Reckless Wager: A Whitechapel Wagers Novel (14 page)

Ben lifted the piece from her hands and hefted it in his palm. “You might have told me you had this. I would have worried about you a little less.”

The notion that he worried about her, cared about her, made her smile. “You worried about me?”

He looked up, his gaze lingering on her mouth. “Constantly.”

Kate lifted her hand to touch his face, drawing her finger along his full lower lip before leaning in to kiss him. Just before her mouth touched his, he pulled back. “Did someone hurt you, Kate? Before Jack Sharp. Before today.”

The question stunned her, forced her to stop and catch her breath. She eased away from him and rose from her chair, ignoring the mild ache in her shoulder and flare of pain in her hip. She walked to the window and pulled the lace curtain aside. Fenchurch Street looked quiet, idyllic, as a slow-falling flutter of snowflakes floated down onto the gaslit street.

“Yes, someone hurt me. He was my husband. Andrew Guthrie.”

Relief poured over her like warm treacle. She’d never told a soul and it was such a relief to finally speak the truth. “I’ve never told anyone, not even my brother.”

Ben’s footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet, but she heard him move behind her before she felt his hands on her. He rubbed her shoulders, then combed a finger through her hair, slipping all of the remaining pins from her ruined coiffure.

When she felt his lips against her hair, she leaned into him, sinking back against his tall, muscular frame.

He wrapped his arms around her, settling his chin on the top of her head. “You deserve so much better.”

“I spent so many years asking what I could have done, why he was so angry with me all of the time. I’m ashamed to admit how long it took for me to place the blame at his feet rather than my own.”

Ben repeated his words, low and husky, against her hair. “You never deserved any of it. He was a fool to do anything but love you.”

Kate turned and Ben dipped his head, as if he meant to kiss her. She reached for him, urging him closer, but then pulled back.

“Who is Anne?”

He reared his head back, though he still held her in his arms, shock clear in his gaze. “Anne? Anne Sutton? How do you know that name?”

“You said her name that night I followed you to your lodgings.” Kate skimmed her gaze over his mouth, recalling that first kiss. “Before you kissed me. Perhaps you thought you were kissing her.”

The teasing tone of her words didn’t inspire any amusement in him.

“I knew who I was kissing. I wasn’t that drunk.” He lifted a hand and ran the back of his fingers along her uninjured cheek. “I wanted to kiss you from the moment I saw you.”

Kate savored the way his touch made her belly flutter. But she still needed to know the answer to her question.

“But who is she? You did say her name.”

He inhaled deeply through his nose and looked at the ceiling a moment before speaking. “I knew her many years ago. I was a law student then at the Inner Temple, following in my father’s footsteps. But I was dissatisfied with theory and books and wanted to take action. I left off studying law to join the Metropolitan Police and asked Anne to marry me.”

He paused and bit his lip, scrutinizing her carefully, and Kate realized her eyes had gone wide. She reached up for the front of his vest.

“Go on. Please. Tell me the rest.”

“She refused me. She blamed it on my decision to join the police force, but I later learned she’d long harbored affection for my friend. A good friend and classmate. Edward Langdon.”

Ben grasped Kate’s hand and moved it down to his vest pocket.

“Take it out.”

She tugged his pocket watch out and a folded piece of paper came with it.

“Yes, that too.”

He turned the pocket watch in her palm so that she could see the back and read an inscription there.

“Always brothers.”

Kate looked up to find him smiling one of his breath-stealing smiles.

“My, my. You read Latin, you conceal a cudgel in your pocket. I can’t wait to learn all your secrets, Kate.”

He knew the worst of it, and he still smiled at her with admiration. The seduction in his tone melted her.

“My father was a doctor. I learned a bit of Latin here and there.” She tapped the slip of paper he held in his hand. “But what’s this?”

“See for yourself.”

Kate unfolded the document and read that Ben had been suspended from the detective force on the very day she’d met him in The Ten Bells. No details regarding the cause of his suspension were included, except for the single word
Conduct.

He answered her unspoken question. “A scuffle with a suspect.”

There was more. She could see it in his eyes.

“I was reinstated earlier today.”

“That explains the bruises and the pain you were in the night we met.” Kate lifted her hand to touch the skin near his eye and across the high arch of his cheek where the bruises had been. “So you weren’t on duty when I asked to help you find Rose?”

Ben lifted a hand to tug at his ear, shifting his gaze to the waning fire in the grate. “I’m afraid not. No.”

He turned back to her with his head tipped, eyes hooded, as if gauging how angry she might be.

“Then what of our wager?”

She loved the grin of relief that broke over his face, revealing his dimples.

“I was sure you’d forgotten.”

“Not at all. You found Rose all on your own, so I do owe you a kiss.”

Kate leaned into him, lifting her heels off the floor and her face toward his. But he didn’t bend down to meet her. Instead he lifted his hand, cupped her jaw, and ran his thumb along the edge of her bottom lip.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet, low, and smoky deep. “There are two reasons I must decline.” He slid his hand down to wrap it around the back of her neck, slipping his fingers into the hair at her nape. “In a way you did help with Rose. Your presence would have put her at ease. I considered how you might have treated her, and it caused me to take more care.”

He leaned closer, and his heat, the familiar spicy scent of him, made Kate breathless. “A-and the other reason?”

“You owe me nothing. Everything between us should be freely given.”

Kate wanted to kiss him again, more than she’d ever wanted to kiss anyone in her life.

A knock sounded on the door and she stilled in his arms.

“Who could it be?”

He ignored her question and kissed the tip of her nose before stepping away and unlatching the lock on the door. Two young men entered wordlessly, carrying a tub half-filled with water between them. An older woman followed with a bucket of steaming water and a few pieces of clothing folded over her arm. She emptied the water into the tub the moment the boys sat it near the fireplace, and placed the clothing at the edge of the bed. One of the young men slipped a piece of soap from his pocket and placed it on the desk.

None of them said a word, but Ben thanked them each in turn and placed a coin in their palms as they exited the room. Then he turned to Kate.

“I thought you might like a soak. I’ll wait down in the pub. Half an hour?”

He’d lifted his suit jacket from the back of the chair and started toward the door before Kate found her tongue. “No.”

When he stopped and turned back to face her, Ben’s gaze held a trace of concern.

“Stay with me. I don’t want you to go.”

“Stay with me.”

The firelight lit her skin with a glow as richly burnished as her hair and Ben had never seen more beautiful eyes than the clear blue-gray gaze of Kate Guthrie as she stared at him.

“Kate.”

She moved toward him while lifting her hands to the buttons of her shirtwaist. Slipping the fastenings one by one, she stopped just within his reach.

“Help me?” Kate spoke the words as a question but didn’t wait for an answer before clasping his hand and positioning his fingers near her still-fastened buttons.

Though she’d moved toward him like a seductress, he saw the slight quivering of her lip, the nervousness in her gaze. But he saw desire in her eyes too, and it seared a trail straight through his body—chest burning, groin aching, hands itching to touch her. He’d been attracted to Kate the moment she’d walked into The Ten Bells, despite his vow, despite the fact that no other woman had turned his head in years. But his hunger for her now was so potent it made him tremble.

“Yes, love. I’ll help you.”

Ben damned his shaking hands as he slipped the last of the small pearl buttons at the front of Kate’s blouse. A delicate silk chemise embroidered with purple flowers peeked through the panels of her blouse. Beyond the keyhole opening of her chemise, gathered at her neck with a flimsy silken knot, the luscious curve of her cleavage made his fingers itch to reach inside and stroke her flesh.

Her words stoked his lust-clogged thoughts. “Touch me.”

Fumbling in his haste, Ben tugged at her blouse, slipping it down her arms, then untangled the knot of her chemise, tugging it low to slide his fingers over the swell of her breasts. He dipped his head to taste her skin where his fingers stroked her. She reached back to begin loosening her stays, thrusting her breasts so high he saw the peach dusk of her nipples at the edge her corset, just under the fabric of her chemise.

She turned around, gazing back at him over her shoulder, and lifted her hair out his way.

“Would you help unlace me?”

Ben’s fingers had never felt less nimble. He reached for her corset, tugging and pulling, blessing the swish of fabric against fabric when one blasted lacing finally released an inch more of her. When they’d finally liberated her from the fabric cage, Ben lifted her chemise over her head, then slid his hands slowly down her back, smoothing away the imprint of her corset. The fastening on her skirt was blessedly easy, but she wore several petticoats underneath. When she finally turned around, standing before him in only her drawers and stockings, it took a measure of strength Ben didn’t know he possessed to help her step out of her remaining clothing and into the tub. He longed to touch her, taste her, run his tongue along every inch of her body, but she needed tenderness, care, more than he needed to ease the ache in his groin.

Kate leaned back in the tub, her petite figure sinking chin-deep into the water. She searched around the bottom of the tub and lifted a handful of sopping fabric out toward him.

Ben silently blessed the innkeeper’s wife for her foresight and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He took the fabric from Kate and scrubbed it against the square of soap the innkeeper’s son had left on the desk. The calming odor of lavender rose from the soapy cloth.

“It smells of lavender, like you.”

He lifted the washcloth so that Kate could smell it too. She smiled. “You know my scent?”

“Mmm. It’s haunted me every day since we met.”

He scrubbed the cloth gently along her arm, sweeping it across her neck and shoulders and down the length of her other arm. Then he dipped lower, whispering the cloth over her breasts, watching her nipples, just below the water, stiffen at his touch. Then lower, sliding his hand down her belly, intent on exploring the curves of her body as much as getting her clean. When the cloth dropped from his fingers, he couldn’t stop touching her, skimming his hands down to her hips, touching the crease of her thigh, just cresting the curls at the apex of her legs.

Kate’s breathing quickened, her eyes lit with a desire as deep and profound as his own. “Please. Don’t stop.”

Ben loved how she invited him to touch her. There was nothing coquettish in her tone, no feigned shyness, no attempt to play demure. His Kate was bold, honest, the bravest woman he’d ever known.

Slipping his finger through her curls, he leaned in close, pressing his mouth to her temple. He kissed her as he slipped his finger inside. Tight, warm, wet—he pressed deeper and savored her moan. Moving his mouth to ear, he traced the outer shell with his tongue, then whispered in her ear as he began to stroke her. “Kate. Beautiful Kate. So brave.”

She reached down to grasp his wrist and he thought she wished him to stop.

“Come in with me. There’s room enough for two.”

Ben doubted very much that both of them would fit in the narrow basin, but a wave of desire washed over him with Kate’s words.

“You’ll have to take this off.” She eased the knot of his neck cloth loose and began unbuttoning his shirt. “And those.” Tipping her head, she glanced down at his trousers and a deliciously mischievous grin lifted the edges of her mouth.

“Kate.”

He spoke her name as a plea and a question. What she offered him was more than he deserved but everything he wanted, had wanted from the moment he’d met her. But he needed to know she was certain. He needed to know she was free.

It wasn’t the time for questions and he agonized over breaking the spell, but he had to know.

She’d slowed her progress, only unbuttoning enough of his shirt to slip her hand inside. Stifling a moan, his breath caught when her finger grazed his nipple and she rested her palm, warm and wet, against his chest. Could she feel his frantic heartbeat? He prayed she did. He wanted her to know what she did to him.

“Forgive me, Kate, but are you…” Ben faltered at the quizzical look in her eyes and the way her hand tensed against his skin. Yet he had to know, had to ask. “Are you engaged?”

She stilled as if he’d broken the spell, ruining a moment that might never come again.

Damn!
Damn his curious mind, his constant doubt. He’d never intended to trust another woman, to allow anyone into his life, yet Kate had slipped beneath every defense. Her scent, her voice, her bloody-minded determination, her heart for those in need—everything about her drew him toward her. He’d met her at his worst and yet she still gazed at him with desire, always offering him a measure of trust and respect that he craved.

He waited, drowning in fear, hanging by a tattered thread of hope. He’d take back the bloody question if it meant he could see that wanton fire in her gaze again, and feel her hands moving over his body.

“No. I promise you—”

Her mouth was soft and welcoming when he kissed her, cutting off her words. Ben didn’t need her promises. He needed to kiss her, to touch her and taste her sweetness. When they were both breathless, he lifted his head.

“Are you ready to come out of there yet?”

“You’re not coming in?”

Glancing down at his bulky frame, he shook his head. “I think we’ll need a larger tub.”

Her answering smile made his chest flutter like a caged bird. That smile spoke of more than this moment, more moments, a future between them, and a streak of possessiveness, the kind he disdained in other men, swept through him. It burned him from the inside with a blazing certainty—Kate should be his.

She stood up in the tub and covered herself, arms crossed against her chest. Among the clothing the innkeeper’s wife had left was a swath of clean linen and Ben wrapped her in the dry fabric before helping Kate step from the bath.

Holding her, unwilling to let go, Ben gestured with a nod to the pile on the edge of the mattress. “I asked her to bring a fresh skirt and blouse if she had it. They may be far too large for you, but they’re clean.”

Lifting her hands, she went for his shift buttons again, releasing those she’d neglected earlier. Gaze fixed on his chest, she revealed more of his skin, examining every inch with the utmost care.

“Thank you for your thoughtfulness. I’m not used to such a fuss.”

You should be.
What man could fail to treat this woman with care? He’d called Andrew Guthrie a fool, but other more colorful words played through his mind.

Ben opened his mouth to tell her that she deserved every bit of pampering she could bear, but she kissed him and his voice caught in his throat. Her lips moved, not against his mouth, but on his chest. She pressed a kiss to the place she’d laid her hand, sparking the same frenzied tattoo of his heart. Then she lifted her head, reaching up to press her mouth against the base of his throat. When she flicked her tongue out to taste him, his restraint shattered.

Lifting her in his arms, right out of the damp linen that separated her body from his, Ben turned and eased Kate onto the bed. Pulling and fumbling, she helped divest him of every scrap of his clothing until they lay together, bare flesh against bare flesh, the heat between them melding their bodies so deliciously that Ben knew he’d need a very good reason to ever put on clothing again.

The velvet softness of her skin contrasted with the coarse hair on his chest, the scruff of stubble on his face. Her lush limbs were so at odds with his firm, muscled arms and thighs, and yet they fit together like a key in its lock. And like a key molded just for the latch he kept on his heart, Kate’s trusting gaze loosed the desire for her he’d only ever barely subdued.

Even with no space between their bodies, Kate wanted him closer. This was passion—this need, this ache, having the flavor of Ben’s skin on her tongue and wanting another taste, his scent overwhelming her, his weight pinning her to the bed, his body just one stroke away from being inside of her. And she wanted more. This was what she had missed and craved and yearned for, and then convinced herself was simply the stuff of nonsense. Yet here it was as real and necessary as the blood flowing through her veins with such force she could hear her own heartbeat thumping in her ears. She could become addicted to passion, need it every single day. How could anyone do without?

She’d known Ben was a large man, but knowing he was strong and feeling his muscled body pressed against her proved so very different. He was hard, not just the hot, urgent length of him pulsing at the edge of her core, but the muscles carved across his chest, the sinews flexing in his warrior’s arms and immense shoulders. She rested her hand on his arm, stroking along the length of his bulging brawn—all hard, tense sculpted beauty beneath her fingers.

Ben slid his fingers down Kate’s arm, then dipped toward her waist, over the swell of her hip. He raised gooseflesh and she didn’t care, didn’t flinch or ask him to stop. She wanted more. When he grasped her hip, slipping his calloused fingers around to cup her buttocks and position her just so against him, she bent her knees, cradling him, urging him inside. He was gentle as he slid against her, patient, building her desire, as if he still harbored some thread of doubt that she wanted this moment between them.

But there was no doubt. Kate had never wanted a man with such a fierce, savage need. And it was nothing to do with duty or propriety, what she should do, who she should want. It was nothing to do with helping another, but finally about grasping what she needed to help herself. Her feelings for Ben were fresh and fragile, yet, somehow, deep as bedrock.

To show him her certainty, her need, she bucked as much as his weight would allow, and he slipped inside. Her answering moan was too loud, too wanton, but she didn’t care. Mercy, the size of him—the sweet, delicious size of this man who was over her, in her, surrounding her with his heat and scent. And she wanted more of him. She pulled at his shoulders, scraping her fingers through his hair, urging him closer, deeper.

He stroked her with exquisite skill, giving her more with each thrust, dancing her closer to the edge. His blue eyes were sapphire dark as he watched her, watched her writhe and moan as he moved inside her, watched as he spoke her name on a growl as he thrust deep.

Then he stilled and Kate bucked and clutched at him, dragging her fingers across his back.

Ben buried his face in her hair, kissing, nipping, and tasting the skin of her neck before whispering in a breathless rasp against her ear. “I’m not going unless you come with me.”

Kate turned her face to his for a kiss. “Take me with you.”

He smiled against her mouth and began to move inside her again. He reached down to her breast, stroking her with his fingers, cupping her in his warm palm, and then tilting his head just enough to capture her nipple in his mouth. He laved her, the slick slide of his tongue matching the rhythm of his thrusts, and Kate was lost. She gasped and keened, every breath, every sensation swelling, pulsing until she broke on a cry. She heard Ben’s cry too before he rained kisses across her face and neck, his breath gusting hot against her damp skin. Then he lay on his side, pulling her with him, sheltering her in his embrace.

Kate had no notion of how long she stayed in Ben’s arms, only that she had never known such pleasure—a kind of melting bliss, like heated syrup in her veins. The fire had gone out, but Ben’s nearness was enough to keep her warm.

When he pulled the coverlet up over their bodies, Kate realized she’d begun to doze.