Chapter Nineteen
Franny had no intention of actually climbing the stairs, she simply wanted to examine the scene like a proper investigator.
She was almost to the exit when someone caught her around the waist and tugged her backward.
Pressed tight against a solid torso and caged in by the jug-bidden throng, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
Contracting her tricep, she prepared to elbow her captor in the chin.
“Where do you think you are going, Franny?” Edward asked, his raspy voice vibrating all the way to her core and his warm breath in her ear causing goosebumps to scatter over her skin.
She turned her head until her chin swept along his chiseled jawline. Her heart pirouetted at the intimacy. “Nowhere,” she said, her panted whisper betraying her arousal.
“Good,” he rumbled in his deep baritone. “Don’t break your promise.”
What promise? She couldn’t think, with her body on fire. If she stopped ramming her arse into his thigh, she might cool down. Except, she couldn’t. Not yet, anyway.
“Franny,” he growled in her ear.
Hoping to hear that delicious utterance again, she ground her buttocks against him. If she wasn’t mistaken, his arousal grew hard and insistent.
“Good God, woman.” He groaned.
Groan. Growl. Either one. She didn’t care which. She rather liked his beast-like noises. What did he sound like when he spent, deep inside a woman? Deep inside her? Her breath and heartbeat quickened.
Enough is enough. She didn’t require a man’s touch or attention. The ale had affected her common sense, making her susceptible to masculine sorcery. She steadied her erratic breathing.
“We need to leave right now,” Edward said.
So much for trying to pull herself together, because she wasn’t ready to let go of this euphoria washing over her. It would take an earthquake to remove her from this man’s intoxicating grasp.
Edward loosened his hold and nudged her forward. How dare he awaken her primitive needs, then push her away. The blighter.
His large fingers entwined with hers, dwarfing them. The tingling in her fingertips was a pleasant distraction, filling the void created when their bodies separated. She did not fight his pull as he tugged her out of the tavern and into the sobering breeze.
*
If only Edward was holding her hand like a lover might. Instead, she suspected his tight grip was to keep her from scaling the side stairwell to the third floor because once the tavern was behind them, he dropped her hand.
Her cheeks heated from humiliation. She had rubbed her body against his like a strumpet. At least he had the decency not to say anything as they strolled side by side. She, for one, couldn’t take the uncomfortable silence another moment.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “ ’Twas the ale.” Drinking one or two pints had never before made her behave like a cat in heat taunting a tomcat. But she had to blame something, and her pride would not allow her to admit she found Edward alluring, and dare she admit it—wonderful?
“I know you are disappointed that we didn’t confront Lancelot,” he said. “But I have no idea what we would have encountered if we had climbed those stairs. I shall take another lawman with me when I return.”
But she hadn’t intended to climb the stairs.
At least not tonight. She just wanted to see where the men were staying.
Since he thought she was about to break her promise, he could have nagged her about that, or pointed out her dissolute behavior, but instead he’d acted professionally, turning their conversation back to the case. She owed him a sincere apology.
She halted.
Seeming absorbed in his thoughts, he continued a few more steps before returning to her. A ray of moonlight illuminated one side of his face as he regarded her, a straight line to his lips and his expression serious.
“I’m sorry for behaving like a wanton,” she murmured, so ashamed she could barely speak. “I don’t know what got into me.”
He stepped so close that a butterfly would be hard-pressed to flutter between them without its wings brushing their torsos.
“Franny, it has been a long, emotional day. Neither of us is thinking clearly. Let us check on Zigzag, then get some sleep. By the by, the Wentworths are staying at the gymnasium tonight. You are staying with me. Your aristocratic friends made the decision.”
In his rooms? If they thought she and Edward were saints, they were mistaken.
Currently she was feeling the opposite of innocent and virginal.
Her lascivious feelings from earlier had returned the second his warm breath blew across her cheek.
Years ago, she had not enjoyed Harry’s tongue sloppily sucking on hers, but a man like Edward, one who exuded such potent masculinity, must know how to use his tongue to pleasure a woman.
On second thought, she might like to stay at his cozy residence.
What would he do if she rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his? There was only one way to be certain. But before she succumbed to her feminine desires, she had to know one thing.
“Do you have feelings for Lady Milton?” she asked.
The moonlight shimmered over Edward’s ebony lashes as he blinked. “What?”
“She is quite beautiful, even though she smells like a brothel,” Franny declared, unable to hide her true feelings.
Edward threw his head back and chortled so hard that his chest quaked with each chuckle.
Franny lifted her chin indignantly. “I’m delighted you find my question so humorous,” she said, sarcasm oozing.
Composing himself, he swiped at his teary eyes. “I do not tup the women I am responsible for helping, Franny. And I’m not laughing at your question. It’s your observation I find humorous. The lady is lovely, and she does indeed smell like a brothel. But no, I have no carnal interest in her.”
Franny glared at him. “Have you frequented a lot of brothels?” Seconds after asking the witless question, she wanted to disappear.
Edward’s humor died a quick death, replaced by a tangible anger that radiated from him. “That is none of your concern, and most certainly not a question a well-bred lady should ask.”
She should have kissed him when the moment was right. Now she would never know what it felt like to have his lips touch hers. To taste his tongue. To run her hands over his sinewy chest and back.
“I’m sure you have noticed that I am hardly a well-bred lady,” she said, her fists balled at her sides. She winced as all of her worse-than-abysmal attempts to flirt with him slammed her memories.
He rubbed his jaw until she feared he might remove a layer of skin. “What about you?” he asked. “Do you have feelings for Harry?”
“Harry?” Franny shook her head. “Our kisses meant nothing.”
Edward growled. “I knew there was something between the two of you.”
She never should have mentioned the kisses. She was a disaster times ten.
“ ’Twas long ago, and it was curiosity, nothing more. He is my dear friend, and I care about him, but I have never harbored romantic inclinations toward him.” She swallowed both the lump in her throat and her pride. “I’ve never wanted to kiss a man romantically until…” Until you, Edward.
Perhaps he read her mind because he moved swiftly, catching her off guard.
Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her to him.
His lips crashed against hers, stealing her breath.
Her legs trembled and her knees buckled.
She feared she might tumble to the ground, so she clasped his broad shoulders and hung on for dear life.
“Oh, Franny,” he murmured into her mouth between his scorching kisses.
She arched into him, pressing her aching breasts against his firm chest.
His tongue teased and taunted her lips with delicate licks and gentle nibbles.
Her lips parted on a moan, and his tongue slipped inside her mouth.
She cradled his cheeks in her hands. His evening scruff tickled the pads of her fingers.
She imitated his swirling tongue that still tasted like ale.
Tingles took hold in her lower feminine places, then wound upward to tickle her nipples.
Her heart, soul, and body were being incinerated, and this public display of affection where anyone might come across them was most indecent. Except she didn’t give a fig, or a farthing, or a single shite about any of that.
He withdrew his tongue to trail kisses along her jaw and nibble her ear.
Unable to control her desire, she gently touched his silky lashes. “Oh, Edward, they are so soft and pretty.”
“Say my name again,” he demanded in a wickedly deep voice.
“Edward,” she whispered.
“Christ, Franny.” He claimed her lips in an aggressive assault that she eagerly succumbed to.
While his hands roamed up and down her back, her fingers tunneled in his hair, gently tugging until he was moaning into her mouth. His hard bulge poked her in the belly.
Panting, he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers.
“Mmm,” she murmured with a smile.
“I second that,” he said. “I believe we have both been jealous fools.”
“Yes,” she agreed. There was no way she’d admit that she’d been physically attracted to him from the very first time he’d strutted into the gymnasium those many years ago. For now, she’d revel in this glorious encounter. In fact, she wanted more.
She popped onto her tiptoes and reached her lips toward his.
He pulled back. “Shh,” he mouthed, one finger to his mouth, the other subtly pointing behind her.
His owlish eyes, combined with her fighter’s instincts, chilled Franny to her bones. She slowly peered over her shoulder. At least eight men, their movements predatory, clubs poised, slunk toward them. While she and Edward had been behaving like animals, hunters had cornered them.
“Get them,” one of the men yelled.
Edward grabbed her hand. “Run!”
Her heart pumping wildly, a chilly sweat dripping from her forehead, Franny easily kept pace with Edward as footsteps clobbered the cobblestones behind them.
All they had to do was stay out in front of their assailants.
Franny had the endurance to run all night if need be.
She suspected the athletic-looking Edward also had an impressive lung capacity.
Edward’s night vision seemed to be superior to hers since he guided her through the winding back alleys and side streets.
Thankfully, she wore her rubber-soled slippers that kept her from slipping in the ring.
Occasionally, she tripped over something in her path.
Sometimes the item felt like a loose cobblestone.
A few times, something furry brushed her ankle.
Thank heavens she could not see, because she did not favor rats.
Eventually, some of the footsteps fell away. Huh! The lazy blighters had shite stamina. If she had to guess, only a few men remained in the chase.
“This way.” Edward’s labored breathing and his fingers entwined with hers became her anchor in the pitch dark. He dragged her behind a wall of what felt like shipping crates. “Shh,” he whispered.
The space was so tight that their torsos melded together. His arms were around her, holding her protectively as they mingled into one being, hell-bent on survival. She pressed her face into his heaving chest to stifle the sound of her breathing.
“I don’t see them,” someone managed to yell raggedly while gasping for air.
“Bloody hell. They didn’t just disappear!”
“Come out, come out, wherever and whoever you are,” a third man merrily sang as if playing hide-and-seek with a child.
She should take solace in the fact that these men didn’t seem to know who they were, yet tiny fists of fear pummeled her.
Time stood still. Blood whooshed in her ears. She shivered as unpleasant gooseflesh washed over her skin. Beef and ale soured in her stomach.
“When we find you, I am going to bloody kill you,” one of the men yelled. “But first, I will make you watch as I teach your lady a lesson. No one asks about Lancelot and survives.”
Edward stiffened. With her face burrowed against him in the confined space, she absorbed the quickening thump thump of his heart.
Her legs trembled, and a tear trickled down her cheek.
If only she hadn’t badgered Edward into going to the tavern.
Hell’s teeth. She’d shamelessly flirted the entire time they were there, hoping he’d do her bidding.
And what had it gotten them? She’d become a mass of wanton inclinations, and now these men were about to kill Edward and do unthinkable things to her.
“Do not move,” Edward whispered so softly she had to strain to make out his words. “I’m retrieving my pistol.” He struggled to fit his hand between them.
But he no longer had a pistol.
“Bloody bollocking hell,” Edward whispered.
“There they are,” someone shouted.
For a moment, Franny expected to be wrenched from their hiding place and yanked from Edward’s arms, but instead a noisy commotion erupted not far from them.
“Stay away from The Purple Rabbit,” someone who sounded like Bear said.
Fist and wood pounding skin and bones, as well as blasphemies of every sort, echoed in the alley as warfare broke out.
“Bloody hell,” Edward whispered.
Franny’s thoughts exactly, although she was too terrified to express anything more than a soft whimper.
“There is an open window above us,” Edward whispered. “Can you climb?”
In her youth, she’d climbed trees as skillfully as an energetic lad. Hopefully, a stack of shipping crates wasn’t much different.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Without further ado, Edward hoisted her onto the crates.
She stretched and easily caught the edge of the window.
Using her upper body strength, she lifted herself to the pane and tumbled into the building.
She landed on a hard floor with a loud thud followed by an “Oomph.” She bounced onto her feet and hopped into her fighting stance.
As her eyes adjusted, she made out the outline of crates stacked to the ceiling.
Someone soared through the window, startling her.
“ ’Tis just me,” Edward whispered.
The cacophony from the vicious battle beneath them continued as Edward grabbed her hand and guided her through the maze of crates.
Putting all her trust in him, she followed him along a narrow corridor, then down a flight of stairs. He opened what she suspected was the building’s main door and peered into the night.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I will be right behind you,” he said. “Head west and run as fast as you can.”
So, she did, as if her life depended on it.