Chapter Nineteen
“H oly hell.” The smell hit him first. Michael opened the cellar door and nearly toppled over. Dogs. So many dogs stared back at him. And then the barking started. A cacophony of anxiety and agitation.
He heard Maggie gasp behind him. “There are so many. There are…”
Michael gulped, scanning the room. “Twenty-two. But I don’t see—”
“George!” Maggie swept past him into the foul room. Along with five other dogs, George was tied to a post that had been pounded into the floor. Fresh fury scalded Michael as he watched the beloved pet cower and whimper while Maggie worked to set him free. He appeared a little mussed and dirty, but relatively unharmed. Some of the other dogs in the room weren’t so lucky.
Maggie carried the dog back to Michael, crying and laughing as he licked her face. “I’m so sorry, George. I’m so sorry I let them take you from me.”
Michael guided the duo out the door. “Hurry now. You can kiss each other as much as you want in the carriage. We have to go before anyone gets back.”
Maggie glanced over her shoulder and scowled. “It doesn’t look like anyone spends any time here.” She was probably right. Cleanliness was not important to the thieves. The dogs were surrounded by their own filth, and since Michael could spot no candles or lamps, he surmised that they spent most of the time chained up in darkness. Someone had to deliver food and water, though Michael couldn’t see signs of either.
“Still,” he said, pushing her toward the stairs, “we can’t delay.”
“No, wait!” Maggie wouldn’t budge, and he already knew what she was going to say.
Michael blocked her with his hand. “I know. I know, dammit! You weren’t going to leave without George, and now you’re not going to leave without all of them. Well, neither am I!”
He ordered her to put George in the hansom cab and tell the driver to wait for the others.
Maggie was halfway up the stairs before she twirled around. “But what if he says no?”
The blasted woman always had so many questions! “Tell him I will pay him handsomely to say yes. And if he still says no, tell him that I will hunt him down and kill him.”
Michael didn’t expect her smile, but it was brilliant. “Wonderful!” Maggie exclaimed, taking the steps two at a time.
Michael returned to the room where twenty-one pairs of haunted eyes watched him expectantly. Wonderful .
None of this was wonderful. But it wasn’t too late to make it something .
*
Maggie positioned the last pillow on the floor, not rising from her crouch until it was just right. When she stood, a white, curly-haired terrier sniffed at the pillow’s corners, eventually deciding that the velvet accessory Michael’s mother purchased twenty years ago on advice from the king was acceptable for his grubby body.
“There,” Maggie announced, dusting off her hands. “I think that’s it for the night. Do you think they’ll be comfortable enough?”
Michael sighed, surveying his once-luxurious drawing room, which Maggie had spent the last hour transforming into a premium boardinghouse for dogs. All of the pillows and blankets his servants had been able to find were now scattered over the floor for the pampered little majesties.
“They’ll be fine,” he remarked dryly when he noticed two shepherds stretching their bellies in front of the fire, trading gaping yawns.
Maggie twisted her lips. She still needed some convincing but let it go. “I should get back,” she said, casting another doubtful glance at the animals. “Alice is probably out of her mind with worry.”
Michael spotted a Dalmatian chewing on one of his slippers. How the hell had it gotten that? He wrestled with the animal for a few seconds but ultimately gave up. “I had the driver take a note to her when we arrived. I told her that I would bring you back in the morning.”
“Oh.” Maggie swung her arms back and forth, unsure of what to do with herself now that the difficult night was at an end.
She had no idea.
“I’ve never been to your townhouse before,” she said casually, wading through the dogs. She looked everywhere but at him. “It’s large. A little too large for a bare-knuckle boxer.”
“Well, I am also a viscount, if you hadn’t heard. Besides, the dogs make the room seem smaller.”
“The dogs make the room smaller and cozier .” Maggie perked up. “Maybe you should keep them. I daresay they would be very happy here.”
Michael placed his hands on Maggie’s shoulders and directed her out of the room. “I think you’re exhausted, my dear. That can be the only reason for your ridiculous statement.” They tackled the staircase side by side. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ll contact the police in the morning, and we’ll put a note in the newspaper informing the public that we have missing dogs. The little ones should all be picked up and back in their own homes in no time.”
“Oh, yes, that’s a good idea,” Maggie yawned, slumping against him.
Michael noticed the dark marks under her eyes and her sluggish feet on the stairs. If he were a real gentleman, he would drop her off in one of the numerous guest bedrooms and let her get some much-needed sleep. But Michael had needs too. And once they were fulfilled, she could close her eyes.
They’d made a deal, after all.
As exhausted as she was, Maggie still managed to read his mind. “Michael,” she said as he led her down the hallway to his bedroom, “I know I promised that you could berate me tonight, but do you think it can wait? I am awfully tired.”
Michael opened the door to his room and was beyond pleased with how readily she took to it. Yes, she was tired, and Michael’s bed was fit for a dozen kings, but there was more to the story. She was comfortable with him… with their situation. It made everything he was about to say feel incredibly right.
He studied her as she strode around the room, lightly caressing the few items he kept on his bureau, skimming her palms over the gold-and-red damask covers on the bed. She gave him a wan smile. “Again… it’s very big.”
He chuckled. “Again, I’m a viscount.”
She nodded, once more using her hand to cover a yawn. “Will you help me take off my dress? I assume I’m not getting my own room.”
“You assume correctly.” Michael adopted a harder voice. “But we have to talk about tonight first.”
Her expression fell. “I thought we were going to wait.”
“You thought wrong,” he began. “But I’m not going to berate you for what you did. I’m angry about it—no, furious—but I have something else on my mind.”
“What?”
Michael couldn’t temper the hurt in his voice as he said, “I want to know when you plan on breaking my heart.” Slowly, he came to stand before her. “You’re supposed to, yes? You were supposed to make me fall in love with you and then stomp on my feelings.”
They shared a long stare. The air thickened and Michael had to work to breathe, but he needed to see her reaction.
“Who told you?” Maggie rasped.
“Who do you think? Our very mouthy duke.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t be angry with him. I’m glad someone told me about the little game. Why didn’t you?”
Maggie willed strength back into her fatigued frame. “It was a silly idea. I was just so upset with you. I wanted to hurt you the way that you’d hurt me.”
This was what he had been searching for, because Lord Oliver had failed to explain what Michael had done to batter Maggie’s feelings so badly. This couldn’t possibly be about what happened when they were children. Surely, after everything, they were past that. “What did I do, Maggie?”
Her laughter was anemic, void of life or color. “You didn’t kiss me. That night after the wedding. I thought you were going to, and I wanted you to so much, and then you just… stopped. I thought you’d been playing with me and my feelings. I felt like a child all over again. But what made it worse was that I had thought those old feelings for you had died, but they’d only been lying dormant all these years. You’d dragged them out only to crush them again.”
Michael recalled that night. He’d replayed it endlessly in his mind but thought all the torture had been on his end. He ran a hand over his face. “I wanted to kiss you. Good Lord, Maggie, you have no idea how much.”
She shrugged, evading his gaze. “Then why didn’t you?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it? I’ve asked it of myself probably a million times. I suppose I was afraid. My father always wanted me to fit in with the others, be like the lads who teased me mercilessly about him. Be the perfect viscount and earl that he couldn’t be, which meant always going with the tide, marrying a respectable woman, living quietly, never making waves, or speaking about anything remotely interesting. I always thought I could give him that if I could have my boxing too.”
He reached out and caressed tiny, fawn-colored hairs off her forehead. “But I knew if I kissed you, all of those good intentions would have flown away. Because you are not simple or quiet or easy, Maggie. And you are too interesting. You are everything I’ve ever wanted or ever wanted to be.”
She smiled shyly and placed her hand over his. “I had it all wrong, didn’t I? When I was trying to make you fall in love with me, I tried to act more feminine. I tried to be everything that your father wanted me to be for you.”
“What do you mean?”
Maggie was confused. “I let Aunt Alice dress me.”
“Oh, God, don’t remind me of those damn feathers.”
“I acted nicely and pleasantly to you.”
“You argue with me constantly.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I played horrible cricket because Ella and Jo told me that men love it when girls are terrible at things.”
“That’s why you swung the bat like a deranged blind person! I couldn’t understand what you were doing.”
“I was just trying to make you love me.”
Michael held her face. “You never had to try, my love, and certainly not with those silly clothes or poor cricketing skills—not by making yourself lesser. By simply being you, you ensured that I never had a chance. You challenge me, and yell at me, and force me to look at the world in a million different ways, and I am better for it. So, I have to ask you again. When are you going to break my heart? Because you have it in your hand. And you will hold it forever. It is no longer mine, so do with it what you will. But do it quickly, because I don’t think I can wait any longer not knowing if I will be kissing you in my bed tonight or merely dreaming about it.”
Maggie’s eyes darkened to emeralds, the tears giving them a luster that almost blinded him. She rested her forehead against his. “If you say I have your heart, then know that I will never let anything happen to it. I will keep it safe for the remainder of my life and for all eternity.” Laughter bubbled from her throat. “And I will never give it back, so don’t ever ask.”
Michael wrapped his arms around her. “Like George with his cricket ball, eh? Like mother, like son. That’s fine, my love. It is yours forever and always.”
She squeaked as he swooped under her to pick her up. He rearranged her legs so that they wound around his hips.
“What are you doing now?” she said, giggling.
“I was going to carry you to the bed.”
“Your bruises! I can walk—”
Michael groaned. “I know you can walk, I know you are perfectly capable of doing it yourself, but I want to carry you, my love. I want to feel the weight of you in my arms, knowing that you are all mine. And I know you want to argue with me, but you will have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight, you’re going to let me do what I want.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m going to love you. And you’re going to have to learn that you have a man who wants to be relied upon, who wants to solve all your problems. It doesn’t mean you have to let me—Lord knows you won’t—but let me pretend sometimes. It’s good for a man’s ego.”
“Grandmother told me that.”
Michael snorted. “Such a smart woman. What else did she tell you?”
Maggie bit her lip and shoved her head underneath his chin. “That sometimes beds weren’t necessary at all.”
Michael’s entire body went hard. Growling was the only way he could get the words out. “Is that right? So maybe, my carrying you might not be such a bad thing?”
Maggie trailed her nose along the column of his neck until her lips grazed against his earlobe. “You have no idea.”
Michael turned his head to catch her mouth. The kiss was blistering and needy, sexy and carnal, but filled with promises of the hopeful and innocent. Maggie went to work on his vest and shirt, splaying them wide on his chest. She fell into him, kissing and licking his skin while Michael attempted to rearrange them against the wall. His hands shook as he hiked up her skirts and tended to his trousers. The moment his cock was free, she reached between them and held it in her hand.
These were the perks of loving a woman who didn’t wait for permission.
Michael’s head fell to her shoulder with a shudder. “What should I do?” she whispered, and even that innocent question made his balls tighten to an untenably delicious degree.
“Christ,” he said, laughing. “Anything you want.”
“No, show me.”
Michael gathered his strength. He tucked one hand under her bottom and placed the other on top of hers. Then he did as she asked, starting with a steady rhythm that had them both panting. When the student had become the master, Michael went on his own journey. He reached the triangle between her thighs and rubbed her slit, bringing her to the same hysteria that he was battling.
Together they stared at their hands, watching the acts with open fascination and appetite. Maggie was as adventurous and curious as he was, and Michael wondered if there would ever be a day when she didn’t surprise him. He doubted it.
He jerked her hand away and covered her mouth once more, flooding her with his tongue and passion. But Maggie refused to be passive. She guided his cock to her entrance. Michael didn’t need an invitation. He drove into her in one surge, moaning along with her scream. He wanted to make it last, to make it romantic and gentle, but that would have to wait for another day. They would have those. They would have many.
Michael pumped into Maggie and gritted his teeth at the heavenly pull she had on him, the squeeze and friction her body gifted him. She rode him, bucking with abandon, needing and wanting, taking and giving. She arched her back and cried out as she massaged his cock, pulsing and milking him until he was equally spent.
Michael’s legs shook as he balanced them up against the wall. It was the only reason they were still standing.
He laughed, blowing Maggie’s hair off her neck. “I think you might have to walk to the bed after all. My strength seems to have vanished.”
She took his head in her hands and kissed his forehead. “So, is it true, then? Women really do weaken men’s legs?”
Fuck . Michael could never let Tommy know. “I never thought so, but when it comes to you, yes.”