop the trembling. All out of hat pins, she reached into her coat pocket for the brass knuckles and found the apple instead. Whipping it out, she chucked it hard at the man in front of her. It smacked him in the cheek.
His eyes widened in surprise for a moment before they narrowed. Touching his cheek, his lips tilted in a terrifying smile. ‘I like my ladies wif a bit of fire. Makes me all warm inside, dunnit?’ Unlike his friend, his teeth were perfect and his eyes crinkled kindly, but evil flashed like a blade in their depths. Fear wrapped icy fingers around Penny’s chest. The guard was filthy and grotesque, but this man was even more terrifying in his oily charm.
She put her hand back in her pocket, opting for the knuckles this time. Not waiting for his attack, Penny struck first. She rushed forward and slammed the brass knuckles into his cheek in a right hook, aiming for where the apple had created a helpful red mark. His face snapped to the side and blood spattered on the walk.
The blighter blocked her exit, so Penny dodged to the left, hoping to slip by as he recovered from her punch. If she could get past him, the busy main road was only thirty paces ahead. But the bastard recovered faster than she guessed. His hand flicked out, snatching her coat. The ripping sound of material was her only warning before he yanked her back. His fist slammed into her face, cracking her cheekbone and creating an explosion of light as she reeled from the force. The pain would come later, and it would be bad. Stumbling back, she refused to give up her feet. If Penny fell, he would kick her, and she didn’t want to end this battle with cracked ribs.
Wiping her hand over her cheek, she noted the sticky blood. Anger flared, washing out any fear and replacing it with determination.
‘That wasn’t very nice. Weren’t you taught not to hit girls?’ She tightened her grip on the knuckles and slid her left foot back, angling her body to be a smaller target for the brute. This time, she’d let him come to her.
‘You want nice, love? I can give you nice.’ The bastard smiled again, moving to the side and closer, forcing her to pivot.
He lunged into her jabbing range, his hips giving him away. Penny was able to dodge his wild grab for her hair and in the fraction of an opening he offered, she hit hard. The crunching sound of teeth against metal made her smile as she leaped back.
The man spat something to the ground and lifted his hand to his bloody mouth. His eyes widened in horror. ‘That wath my fucking tooth,’ he lisped. His eyes hardened into obsidian specks. ‘You bitch.’ His left front tooth was a gaping black hole, and his right was broken and jagged.
‘Oh dear. And you had such a lovely smile. Maybe try to keep your mouth shut moving forward.’ Penny kept her guard up. An emotional opponent was far easier to conquer and inspiring his rage was an easy thing.
She was ready as he bellowed like a bull and charged. In the half-second before his huge body crashed into hers, she spun right, slamming her elbow into his cheek as he flew past and smashed into the wall behind her. He face-planted into the brick with a resounding smack.
Penny had a clear path to the main road, but as she turned to run, the guard – her hat pin still embedded in his neck – kicked out from where he writhed on the filthy cobblestones, catching her ankle.
Penny cried out as she fell. The apple bounced out of her pocket, smashing into pieces on the cobbles.
The bastard with a broken mouth turned, his nose a spray of red, the brick wall having broken it in his crash. He would soon have two black eyes to go along with the gap in his teeth. He growled and took three steps toward her.
Pushing to her feet, Penny ignored the screaming protest from her ankle. It wasn’t broken. She could put weight on it, but it would be bruised and battered come morning. If she were alive to see the dawn. Turning her back on the brute was unwise, so instead, she turned her back on escape and faced him. She learned her lesson well. He was fast. If she ran, he would catch her. Flight wasn’t an option.
So, fight it is.
Penny rolled her head and lifted her fists. She had faced worse than this as a child in the prison. Weakness was an invitation for death. She wouldn’t show these two idiots an ounce of it.
Boots slapped the wet cobblestone behind her. A new player had entered the field.
The unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked created oddly distinct reactions in each of them.
Penny stiffened, her shoulders inching closer to her ears. The man was directly behind her. She felt the prickle of awareness on the back of her neck where his pistol could easily be aimed.
The guard cowering on the ground covered his head, curled into a ball, and started to sob. She couldn’t be sure with all the rain, but he might have wet himself.
The blackguard in front of her refocused his gaze over Penny’s shoulder at whoever had entered the alleyway. He put his hands up in front of him in a pose of defencelessness. ‘Oi, now guv. No need for that. Juth having a bit of a lark.’ His new lisp made his words harder to discern.
‘Miss Smith, were you enjoying this little… lark?’ The gravelled voice, impossibly familiar to her now, created a fizz of something bright bubbling in her chest.
Liam!
The realisation was immediately followed by a sinking sensation.
Liam.
He would want to know where she’d been. What had happened in the alleyway. How she managed to hold her own against two large men intent on violence. All questions she would rather not answer.
Penny stiffened her spine and lowered her shoulders. She placed her left foot behind her, drawing closer to Liam without turning her back on the toothless bastard. Even with a primed pistol aimed at the man, she would never give an enemy her back. Odd, since Liam was supposed to be her enemy, standing behind her, holding a weapon. But the tingles she felt for him had nothing to do with fear.
So, Liam is no longer my enemy?
She moved to the side and stepped back again until he stood beside her.
Better.
In this situation, he was not the most dangerous threat but that didn’t mean she should let her guard down around him. Quite the contrary.
‘No, my lord. I was not,’ she said, her voice giving away none of her emotions.
Liam shifted his pistol, the muzzle aimed directly at the battered man standing in front of them. He pulled the hammer back. Penny darted her gaze to Liam’s hand as his knuckles whitened around the handle, his finger twitching on the trigger. He was going to shoot the man dead in this grimy back alley.
‘Don’t, Liam.’ She held no fondness for the assailant, and in the heat of the fight, she would have done what she must to survive. But the arsehole wasn’t worth killing in cold blood.
Liam’s head whipped around. His sharp gaze trapped her for a breathless moment. His nostrils flared, scenting her like a predator. His eyes stilled on the gash. ‘Did he do that to you?’
Oh dear.
Gone was the kind employer who smiled at his laundry maid and offered tutelage to his staff. In his place was a far more fearsome creature. A wild beast hungry for blood.
Penny kept her voice calm. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s just a scratch.’
Liam’s eyes dilated as his voice grew even more brutal. ‘He hurt you. He fucking deserves to die.’
The situation was precarious. Penny was standing on a powder keg, holding a stick of dynamite, and Liam was sparking like fire.
She held his gaze, intrinsically knowing breaking eye contact would also break Liam’s tenuous control of his anger. ‘Perhaps. But not today. Today, we turn around and walk away.’ Sometimes, life only gave two choices. Fight or die. In this moment, they had another option. And they would take it.
She put her hand on Liam’s arm; the steel of his muscles flexed beneath her touch. ‘He doesn’t deserve a piece of your soul, and that’s what he would take with him to hell.’
Liam clenched his jaw. He blinked once, twice. Lowering his gun, he looked back at the man. ‘Leave London. Now. And take this piece of filth with you. If I ever see you again, my smile will be the last thing you see before you greet the Devil. Understand?’
The bastard’s eyes widened as he nodded his head.
Liam took Penny’s hand in his and turned, pulling her along. When he realised she was limping, he wrapped his arm around her waist and took most of her weight, heedless of the puddles they splashed through on their way back to the main road. Penny was already soaked through, so it mattered little that her skirts were now sodden, but she only had one other dress. She would need to launder this one carefully, patch any tears, hope it wasn’t ruined. She had no coin for new clothes.
And what a silly woman I am thinking of skirts at a time like this.
But focusing on her clothes was far easier than thinking about the impending conversation with Liam. Or processing what could have happened if he hadn’t been willing to listen to her and put down his gun. Or acknowledging the hard arm pressing against her ribs, the warm fingers gripping her hip, the flexing muscles of his thigh tight beside her leg as he matched her steps.
One more piece of contradicting evidence: a cold-blooded killer wouldn’t have hesitated to pull the trigger.
Liam stopped in front of a smart brougham and opened the door. Lifting her inside before she could protest, he followed her into the small conveyance, crowding Penny to the far side of the two-person bench seat. Her ankle throbbed and she could feel the skin on her face tightening as her cheek started swelling. Her hair tumbled around her in a wet tangle. She was certain her coat had been ruined, ripped beyond repair. She was a right mess.
‘I shouldn’t be in here with you, my lord. It isn’t proper for a maid to ride with a marquess.’ The idea of walking home on her protesting ankle was a sobering thought, but safer perhaps than being caged in such a small space with her employer.
Liam glared at her before banging on the roof of the brougham. They lurched forward, the traffic on the busy street starting to lighten as the rain eased.
Propriety doesn’t seem to be high on his list of priorities.
Not really a surprise.
‘What exactly were you doing in such a dangerous part of London, Miss Smith?’ Liam turned slightly to face her, his broad shoulders taking up more space than Penny would have imagined. There really was almost no room in the sumptuous interior. Her leg pressed against his from hip to knee. She had to lean back against the velvet squabs to avoid their noses bumping each other if they hit a rut in the road.
This close, his amber eyes fairly glowed, framed with spiky lashes. Stubble on his cheek and chin glistened in the poor afternoon light. A scar as delicate as a moth’s leg cut through his top lip. She’d never noticed the detail before, not even when he’d kissed her in the library. Or she’d kissed him. Something she desperately wished to try again. Penny fought the urge to lean closer instead of pressing herself tightly against the brougham’s padded wall.
‘I was running an errand, my lord.’ Visiting her mother in a prison cell wouldn’t qualify as a typical errand for most people, but Penny wasn’t most people.
‘An errand?’ His eyebrow rose sceptically.
‘Yes, exactly.’
Liam frowned, breathing out a heavy sigh. ‘You aren’t going to tell me what you were doing, are you, Miss Smith?’
She started to smile, then winced as the gash stretched and a sticky, wet heat trickled down her face. ‘No, my lord.’
Liam fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a silk handkerchief. He didn’t have to lean very far forward to reach her face. Penny held her breath as he gently touched the soft material to her cheek and dabbed. His mouth was only scant inches away from hers. His words tickled her lips as he spoke. ‘I should have killed the bastard for hurting you.’ His voice melted something deep in her belly. A corresponding wetness bloomed between her thighs. He was seething with barely controlled rage. A shiver of awareness skated over Penny’s skin, her senses sparking to life.
Dear God. What kind of woman is aroused by such violent words from a dangerous man?
The kind who grew up in prison. The kind who found herself trapped in a dark alley with two men wishing her extreme harm. The kind who faced a battle she had no assurance of winning but was determined not to lose. The kind who understood how love could be feral and fierce just as easily as it could be soft and sweet. The Penny Smith kind of woman.
She leaned closer. ‘You say the sweetest things, my lord.’
Violence, lust, and fear waged an epic battle in Liam, but Miss Smith determined the victor of his conflicting emotions when her mouth hovered just a breath away from his. With a pained growl, he closed the distance, pressing his lips against hers.
She tasted of sweet and tart apple. Intoxicating. Liam flicked his tongue to lick the seam of her mouth. Freezing for a moment, Penny parted her lips just enough for him to test the soft texture. He’d wager she hadn’t kissed many men. In fact, he might be the first. That was clear in her reaction to his tongue. She sucked in a shocked breath as he pressed his advantage, gently seeking entrance. When she opened her mouth and melted against him, Liam almost thanked the fates he so recently cursed.
Something possessive and protective rose in him. It became of singular importance that she enjoy this moment. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, teasing her with a scrape of teeth over the plump flesh, inviting her to play, but leaving the decision up to Penny.
She moaned, the sound vibrating along his nerves, hardening his already thickening cock. He was going to lose control after one kiss.
Not with her. Never with her.
He would not unleash the feral beast that wanted to devour this delectable woman.
Pull back, man.
She was an innocent maid trapped in a carriage with her employer.
Apologise for this unforgiveable breach of etiquette.
Stop the brougham and walk the rest of the way home. Perhaps the rain might cool my ardour.
Penny’s tongue darted out, tentatively tracing the edge of his upper lip.
Fuuuuuccck.
Liam forgot all about ending the kiss and concentrated on finding Penny’s pleasure. Mindful of her wounded cheek, he gentled his hands when every cell in his body demanded hot, hard, fast relief.
But she deserved so much more than hasty friction.
She deserved to be savoured, honoured, cherished. She deserved the opportunity to indulge in her own explorations.
He opened his mouth, letting her discover some of his secrets before tangling their tongues in a decadent battle. He plunged, she swirled. He nipped, she sucked. He licked, she bit. The world around them dissolved into nothing but sound and scent as the brougham bumped along the road, the rain pattered on the roof, and Liam’s need crystallised into a sharp blade.
He wanted her even closer. Gripping her hips, he dragged her onto his lap, but her moan of desire turned into a painful cry.
Liam froze. ‘God, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’
Penny bit her kiss-swollen lip. ‘No, it’s just my ankle. One of the men kicked me and…’
Liam’s lust dissolved to self-disgust. She was injured, for God’s sake. At the hands of men just as brutal and selfish as Liam. Instead of tending to her, he was ravishing her in his carriage.
I will not be this man. I will not be my father.
‘Please, forgive me. I lost my head.’ He pressed his forehead against her shoulder. He should shift her off his lap. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight to him. ‘I seem to become the very worst version of myself in your presence. You deserve better from me.’
Penny huffed out a dry laugh. ‘If this is your worst, I’m not sure I could withstand your best.’
Liam gently lifted her onto the seat beside him, keeping her legs on his lap. His hand followed the hidden line of her calf over wet, soiled material until he reached the tattered hem. ‘You need a new skirt, Miss Smith.’
‘What are you doing?’ The alarm in her voice was unmistakable. She tried to pull her legs back, but Liam clamped his arm over her thighs, holding her still.
‘I’m checking your ankle to ensure it isn’t broken.’
Penny squealed as he lifted her ruined skirt up a few inches, exposing half-boots that had more holes in them than leather.
‘My lord, you can’t!’ Penny protested.
Liam glanced away from her feet to survey her beautiful face. He couldn’t believe her eyebrows were able to rise so high on her forehead without completely disappearing into her hairline. ‘Why ever not? I need to inspect your ankle, Miss Smith.’
‘But it’s hardly appropriate for a gentleman like you to be exposed to his maid’s ankles.’
That he was tempted to laugh so soon after his beast almost erupted from his body and tore the throat out of the piece of filth in the alley was nothing short of a miracle. Instead, he frowned. ‘I shall endeavour to withstand such an immodest display.’ The irony of her embarrassment over exposed ankles when they had just been devouring each other was not lost on him. ‘How long have you had these shoes?’
Penny’s gaze flicked away from him and her already-flushed cheeks darkened. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘What does it matter?’
The woman was in desperate need of proper, sturdy, warm shoes. Obviously, she wasn’t in a place to purchase them herself. While her poverty seemed to embarrass Penny, it enraged Liam. He was her employer, yet he had no idea what wages she earned. That task was left to his steward to determine and his housekeeper and butler to manage. Whatever the amount, it wasn’t enough. Something he would remedy immediately.
His wealth was obscene, and he had nothing else he’d rather spend it on than Penny. He’d already secured the services of a tutor so she could learn to read, but what good would that do if she caught a chill and died because of her substandard clothes? He would speak with his steward immediately about a raise for the entire staff. He could certainly afford to pay them wages generous enough to provide functioning shoes and warm coats, for Christ’s sake.
‘It matters because these ones are falling apart,’ he muttered. ‘Which ankle?’ He tried to keep the anger from his voice. It wasn’t Miss Smith’s fault that she couldn’t afford a decent pair of shoes. It was his. And it was unacceptable.
‘The left, but it isn’t broken. Truly. I can ice and bandage it when we return. You needn’t go to any trou?—’
She stopped talking when he gently wrapped his hand around her left ankle. Carefully, Liam eased her half-boot off and skated his hand up her leg to tug at the string holding her stocking in place just below her knee.
Penny’s ragged breathing was the only sound in the carriage save Liam’s thundering heart. Hopefully, she couldn’t hear that, or she would know how deeply he was affected by her soft skin as he pulled the wet stocking slowly off her leg.
The dim light wasn’t ideal for assessing bruising, but it was clear her ankle was swollen and already turning an ugly shade of bluish black.
‘Can you wiggle your toes?’ Liam kept his gaze on her feet, refusing to let his eyes wander up her leg.
Penny complied, wiggling her toes, though the effort made her hiss.
She has perfect toes.
What a ridiculous thought. A woman’s toes should not breathe fire into his veins. He gripped her small foot in his large hand and flexed it up then down, noting how she stiffened just as acutely as he noticed her skin was like ice.
Of course her feet are freezing with shoddy shoes and soaking-wet stockings.
What she needed was a warm bath and a hot meal. But servants weren’t afforded such luxuries. He couldn’t very well haul her up to his room, have her fellow maids and footmen bring water up for a bath, then plunk her into the water while the rest of the house descended into chaos at such a breach of hierarchy. Though, the idea of a wet, warm, naked Miss Smith in his bath had his cock twitching as the fire in his belly grew hotter.
He shut down the fantasy with brutal control and refocused on her ankle. ‘You’re right. It isn’t broken, but you’ll need to stay off your feet while this heals, Miss Smith. At least a week, possibly longer.’
She shook her head so violently, he worried she might fall off the seat. ‘No. I’ll be right as rain in the morning, my lord. I swear it. I can’t take time off. I need my wages, and Mrs Harding wouldn’t stand for me lazing about.’
‘You’re hardly lazing about with a sprained ankle. Mrs Harding will do exactly as she’s told.’
A tear tracked down Penny’s cheek, catching in the cut. ‘You don’t understand, my lord. It wouldn’t be fair for the others. Even if you did order it, they would hold grudges. Someone would have to take over for me and there would be hard feelings. Servants don’t take time off to heal. We do that while we work.’
The sight of Miss Smith falling apart over being told she couldn’t work rocked Liam. She had just faced off against two brutes without so much as a hint of hysteria – something which he still needed to ask her about – but when told she would need to take time off work to heal, she became a watering pot. It made no sense.
Because my livelihood would never be at risk if I took time to convalesce. A truth which does not apply to Miss Smith.
The chasm separating Liam from Penny could not be more obvious, and he was a bastard for not recognising the inequity sooner.
‘I will speak with Mrs Harding, my lord. I can ask her to give me lighter duties until my ankle is feeling better, but sprains always look worse than they really are. See?’ She rotated her ankle, her face locked into a neutral mask even as her eyes flashed with what had to be controlled pain. ‘Barely a twinge. I shall be perfectly fine in the morning. I know it.’
Liam held her foot still, squeezing gently. ‘Let us get you back, ice and bandage your ankle, and we shall see how you are faring tomorrow.’
Penny pressed her lips together in a firm line. It was an expression Liam was becoming familiar with and indicated she was about to say something no maid would ever dare utter to her employer. His heart flared with something warm and troubling as anticipation sparked in his blood. He couldn’t wait to hear the tart honesty she would doubtless impart.
‘I believe I know better than you how my ankle feels, my lord. If I say it is fine, then it is fine. I don’t need you to determine what I am capable of doing with my own limbs.’
God, I love to battle with her.
‘Just the thought of what you could do with these limbs has me nearly speechless.’
She ground her teeth together. ‘That is not what I meant.’
He continued talking. ‘Thankfully, I’m not speechless as I have an important question for you. Since we are discussing what you can and can’t do with your apparently uninjured body, exactly how did you manage to fight off two much larger, much stronger men? And did one of them end up with a hat pin in his neck? Ingenious use of accessories, Miss Smith.’
Penny narrowed her eyes. ‘Yes. He did. And if I had another pin, it would have been lodged in the tall bastard’s throat.’
‘The gentleman missing teeth and sporting a broken nose?’ Liam raised his brow.
Penny crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Yes. That one. Who knows where a third pin might find itself imbedded. A thigh, perchance? Or a certain marquess’ hand.’
‘Miss Smith, are you ogling my thigh?’
Liam couldn’t stop his smile as Penny rolled her eyes and made a disgusted tsking sound.
His fingers twitched against her delicate ankle. ‘For a domestic, you display some unique skills. I’m guessing you didn’t learn how to fight while polishing desks or laundering bed sheets.’
Penny bit her cheek and lifted her gaze just over Liam’s right shoulder. ‘I didn’t grow up in a very safe place. Ladies in your sphere learn how to read. Play the pianoforte. Needlepoint. I learned how to survive. And I won’t let you shame me for that.’
The warmth in his chest spread outward, dissipating as something sharp and fragile broke within him. Imagining Penny as a defenceless young girl, being forced to fight for her survival, was impossible. What horrors had she seen? And how could he vanquish the bastards putting her in such an untenable situation? ‘Where were you born?’
‘Does it matter?’
He gently squeezed her ankle. ‘Yes.’
Penny hissed out a breath. ‘St Giles, my lord. Trust me, these dangerous streets are more familiar to me than any ballroom is to you.’
‘I would never shame you for where you were born. For what you had to do to survive, Penny. Not for the world.’ Though he had fantasised about it with frequency, this was the first time he spoke her name aloud. It felt right.
Penny’s eyes widened. For an endless moment, they watched each other, his hand gently brushing over her ankle to reclaim her foot. It was such an intimate thing, to wrap her small, sturdy foot in his warm hand. He wished he could so easily wrap her body in his arms, offer her safety, sanctuary, comfort.
Liam couldn’t look away from her eyes. Such secrets swirled in her hazel gaze. What he wouldn’t give to know her darkest deeds. To hear her confessions and ease whatever pain still lingered from a life of obvious hardships. No woman should have to learn to defend herself with such violence. And yet, he was immensely proud of Penny. What an odd feeling to carry for a woman he had known just over a week.
Time doesn’t equate to depth of feeling.
He hated when Philippa was right. It was galling.
Despite their short acquaintance, he did know Penny Smith. The raw, violent, desperate essence of her. It was the same mystical substance as his own soul.
The brougham stopped with a lurch as the driver leaped from his seat and landed on the gravel drive with a crunch of boots against stone. They were home.
‘I insist you rest for the remainder of the day, Miss Smith.’ Their stolen moment was over. ‘It is your day off, after all. Surely the others won’t begrudge you that?’
Penny exhaled in a uniquely feminine sound of annoyance. ‘Fine. But tomorrow, I shall resume my duties, my lord.’
Liam pulled her skirt down and helped her remove her legs from his lap before the driver opened the door. The scene inside the brougham was significantly less scandalous than moments before, but it would still raise eyebrows amongst the beau monde. A maid riding in the carriage with her lord. As if they might be equally important. Completely untoward.
Fools. All of them.
And Liam was the biggest of them all. A fact he meant to change.