The Sanctuary (A Spencer Novel) (14 page)

Chapter 25

Anthony whirled and lifted his arm, partially deflecting the blow intended for his head. The cudgel rose again, coming down on his shoulder in a numbing explosion of pain.

He dropped to his knees, leaning heavily against the metal railing. His right arm hung useless at his side. Blood clouded his vision. Anthony slid his fingers into the side of his boot and felt for the thin blade he carried. Fists, the size of hams, grabbed him by his coat front and he was hauled roughly to his feet. The club rose again.

Anthony slashed with his blade.

The man let out a howl.

For one brief second, Anthony’s eyes met those of his adversary. The man stumbled from the train and disappeared into the shadows. Anthony wanted to give chase, but he couldn’t risk leaving Clairece unprotected should the scar-faced man double back.

Anthony slipped the blade into his boot. Blinking to clear his vision, he wiped the blood from his eyes with the back of his sleeve and retrieved his hat from the metal grate. At his entrance to the dining car, a woman screamed while another tittered nervously behind her hand.

An attendant rushed forward. “Do you require a doctor, sir?”

“No, just towels, ice, and food. Enough for two,” Anthony ordered. He swayed, grabbing the back of a chair. “Please hurry.”

The steward quickly gathered the items and piled them on a tray, then handed them to Anthony.

Anthony accepted the platter with one arm and nodded toward the exit. “If you’ll open the door, I can manage from here.” He advanced unimpeded, the other passengers having fled the car. The steward rushed to open both doors before disappearing back into the deserted dining car.

Anthony bumped the compartment door with the toe of his boot and listened for the lock. The door swung open and Clairece gave a little shriek.

“It looks worse than it is.” He deposited the tray in her hands and stepped past her. After tossing his hat on the chair, he carefully slid the coat down his inured arm. “Our killer waited for me between cars. He escaped before I could apprehend him. I have no way of knowing if he’ll hop on before we leave Swindon, or travel to Bristol by some other means.”

Bright lights flashed behind his eyelids as Clairece eased his coat off. Her hands urged him down onto the padded bench. He didn’t need much encouragement.

Anthony leaned back and closed his eyes while Clairece dabbed at the cut on the side of his head and cleaned the blood from his face with a dampened towel.

Laying the towel aside, she unfastened his cuff and carefully rolled up the sleeve. He opened his eyes to view the damage. An ugly, three-inch-wide welt marked his arm below the elbow. He could only guess what his shoulder looked like.

Clairece’s intake of breath hitched on a sob.

“Don’t cry, love. I’ve had far worse.”

She swiped at her cheeks and wrapped some ice in the towel, placing the bundle on his arm. Her fingertips moved to the scar at his temple. “How did this happen?”

Anthony’s chest tightened as it always did when forced to recall his childhood. “I told you of my birth, that the late earl was not my father.”

She nodded.

“He knew from the beginning I was not his biological son, but I did not. I tried to please him, but nothing I did was ever good enough. Each time I failed at something, as it seemed I always did, he would call me to his study and take a birch cane to my back. Through the years I lost count of the beatings.”

She leaned in and kissed the thin scar and he wanted to howl.

“As I got older, the canings increased and so did their ferocity. My stepfather wanted to break me, to show how worthless I was. In that way, he could justify his hatred of me. The more I refused to give in, the more brutal he became.

“On one occasion, my mother tried to interfere and he struck her. I turned on him and he raised the cane and hit me in the side of the head. I think he would have killed me had Mother not screamed.” Anthony fought to quell the rising panic as pieces of nightmarish memories slid through his mind.

At the touch of gentle fingers on his cheek, the terror receded. He focused on Clairece and continued, “The servants carried me upstairs and my mother cared for me until I could crawl from my bed, three days later. The monster left us alone for a time while he locked himself away in his study and drank.” He met her gaze. “I was nine years old and couldn’t understand what I’d done to make my own father despise me. He told me repeatedly my heart was black and I was the devil’s spawn. After a while, I started to believe him.”

“You were just a child and he a cruel, detestable beast. I’ve seen your heart, and it’s not black. It’s caring and good and—”

He turned his face into her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. She had no idea how those words warmed him.

The whistle blew, and the train moved on toward Bristol.

Anthony accepted one of the wrapped sandwiches from Clairece and settled back against the padded bench. The numbness in his arm had been replaced by a deep, aching throb. At least it wasn’t broken, as he’d feared.

Clairece selected a bundle and opened the wrapping.

Anthony took a bite of his ham and cheese sandwich. “Do you like mayonnaise? I didn’t think to ask.” He would talk of sandwich condiments, anything to take her mind off the situation.

She bit, chewed, and swallowed. “I’ve only tasted it once, but I like it.”

“We don’t know much about each other, do we?”

She smiled, the gesture a bit forced. “No, not the more mundane things.”

“I have a fondness for sweets. While in town, I box and fence at a gentlemen’s club so I can indulge once in a while.” He waited for her to share something with him. Her response surprised him.

“I would have guessed you take regular exercise for a different reason.” Her frank gaze met his. “I think, underneath your calm exterior, you’re angry and hurt. Rather than take your resentment out on someone who doesn’t deserve it, you relieve your frustrations in other ways.”

He swallowed. “You, my dear, are far too perceptive.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” She laid her sandwich aside.

“No.” He finished his sandwich in one bite, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and laid the linen aside. “Try and get some rest. We’re still a couple hours from Bristol.” The look she sent him suggested she wasn’t fooled by the change of subject, but she curled against his side and closed her eyes.

At the smaller Bristol station, Anthony assisted Clairece from the train and ushered her directly through the terminal to a waiting hackney. At almost four in the morning, the streets were all but deserted.

Within minutes, they stepped from the black conveyance onto a well-lit portico in front of the Bristol Hotel. Gaslights illuminated the short distance between the carriage and the steps to the large, front doors.

They strolled through the empty lobby toward a night clerk who waited behind a large mahogany desk. “We’d like your best room for the rest of the night, and well into the middle of the day tomorrow. Preferably, one with a private bathing chamber and sitting room.” Anthony picked up the fountain pen and signed his name. Clairece kept her bruised cheek turned away from the clerk’s curious regard.

The innkeeper rotated the ledger and quickly scanned the signature. “We have a nice suite for you and your wife, Mr. Wade. It will be our pleasure to serve you.” He struck the bell once and a doorman appeared.

The room was situated at the rear of the hotel overlooking a small, enclosed garden. Once inside, Anthony removed Clairece’s cloak and tossed it across a chair.

She ambled around the room, checking the accommodations. “How soon will the carriage arrive?”

“Late into the afternoon. Try and get some proper rest. You slept little on the train.”

“What of you?” Clairece turned her back so he might unhook her traveling dress.

Anthony dropped a kiss on the side of her neck. “Shortly.” The last button unhooked, he slid the dress from her shoulders. “I’d like to keep watch for a short while.” He pulled a chair nearer the window and sat, stretching his legs out before him.

Clairece searched the valise and withdrew a white cambric nightgown and her toiletries, retreating into the adjoining bathing chamber. Minutes later, she reappeared, looking anywhere but at him. Although the gown covered her from chin to toe, the thin material gave glimpses of what lay beneath. With one hand, she gripped her toothbrush and tooth powder, and with the other, she tried ineffectively to cover herself.

He gently uncurled her fingers from around the brush and tin of powder and dropped the toiletries back in the case. Her free arm still partially covered her front.

“Don’t hide from me, sweetheart.”

“I might as well be naked. And . . . I look a fright.” She gripped the material in her fisted hands.

So that was it.

“The bruising will fade without a trace, but even with the discoloration, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He tugged her closer. “When I make love to you again, neither of us will be clothed and you will see it’s perfectly natural and most enjoyable.”

“Will I be able to see and touch you as well?”

“I do hope so,” he chuckled, his voice a little garbled. “Now, let’s tuck you in.”

Anthony urged her toward a bed large enough to easily accommodate two. He pulled back the heavy quilt, depositing her in the middle of the mattress, and kissed her cheek.

“Good night, Anthony,” Clairece murmured. She was asleep almost immediately.

After extinguishing the light, Anthony stood gazing at the grounds below. Since the man following them would have no difficulty discerning where they had stopped, he moved the chair nearer the window and resumed his seat. He rested his arms on the windowsill and considered the nightscape.

The familiar figure of their enemy lurked in the shadows below.

Chapter 26

Clairece opened her eyes as early morning sunlight touched her face. She stretched, sat up, and looked around. Frightened by Anthony’s absence, she called out.

The door to the bathing chamber swung open. “What is it? Is everything all right?” He stood shirtless, shaving soap dotting the side of his jaw.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t find you . . .” her gaze lowered to his bare chest and the dusting of black hair. She’d thought him handsome before but seeing him partially unclothed robbed her of speech. She eased from the bed and moved nearer, raking her fingers through the coarse hair on his chest. Broad shouldered and heavy boned, with bands of muscle stretching taut across his lean stomach and abdomen, he put Greek statues to shame.

“Clairece . . .” he choked.

“You said I may touch you.” She trailed her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, thrilled at the feel of muscles tightening under her palms. She returned her attentions to his torso and drew a path downward with a finger. He caught her wrist before she reached the buttons at his waist.

“If you don’t stop now I’ll be in no condition to leave.”

“Leave?” Her arms dropped to her sides.

“For an hour at most. In the meantime, the tub is large and a good soak might help your aches and pains.”

“Not all my aches,” she murmured.

“Behave.” He clasped her upper arms and turned her toward the waiting tub. “Come, I’ll play lady’s maid.”

“I won’t break, you know, and I’m not nearly as sore as I was, and—” She was babbling and didn’t give a fig. She wanted him.
I’m not afraid to admit it.

“Says the woman who just hours ago could barely stand the touch of her clothing. Once you’re healed, I will keep you well pleasured and in my bed for days.”

“Pinky swear?” Clairece held up a little finger.

“I beg your pardon?”

She swiveled to face him. “Hold up your little finger like so.” She crooked her finger and held it up for him to see. He did the same. Next, she wrapped her finger around his. “There. We have completed a pinky swear. Now press your thumb to mine. By doing so, it seals the agreement so it cannot be broken.”

“Ahh, well, pinky swear it is.” Anthony reached around her to open the taps and let water pour into the large slipper tub. With a few nimble flicks of his fingers, he unfastened the top buttons of her nightdress and let the gown drop to her feet. He swept her up in his arms and settled her in the heated water.

Heat penetrated her strained and sore muscles, easing the pain. Uttering a sigh, Clairece leaned against the sloping back. Water swirled and lapped around and over her body as she moved her hands across the surface. She sighed and let her eyes close.

She peeked through her lashes to see Anthony’s gaze riveted on the bathwater as it rippled and undulated over her breasts. She picked up a piece of flannel and a bar of scented soap, and lathered the thick material. Slowly, she ran the cloth over her arms and bosom, drawing in a deep breath at the sensation. The stimulation caused by the rough cotton made her nipples tighten. Cupping her hands, she released a cascade of water over her now rosy breasts.

Anthony made a strangled sound and faced the mirror.

Clairece set her toes on the ridge of the tub and ran the soapy cloth over her exposed leg. Turning the wet bar in her palms, she slid her hands up her throat and across her shoulders. Then repeated the process, lathering her hands with the sweet-smelling soap and skimming them over her breasts.

A razor clattered into the bowl.

She giggled.

“So, my bashful beauty has become the little tease. I’m randy enough to cause myself a severe injury without you providing additional distraction.” He rinsed the lather from the blade and laid it aside. “However, bathing you does offer some interesting possibilities.” Anthony swiped the towel across his jaw to remove the remaining soap, and knelt on the rug beside the bathtub.

He loved her playfulness. New to the art of seduction, Clairece was trying out her wiles on him, and learning quickly. Naturally sensual, her willingness to trust her instincts left him in a constant state of arousal.

“Lean forward a little.” He plucked the flannel from her hand and ran it gently over her shoulders and down her back. She sighed her pleasure. While he nuzzled the slim column of her neck, he skimmed the cloth over her side and down her belly. Her pulse leapt under his lips.

He scooped up the bar of soap and let her watch as he lathered his hands. With foam-covered fingers, he circled her breasts. His little vixen pressed up into his palms. He withdrew his hands and reached for the washcloth.

“Now who’s teasing?” she groaned.

It would never do to let her see his grin. “Tell me what you want, love. Show me.”

She hesitated, then placed her hand over his and guided him back to her ivory mounds. Anthony flicked his thumbs over the peaked nipples and squeezed. “Like this?”

Her eyelids fluttered closed. “Oh, yes.”

She had beautiful breasts, a woman’s breasts, full and plump. He ran his hands down her sides and around to her midriff. Her legs parted, an offering to his questing fingers.

Her responsiveness was unbelievably erotic. He moved his hand down to her knee and back up her thigh. And stopped.

Clearly impatient, she slapped the water, sending it sloshing over the edge of the tub.

He chuckled. “Tell me, Clairece.” She was shy, and unable to articulate what she wanted. In time she would, and without his asking. “Show me.”

She drew his hand to the curls covering her mons. “No more teasing or I shall die of frustration.”

Brushing his fingers against her opening, he slid the tip of a middle finger between her soft folds and pressed in. While he kissed and nibbled along the curve of her neck, he gently worked a second finger inside. He withdrew, and eased in again, continuing the rhythm until her hips began to undulate against the pressure of his hand.

Gritting his teeth to keep from losing control, Anthony swirled his thumb over the little nub.

Her head fell back against his shoulder.

“Let it happen, sweetheart,” he murmured. One more deep thrust and swirl, and she shattered.

Anthony murmured soothing words until Clairece relaxed in his arms. Reaching beneath her, he hoisted her from the tub and wrapped her in a large towel. A few long strides brought him to the bed, where he sat her on the edge, and leaned her back. He dropped to his knees in front of her and hooked her legs over his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” she asked, rising on her elbows.

“Let me pleasure you.” He kissed the inside of each thigh before nuzzling the soft curls.

She jerked. “Anthony, no, you cannot . . . ahh.”

“I’ve wanted to taste you from the first.”

Within moments, she began to writhe and twist. He laid an arm across her belly while he pleasured her with his mouth and tongue. She arched and made a little purring sound deep in her throat. The hum escalated to a shriek as she climaxed. With a sigh, she collapsed, boneless, her arms limp at her sides.

He slid her knees from his shoulders and shifted her to the center of the bed, covering her with the quilt. A sense of rightness clutched at his heart.

Within minutes, he’d finished dressing and slipped from the room.

Anthony returned to find Clairece staring at the gardens below. Her hair hung loose and gleaming in the light from the window.

“You’re awake, I see.” He moved to stand behind her, drawing her back against him.

“The scar-faced man was in the garden earlier. He noticed me watching and simply doffed his cap and strolled off.”

Uttering an oath, Anthony spun in a fury and started for the door.

Clairece grabbed his arm. “Don’t go. He could be anywhere by now.”

Anthony faced her. “You’ve told me not to feel responsible should something happen to you. While I appreciate what you’re saying, it is not possible. It does, however, bring up another point, one we should discuss.”

She eyed him warily. “What would that be?”

“Something could just as easily happen to me. I’ll do my damnedest to avoid it, but whoever this is will stop at nothing to accomplish his goal, which most likely now includes killing me. After his attempt on the train, we cannot ignore the possibility he might succeed.”

“But once we’re at the Park, we’ll be safe.” She searched his face for an assurance he couldn’t give. “Anthony?”

“I’ve procured a special license.” The expression on her face made him ill. “God, don’t look at me that way. I hope you don’t believe this some ploy to force you into marriage.”

She began to turn away.

“Hear me out, please. My child may even now be growing inside you. If I were to die before I could convince his stubborn mother to marry me in the normal way, he or she would bear the stigma of illegitimacy and have little chance for a decent future. And you, sweetheart, would be without my protection.”

Desperate to get through to her, Anthony held her firmly by the shoulders and urged, “We’ve acknowledged we want each other physically, and I admire you greatly for your intelligence and bravery. I am an extremely wealthy man and would provide well for you and our child. Neither of you would ever want for anything. If you were to give me a son, he would be my heir and the next Earl of Harding.”

Uneasy at her continued silence, Anthony pressed on. “I am not a stingy man, nor am I overly demanding. You would have access to my money and anything else you might desire. All I require is you trust me and tell me the truth, no matter what. And remain faithful. I know you value your independence and I see no reason to curtail it, within reason, of course.”

“Of course,” she echoed. “Since we are discussing marriage between us, I have a couple of questions for you.”

“Ask them.”

“Would you give me the same assurances? I’m referring to fidelity. I realize the standards do not hold true for men as for women, but unfaithfulness is something I could not bear.”

“I would never break my marriage vows. I’ve seen enough of the pain doing so can cause.”

“And what of truthfulness? Are you able to abide by that as well?”

He pushed his association with Scotland Yard to the back of his mind. “Yes.”

“Answer then, and truthfully. What do you feel for me? Is there anything other than physical attraction? When I am rounded with your child you may no longer find me desirable. What would we have then?”

He smiled. “You have asked more than one question, but I will attempt to answer. If you’re asking if I love you, I can tell you I’m willing to learn.” He touched her cheek. “The thought of you fills a large part of my waking hours, and I desire to see you happy and safe above all else.”

“And swelling with your child?”

“To me, you will be even more beautiful.” He drew her against him. “You will always be my
Beauty
even when we are old and creaking in rocking chairs, watching our grandchildren play.”

Clairece took a step back. “If I am to consider matrimony, I need to believe there’s a chance to find what I’d hoped for in a marriage. I want a joining together in the truest sense. And I need to be assured there is something we can build on.”

“Take a good look at us, Clairece. Do you not speak your mind freely? Have I not listened? Are we not able to spend hours in each other’s company and, at least for me, not grow bored? In the little time we’ve had together, have we not learned to trust? To me, trust is vitally important.”

“And if I’m not with child? Will you later regret a rushed marriage?”

“I am not marrying you for the child alone. I am marrying you, for you. If after we marry we find you are not increasing, I predict it will only be a matter of time until you are.”

He dropped to one knee. “Clairece Griffin, will you do me the extreme honor of becoming my wife?”