Cat and Mouse (17 page)

He came up behind her and separated her bum cheeks, tilting her hips forward. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “but I have to have you. Right now.”

His cock penetrated the lips of her slick vagina and without mercy, he drove into her.

“God, your arse is so hot from my whip.”

Katrina held onto the bench while her tender bottom bounced against his hips and thighs. Glorious orgasms that reached from her toes to her skull rippled through her, both of them singing their pleasure. It was almost deafening in the small room.

The final ten or so powerful thrusts before he came nearly shattered Katrina. Maxwell held her gently by the hips. “Don’t move,” he panted. “God. I’ve never come so hard.” Moments later, he disengaged from her, but not without his breath catching as he did so. He led her over to the couch-sized bench, and they sprawled across it, limbs slick with sweat, heavy and entwined.

Chapter Eighteen

Max eyed Katrina over his eggs and sausage. She’d barely uttered five words to him since he’d whipped her last night. And now, hindsight nagged at him from the shadowy corners of his mind, plaguing him about his ill treatment of her. He should have offered to talk about what they’d done in his playroom after he’d taken her back to reality—back into his bed. They’d fallen asleep so quickly that conversation had been inadvertently sidestepped.

He took a sip of his tea, using the motion as an excuse to glance up at her. Hell, it seemed she couldn’t even look at him today. Whatever was on her plate had captured her interest entirely. He set the cup gingerly upon its saucer and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his linen napkin. Had she hated being tied up and swatted with a buggy whip? Had she enjoyed the sex afterwards? He’d taken her quite brutally from behind, after all—even before he’d had the chance to ease the pain of her welted skin. Did she despise him for his sexual depravities?

“I beg your pardon, sir.” Simmons came into the room and broke up the boxing match Max was losing with his conscience. “Here is this morning’s copy of
The Times
.”

“Thank you, Simmons.” His butler handed him the newspaper. “Don’t think they’ve ever been this late.”

“Indeed.” Simmons departed from the breakfast room leaving Max once again alone with Katrina. “Um—”

She glanced up at him, seemingly for the first time since leaving his room early this morning, her expression expectant.

“Would you be interested in reading the paper?”

“Oh, no, thank you.” She refocused on cutting her sausage into bite-sized pieces.

Max stifled a harrumph. Was that all the conversation he’d get from her today? He slumped against the chair back and snapped open the paper, frustrated with himself for his deficient interaction.

He sat up at first sight of one of the lesser headlines. “Dash it. I’d almost forgotten.”

“What is it?”

“They published Charles’ dissertation. This is the day he’s been waiting for.” He reached over and rang a silver bell. “Good God, we’d forgotten about this before we made our plans to meet at his office about Brenner. I’ll need to get to him at home before anyone else calls this morning. We’ll need a plan B, now that he’ll be the talk of the
ton
and in the spotlight of every gossip within a twenty mile radius.”

“May I—”

Simmons re-entered the room and Max stood. “Have the landau brought ‘round as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll tell Cook she can have it for the shopping upon your return.”

“Excellent,” Max said as Simmons departed.

Katrina eased her chair back by herself. “Maxwell, may I come with—”

“No!” He hadn’t meant to answer so quickly and with such vigour. “It’s… It’s just that last night I saw two of Brenner’s thugs walking down Hamilton Place, which means they aren’t only sticking to the rougher areas of town.”

She remained seated. “Oh. I see.”

He felt like a complete cad.

“May I at least go outside for some air? I—I promise to stay behind the walls. I’d like to see the garden and stable…in the daylight.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s all right.” She stood and placed her napkin next to her plate. “I know you didn’t mean it.” She started to walk around the table.

Maxwell Aurelius Courtland, say something, you idiot
! “Um—”

Katrina paused at the doorway and looked at him. “Yes?”

“I—I should be back in time for luncheon.”

Her brows rose above her exotic cat-like eyes, but she didn’t utter a sound.

Max swallowed. “Perhaps we could…talk, then?”

She nodded. “Mmm.” And left the room.

He could have dived in front of a hastily moving hackney right about now. He couldn’t stand to leave her like this, and yet he had to go to Charles, if only for an hour or so. What he wouldn’t have given for the ability to be in two places at once.

* * * *

During her soak in Maxwell’s bathtub, Katrina pondered the reasons why Max had been so quiet at breakfast. Had she done something wrong in his hidden room? Should she have played more the helpless victim instead of taking his blows and liking it so much? He’d enjoyed taking his pleasure, that much he’d admitted aloud, but the rest… His lack of interaction this morning
had
to be connected to her behaviour last night. There was no other explanation.

Now, out in the daylight, she paced back and forth just outside the French doors, within the walls of Maxwell’s town home. The whole situation rolled around in her stomach resulting in an acute embarrassment. He’d never been at a loss for words since she’d known him. Why had he gone silent now? Surely it had something to do with her.

Katrina tried to shake the feeling off with a turn around the garden, not five paces from where she’d worn her own worry path on the lawn.

The herbs were kept separate from the non-edible flora by a narrow cobblestone path that also circled the quaint space. Birds twittered about, swooping in, out and around. The bees worked diligently at pollinating the blossoms. She sighed. Spring certainly had a curious effect on everything.

A horse whinnied in the stable next to the garden, drawing her attention across the yard to the buggy repair port. Other horse-like sounds emitted from the same direction. Strange, but they sounded happy.
How pitiful that a horse could seem in better spirits than me.
She exited the garden and crossed the wide strip of pavement. The lame conveyance was yet inside. However, the wheels had been attached since she’d hidden in the shadows the night of Maxwell’s ball. She stepped inside and ran her hand down the cab’s black lacquer. No windows yet, but it was coming along nicely. God, it seemed like weeks ago she had been here trying to relieve that woman of her diamonds. Reaching up, she opened the door to the carriage, remembering the two clandestine lovers and how they’d had a terrible time of it.

Odd, but Maxwell never seemed to have an awkward moment when they were in each other’s arms. No, he was smooth like a well-aged cognac—and just as potent. Perhaps she’d let him take her out here, on the bench of this nearly restored carriage. Heat washed over her face and neck. She shut the door, but steadied herself on the window sill. Drawing in a breath of cooling air, she shut her eyes and tilted her head back.
What have I become
?

* * * *

Thank God Max had arrived at Charles and Susanna’s when he did. Two minutes after he’d stepped into the parlour to discuss Brenner, droves of men and women callers began to pour in to congratulate him on his insightful article.

Unable to catch Charles alone, Max had stayed and helped Susanna receive her guests. He’d even played butler, ordering up pot after pot of tea while his sister and brother-in-law gracefully accepted sincere accolades from adoring friends and neighbours. All the while he felt as if he were about to explode. It was imperative that he and Charles have their discussion—strike at Brenner while the poker was hot, so to speak. In less than twenty-four hours, Brenner’s suspicions, the ones that Max had noticed that the thief had held in check the last time they’d spoken, would prove disadvantageous and he’d probably skip town. Then they’d have no way of cornering him.

“Max, didn’t you see me trying to signal you over?”

“Sorry? I was pouring tea for Susanna and—”

“Never mind.” Charles took the china pot from Max, set it upon the tray and dragged him over to a corner of the parlour. “Listen. My friend Jonathan, who works for the Yard, was just here. I told him how to get to that
Den
you spoke of. Tonight, he and half of Scotland Yard are going to lead a raid and bring Brenner in. Therefore, neither you nor I need be in attendance.”

“Brilliant. Your presence at said event was exactly what I wanted to avoid, now that everyone will be watching every move you make, owing to this morning’s publicity.”

“Yes, well, now you don’t have to go, either.” Charles blew out a breath. “I’ll draft the appropriate papers so that the timing coincides. If we’re lucky, they won’t let that bastard Brenner out of jail before the trial.”

Max knew Katrina would be apprehensive about the raid, but he’d do his best to assure her that all would be well. Perhaps he’d buy her some scented bath oils—he knew how much she enjoyed her baths. Such a gift would surely take her mind off her troubles.

* * * *

Max’s carriage pulled up to the front of his town house and he alighted without the help of his driver. “Stay put, Martin. You’re to take Cook shopping, I believe.” Then Max took the stairs to his door two at a time, excited to see Katrina.

Once inside, Simmons greeted Max.

“Where is Miss Harwood?”

“Out back, taking the air, sir.”

* * * *

Across the pavement and beyond the garden, the same horse nickered from inside the stable as it had just minutes ago. “There now. Settle down, lass,” came a lilting Irish-accented voice from inside the shelter.

Katrina cocked her head to the side, ignoring all other noises but the utterance, and she froze. “That sounded like—no, it couldn’t be.” Her mind was playing tricks on her.

Still, she had to be certain. Picking up her skirts she then rushed through the door where Maxwell’s horses were kept. At the sight of the new groom, Katrina lost the breath from her lungs.

“Have you seen a ghost, then?” Jimmy grinned and tossed the horse brush to the floor. The horse he’d been brushing swished its tail and stepped forward to investigate the contents of his trough.

She flew into Jimmy’s embrace, hugging him fiercely, running her hands across his shoulders, up and down his arms and finally landing on either side of his face. “My God. I thought you were dead!” she sobbed. Utterly elated, she pulled his head towards hers, planting a kiss smack upon his parted lips.

He pulled her closer still, at first only letting her kiss him. Then he began to participate and in moments, he took over, running his hands up and down her back, kissing her as if they were lovers.

After allowing him to return her greeting, Katrina realised her mistake and, to avoid being rude—for it
was
she who had initiated the kiss, started to speak to him. “Susanna, that is, Lady Kendrick, said you’d been brutally beaten and stabbed. What happened?”

Jimmy wouldn’t release her. “Oh, they did pummel me a bit, and it’s likely I’ll have a nasty scar from Brenner’s knife, but I recovered just fine, as you can see.” He bent his head to hers and kissed her cheeks. “Did you miss me,
cousin
?”

“Of course I did. I even went so far as to search for your body in a morgue.”

“Me darlin’ little heroine.” He kissed her again on the mouth.

Katrina gently pushed at his shoulders and, after a noticeable effort, he finally permitted a draught of air between their bodies. “That will be quite enough,” she whispered.

“Never enough. You’re the only joy I’ve known in the last week.” And he buried his face into the crook between her shoulder and ear.

“Come now. Tell me exactly what happened.” She attempted to wiggle out of his arms but to no avail.

“Only if you quit your squirmin’ an’ be still.”

Katrina huffed out a sigh. “Very well.
Talk
.”

Jimmy pulled her over to a bale of hay and sat, taking her down onto his lap. “After Brenner tried to gut me, Artie and Oliver apparently tossed me into the Thames. I woke up in a shack. Some woman had bound my wound and nursed me. A few days later, the two brutes came around, stirring things up. So I figured I’d better get out before they found me.”

“Good heavens. So how did you end up here?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I was havin’ a pint in the darkest corner of some shoddy pub when I heard a job had opened up at a fine town house on Hamilton Place. I came straight away and talked to some bloke named Simmons.”

“So you lied to him?”

“Lied? Me?”

“Well surely you’ve never worked with horses before.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss Katrina, but groom was one of my first legit jobs as a young lad. As I said before, I wasn’t always a pilfering scamp.”

She laughed. “I’m so very happy you’re all right, Jimmy. And your wound—you didn’t contract a fever?”

“I did, indeed. It didn’t last long, though. And as luck would have it, the gash hasn’t done any bleedin’ since yesterday.” Jimmy lifted his shirt up and over his head and tossed it to the ground. “See? Me bandages are yet clean.”

Katrina gingerly ran her hand across the white linen binding that covered his lower abdomen when, from the door to the stable, someone cleared his throat.

Chapter Nineteen

Max watched Katrina’s mouth open and close while in the arms of her lover like a carp out of water. He’d not paid any notice when Brenner had made the observation that Katrina and the boy had been ‘chummy’.

“Maxwell.” She leapt from Jimmy’s lap. The boy grabbed up his shirt and hastily shrugged into it. “This is my friend Jimmy—the man we thought had been killed.”

“We’ve met,” Max said sharply, hiding his surprise.

“Yes—and now I gotta get back to these horses.”

“Just a moment.” Regardless of his rioting emotions, Max knew Charles could use Jimmy’s cooperation to bring down Brenner. “There’s going to be a raid on the Den tonight and I’d like your help, Jimmy.”