A Matter of Grave Concern (21 page)

She lifted her chin. “You will miss digging up putrefying bodies?”

He caught her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “I will miss
you
.”

“So much that you weren’t even going to tell me who you are.” She tried to jerk away, but he held her fast.

“Because I knew, if I saw you through the eyes of Lucien Cavendish and not Max Wilder, you would become part of that life, too, and maybe . . . maybe I wouldn’t be able to let you go despite my engagement.”

That last part sounded torn from him and so sincere it made Abigail’s heart leap into her throat. “Is that also why you wouldn’t make love to me?” she asked. “Why you wouldn’t give me that much?”

“
Give
you that much. I was trying not to
take
that much.” A tortured expression claimed his face. “I went too far as it was, Abby. You didn’t even know that I was unavailable, until recently. And then you wisely wouldn’t listen to my desperate entreaties.”

Only because she’d been hurt. She was still hurt. But now that she knew who he was, that their time here in Wapping was all she would ever get and there was no chance for more . . . “What if I have changed my mind?”

His eyes lowered to her mouth. “Just tell me you still want me.”

“I’ve wanted you from almost the first moment I laid eyes on you,” she admitted.

The relief that crossed his face surprised her. “Holding back . . . it’s been torture,” he admitted and, pulling her to him right there in the street, kissed her.

She closed her eyes as she met his tongue with her own and the rest of the world ceased to exist. It wasn’t until someone in the passing crowd whistled that he broke off the kiss.

“See what you do to me?” he said with a breathy chuckle. “But you deserve better than a public spectacle.”

After hailing a cab, he told the driver to take them to an address in Mayfair.

“Mayfair?” Abby echoed numbly. It was difficult to concentrate when she missed Max’s arms around her as acutely as she did.

“I’m taking you home,” he said.

Home to his town house?

“No.” She shook her head. “Take me to Farmer’s Landing. That’s how I want to remember you. You, as”—conscious of the cabby listening in, she avoided saying
a duke
—“as that man from Mayfair, would be a stranger to me.”

He cocked his head as he looked down at her. Then he nodded.

Chapter 23

Max feared he was making a terrible mistake. He had been trying so hard not to let Abby become too important to him—and to make sure he didn’t become too important to her. The thought of causing her unhappiness upset him far more than the idea of his own needs going unmet. He had duties, responsibilities. He had to act in accordance with his station, and that often required sacrifice. Honor dictated that he fulfill his commitment to marry Lady Hortense Brimble. If he pulled out, especially for a poor surgeon’s daughter, he would damage his reputation and his family’s good name. His own mother would probably never speak to him again. So he had done all he could to resist the temptation to reach for Abby in the night. It was the only reason he hadn’t taken her maidenhead.

But all his good intentions were coming to naught. Now that she knew who he was, now that there were no more secrets between them, he couldn’t continue to deny himself. He wanted her too badly.

The drive to No. 8 Farmer’s Landing seemed to take forever. He hated the thought that they might run into Jack when they arrived. Jack was the last person he wanted to see. But he could understand why Abby would find their room more comfortable than a strange place in an unfamiliar part of the city. Besides, it was wise that he not leave the area. He had purposely refrained from returning to Mayfair over the past three weeks lest he be seen coming or going. He didn’t want the cabby questioned.

Fortunately, Jack wasn’t home. Late afternoon the leader of the London Supply Company was almost always at one of the various taverns he frequented, buying dinner and drinking. Bill was probably with him—or would join him shortly. If Tom and Emmett were around, they would be there, too. They met gravediggers, sextons and the like, paid bribes and plotted out the cemeteries to be visited. Until Abby came to live with them, Max had almost always joined the group, unless he needed to meet with his clerk, and then he offered some excuse.

But a lot had changed in a short time. Tom was likely dead, Emmett was missing and Max was desperately hoping that something he had learned today would prove to be the string that would unravel the mystery of Madeline’s disappearance. Gertrude, despite her willingness to help, had proved to be a great disappointment. She knew nothing. But something Agnes had said stuck with him. Something about Emmett trailing Madeline around . . . Emmett had done the same with Max—had followed him on more than one occasion. And although he claimed that Jack put him up to it, perhaps that wasn’t true.

Perhaps he knew something the others did not.

If only Max could ask him . . .

“He’s not here,” Abby breathed as soon as they walked into the house. She didn’t mention who
he
was, but she didn’t have to. She had obviously been as worried as he was about confronting Jack.

As soon as they reached the bedroom, Max built a fire, then locked the door. He didn’t want anything interrupting them.

“Let down your hair and take off your clothes,” he said.

Abby turned to face him but backed away. “Shouldn’t we wait until we are under the covers? It’s . . . it’s full daylight.”

“That’s the point—I want to see you.” He smiled, hoping to reassure her. “Don’t tell me a woman who uses the word
cock
as readily as a man and speaks of spermatozoa is suddenly shy.”

“I’m afraid I’ve had too much time to think about it. I’m nervous,” she admitted.

He sobered. “You haven’t changed your mind . . .”

She didn’t refuse him as he feared. She lifted her skirt and began to roll down her stockings.

Max’s breath caught as he sat on the stool and watched her undress. He was afraid if he touched her right away it would all go too fast—and this deserved a moment. “You are so beautiful, Abby, so unique. You fill my mind, dominate my thoughts. Even when I tell myself not to think of you, I can’t help it.”

He already knew he would never forget her; she was nothing like the women he had known so far, not even the ones he had taken to his bed.

Maybe that was what frightened him, he decided. He felt something deeper for her, something protective and powerful. He felt . . .
possessive,
he realized as he lifted his eyes to hers—and that was a first.

“Then what are you waiting for?” She sounded as breathless as he was.

“I could look at you forever,” he admitted.

“It requires a great deal of nerve to stand here naked, when you’re fully clothed and not saying or doing
anything
.”

“It requires a bit of faith and trust, too. But you trust me enough to let me look, don’t you, Abby? I would never hurt you, not if I could possibly avoid it.”

She smiled even though they both knew he would hurt her the very moment it was time to return to regular life. He wished there was another way, wished he wouldn’t have to give her up. He could ask her to be his mistress. Many men of his rank kept mistresses. But the jealousy that incurred—it was no kind of life for his wife, especially after they started having children. Max had seen what his father’s dalliances had done to his own mother. He couldn’t be selfish enough to cheat Abby like that, either. She deserved a man who could live with her and openly love her.

“What happens after today doesn’t matter,” she said. “I ask only for this.”

He would make sure she was admitted to a medical college somewhere, he promised himself, and drew her into his arms.

Max’s absolute focus made Abby feel oddly powerful. He was engaged to someone else, but
she
was the object of his desire. As hard as he had been fighting to resist the temptation she posed, he couldn’t.

“You could cause a saint to fall, Abby,” he muttered.

She didn’t respond. She felt no inclination to talk. As his mouth closed over her breast, he made a throaty, animal-like sound that let her know this was exactly what he had craved all along. He was taking it now, and this time he wouldn’t stop. She could tell he was well beyond that.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked as he led her to the bed. “I hate the thought that you might regret it.”

She combed her fingers through his hair, reveling in the fact that she had the freedom to do so. “I’m nearly an old maid. Don’t you think it’s time?”

“I’ve never seen an old maid who looks quite like you do.” He stared down at her. Then he kissed her as his hand found that sensitive region between her legs.

When he slid a finger inside her, Abby gasped at the pleasure it provided and arched her hips for more. She felt as if she had waited an eternity for Max, that nothing had mattered until he came into her life.

The way he touched her was every bit as erotic as what he had done before. But the intent behind it, the promise of where their lovemaking was going, made it that much better.

“You’re making me tremble,” she told him.

His teeth flashed as he smiled. But that smile was gone by the time he removed his finger and used it to lubricate himself.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she watched.

“I’m hoping this will make my entrance a little easier on you,” he said, and then he angled her hips up to receive him, and began to press inside her.

He watched her so intently she could tell he was taking guidance from the expression on her face.

She bit her lip, slightly nervous, but she wasn’t going to let a little bit of pain stop her.

The muscles of his arms bunched as he let go of her hips and held himself above her. Admiring the beautiful sight he made, she tried to relax but couldn’t help flinching when that moment arrived.

He hesitated as soon as he felt the change. “I’ll give you . . . time to adjust,” he muttered, but his breathing was ragged, and she could tell it wasn’t easy for him to hold back.

“Don’t stop.” Eager to get this part over with, so she could enjoy what she had been looking forward to, she closed her eyes and gripped his buttocks to encourage him to press the rest of the way inside her. When he did, it was almost as if she had no idea where her body stopped and his began: they were one.

“How does it feel?” he murmured.

“Are you soliciting compliments?” she teased. “Because the pain is already gone.”

He paused to kiss her, as if he didn’t believe her and wanted to be sure. “This is heaven for me, Abby.”

She had dreamed of this moment. But the reality was far better than any imagining. He found her mouth again, and she felt his tongue slide against hers as he began to thrust. She loved the full sensation she experienced when they were joined, the rhythm of his movements, the desperation that gripped them both as the cadence quickened.

She moaned to let him know she had nearly reached that special peak, and his muscles grew tauter. “Are you close, Abby?”

She closed her eyes and gripped him tight. “Almost there . . .”

“I’m trying to last,” he told her. “But you make me feel like an overeager schoolboy, someone who’s never been with a woman before.”

As she hovered on the cusp of the same tremendous pleasure he had given her before, he suddenly muttered that it was too late, that he had to withdraw. But when she gasped and clung to him, he groaned and thrust again. Then she shuddered and he shuddered and it felt as if their bodies melted and fused together.

W
hen Jack came home, he banged on the door, dragging Abby out of a blissful sleep. Max seemed to be sleeping even more deeply. He tightened his arms around her but didn’t answer, so she did.

“Yes?”

“Tell Max to get his arse out of bed and come to work,” Jack barked.

She tensed, lest he say more. She didn’t want to fully engage him. But when she heard the hall creak as he walked past, she let her breath go.

Max would be leaving, heading out to gather up more dead bodies with Jack and Bill. Given the dwindling numbers of the gang, they would need him tonight more than ever. She hated to let him go, because she would not be waiting for him when he came back. She had known, from the moment she confronted him about his true identity, that this would be the last memory she would have of him.

At least they had made the most of it. They had made love three times. He hadn’t managed to withdraw the first time, which left her a little uneasy, but they had been more careful after. And now, for better or worse, it was over, in almost every aspect.

She was glad she no longer had to help procure bodies, no longer had to deceive people by pretending to be part of their mourning party. But she wasn’t even going to try to convince herself that she wouldn’t miss Max. She—a woman who never planned to marry, never planned to give a man that much control over her life—would do anything to have
this
man. But this man wasn’t available. Socially, he was so far above her, she couldn’t have him, regardless—so she told herself there was no use feeling sad.

It was time to go home, face her father, and try to rebuild her life. Staying would only break her heart. If there was no way to be with Max, really be with him, she was foolish to risk her life living among body snatchers. He was already doing all he could to find Madeline and had so many resources to pull from—time, money and contacts. She was foolish to think she could assist someone like him. In reality, she was just giving him someone else to protect, and she was taking something that belonged to another woman. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she continued as she was.

Jack wouldn’t like her leaving. He might even try to exact some type of retribution. But she couldn’t stay forever. And she planned to offer him a contract at the school. Hopefully, that would mollify him until Max turned him in to the police.

“You coming?” When Jack passed their door to go back downstairs, he banged on it again.

“Max.” She used his assumed name even though she knew it wasn’t the correct one. That was who he was to her—even if it wasn’t who he could continue to be. “Are you awake?”

“I don’t want to be.” He kissed her shoulder. “Then I’ll have to leave you.”

Although she hadn’t told him she wouldn’t be waiting when he returned, he knew, as she did, that their time was limited.