Brook Street: Thief (10 page)

The bruise on his cheekbone was indeed the only one marring his skin.

Benjamin flexed his hands at his sides, trying to throw off the urge to grab Cavin’s arse. With a firm reminder to keep his hands to himself, he pushed from the wall. Keeping his back to Cavin, he moved about the room, extinguishing the candles and pulling off his clothes.

The ropes beneath the mattress creaked faintly. There was a rustle of fabric, another creak of the ropes, then the room went silent.

Benjamin turned from the basket he’d tossed his clothes into. The golden glow from the hearth provided more than enough light for him to make out Cavin on the right side of his bed, the coverlet drawn midway up his chest. He couldn’t help but hope it was a sight he would see many times in the future.

With the questions and worries about himself firmly behind him, he felt a remarkable sense of freedom. He knew who he wanted to be with and that person was Cavin. The passion between them was so hot it damn near scorched his skin, but it wasn’t just lust that drew him to Cavin. In spite of his past, Cavin had a good soul and looked after those under his care. He put Sam’s well-being above his own, and he’d definitely taken care with Benjamin their first night together. Hell, he took care of Benjamin every time they were together—indulging Benjamin’s whims with a willingness that knew no bounds. And there was a humility to Cavin that was a rare commodity in Benjamin’s world. Cavin was the sort of man who put others before himself, to the point where it made Benjamin want to take care of him in return. To help bear his burdens, to simply be there for him. The only thing standing in his way was, well, Cavin himself. But tomorrow, he would do everything in his power to convince Cavin to stay. Regardless of the complications that Cavin believed should keep them apart, if Cavin truly wanted to be with him, then surely they could find a way to make it so.

He crossed to the bed and slipped under the coverlet. The heat from Cavin’s body was a potent temptation, but Benjamin merely turned onto his stomach, making certain to keep a good few inches between them. He gave his pillow a punch to fluff it then settled in to get some sleep. “Good night, Cavin.”

“Good night, Ben.”

The fire in the hearth crackled. The mattress shifted beneath him. He opened his eyes. Cavin had moved to lie on his side, his gaze locked with Benjamin’s.

“I’ve missed you.”

The raw honesty in Cavin’s voice drew Benjamin to him. He breached the inches between them but stopped just short of touching Cavin. “Will you stay for breakfast?” He needed to be certain. He needed to know now, before he pressed his lips to Cavin’s, if he was destined to awaken to an empty bed again. If Cavin intended to leave before even giving Benjamin the chance to convince him that they could have a future together.

“Yes.”

That one word was all Benjamin needed. He wrapped an arm around Cavin’s back, his skin still cool from the recent shower yet warm to the touch. Before he could even lean toward Cavin’s lips, the man’s mouth found his.

Moving fully on top of Cavin, Benjamin deepened the kiss. Cavin spread his legs. One shift of his weight was all it took for Benjamin to fit them perfectly together, his hips bracketed by Cavin’s thighs, chest pressed against chest. Cavin’s hands roamed over his back, leaving a path of tingling skin in their wake.

No matter how hard he had once tried to fight his desires, he’d never felt the visceral pull toward women that he’d felt toward men, and certainly nothing like what he felt for Cavin. Just having Cavin near felt right. Having the man in his bed, even more so. And kissing him?

Complete perfection.

The kiss continued on. With each glide of his lips across Cavin’s, each stroke of Cavin’s tongue against his, lust built between them. The hands roaming his back turned demanding, pulling and tugging Benjamin closer still. Slanting his mouth harshly over Cavin’s, Benjamin rocked his hips, rubbing his hard cock against Cavin’s. The moans rumbling Cavin’s chest reverberated through his own chest, mixing with his.

Having Cavin beneath him like this, his kisses full of passion and hunger, his fingers digging into Benjamin’s skin, roused the need within Benjamin. The primitive need to make Cavin his.

Pulling back, he broke the kiss. “Will you let me? I want to be the one tonight.” In case there was any doubt in Cavin’s mind as to what Benjamin wanted, he ground against Cavin, dragging his erection across Cavin’s hard length.

Cavin drew his legs back, pulling his knees up toward his chest, in an answer that required no words at all. Yet he gave it nonetheless. “You can have anything you want from me, Ben.”

I want you to stay with me.

He kept the request inside and instead gave Cavin a quick kiss. Then he grabbed the oil from the bedside table drawer. His hand shook slightly as he slicked his cock then he poured more oil onto his fingers so he could ready his lover. He was half tempted to light a candle, but a greater part of him wanted the intimacy of almost complete darkness. Just as it had been their first night together. The shadows shrouding the visible details but not masking them completely. His other senses heightened, the impact of every touch magnified, every sensation increased tenfold, consuming him until he lost himself in Cavin.

Soon, he was pushing inside Cavin, joining them together with one slow, careful thrust. Cavin’s body tightened, a delicious constriction that threatened to yank the orgasm out of Benjamin. Crouched above Cavin and buried to the hilt, Benjamin held still, waited. Cavin let out a sigh, his breath fanning Benjamin’s lips, and the pressure around his length eased a bit.

One tug on his waist was all the encouragement Benjamin needed. He eased back then let his instincts take over. Cavin’s moans of pleasure filled his ears, his body pliant and giving beneath him, his skin heating with the threat of sweat. Slow thrusts turned long and demanding. Deeper. Harder. He couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t get close enough to Cavin.

His lips found Cavin’s, his tongue pushing inside his lover’s mouth. He shoved a hand between their bodies, wrapped his fingers around Cavin’s length. Cavin let out a groan. With his hips thrusting, his hand working and his tongue twining with Cavin’s, Benjamin pushed the pleasure even higher. He could feel the tension building within Cavin, the same tension that was building within himself. Drawing their muscles tight, shortening their breaths.

And then the climax was rushing over them, a searing wave of sensation that left Benjamin gasping to draw air into his lungs. He forced his fingers, sticky and coated in seed, to release Cavin’s sated prick, eased out of the man’s body and then let himself collapse on top of Cavin.

Sleep began to tug on his eyelids, making them heavy. Before he gave in, there was one question he needed to ask Cavin. He pushed up onto his elbows. “You’re staying?”

“Yes, Ben,” Cavin replied, his voice gravelly and deliciously rough.

“You’ll wake me before you go to the guest bedchamber in the morning?”

“Yes, Ben.”

“I don’t need to tie you to the bed?”

Cavin’s chuckle shook his chest. “No, you don’t
need
to, though…” In the darkness, Benjamin could just make out the arch of Cavin’s brow. “Could have some interesting possibilities.”

“Don’t tempt me. I take that back. You have tempted me. But another night. Tonight, we need some rest.”

A brush of his lips across Cavin’s, and then he settled against his lover’s side and gave in to the sleep pulling heavily on his mind.

Chapter Ten

Cavin stared up at the dark ceiling. He should be tired. He should have fallen asleep a good hour ago, followed Benjamin into slumber. But an odd restlessness had started to build the moment Benjamin had snuggled up to his side. And that restlessness had increased with each passing minute. With each rhythmic rise and fall of Benjamin’s back.

He did not belong here. Didn’t belong in Benjamin’s bed. And he certainly did not deserve all that the man had done for him.

Yet the urge to remain with Benjamin, to stay with him, by his side, to spend every night safe with the man’s arm slung across his chest, his strong body pressed close to his…

Need rose within, constricting his throat and squeezing his eyes closed tight. A need that tugged heavily on his soul, a desperate plea he was afraid he would not be able to resist for much longer.

Keeping his movements careful and slow, he eased out from under Benjamin’s arm. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and dropped his head into his hands.

What he wouldn’t give to be anyone but who he actually was.

And tomorrow, Benjamin would press him for answers. He knew it in his gut. Hell, the man had said they would “discuss it tomorrow.” The prospect of being transported hadn’t scared him overmuch, but the coming discussion with Benjamin? He wouldn’t allow Cavin to evade his questions much longer. And damnation, Cavin owed him answers. Yet the thought of looking Benjamin in the eye and admitting the truth of it all… Shame slid over him, thick and viscous. How the hell was he to do it? Not to mention the risk to Sam. What if Benjamin tossed the boy out? No gentleman in their right mind willingly employed a thief, even if a former thief.

A part of him screamed that he needed to leave while he had the chance and, more importantly, while he was able. While he still had the strength to walk out the front door. But he couldn’t leave the house now. He’d given Benjamin his word.

It made him feel distinctly like a caged animal, waiting for the butcher. His fate looming overhead, and him powerless to do anything about it.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. Bloody hell, he needed a drink. Something to quiet the riot in his head before he drove himself to Bedlam.

He got to his feet, pulled on the trousers Benjamin had left for him and padded from the room. Doubtful he’d find gin in Benjamin’s house, but he knew Benjamin kept whisky in the study, in the cabinet along the wall by the desk.

As he made his way down the stairs, a bit of rational thought descended. It wasn’t as if Benjamin believed him a saint incapable of any crime. Benjamin had sprung him from Fleet Street but a handful of hours ago.

Then he had proceeded to take him home and show him nothing but patience and kindness.

Yet another puzzle for his mind to try to solve.

He reached for the knob on the study door, and then went utterly still. Breath held, he tilted his head and focused on listening.

Nothing, yet he knew in his bones the house was not empty. His instincts had served him well over the past twenty-one years, and he wasn’t about to distrust them now. Someone else was moving about the town house.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, ready to be brought into action. The drunkard he had shared a holding cell with may have gotten in one blow, but it had been the only one before Cavin had sent the man sprawling onto his arse, where he’d wisely stayed.

His senses on full alert, he turned from the door and swept his gaze along the corridor.

Empty, except for himself.

Keeping to the dark shadows clinging to the walls, he went down the stairs. If someone had gained entry to the house, they would have done so from the ground floor.

His bare feet made not a sound as he crossed through the entrance hall. After checking the drawing room and the dining room, he moved on to the kitchen. He pushed open the door, then rolled his eyes.

“Why aren’t you abed?”

The familiar outline of Sam whirled about. “Bleedin’ hell, Cavin. You ’bout scared the life out of me.”

“Deservedly so. Why aren’t you abed?” he asked again.

“I’m hungry.”

Cavin sighed. Boys his age were always hungry—Cavin well remembered the feeling. “All right. Let’s see what the pantry holds.” He really shouldn’t take anything without asking, but Sam worked at the house. His board, including his meals, was part of his pay. And well, it was better for Cavin to fix the boy a meal than to risk Sam cleaning out the pantry. “And what are you doing by the stove?”

“Was gonna make some tea.”

“I’ll take care of it.” The last thing he needed was for Sam to burn down the house, trying to operate the stove. “You, just go sit at the worktable.”

As Cavin lit a candle, Sam found a stool along the wall and pulled it up to the long wooden worktable in the middle of the kitchen.

“You told Lord Benjamin I was brought into Fleet Street.” A statement of the obvious, not a question. “What were you doing in that end of Town?”

“I wasn’t on Fleet Street, but I heard you were brought in. And I didn’t go back to Hale’s, if that’s what you’re thinking. But it’s damn quiet round here at night. You don’t stop by often.”

“I know you miss your friends, Sam, but it’s for the best. Surely there are other boys your age employed in the area. If you spent your time around here, perhaps you would meet them.”

Sam shrugged.

“Still, I owe you my thanks.” He certainly did not condone the boy traipsing about the east end of Town, but if not for Sam, he would still be locked away at the station house.

Another shrug from Sam, though this time an understanding smile curved his lips.

“Where’s the pantry?”

Sam pointed to the narrow door along the far wall. “So, you dangling after him?”

Cavin didn’t need to ask which
him
Sam referred to. “It’s none of your concern, Sam.” He was acutely aware that he wore nothing but a pair of trousers. Benjamin’s trousers. No way had that point escaped Sam’s notice either. Surely he looked as though he’d just crawled out of Benjamin’s bed. He should have thought to pull on a shirt before leaving the bedchamber. “How about eggs?” he asked, as he scanned the fully stocked shelves of the pantry, trying to pull the boy’s mind back on to food.

“Sure. He got bread in there?”

“Yes.” Cavin grabbed a loaf of bread and a few eggs, and set them on the worktable. “And please use proper English.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s just you and me, Cavin.”

“Nonetheless, the practice is good for you.” He lit the stove and put on a kettle of water for the tea.

“Be careful not to dirty the stove. Mrs. Gilroy will be none too happy if it’s a mess in the morning. She’ll think I didn’t clean it properly after supper.”

“I won’t leave a mess,” he assured Sam. It was a good sign, though, that Sam had cautioned him. Showed the boy was taking pride in his work.

“He’s a decent fellow.”

Cavin went back to the pantry to gather a few more things. Maybe if he ignored Sam the boy would stop. He was not of a mind to discuss Benjamin with Sam, especially not now.

“He asked after you earlier today.”

And Cavin was certainly not going to ask Sam to tell him what Benjamin had said. Definitely not.

Fortunately, Sam stayed quiet and simply watched, his chin propped in his palm, as Cavin cooked. The scents of onions, cheese and eggs filled the kitchen, pulling at Cavin’s stomach. He shouldn’t be hungry. Benjamin had fed him a feast but a handful of hours ago. Yet his stomach refused to listen to logic. Turning from the stove, he tore off a hunk from the loaf of bread and took a bite, then handed the loaf to Sam.

“He asked if you mentioned him. Seemed rather hurt that you’d been coming to the house but he hadn’t seen you.”

Significantly more than
rather hurt.
The pain in the man’s voice had announced that fact more than clearly. Cavin turned to the stove to tend to the eggs. He hadn’t meant to hurt Benjamin. Had been certain Benjamin would forget him. How wrong he had been.

Why did Benjamin have to be so…good? Why couldn’t he be like every other nabob Cavin had ever met? Why did he have to make Cavin want something that couldn’t be? Damn cruel of him.

“You leaving again?”

“Yes, after breakfast.” Cavin took the kettle off the stove, poured the hot water into a white porcelain teapot and added tea leaves from a tin he’d found in the pantry.

“Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” And that was the absolute truth. “I’ve been trying to find a position, but no one will hire me. Should have gone to the docks first instead of trying the shops.” By the time he had given up knocking on shop doors, the days without his razor and without the means to have his clothes laundered had caught up to him, turning him into someone who looked exactly like the type of man he was.

“Why don’t you stay here? All you’d have to do is warm his bed.”

Cavin’s jaw dropped. “Is… Is that what you think? Benjamin—Lord Benjamin—is not like that. He’s not like Hale.”

“Course not,” Sam replied, as if the notion was beyond foolish. “He’s a nice fellow. He wouldn’t make you steal for him in exchange for living at his house, wouldn’t hit you when you come back empty-handed, wouldn’t make you go to those hells, wouldn’t be a complete arse. Don’t know how you ever shared a bed with Hale,” Sam added, with undisguised disgust. “And Lord Benjamin’s swimming in lard.”

“And that’s why I’m not staying.”

Confusion twisted Sam’s features. “You’d warm his bed if he didn’t have any blunt?”

“His money isn’t why I’ve…” Hell, he would not discuss what he and Benjamin had done together with Sam. The boy wasn’t his brother by blood, but he might as well be. And there were some subjects one did not discuss with family. “I care for him. He’s…” He was Benjamin. Kind and good-hearted. Generous to a fault. And being with him made Cavin feel safe, wanted for more than his skills at picking pockets and sucking cock, for the first time in his life.

“Then why won’t you stay? You know he’d let you. And I’d get to see you every day.”

“Because it’s not that simple, Sam,” he said, reaching for a plate in the cupboard.

“Yes, it is.”

The plate fell from Cavin’s fingers. The crash of porcelain cracked through the kitchen. His head snapped toward the door.

Benjamin stood in the open doorway clad in a pair of trousers, just like Cavin. He arched a brow. “Yes, it is that simple,” he repeated.

* * *

Benjamin took a step inside the kitchen. The door swung shut behind him. For a long moment, Cavin didn’t move, his face wiped clean of every emotion save shock. Then the man turned back around, grabbed another plate from the cupboard and piled it with eggs from the pan on the stove.

Cavin shoved the plate at Sam. “Take this up to your room.”

With a mirror image of Cavin’s wide eyes and pale face, Sam stared at Cavin.

“It will be all right, Sam,” Benjamin said.

The reassurance did its duty. The boy nodded once, then hopped off the stool and scurried from the kitchen, plate in hand.

Cavin dropped down to his haunches and began gathering the shards of porcelain. “I’m sorry about the plate. Where do you keep a broom?”

“Leave it. It can be taken care of tomorrow.” The broken plate was the least of his concerns at the moment.

“No. Sam shouldn’t have to clean it up. He didn’t drop it.”

Benjamin sighed. If Cavin insisted on having the mess cleaned now, so be it.

He glanced about. He wasn’t about to admit it to Cavin, but he rarely entered the kitchen. Though it was his home, the room was more Mrs. Gilroy’s domain and not his own. His gaze stopped on a tall, narrow cupboard by the pantry. Looked to be about the right size to store a broom.

And indeed it was. Benjamin took the broom and also the metal dustpan hanging from a hook.

“Be careful walking around.” Cavin reached under the worktable to pick up the larger pieces that had landed there. “It completely shattered. Got everywhere.”

Benjamin held out the dustpan to Cavin. “Take this.”

“Give me the broom, too.”

“I can manage a broom.”

“But, Benjamin—”

“Please don’t argue.” He took a deep breath, tried to will away the rising frustration. “Just let me help you.” Was that concept so hard to understand?

Cavin shot him an annoyed glance then snatched the dustpan.

They worked in silence, Benjamin sweeping while Cavin picked up the larger pieces and held the dustpan for Benjamin. When the floor was once again clean, Cavin dumped the dustpan into the bin and returned it and the broom to the cupboard.

“I didn’t know you cooked.” Benjamin indicated the pan on the stove. If it hadn’t been for the wonderful aroma, he would have turned from the empty guest bedchamber and gone back to his own room to nurse the pain with a large glass of brandy.

Cavin lifted one shoulder. “It’s less expensive to cook than to eat at taverns or buy meals from peddlers.”

“It smells wonderful.”

“There’s some left, if you’re hungry. I always make extra. Sam’s got an endless stomach.”

“I’d like to try your cooking.”

“Well, keep your expectations in check. It’s only eggs.” After taking a plate from the cupboard, Cavin loaded it with eggs from the pan and set it on the worktable. “I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds, cooking in your kitchen and all like it’s my own. But Sam was hungry.” He pulled a fork from a drawer and slid it across the table, the utensil stopping beside the plate. “Didn’t think you’d much appreciate it if he burned down your house.”

Benjamin tipped his head. “Thank you for saving me from a call to a firefighting unit. And you didn’t overstep, so no worries there.” He picked up the fork and took a bite. His eyes briefly closed. The onions, cooked until they had caramelized, mixed with the cheese… He took another bite, savoring the combination of tastes that exceeded their wonderful aroma. “It’s delicious, Cavin.”

“You needn’t be polite.”

“Truly. It’s delicious. You have a talent for cooking.”

As Cavin poured a cup of tea, he gave Benjamin a dubious glance from under his lashes. “Tea?”