Simply Sinful (16 page)

“How did you bear it?”

“Being a slave?” He hesitated, aware of her intense interest and unsure how to deal with it. He doubted she would let him get away with his usual self-deprecating lies and half truths. An unheard-of desire to finally speak the truth shook through him.

“Because I had no choice. I wanted to protect my friend and he wanted them to kill him. I had to stay alive for us both.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, and he had to look away from the compassion filling her eyes. He very rarely spoke of his past to anyone except Valentin and Sara. He hated to see pity on anyone’s face. Or even worse, the avid curiosity of those who would enjoy such deviant sexual games.

He tried to smile, found it more difficult than he had imagined. “It wasn’t all bad, Abigail. Some parts of it were very pleasant.”

She shoved at his chest, making him rock backward. “Don’t lie to me, Peter. Don’t retreat behind that charming mask. It must have been hell.”

His temper rose again. An emotion he thought he had well under control until he met the Beechams.

“What do you want me to say? If I agree with you that it was indeed hell and that I drowned myself in opium and sex to forget such a harsh reality, what will you do? Feel sorry for me? I do not want your pity.”

“I do not feel sorry for you.”

He realized his hands were trembling, and he carefully pushed them deep into his pockets. She continued to study him, a brave challenge in her gaze.

“You don’t have to protect your friend anymore. You don’t have to pretend that everything was wonderful.”

He stared at her, drew in a slow breath. “I still have to protect myself.”

“From what?”

“From the knowledge that I am nothing more than a man cut from the flimsiest of paper. A paper figure, a fraud, a person of no substance.”

Abigail looked at him for a long while. He tried to remain still and calm under her scrutiny, to call on the reserves of patience he was renowned for. Was she right? Had he spent so many years protecting Valentin that he’d forgotten how to be himself? Not that he even knew who that long-lost boy was anyway. He closed his eyes against the sudden sense of hopelessness.

“What else do we need for James?”

“I beg your pardon?” Peter said.

He still sounded shaken. Abigail added the thickest leather cock ring to the ivory wand in her hand and deliberately walked away from him toward the next alcove. Her voice traveled back over her shoulder, echoed off the low walls.

“I asked what else we needed.”

He didn’t reply, and she allowed her hand to trail over the intriguing objects laid out before her. Would he retreat from her now that he’d allowed her to see he was vulnerable or would the charming mask be back in place? Did he really believe he was so worthless? She raised her voice.

“Peter, what on earth are these?”

He caught up with her and smiled as he saw the table full of sex toys. He picked up the string of glass beads, which graduated from the size of a berry to that of a small plum. Abigail touched the smallest bead.

“What do you do with these? They are unmatched.”

“They do not go around your neck.” He put his fingers over Abigail’s. “These are another way to train your arse to accept a man’s cock.”

“Oh, I see.” His fingers were steady as she rubbed the beads he held. “I suppose they could also go inside a woman’s other passage.”

“Indeed they could. In truth, I would enjoy slowly extracting these from your pussy with my teeth.”

Her breathing hitched. Peter had obviously decided to go on the sexual offensive. Did he think to distract her? He took the beads and slipped them into his pocket.

“Surely James won’t need those?”

He held her gaze. “But I might.” She bit her lip, her gaze falling to the front of his breeches where she could see the growing swell of his cock. “Is there anything else on this table that interests you?”

She leaned forward and gave him another object. It was made of wood and about the size of a pear. It was carved to represent a pineapple. He smoothed a finger over the polished wood surfaces.

“Do you like this newfangled fruit?”

“I have never tasted it.”

“It is delicious, but not nearly as delicious as this would taste.”

“I would imagine it is too large to penetrate a man, so where is it supposed to go?”

“In you.”

His slow smile heated her blood. A pulse throbbed low in-between her legs.

“But isn’t it too wide?”

“I’d make it fit.”

She found herself leaning into him.

“I’d use my mouth and fingers on you until your pussy was so wet and open that you’d take this easily.” He cupped her breast, found her nipple and pinched hard. “God, I’d love to slide this inside you, see how wide it made you and watch you come.”

“Peter…”

He kissed her, his mouth as arousing as his words. She allowed the ivory wand and cock ring to fall limply from her grasp onto the table.

“I’d slide it inside you in the morning and have you wear it for me all day.” He kissed her again, more deeply, slid his thigh between her legs and rocked her against him. “I’d make sure to come back during the day so that you could spread your legs and show me how full your pussy looked. Then I’d tongue your clit until you came for me again and again.”

Oblivious to the public nature of the room, her fingers bit into his sleeves and she rode his thigh. She moaned as he backed her up against the nearest wall.

“I need to taste you.”

He fell to his knees and rucked up her skirts, shoving them into her willing hands. His mouth took possession of her mound, sucking on her clit, his tongue delving deep inside her until she cried out and shattered in his arms. He stood up, his mouth gleaming with her cream and kissed her again, his cock pressing against her belly until she stood on tiptoe, trying to get him where she needed him most, to draw him deep inside her.

He wrenched his mouth away from hers. “Will you take me here? Will you let me inside you?”

In answer she pulled at the buttons of his breeches, tugged at his shirt to expose his straining stiff cock.

“Ah, God…”

He picked her up, brought her down over him and started to thrust, each penetration pressing her harder against the wall. Abby dug the heels of her kid walking boots into his pumping buttocks and simply held on tight as he worked her with his cock. His mouth covered hers, refusing to let her turn away even in the extreme of pleasure when she yearned to bite down on his flesh. They came together, her muffled scream meeting his groan within the intimate circle of their joined lips.

Abby closed her eyes as Peter gently returned her to the floor and stuffed his folded handkerchief between her legs. He stroked her cheek.

“We have a few more items to choose for James and then we can leave. Mr. Fan will send me a bill for the things we take. There is no need to see him again.”

Abby opened her eyes, saw the sated lust in his gaze and touched the corner of his mouth. “Can we go back to the inn after that?”

A small smile transformed his face. “I thought you wanted to do some sightseeing.”

“I’d much rather see you.”

“In bed? That would be delightful.” He winked. “After we’ve checked on Miss Trixie, of course.”

She nodded. “Of course. I’m so glad you agree with me.”

“Abigail, I suspect it is the only place we will ever completely agree.” He caught her fingers and kissed them one by one.

She sighed. “Well, I suppose it’s a good place to start.”

12

“I
’m sorry I’m late, Peter. It’s this damned weather.”

Peter got to his feet and bowed as Valentin swept into the office, untied his cloak and tossed his hat on the desk. It was late afternoon, the sunlight obscured by a thick layer of cloud and a bracing sea breeze. Every time he swallowed, Peter tasted the sting of sea salt on his lips.

“I had to make sure that new captain of ours had his load secured properly before he left port.”

“
You
had to?”

Peter sank back into his chair, drinking in the sight of Val’s disordered hair, the high color on his cheeks and his amazing violet eyes. Despite his reservations about their continuing relationship, Val truly was a beautiful man.

“Well, I was on the dock, and as you know I always enjoy getting reacquainted with my ships.” Val shrugged as if he was embarrassed. “Sometimes I even miss the days when we had to sail them ourselves.”

He smoothed his hair back and retied the blue ribbon at the nape of his neck. A battered oak desk and two walls of book-cases took up most of the small office space. On stormy mornings like this, Peter always felt slightly claustrophobic in the dark, confined space. He much preferred the more spacious London office and let Valentin and the office manager handle most of the day-to-day business in Southampton.

After Val sat behind his desk, Peter kept still, his expression interested but polite. He’d had enough of losing his temper recently, and Val was a past master at provoking him, especially when attempting to divert attention away from himself.

Valentin folded his hands on the desk. “You must wonder why I called you here in such haste.”

“Not really.” Peter shrugged. “You’ve always been rather high-handed, Val.”

His partner shot him a sharp look. “I beg to disagree. I wish I had the time to argue the point with you, but there are more important things to discuss.”

“Yes, such as how you knew I was staying at the Beechams. Did Sara tell you?”

“No, I simply asked Adams, your valet. He was kind enough to give me the information when I stressed the importance of my business.” Val’s eyebrows rose. “What’s wrong, Peter, were you trying to hide from me?”

“You still haven’t told me what you want.” Peter regarded him levelly. “I assume that all is well with your wife?”

Val frowned. “I don’t want anything from you, and yes, Sara is fine.”

“And you would’ve told me if she wasn’t?”

Val stopped moving the books on his desk around and glared at him. “Of course I would. You are the one who insists on making this whole misunderstanding into a farce worthy of Drury Lane, not me.”

“Tell me what is going on, Val.” Peter kept his voice calm. After his recent emotional skirmishes with Abigail, he refused to wade into the murky waters of his past again with his business partner.

Val stared at him for an endless moment and then sat back in his chair. “Fine. If that is the way you wish to conduct the conversation, so be it. If you remember, just before you flounced away, we bought out an old shipping business based here in Southampton.”

Peter set his jaw. “Meadows and Son. Yes, I remember, and I did not flounce, I made a deliberate decision to keep out of your life.”

Val looked skeptical. “I’ve had Anthony going through their old papers and records. Last week he insisted he had found something I would like to see. Ah, here it is.” He pulled a heavy leather bound book into the center of his desk and opened it. He pointed at a narrow line of script.

“These are the records of the ship, the
Queen Henrietta
.”

“So?”

Val glanced up at him, his finger poised over the page. “It’s the name of the ship that carried us into foreign waters and led to our capture and slavery in Turkey.”

Peter’s fingers tightened on the arms of his chair. “I repeat: it’s fascinating, but what relevance does it have to the present?”

“We are all listed here, me, my father and you.” Val tapped the page. “And more than that, our addresses are listed too.” He stood up and rang the bell on his desk. “One of Mr. Meadows’s old employees, Mr. Cole, now works here. I thought you might like to speak to him.”

Peter remained seated, his thoughts reeling through his head like a flapping sail in a storm. His gaze fell on the tattered book on Val’s desk. After all this time, he was about to find out something about his past. Was he ready?

A quiet knock on the door roused him from his thoughts. He looked up to see an elderly man enter the office, his face wreathed in smiles.

“How can I help you, my lord?”

“Mr. Cole. I’d like you to meet my business partner, Mr. Peter Howard.”

Peter sprang to his feet and offered the old man his hand. To his surprise Mr. Cole clung onto him for far longer than was polite.

“I remember you now. You were such a slight boy when your mother brought you into the office.” He patted Peter’s hand. “I was one of the junior scribes in those days. It was my job to write up the passenger and cargo lists and sell any extra space.”

“You met me and my mother?”

“Yes, indeed. She had arranged for you to begin a new life with some distant relatives of her family, missionaries I think they were, working in Russia. She had very little money, so Mr. Meadows, the younger, agreed that you could work for your passage.”

Peter waved at the nearest chair. “Please sit down, Mr. Cole. I have no recollection of these events at all.”

Mr. Cole’s grizzled eyebrows rose over the top of his spectacles. “I had no idea, sir. You must ask me anything you want. I’ll try to remember as much as I can. Your mother was such a pretty young thing.”

Peter drew in a steadying breath. He couldn’t even look at Valentin, although he could sense his concern like a palpable thing.

“Did my mother leave an address?”

“I believe she did, sir, although after the ship was captured, we wrote to her to inform her of the tragedy and heard nothing back.” Mr. Cole’s eyes misted over. “And when we heard that you and the young lord had been found again, we were so excited!” He leaned forward. “Of course, we didn’t go gabbing our mouths off like some people might these days, although I did take it upon myself to write to your mother once again.”

“I assume she didn’t reply.”

“Well, sir, the letter came back unopened and marked not known at this address, which wasn’t surprising considering the number of years you’d been lost.”

“Not surprising at all,” Peter murmured automatically.

“And you’ve done so well for yourself, sir. It just goes to show how far a man can rise these days with a little grit and determination.”