Cat and Mouse (22 page)
They turned towards the carriage but took their time getting to it.
“I must say, Maxwell, for such a small space, your gardens are quite lovingly tended.”
“Of course. What with Walters and Simmons belonging to Her Royal Majesty’s garden club—”
Katrina pulled Maxwell to a stop. “Garden club? You told me they belonged to a gun club!”
“Oh, yes. I guess I did, didn’t I?”
“Maxwell, you lied to me!”
“Lied? No… I merely mixed up my words.”
“What?”
“Gun, garden… What is the difference? Not much, I’d imagine.”
“You can’t kill someone with a garden!”
“Are you aware, madam, of the adverse effects a good deal of hemlock in your tea will have on a body?”
“Maxwell…” Katrina tried so hard not to laugh, but to no avail.
He smiled. “There, see? No harm done.” Placing a kiss on her forehead, he added, “I only minced my words to make you more at ease at the time.”
Recovering, she wagged a finger at him. “Well, don’t do it again. I want the truth from this moment on.”
“Then I’m afraid you and I need to have a little talk,” he said in a serious tone but pulled her into an embrace in contradiction of his words.
“What—? What’s wrong?”
He sighed. “I’m afraid you can’t come back with me to Hamilton Place.”
Tiny pins pricked every nerve along her arms. “Wha—?”
“You can’t come back to the house… Not unless you agree to become my wife.”
Her breath left her, but only for a moment. “Oh, Maxwell!” She reached up and he lifted her higher, her toes dangling above the ground. Her tears began falling like a spring rain and she pressed her face against his shoulder.
“Is that a yes or a no?” she heard him ask.
She sniffed. “Yes, of course!”
He tightened his arms around her. “My beautiful mouse with the cat-like eyes.”
Lifting her head she gazed at him. “I always thought they were oddly shaped.
“Not at all. In fact, your eyes are responsible for drawing me to you.”
“And all this time I thought it was my bottom.”
“Well, that too.”
Katrina giggled at his smirk and he let her go.
They started for the carriage once again when he spoke, “So, where would you like to go on our honeymoon?”
“Heavens. What a question. How long do you suppose we’ll be gone?”
“I don’t know—a week, perhaps two.”
She thought for a moment. “How about your playroom?” Katrina peered up at him. At his wicked grin, a searing thrill shot up her spine.
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Sins of the Flesh
Genella DeGrey
Excerpt
Chapter One
1893
Baylian had just alighted from a near-battle with Lucifer and his hordes. Michael, his commander in the heavenly army, had expertly defused the altercation once again. ‘Twas a pity indeed that weapons weren’t drawn. It had been a long time since Baylian had smelt the fear rising from his foe like steam and felt the vibration of his sword as the flame of the blade buried itself deep into the belly of his enemy.
Nonetheless, it wouldn’t be long before he was summoned to another confrontation. The call to arms came so frequently now that there seemed to be very little time in between those summonses. Baylian didn’t doubt that at the next meeting they’d come to blows—The Fallen would soon grow tired of bellowing ominous words followed hard by resigned retreat.
Exalting in this latest sense of triumph, Baylian wandered the gloomy alleyways of London in the dead of night in search of… Who knew what? Perhaps there lay in wait, in some abandoned side street, a murder about to take place—a murder he could prevent. It would be another small scrimmage won for The Light.
His keen ears caught a human whimper, female, as it floated towards him, muffled by a thick cloak of fog. Unable to determine whence the sound came, Baylian lifted his chin and inhaled through his nose. The stench of helplessness burnt his nostrils. Baylian drew his sword—the blade flared to life, familiar black-green with flashes of purple. A demon was near. Following the scent, he seeped like a ghost through a brick wall and ascended through the floor to the next flight.
The musty space held little furniture—a small bedside table with a single candle burning low in its tarnished holder, and a trundle bed dressed with dingy, ragged sheets—and nothing on the walls but a small looking glass. From other rooms in the building came audible, passionate cries, and grunts of exertion. In moments, the realisation hit him like a blow to the stomach. He’d just stormed a brothel.
Atop the bed was a couple. The female’s buttocks bounced up and down with the help of her lover’s hands upon her hips. Her coiffure dangled in strands down the centre of her back in a tangled mess, nearly reaching to her rounded bottom.
Baylian stood, time and space frozen around him, and stared at the sight. The man below her drove into the girl with violence and she practically screamed with each thrust. His hands held her in place. The skin into which his fingers sank shone white and red between each digit.
Baylian had never laid eyes on such a brutal coupling.
“You’ve a tight li’l pussy,” the man growled into her ear, then bit down on her shoulder. The girl didn’t seem to notice the pain of the bite, but, each time the man shoved his cock inside her, Baylian could feel her agony from where he stood. Why did the man pursue her so? And who had granted him permission to abuse her in this way?
And what gave Baylian such a fierce urge to participate?
There was no rationale for it, but bearing witness to such a sadistic, carnal act made his stomach tighten and flip over with anticipation. With an intensity that took him aback, Baylian longed to taste the experience of occupying her body in the human way, to feel the warmth of flesh against flesh, to sense her soul mating with his.
The man released a moan and, mere seconds later, he let the girl go. Baylian could still see the finger-shaped bruise marks on her hips and arms. She rose up on her hands to remove herself from him, when he shoved her to the side.
“Get off, whore.” His voice sounded gruff with disgust as she fell from the bed onto the floor. “I’m finished wiv you.” He got up, stepped into his trousers and shoes, then pulled his shirt over his head. Tucking his tails haphazardly beneath his belt, he pulled on his well-worn, brown jacket that sported large black patches over the elbows, then shoved his dingy grey derby over his greasy, thinning brown hair.
The moment the frail door slammed shut, the girl stood, reached over and opened the drawer in the small bedside table. She took a few sips from a brown bottle. The bitter scent of laudanum wafted towards Baylian as feminine footsteps echoed from the hallway.
“Ruby, I seen your john leave. You ready for the next one, then?”
“I want a bath first—with scalding hot water this time, you shrivelled-up old cunt,” the whore snapped at the woman.
“Another fuckin’ bath? You bathe more than four whores put together.”
“And I make more money for this bloody brothel than four whores put together, so shut it, bitch.”
Sheathing his sword, Baylian seeped back into the alley. He swept the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated there. Would she really couple again that soon? Did she enjoy it so much? Humans were notorious for mating and producing children, even when there wasn’t enough money coming in to feed a single person. What was it about the sexual act that compelled humans to participate with such fervour, such frequency?
Although he knew it was forbidden to directly interfere in matters of the flesh, he’d certainly like to find out. There were always ways around the system. It only took memorisation of the rules and an inventive mind to find an approach that wouldn’t get a creative individual caught. And, besides, he had a bit of time on his hands.
Hadn’t he been carrying out the Lord’s plan for an epoch? Didn’t he deserve some amusement?
From where he stood at the far end of the alley, Baylian heard someone whistling a tune. Male. He sniffed the air—a man who hadn’t had a coupling in quite some time.
Invisible, Baylian hovered near the man, slowing his steps at the entrance of the passage to the brothel, whispering in his ear, “What is that, the sweet scent of a woman?” He waited a moment while the man processed the information. “How long has it been since you felt the warm, soft flesh of a female?” Baylian sensed the man’s skin heat and the hair on the back of his neck rise. “Does your cock long for the wetness of a woman’s mouth?” he murmured.
The man reached into his pocket and produced a gold watch. Flipping it open he checked the time. He swallowed and looked about.
A gas lamp burned above a shabby wooden door at the end of the alleyway. The red glass shade muted the light and reflected off the puddle that ran down the middle of the cobblestones, causing the water to resemble blood. Tucking the watch back into his waistcoat, he headed for the red light.
Forbidden excitement overpowered Baylian like an ominous storm cloud expanding in his belly. The man raised his hand to knock on the door. Baylian merged his being with the man’s soul, possessing him completely.
About the Author
Born and reared in Southern California, Genella deGrey longed to be your typical blonde, tanned, surfer girl but failed miserably. Unable to sit idle without falling asleep, she embarked upon several artistic endeavours. Make-up and set dressing for the entertainment industry, Resort Enhancement for The Walt Disney Company and writing sexy historical romance top the list of her favourite activities. A consummate closet goth and amateur music and (red) wine enthusiast, she is also a hopeless romantic awaiting the arrival of her very own Mr Romance/Soul Mate with whom to share the rest of her life.
Email:
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Genella
loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.totallybound.com
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Also by Genella DeGrey
Totally Bound Publishing
