Heart of Courage (28 page)

“We need to talk. I am talking you to my apartment.”

She remembered the last time she had gone to his flat, remembered their heated lovemaking, and a flush rose in her cheeks. “I am not going to your house, Thor. Not now, not ever again. I am asking you to please take me home.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Not yet.”

“I am not going, Thor.”

He simply ignored her.

“Stop the carriage this minute or I swear I will start screaming.” When he made no move to comply, she opened her mouth, but before a sound came out, he hauled her across his lap and smothered her cry with a kiss.

His lips were hot and possessive, familiar and oh, so seductive. It was a hard, taking kiss that gentled and turned coaxing, a kiss that reminded her of the way it had been the times he had kissed her before.

He parted her lips with his tongue and the taste of him filled her senses. His male scent mingled with his fragrant cologne enveloped her. She told herself to break free, but the heat of his big, hard body surrounded her. The muscles across his chest pressed into her breasts and the pink tips puckered and began to throb.

Thor cupped her face between his palms and kissed her, tenderly yet fiercely.

“I have missed you,” he said softly, between small, nibbling kisses. “I am not happy without you.” Another deep, mind-numbing kiss.

Lindsey couldn't think, could barely breathe. She knew she should stop him but her body was responding, heating, melting into his, and the last thought of struggle slowly faded. Recalling all they had shared, Lindsey kissed him back with all the hot need boiling inside her. The heat of desire scorched through her and when he drew away to kiss the side of her neck, she tilted her head back to give him better access.

“You loved me once,” he whispered against her ear. “This you said. Do you deny it?” He claimed her mouth in a long, drugging, breath-stealing kiss. “Do you?”

Another hot kiss left her trembling.

“Do you?”

“I…loved you.”

He ran his tongue over her trembling bottom lip. “You wished for us to wed.”

“Yes…”

He ran a finger along her cheek, tipped her head back so that he could look into her eyes. “Then you will marry me.”

She shook her head, but he trapped her face between his hands and kissed her again, deeply and thoroughly, a reminder and a promise all at once. She was limp and pliant in his arms by the time he had finished. For the first time, she realized he had pulled the shades on the windows. Vaguely, she heard him tell the driver to keep going until he was told to stop.

She didn't resist when he opened the back of her gown and slid it off her shoulders, didn't fight him when his hand slid inside the cups of her corset to caress each of her breasts. He stroked each one tenderly, until the taut peak throbbed beneath his fingers. She didn't stop him from bending his dark head to taste them, to suckle and lick until she was squirming in his lap, fighting not to beg for more.

“We will wed,” he said between soft, nibbling kisses, “as we should have done before.”

Lindsey swallowed. She was so hot, burning hot, and aching with hunger for him. Yearning for him to touch her all over, longing to feel him inside her.

“Say it,” he softly coaxed. “Say you will marry me.” She felt his hand beneath her skirts, stroking her gently, skillfully, then more insistently. Pleasure washed through her, fierce and sweet. She was on the verge of climax when he stopped.

“Say it.”

Lindsey whimpered, tried to find her voice. She would say whatever he wished if he would only continue.

“Say it!” he demanded, stroking her deeply again.

“I will…I will marry you.” But instead of giving her what she wanted, he drew his hand from beneath her skirts, lifted her up and set her astride his thighs. Lindsey moaned as he opened the front of his trousers and freed himself, lifted her again and impaled her to the hilt.

Her head fell back and her eyes slid closed. “Sweet God in heaven.” She looped her arms around his neck as he eased her down on the velvet carriage seat and began to thrust deeply inside her. Long, powerful strokes turned her insides to flame. The heavy thrust and drag of his shaft stirred pleasure so intense she trembled all over. Nothing had ever felt so good or so completely right.

In that moment she realized, no matter the awful things he had said, no matter that he might not love her, it was Thor she wanted.

And whatever his reason for wedding her, she was going to marry him.

“Lindsey…sweetheart…” he whispered, kissing her again, taking her to that place that seemed so easy to reach when she was with him.

She cried out as she crested, broke free and soared among the stars. Thor followed a few minutes later, the muscles tightening across his massive chest, his thighs like iron where they spread her open to receive him. In a corner of her mind, it occurred to her that she was no longer taking Samir's preventive potion, but she was past caring. And in truth, she wanted Thor's child.

They floated down together, finally settled back to earth.

He brushed a tendril of tawny hair back from her cheek, bent his head, and very softly kissed her. “I will talk to your father.”

Her sweet languor fled. Lindsey bit her lip as she tried to imagine the scene with her father. “Not yet. I—I need to…I've got to prepare him a little.”
If there was any such thing.

Great heavens, her parents were going to be furious. They wanted her to marry a gentleman, a man from her own privileged class. They wanted her to marry Michael Harvey, or one of the other men on their list.

But Lindsey didn't love Michael. She loved Thor and she was determined. She didn't know why Thor was equally determined they should marry. Perhaps it was lust, perhaps something more. In time she would discover the truth.

She ran a hand over his cheek, felt the slight roughness of a beard beginning to form along his jaw. She wished they could talk, begin to plan their future, but there would be time for that later. For now, there was Rudy to think of and finding a way to save him.

Lindsey sat up on the seat and began to straighten her clothes. “I have to talk to Michael,” she said. “Tell him what we found out from Tilly Coote.”

She saw Thor's deepening scowl and realized too late that in using the man's first name she had made a big mistake. Instead of turning the carriage around and taking her back to her house, he started kissing her again. Then he was pressing her back down on the seat, pulling her beneath him, filling her a second time.

The sweet surge of pleasure washed away thoughts of any other man.

H
e should have told her. He should have said the words he knew a woman wished to hear. He should have told Lindsey he loved her.

Thor cursed himself as he swung up on Saber's back and rode out of the stable into the grassy open spaces of Green Park. At this early hour, there was no one to disturb them. Weak yellow rays of sunlight barely visible above the horizon lit the gravel path around the park.

Thor came every day at this early hour to work the stallion, to ride him, gentle him, and make certain of the animal's care. Though young Tommy Booker was an excellent groom, Thor also stopped by in the evenings as often as he could. Saber was his future, the foundation for the blooded horses he intended to raise once he owned a place in the country. A future he intended to share with Lindsey.

As he rounded the park, urging the horse into a canter, he thought how much he had yet to do in that regard. Once he had finished riding, he would head for his brother's town house for his daily morning session with Krista, lessons on how to become a gentleman.

He was doing well at that, he thought. Working hard to learn the subtle little rules he would need to know if he meant to be accepted by Lindsey's family. Thor held no illusions about that. It might take years before they welcomed him as their daughter's husband. It didn't matter. She belonged to him and there was no changing that now.

Nor did he want to.

He leaned forward, reached down and slid a hand along Saber's sleek neck. The wind was rising, blowing the brown grasses in the park that had fallen victim to a heavy frost. He urged the stallion a little faster then gave him his head, and the horse stretched into a ground-eating gallop.

Thor knew a moment of pride, ever amazed by the magnificence of the animal beneath him. He knew that in the entire span of years ahead of him, he would never be able to repay Lindsey for the precious gift she had given him.

Her image returned.

I should have told her. I should have said the words.

He should have told her he loved her, for it was the truth. She meant everything to him.
Everything.
Without her, his life meant nothing.

But where he came from, in a world dominated by warriors, where a woman mostly served to satisfy a man's hunger, men didn't speak of love. It was a rare thing for a man to feel, an emotion seldom acknowledged.

He knew his brother loved his wife.

Perhaps his father had loved his mother. Now that he understood what it was to love, he thought that may…
perhaps
the faraway look he had glimpsed in his father's eyes was a yearning for the woman he had loved and lost.

Thor steadied the stallion, reined him into a cooling walk, and they continued round the gravel track that circled the park. Soon he would tell Lindsey the way he felt, that he loved her beyond all reason. When the time was right, he would say the words.

Thor sighed as he turned the stallion back toward the stable. He didn't understand why, but it seemed a challenge more daunting than any he had ever faced before. Even fighting the Berserkers on his island, men with little conscience who left a trail of warriors dead in their wake, seemed a far less fearsome task.

He would tell her, he told himself, and soon.

He just wasn't exactly sure when.

 

An early sun shone the next morning when Lindsey went in search of Thor at the stable where he kept his big black horse. She knew he spent as much time there as he could, went there in the mornings, and in the evenings, as well. The stallion was his most valuable possession and Lindsey knew how much the horse meant to him.

She had almost reached the barn when she spotted him, riding along the path in her direction. He looked up, surprised to see her, then his eyes turned a deeper shade of blue, burning with the familiar heat she always seemed to spark. Lindsey smiled as he rode into the open space in front of the barn, a breathtaking sight atop the stallion in his black riding breeches and full-sleeved shirt, his shoulders so wide they blocked the sun.

Thor reined Saber to a halt. “Good morning,” he said in near-perfect English, followed by a smile so sweet her stomach lifted as if it had wings.

“Good morning,” she replied brightly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as he swung a long leg over the horse's rump and dismounted. Just then Saber caught wind of her and his ears perked up. He tossed his beautiful head and nickered a greeting, obviously glad to see her.

Pulling a lump of sugar from the pocket of her skirt, Lindsey walked over and held it out in the flat of her hand. She scratched the stallion's ears. “Such a pretty boy, aren't you?” Saber tossed his head as if he agreed.

She turned back to Thor. “I came to talk to you. I hoped I would catch you before you left for work. I figured this would be a good place for us to speak.”

“I've missed you.” Bending his head, he gave her a very soft kiss. Lindsey parted her lips, allowing his tongue to sweep in, and Thor groaned. He straightened to his full height and his massive chest expanded. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

Knowing every contour of his incredible body, Lindsey forced away the memory of him naked in the circle of stones.

She cleared her throat. “I've been thinking about Tilly Coote. This afternoon, I am going to the police station.” She cast him a pointed look, thinking of their heated lovemaking in the carriage and trying not to blush. “As I intended to do yesterday.”

He gave her a hot look in return, which Lindsey determinedly ignored.

“I need to tell Constable Bertram what Tilly Coote said about Stephen.”

“Do you really believe that will convince him Merrick is guilty of murder?”

Lindsey glanced away. “I doubt it. The man has his mind made up that Rudy is the one who is guilty. Until we have solid proof, nothing is going to make the police believe he is innocent.”

Thor eyed her with growing suspicion. “So what does this have to do with Tilly Coote and the reason you are here?”

“It isn't exactly about Tilly. It's about the scarves she mentioned. If Stephen is truly the Covent Garden Murderer, there's a chance the scarf or scarves he used to strangle those women are somewhere in his house. Or maybe we might find some other sort of evidence. I was thinking that if we could get inside—”

“No.”

“We need to go there, Thor. We need some sort of physical proof.”

“Even if you were lucky enough to find the scarves, there is no way to prove they belong to Merrick.”

She pondered that. The police refused to believe anything she told them. They would have to be the ones to find the evidence. But how could she convince the police to search the viscount's house? And what if they found nothing there?

“You are right. We need to talk to Simon Beale. Maybe he has seen the scarves. I mean, they wouldn't be the sort a man would normally have in his possession. Beale might even know where Stephen keeps them. He could lead the police right to them.”

Thor led Saber into the shadows of the barn, Lindsey walking beside him. “I, too, have been thinking of Beale and what else he might know. Yesterday, I sent him a message. The note I received in return came from Merrick's housekeeper. It said Simon Beale is no longer in Lord Merrick's employ.”

Lindsey's eyes widened. “Mr. Beale has worked for Stephen for years. Why would he leave? And especially now, when he is trying to see justice done?”

Thor shook his head. “I do not like to think it, but I am afraid something might have happened to him. After I got the note, I stopped by the viscount's house. According to Mrs. Woodruff, the housekeeper, Merrick said Mr. Beale had to leave the city unexpectedly, that important family matters had come up. Beale regretted ending his employment on such short notice but he had no choice.”

Lindsey bit her lip. “Dear Lord, you don't think…you don't think Merrick killed him?”

“If the viscount discovered his valet was giving us personal information, there is no telling what he might do.”

Lindsey swayed a little and Thor caught her round the waist to steady her. “The man is dangerous, Lindsey. This you know.”

She nodded. But she was thinking that it was more important then ever to get inside his house. Perhaps this time Michael or Bertram would listen.

Time was running out for Rudy. Something had to be done.

 

Though the hour was not late, this time of year darkness came early. A gas street lamp burned on the corner, but a few feet away the circle of light dimmed and faded.

Stephen stood in the shadows outside the offices of
Heart to Heart
. Lamps still burned inside, glowing through the windows, but soon they would all be snuffed out. The workday was over, the employees leaving one by one. Lindsey's carriage waited in front, there to carry her from Piccadilly to her parents' Mount Street mansion.

Lindsey.
The name tasted foul on his lips. When her father had come to him asking if he might be interested in making a match with his daughter, Stephen had been intrigued. He didn't know the girl that well, but as neighbors, their encounters over the years had always been pleasant. His own father was getting old. Soon Stephen would be Marquess of Wexford. He would need an heir, and Lindsey, the daughter of a well-respected baron, would do well enough.

He knew she was an independent sort of woman and in an odd way that suited him. She would require little attention, just enough to get her with child. He figured he could manage that, though the notion of bedding her did not stir him. Unless, of course, she proved even less tractable than he imagined. He liked a woman to fight him. He found his pleasure in the conquest.

He looked back through the windows of the office. Only a single lamp burned. Lindsey remained inside but soon she would leave. Stephen meant to follow her, as he had been doing for the past several nights, ever since he discovered his valet had betrayed him.

Discovered that Lindsey Graham was trying to prove him guilty of murder.

Stephen thought of all he had discovered since that day. He had found out the woman he thought to wed was no innocent. That she was a sinful little whore who eagerly shared her body with the big dark-haired man who had worked for him in the stable.

The bile rose in his throat. The urge to wrap his hands around her throat was so strong he could taste it in his mouth. She had duped him—duped them all. She was a whore and he wanted her dead. And he wanted to be the man who killed her.

And yet if he did, if he took her life in the way that pleased him, that satisfied his need as nothing else ever had, Rudy Graham would go free. It would be clear, since he was in prison at the time of the latest murder, that another man must have killed the whores in Covent Garden.

Stephen wanted Rudy to take the blame. An old debt would be repaid, the moment of his humiliation washed from his mind once and for all. In the beginning, he had told himself that after Rudy was dead, he would stop. No one would ever know the truth and he would never be suspected of the crimes.

After all, he hadn't set out to do murder. It had started with the girl, Penny Barker, the little slut he had gotten with child. He hadn't meant to kill her, but then she had told him about the babe, said she expected they would wed and that if he didn't agree, she would go to his father. Something inside him had snapped. He had strangled her there in the woods and buried her beneath an old yew tree.

He hadn't meant to continue, but after Penny, the lust had continued to grow. The need to cleanse the world of the filthy little creatures who lured men into sin was simply too strong.

He gazed toward the office, watched another employee leave. He thought of the little whore he might have married, thought of how it would feel to slide his scarf around her neck and squeeze. He would have to wait, but not for long. Once Rudy was dead, he could start again. He had never come close to being caught. He could have it both ways, he believed.

He watched as the door opened up and Lindsey walked out of the office, descended the brick steps to her carriage, climbed inside and closed the door. Time grew short for Rudy Graham. He was certain to be found guilty and hanged. Stephen told himself to wait, see the matter finished.

But as the carriage rolled away, the urge to watch the life drain from the little whore's treacherous body became nearly unbearable. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his gloved hands unconsciously fisted.

He started walking along the darkened street, the cape of his greatcoat billowing in the sharp evening breeze. He followed the coach lights toward the house where she lived. Sooner or later a time would come when she would be alone and unprotected.

Then he would have to decide.

His palms itched. It would not be a difficult decision.

 

Another day passed. Lindsey left the office early and went back to her house. Thor was working at the docks so she hadn't seen him, not since the morning she had gone to the stable, though she had dreamed about him at night, hot, lurid dreams of her breasts being fondled, of his big, muscular body pressing her down into the mattress, of his hard length moving inside her.