Chapter One #3
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but your man is outside waiting. Do you have a message for him?” He glanced over his shoulder, likely uncertain of the validity of such a meeting.
“Ah, yes. One moment.” Reuben crossed the room, pulled a small, folded paper from his coat pocket, and returned to the lad’s side. “Give him this. Tell him I’ll meet with Simon next week.” He placed the missive in the lad’s hand as well as a shilling. “Keep it between us, yes?”
“Always, sir.”
“Good lad. Off you go.” Reuben watched as the young man skittered down the hall and disappeared down the servants’ staircase.
He shook his head. Smart lad. Took initiative and direction, kept his mouth shut.
If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought Simon had had a hand in his employment as well.
But who knew how far his reach really extended.
After closing the door once more, Reuben locked it and placed his shirt back on the rack.
Part of him had hoped it was his mistress.
Saints, wouldn’t that put him in a right state of conflict? Mixing business with pleasure. A nobody like him tangling with one of the most prominent women in society. It was like one of those comedies he had seen on the stage. A comedy of errors.
The dowager duchess would never come to him in search of something so scandalous. Hell, did she even have desires after living with such a beast for so long?
Reuben cursed the old fool. If he hadn’t already been dead, Reuben would have killed him out of pure penance for what he’d done to his wife.
Lying on the bed, Reuben closed his eyes and pictured her. Cassandra. He could never call her that in the light of day, but he relished the sound of her name on his tongue in the quiet of his own chambers.
“Cassandra,” he murmured. “You torment me, Your Grace.”
His hand drifted over his chest and down his abdomen. He hissed in a breath, wishing it were her hand, not his, exploring the bare expanse of his skin. When he slid his hand beneath the waistband of his trousers, he groaned.
Images of her flashed through his mind. Her standing in the study, wearing her silken robe with unbound hair. The sparkle of amber liquid in her glass as she took a sip to fortify her courage.
“Come here, Evans.” Her husky voice filled his head, and his body tightened in response.
“Your Grace,” Evans murmured, dropping to his knees. His attention fixed on her lovely face as he gazed up at her. “Let me taste you.”
His imagination jumped into action as his cock hardened beneath his touch.
If only she were here, her hand on him instead of his own.
Her panting breaths filling the quiet air instead of his.
He opened his trousers and took his cock in his hand.
With long, languid strokes, he sought his release, chasing it with the fervor of a man possessed.
Her dark eyes sparkled in the firelight when he imagined her reaction to his attentions.
His fingers sliding beneath the fabric of her robe, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses along her thighs.
Alternating with each press of his lips, not leaving any part of her exposed flesh without his adoration.
When he finally placed his mouth on her hot center, she cried out his name, threading her fingers through his hair.
He explored her with his tongue, tasting her, devouring her.
Every lap of his tongue brought a moan from her lips, a cry from the depths of her soul.
He wanted all of it, craved it as a man starved.
Reuben stroked his cock faster, gripping harder as he moved, edging himself closer to release. His imagination overwhelmed him, driving him toward the pinnacle of pleasure and insanity. He wanted her, not this piss-poor substitution. She plagued him. Haunted him. Tormented him.
He would do anything for her. Lie. Cheat. Steal. Murder. She could command his very life, and he would surrender it to her willingly.
With a heavy groan, Reuben coated his hand with his seed, savoring the pulsing awareness of his body’s reaction to the mere thought of Cassandra. Heaven help him if he ever acted on his desires. He just might perish.
Quickly wiping up the mess he had made, Reuben returned his countenance to a grounded place of reason. There would be nothing between him and the duchess. There could never be. No matter how much he wanted it. Even if she arrived at his door clad in only an enticing smile, he would reject her.
He had to. For both their sakes.
Reuben had a job to do. If his past ever came to light, if she ever knew the truth, then he would lose her forever. So, it was better that he never had her to begin with.
One day, they would part ways. He loathed the thought, but it was a sad reality of his existence. They were of two different classes. Nothing could change that. The expectations on both of them were vastly different. Even if it were possible, it would be a never-ending challenge.
She deserved better than a servant like him. An orphan taken in and trained in the company of criminals and thieves. His time in this house was slowly ticking away, and he needed to focus on his mission.
Her Grace was safe now. He had made sure of that.
But Reuben was still in dangerous waters, and if he weren’t careful, he would drown. And there would be no one to save him.
Once he turned out the light, Reuben lay in the dark, staring at the paint peeling on the ceiling, illuminated by a faint sliver of moonlight drifting through the window.
“Keep your wits about you and focus.” He inhaled a deep breath then let his eyes drift closed. “Once this is done, you’re gone.”
But the words didn’t help. They flittered into the wind, unheeded.
Instead, visions of the illustrious widow filled his mind and danced in his head until sleep finally claimed him. Cassandra followed him into his dreams, the only place where he could indulge in his desires and not feel the wrath of reality breathing down his neck.