Heart of Courage (12 page)

In a way it was frightening.

She was sitting at her desk, pondering the thought, when Bessie Briggs walked up beside her.

“Found this under the door this mornin'. Your name's written on the back.”

“Thank you, Bessie.” Lindsey looked at the blue lettering on the note, then broke the seal and began to read.

You want to save your brother, look for the killer among his friends.

Good grief! She studied the note front and back, searching for a clue as to who might have sent it, but the paper was blank except for her name on the outside and the words scrolled on the inside.

Look for the killer among his friends.

Her mind went over the possibilities the message posed, but in truth, the words seemed more a jest than a serious attempt to help Rudy. It was the sort of prank Tom Boggs or Marty Finch might enjoy, getting Lindsey to send the police on a wild chase after Rudy's friends.

She tapped the note thoughtfully. Catching sight of Thor in the back of the office, she steeled her mind against those passionate moments in the garden and carried the note in to show him.

“What is this?”

“Bessie found it under the door when she came in to work.”

He took the note from her hand and read the contents. He looked up at her, studied her face. “You do not give it credence.”

She shrugged. He always seemed able to sense a person's feelings. “Not really. I think it is something one of Rudy's friends might do as a prank. Perhaps whoever wrote it thought it would be funny to have the police tracking down Rudy's acquaintances.”

“It does not seem funny to me.” He handed the note back to her. “Is there a man among your brother's friends who would do murder?”

“Great heavens, no. They are all spoiled and selfish, but I cannot think of one who is anything but harmless.”

“Still, it is something to keep in mind.”

She nodded, looked up at him. “We need to speak to Phoebe's roommates, as we had planned.”

“Aye, and the woman, Mary Pratt, who accused your brother of the crime.”

“Her especially.”

“We can go there now. We will take my brother's carriage.”

She needed to finish her article, but she still had plenty of time and this was far more important. She made a quick trip to the front of the office to collect her wrap, then preceded Thor out the back door leading into the alley.

Leif's carriage was parked a short ways away. Thor called out to the driver, commanding him to bring the vehicle forward. The driver flicked the reins and the two matched bays leaned into their traces. The shiny black carriage rolled to a stop in front of the alley door.

Thor helped Lindsey climb in then climbed in himself, settling his big frame on the seat across from her. As the vehicle rumbled toward the house occupied by Mary Pratt, Lindsey studied Thor's face, trying for some clue as to what he was thinking. His expression remained inscrutable.

“I…um…I thought we might talk about what happened in the garden.”

Thor's dark head came up. His gaze found hers across the carriage. “If you wish for me to apologize, then I will. I behaved badly and—”

“Don't be silly. You did not behave badly. I was the one who kissed you—not the other way around.”

Thor sighed. “Fine, then there is naught to discuss. Except that I touched you as I shouldn't have and I will not do so again.”

“Why not?”

A muscle jerked in his cheek. “Gods' breath, woman, you know well enough why not. You are a lady and I am no gentleman. We are not wed and never will be. That is why not.”

“You sleep with other women who are not your wife, why not me?”

“The others are whores. It is their job to pleasure a man.”

“What if I want to be pleasured? You are extremely good at kissing and touching. I imagine you would be very good at giving a woman pleasure.”

His jaw clenched. He moved so quickly she gasped, lifting her off the seat and onto his lap. “You tempt a man, lady. Feel what you do to me?”

Her eyes widened at the thick, hard ridge beneath her skirts, its remarkable breadth and length evident even through the layers of her petticoats.

“Oh, my…”

“I cannot take you, Lindsey. We are not suited—you know this. I would make a poor choice of husband.”

“I'm not asking you to be my husband. I am asking you to be my lover.” She wriggled a bit and he groaned. “It's obvious you want me. Why can we not make love?”

“By Odin!” He clamped down on his jaw and his eyes glittered like burning coals. With a growl low in his throat, he lifted her again, set her astride his thighs, reached out and pulled the curtains down over the windows.

“What…what are you doing?”

“You wished for me to pleasure you—that is what I am going to do.”

Clasping the back of her neck, he pulled her mouth up to his for a deep, burning kiss. His lips seemed to melt into hers and heat tumbled through her. Her heart pounded as if she were running a race and moisture dampened the place between her legs. Lindsey wrapped her arms around Thor's neck and kissed him back with the same fiery passion, then stiffened at the touch of his hand beneath her skirts.

Thor kissed her again, sampling and tasting, gentling her, stroking the inside of her mouth with his tongue. He kissed her until the tension left her body and she melted against him. Warm shivers rose on her calf, her knee as his hand moved higher. He widened his thighs, forcing her legs apart, opening her to give him access, and reached inside the slit in her drawers.

Lindsey gasped at the intimate touch of his fingers, the sound muffled by the crush of his mouth over hers and the deep sweep of his tongue. Long, drugging kisses turned her mind to mush. Fierce, ravaging kisses had her writhing against his hand.

“Is this what you want, Lindsey?” As if in answer, a soft mewling came from her throat. Thor's chest rumbled with male satisfaction. “Just this once, I will give you what you want.”

Her eyes closed as he began to stroke her, gently at first, touching her as no man ever had. She hadn't known this was part of lovemaking. Tyler had simply opened his trousers, freed himself, and clumsily plunged inside her. Thor stroked and plundered, touched and caressed, and set her body on fire.

She was drenched and arching against him when he began to tease the throbbing bud of her sex. Desire washed through her, built and heightened. Her breath caught and suddenly she came apart.

Pleasure swamped her, hot and wild, so sweet she could almost taste it. The heavens seemed to open and stars glittered behind her eyes. Thor muffled her passionate cries with his kiss, kept her on the edge of pleasure until she reached the pinnacle again, then held her as she slowly spiraled down.

Lindsey clung to him. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart and knew he was not as unaffected as he seemed. Her own heart refused to slow.
Dear God in heaven!

Never in a lifetime could she have guessed what it might be like!

He kissed her softly one last time. “I have given you what you wanted,” he said. “Once you are wed, you will know this pleasure and more.”

Lindsey shook her head, an unexpected tightness in her throat. “No, I won't. I'll marry some wealthy aristocrat like Tyler Reese who won't know the first thing about making love.”

“Reese? That is his name?”

“It was a long time ago, Thor. Ty is a different man now. The point is whatever time the two of us have together is all I'm ever going to know of passion.”

Thor set her back on the opposite seat. “You cannot know what fate has planned for you. I will not be the man to steal that from you.”

Lindsey didn't say more. Her body still throbbed sweetly with the pleasure Thor had given her. And he had said there was more.

Lindsey wanted to know all of it.

And she wanted to know it with Thor.

T
he carriage turned into Raven Court, an area of rundown tenements not far from the House of Dreams. It was just off Bedford Lane, the route Phoebe must have taken to go home.

It took two stops to discover which building was occupied by Mary Pratt. Lindsey let Thor guide her toward an outside entrance where wooden stairs, chipped and bleached with age, led up to an attic above the second floor of an old wood-frame house. Filth littered the yard and the stench of sewage and rotting garbage hung in the air.

“I could talk to her for you,” Thor offered, his gaze sweeping the dirt and muck on the ground, then going to the hem of her gray wool skirt.

“I wish to speak to her myself.”

He didn't seem surprised. He was coming to know her. She wondered if he could ever accept her independent ways. It bothered her, she discovered, to think that he might not.

Thor escorted her up the stairs with a protective hand at her waist. When they reached the landing, he rapped sharply on the weathered door, knocking off chips of peeling paint. It took several more knocks before footsteps sounded on the opposite side and a small woman with dull gray hair pulled open the door.

“Mary Pratt?” Thor asked.

“That's me name.” She eyed his huge frame warily then, seeing a woman behind him, seemed to relax. “What can I do fer ye?”

Lindsey came forward. “We'd like to ask you some questions about the murder that happened on your street a few weeks back.”

“Who are ye?”

Lindsey summoned a smile. “I'm a reporter with
Heart to Heart
magazine. We're doing a story about the murder.” It was as good a reason for being there as she could come up with on the spur of the moment. “We just need a bit of information.”

The woman made no comment, which Lindsey took as a sign to proceed. “We'd like to ask you about the man you saw running from the scene of the crime.”

“He weren't runnin'…not exactly. 'Twas more like he was saunterin'. Kinda like he was proud o' himself for what he done. Course at the time, I just figured he'd been up to some mischief. Didn't know he'd done murder till I heard talk about it later.”

“What did this man look like?”

“He were gentry. Dressed real nice…fancy top hat and fine leather gloves. That's why I noticed him. Seemed so out of place round here.”

“I see.”

“What else can you tell us?” Thor asked.

“He were tall and slim, had light-colored hair.”

“I thought he was wearing a hat,” Lindsey said.

“He were carrying his hat when I first seen him. Put it on as he rounded the corner.”

“What about his face?” she asked. “What did he look like?”

“Can't say fer sure.” She turned, pointed toward a window inside the house then to the lane out in front. “She were kilt right there in that doorway. It's a ways away from me window. Couldn't make out his features.”

Lindsey's pulse kicked up. “Then how can you be certain it was Rudolph Graham?”

She shrugged a pair of bony shoulders. “Police said it were him. Same height, same build, same light hair. I figured they must know.”

“Thank you, Mary.” She reached out and pressed a guinea into the old woman's palm. “You've been a very big help.”

The woman grinned, exposing a hole where one of her bottom teeth should have been. “Too bad I cain't read. I'd like ta see me name in the newspaper.”

Lindsey left the old woman on the landing and she and Thor made their way back down the stairs. She couldn't hide her excitement as he opened the door of the carriage.

“Did you hear her, Thor? She didn't see the killer's face. It could have been anyone.”

“You need to tell this to your brother's attorney. Mayhap it will be enough to get Rudy released.”

She looked up at him. “I think we should go there now.”

He nodded. “What is the address?”

She gave him the location in Threadneedle Street, and sometime later, the carriage rolled up in front of a three-story brick building. The solicitor, Jonas Marvin, was there in the office. Lindsey introduced Thor as a friend who was helping her investigate the murder, then told the attorney what they had learned from Mary Pratt.

“The woman didn't see his face,” Lindsey explained. “The police pretty much convinced her Rudy was the man she had seen leaving the scene of the murder.”

Marvin adjusted his small gold spectacles, shoving them up on his nose. “If what you say is true, then the case against Rudolph is built entirely on circumstantial evidence. It's incriminating—without a doubt—but Rudy is a future baron. If your father were here, his release would be fairly easy to obtain.”

“I shall speak to Aunt Delilah, ask her to talk to some of her influential friends, see what sort of support we can muster to gain Rudy's release.”

“In the meantime, I will speak to Avery French. Perhaps he can work some of his courtroom magic down at the magistrate's office.”

“Show Mr. Marvin the note,” Thor said.

Lindsey glanced up at him, opened her reticule and pulled out the note she had received that morning. “I think it is probably a prank—one of Rudy's half-witted friends.”

Marvin took the note from her outstretched hand and skimmed the words. “I will show it to Harrison Mansfield, the investigator, see what he has to say. We wouldn't want to overlook any possibility.”

The meeting ended in a positive vein, Lindsey feeling optimistic for the first time since all this had begun. Since the afternoon was nearly over, she and Thor decided to postpone their call on Phoebe's roommates. Thor returned her to the office, and both of them went back to work.

Two days later, Avery French managed to secure Rudy's release.

Still, it was clear her brother remained the number one suspect in the murders. They had to continue the search, had to find the real killer.

Her brother would not be safe until they did.

 

His face and chest covered with perspiration, Thor awakened that night from a restless sleep. He was aroused, his shaft hard and throbbing beneath the sheet. He had been dreaming again, another hot dream of Lindsey.

“Blood of Odin,”
he swore, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. With a sigh, he lay back against the pillow, his shaft still thick and heavy, pulsing with unspent need. Though the hour was late, he considered getting dressed and paying a call on the ladies at the Red Door. The women would welcome him, as they always did, and his body would certainly welcome their attentions.

His shaft throbbed, craving relief, but his mind wanted something more.

An image of Lindsey in the carriage, her slender hips riding his thighs, her head thrown back in ecstasy as he pleasured her, burned through his mind and he clenched his jaw against a fresh rush of desire. He didn't want one of the women at Madame Fortier's. He wanted Lindsey Graham.

And he could not have her.

Like a sorcerer, the little witch had enchanted him. She couldn't be his, though she had offered herself to him time and again. She was convinced the man she would wed could not give her the pleasure she would find with Thor.

Mayhap I should give her what she wants, what both of us want, he thought.

But what if he got her with child? Her hips were slender, not broad, not the sort to carry a babe the size he would plant in her belly. Even if she were forced to wed with him, having his babe might kill her.

Thor punched his pillow, trying to get comfortable on a mattress that suddenly felt hard as stone. There was no way around it. He could not take her.

Fighting the demons that tried to convince him he was wrong, Thor attempted in vain to fall asleep.

 

Working behind her desk, Lindsey spotted Krista approaching, her blond hair swept into a knot at the nape of her neck, her simple muslin gown already smudged with ink. Lindsey straightened as she saw the folded paper in her friend's hand.

“I found this under the door when I came in this morning. It is addressed to you.”

Lindsey took the note, turned it over and recognized the handwriting that was the same as before. “I got one like this three days ago. Some rubbish about one of Rudy's friends being the Covent Garden Murderer. The handwriting looks the same.” She popped the seal and read the message.

Can you not see? Not the fools so close at hand. Stephen Camden is your man.

“Good grief!”

“What does it say?”

Lindsey handed the note to Krista, who quickly skimmed the words. “Stephen Camden? Surely it can't mean Viscount Merrick. For heaven's sake, his father is the Marquess of Wexford.”

“His country estate, Merrick Park, is in Foxgrove. One of its boundaries borders Renhurst Hall. Stephen is several years older than Rudy but they have known each other for years. They attended the same boarding schools and were also together for a brief time at Oxford.”

“I've met Lord Merrick on several occasions. He seemed a pleasant enough fellow. I cannot credit the man is a murderer.”

“Neither can I. Living so close, we know each other fairly well. Father has even mentioned Stephen as a possible suitor.” She retrieved the note Krista held out to her. “If this is a joke, I find it in extremely poor taste.”

“I wonder who sent it?”

“I wish I knew.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Nothing.”

“You got another note?” Thor's deep voice rolled over her as he walked up to her desk, and her heart did a little skip.

“Why, yes. It is as silly as the first. This one accuses an old family friend, Stephen Camden, son of the Marquess of Wexford. The man is a viscount, for heaven's sake. It is completely ridiculous.”

“Your brother will one day be a baron and yet he is under suspicion. You should show the note to the investigator, Mansfield, let him look into the matter.”

“I will do nothing of the sort. I am not showing this note to another living soul. Rudy would be outraged and it would only embarrass us both.”

“But you will keep the note, in case another comes in.”

“I will keep it. And when I find out who is sending them, I am going to give him a piece of my mind.”

Thor said nothing more, just walked away and went back to work. It wasn't until late that afternoon that they were able to leave the office to visit the two women who had shared a flat with Phoebe Carter. In the carriage ride along the way, Thor was pleasant but distant, clearly intent on ignoring the intimacy they had shared before and putting their relationship back on a formal footing.

Lindsey was irritated and out of sorts by the time they reached Phoebe's three-story walk-up in Maiden Lane. It was late enough in the day that the women would likely be up and moving about—even if their work had kept them awake most of the night—but early enough that they should still be at home.

Thor rapped sharply. On the second series of raps, a redhead in a black satin negligee pulled open the door.

“Stop makin' all that racket! It's early yet, not time for—” Her lips formed an O of surprise as her eyes lit on Thor. Her gaze traveled up his long, muscular legs, over his narrow hips and broad chest, to the face of a beautiful dark angel.

Wavy, coal-dark hair curled over his collar and his brilliant blue eyes took in, at a glance, the woman and her surroundings.

“Maybe I spoke too soon,” she said, stepping back to invite him in. “What can Mandy do for you, lover?”

To Lindsey's surprise, Thor paid little attention to the woman's scantily clad form. “We would like to ask you some questions.”

“We would like to talk to you about your flat-mate, Phoebe Carter.” Lindsey tried not to be peeved that the woman didn't seem to realize she was there. All the redhead could see was Thor. As Lindsey thought on it, in a way she couldn't blame her.

“You don't look like the police.”

“My brother is Rudolph Graham. You probably know him. He was accused of Phoebe's murder.”

“Yeah, I heard that. Seems to me you got some gall comin' here.”

“My brother is innocent,” Lindsey said. “If you know him, you know he isn't the kind of man who could murder a woman. That is what we are trying to prove.”

Mandy flicked a glance at Thor. “I met him a couple of times. Phoebe liked him. He didn't seem like a killer.” She stepped back and opened the door. “Might as well come in.” She turned, shouted toward the back of the flat. “Hey, Annie—we got visitors.”

The place was fairly clean but the furnishings were sparse, a threadbare rose velvet settee and a matching velvet chair. The floor was covered by a faded Persian rug, and the fringe was missing in places from the lamp shade. Still, it was far above what other residents of the neighborhood possessed. Prostitution paid better than most of the jobs a working woman could get.