Never Run From Love (Kellington Book Four) (12 page)

She looked at him with wide eyes and an emotion he
could not quite define.  But, oddly enough, it didn’t seem to be fear.  “If
Madame Thurmond is such a dangerous woman, why do you patronize her
establishment?”

Damn
.  The woman had
a habit of striking at his core.  “Madame Thurmond is not a danger to her
clients.  But I would not cross her.  She is very protective of her business.”

“But she is not very protective of the girls who
work for her.  I intend to come back here again and again.  If you will but
unhand me, I will return there now….”

Hal could think of only one way to stop her.  He
pulled her to him in the dark alley, pressed her body against his and kissed
her.  It wasn’t the sort of kiss a man gave a virgin.  It was the type of kiss
one gave a woman outside a brothel. 

He’d never kissed a prostitute like this.  He didn’t
kiss them at all.  He’d never even kissed one of his lovers this way, filled
with passion, lust, anger and a protectiveness he hadn’t dreamt he possessed.  Earlier,
he’d been, perhaps, bemused to think of the lively Miss Sutton trying to sell
prostitutes on the idea of a better life.  But when he’d seen her ready to defy
Madame Thurmond and her goons, he was filled with fear.  Real fear.  He
couldn’t bear to think of what could happen to her.  He’d seen Madame
Thurmond’s bully boys beat a man to within an inch of his life.  It had only
been through his and Francis’s intercession that they hadn’t killed the man. 
He didn’t want to think of what they’d do to Melanie.

Especially when he had much better things to
contemplate.

She’d been a bit surprised when his lips had taken
hers, but she’d quickly adapted.  As his tongue swept into her mouth, she shyly
touched hers to his.  But it didn’t take long for her to catch on and now they
were both caught up in the passionate embrace.

She began to move against him, trying to get as
close to him as she could.  They were of a height that if she rose up on her
toes, she could press the neediest part of her against his hard cock.  From her
indrawn breath as they made contact, it appeared the move had been instinctual,
rather than planned.  She pressed against him again and moved.  He groaned out
loud.

He moved his hand down to her arse to press her
harder against him.  He kissed her neck, nuzzling against her, smelling the
rose water she’d used.  He wanted to be as close to her as possible.  He wanted
to be inside her.  He wanted to bury himself in her and feel her close around
him.  He’d take her up against the wall, driving into her with primal force. 
He’d escort her back to the carriage and let her impale herself as they sat. 
He wanted all of it.  All of her.  He wanted her with a fierceness that made it
hard to breathe.

Which meant it was past time to stop.

Reluctantly – very reluctantly – he pulled back from
her.  Her arms were around his neck and her fingers were running through his
hair.  She was stronger than she looked and she apparently didn’t want to
separate any more than he did.  But, finally, as he gently increased the
distance between them, it was as if she awoke from a dream.  Her heavy lids
slowly opened, then they widened to an almost comical degree.

“Oh!” she said.

“Indeed,” said Hal with a rueful grin.  “I think, Miss
Sutton, it is high time we proceeded to Mrs. Seton’s.  We can continue our
discussion about Madame Thurmond’s at some other time, if that is amenable to
you.”

She’d recovered enough to shoot him a scathing
glance, even as she smoothed her skirts.  “I do not think there is much to
discuss, but, yes, we should proceed to Mrs. Seton’s, Lord Henry.”

With that, she gave him her back and began to walk
at a brisk pace toward the street where his carriage awaited.  It was with immense
satisfaction that Hal noticed she was just the slightest bit unsteady on her
feet.  However, he did not reach out to steady her as a gentleman should. 
Because he was fairly sure if he did so, his next move would be to haul her
back into his arms to finish what they started.

And that would never do.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Melanie used the darkness of the carriage to try and
compose herself.  What had she been thinking to kiss the man in that alley? 
Especially when it was apparent that the rumors had been true and he was well
known at Madame Thurmond’s establishment.  And that probably wasn’t the only
place he went to take his pleasure.  For all she knew, the East End was filled
with brothels frequented often by Lord Henry Kellington.  Not to mention all
the bedchambers in Mayfair, for her cousin Mary had heard many a rumor about
Lord Henry’s reputation as a lover.  As much as the matrons tried to keep such
information away from their young daughters, it only made the girls that much
more determined to learn it.

But none of that changed the fact that his kiss had
been remarkable.  Even better than the one in the Raleighs’ garden, which the
lout hadn’t even remembered.  It was patently unfair that a man like Hal – Lord
Henry – could kiss in such a way that made a girl want to abandon propriety all
together.  She supposed that was the way he’d gained his reputation as a rake. 
Good rakes had to be talented when it came to passion, otherwise no one would
engage in liaisons with them.  Unless they were paid to do so, of course.

She glanced at him beneath her lashes, only to find
his direct gaze on her.  She quickly looked out the window and heard him snort
softly because of it.  Doubtless any other female of his acquaintance would be
spending this time in the throes of passion with him.  She would run her
fingers through his hair and pull him closer to her.  His hands would wander
over her, brushing past her aching breasts.  He’d pull her onto his lap and run
his hands up her legs.

She risked a glance at him again.  He was still
watching her.  But this time there was no trace of humor in his face.

“You would be wise not to share your thoughts with
me, Miss Sutton,” he drawled.  “Unless you’re prepared for me to act on them. 
And trust me when I say we would never arrive at Mrs. Seton’s.”

Melanie quickly returned her gaze to the window, not
that she registered any of the passing scenery.  How had he guessed her
thoughts?  He couldn’t possibly read minds, could he? 

She was spared further pondering on Hal’s mind-reading
abilities when the carriage slowed.  She looked out to see Mrs. Seton’s
townhouse come into view.

“What would you like to do?” asked Hal, not moving
from his spot.  “Go in?  Or drive on?”

His gazed was so heated she almost threw herself out
onto the sidewalk.  It was either that or throw herself onto him.  As she
frantically tried to open the door, he sighed and leaned past her, grazing her
breast with his arm as he did so.  He wordlessly opened the door, but before he
could step out to help her down, she’d jumped to the ground.

With a knowing smile, he followed her out, steadying
her as he did so.  She ran up the steps and into the house, not stopping until
she was safely ensconced in Mrs. Seton’s parlor.  She chose a seat on a lone
chair, leaving him to stand.  Then she cursed herself for her choice, because
the dratted man chose to stand behind her, close enough that she could feel his
body heat on the back of her neck. 

Thankfully, Mrs. Seton began the meeting right
away.  “Ladies, it is time once again to take to the field of battle, as we
track the wolves to their lair.  Gather your things, for we shall march.”

Hal had a hard time not rolling his eyes at both the
mixed metaphor and the look of zeal in Mrs. Seton’s unfortunately beady little
eyes.  But he would join their little group tonight in part because he knew
just how much his presence discomposed the delicious Melanie Sutton.  And,
also, because he thought she might slip back to Madame Thurmond’s the moment he
left her alone.

He’d watched her thoughts play across her beautiful
face in the carriage.  He had a fairly good idea of what she’d been thinking,
since his mind had been on the same topic, although undoubtedly much more salaciously. 
She was a very sensuous woman.  Their kiss had been remarkable.  And, of
course, it had fulfilled his portion of the wager.  All he had to do now was
tell Francis of their encounter, collect his winnings and move on to bored
widows or back to his encounters at brothels.

But there was something about their kiss that
intrigued him.  There was something about Melanie Sutton that intrigued him. 
He wanted to keep her safe, although he had no idea how he would do that since
he couldn’t be with her every moment of the day.  But it was more than that. 
Quite simply, he wanted to keep seeing her.  He would think about the
implications of that later.

Mrs. Seton and her group had finally reached their
destination and Hal inwardly groaned to see they were once again outside of
Dill’s.  The last thing he wanted was for any of his friends to see him with
this group.  Fortunately, it was early enough that most of his associates would
still be getting ready for a night out or being forced to attend whichever
ton
event was the most popular that evening.

That was one small advantage to being there.  He
wasn’t in some stuffy ballroom, with his Aunt Agatha sending fresh-faced chits
his way.  He took his place in the back of the group, hoping the shadows would
conceal his involvement.

The group began singing a hymn.  He couldn’t quite
remember the words, so he simply mouthed nonsense and hoped he blended in.  He
had gravitated toward Melanie and stood just to the back of her, the better to
study her arse.  Her cloak hid most of the good parts, but he could make out
the vague shape of a well-rounded bottom.  How he wished she’d taken him up on
the offer of further sensual exploration in the carriage.  It would have meant
trouble later, but it would have been heaven while it lasted.

He could hear her singing softly.  She had a sweet
voice and sang with feeling.  Perhaps she’d sung these songs in that Quaker
church of hers.  Perhaps her Mr. Parker had been standing next to her as he was
now.  The very thought gave him a strange feeling which absolutely could not be
jealousy.  And at any rate, the Quaker sot was back in Pennsylvania probably
doing good deeds instead of, as Hal was now, contemplating very wicked ones.

Though the hour was still early and not yet half
past ten, Dill’s was beginning to draw a crowd.  Hal backed up further into the
shadows.  Two young lords who’d been a few years behind him at Oxford came
swaggering up the street.  Both were slightly inebriated and neither had any
intention of passing by Mrs. Seton’s group without comment.

The drunker of the two was Viscount Bennington,
large of stature, small of intellect.  The other was Lord Vincent Bossert, son
of the Earl of Halliwell.  He was as pompous as his sister Gwendolyn and almost
as ill-tempered.

“What have we here?” exclaimed Bennington, puffing
out his chest which highlighted his unfortunate choice of waistcoat.

“Reformers, from the looks of it,” said Lord
Vincent, unable to recognize a rhetorical question.

“I feel like we’re in church,” continued Bennington,
who began singing along loudly with the group to the obvious displeasure of
Mrs. Seton.

“But even in church they give you wine,” said Lord
Vincent.  “Wouldn’t get no wine from these prigs, would we?”

“They ain’t all prigs, I’ll wager.  Why, look at the
chit in the back with the dark hair.  She’s a bit of a looker she is.  Might
even be worth it to give up a drink or two if she’s my reward.  What do you
say, miss?  Fancy a go round with me?”

Hal tensed to step out of the darkness, when Melanie
reached back and pressed a hand against his arm to stay him.  He held his
breath as she turned to the ill-mannered lords.

“Good evening gentlemen,” she said, just loud enough
to be heard over the singing.  “I am so glad you’re joining our group.  ‘Tis
said sinners are the best examples of why man should not transgress.  And I can
tell by one look at both of you that drink does not bode well for the body.  You
are approaching your fortieth year, are you not?”

Both men looked highly affronted and Hal had to stifle
a laugh.

“I’ll have you know we’re half that age,” blustered
Viscount Bennington, who looked like he was finding it increasingly difficult
to remain upright.

“I think she’s having us on,” said his companion. 
“As if some chit in an ugly cloak could have anything to say about what we look
like.  She should count herself lucky that we’re even talking to her.”

Mrs. Seton called a halt to the singing and turned
to both men.  “Are you ready to renounce the path of debauchery you both are
on?”

“God no,” said Bennington.

“I’ll thank you not to blaspheme, you heathen!”

“Heathen?” asked a perplexed Bennington. 

“I’ve heard enough from you, you old crow,” said
Lord Vincent.  A crowd had gathered and he motioned to a few of the men nearby.

Hal tensed.  Lord Vincent was now surrounded by a
half dozen cronies.  That, mixed with the spirits he’d already imbibed, would
make him a brave man