Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) (28 page)

Growling, he reached for her, hauling her up his body to claim her lips in a burning kiss. He groaned and turned into her, pushing her back against the pillows, throwing one long leg across hers.

Skin burning, aching in every part, Hope thrust her nipples forward and he blazed a trail of kisses along her jaw and down her throat, stopping to nuzzle her neck and shoulders before rasping her peak, kissing and suckling with lips and tongue. She writhed beneath him as his hands roamed her body, petting, soothing, teasing, tweaking, until every nerve quickened, anticipating his touch. Lowering his head, he rested it against the soft curve or her belly, grazing her skin with the stubble of his jaw. She giggled in protest and pushed at his shoulders and he looked up at her and grinned. His smile was dazzling. It stole her breath, just as this stranger she had married had stolen her heart.

“You should smile more often,” she whispered, lacing her fingers through his hair.

Instead of answering, he gripped her thighs and parted them, then bent to taste her, stroking her with his tongue. She gasped and gripped his shoulders as wild bursts of pleasure radiated to her core. She bucked against him in a wild delirium as his fingers joined his tongue. He licked and teased, nibbled and petted, and swirled wet and hot against her nub.

Her life, her future, her very survival had always hinged upon self-control but this man stripped it from her as easily as he stripped her of her clothes. She called his name, begging him to take her as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her body. When he rose to capture her lips and drive inside her, rocking her hard as her hips thrust with his, she turned her back on a lifetime of hard-won lessons. Poised on the brink, she willingly let go.

The storm that took her shook her like a leaf as burst after burst of wild energy exploded inside her, thundering through her body and making her soar. It felt like rebirth. It felt like renewal. It felt like a new world was waiting alongside this man. A whimper of fear escaped her.
God help me, I am lost!

“Elf?” His voice was gentle, soothing, concerned, as he wrapped her in a warm embrace. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? God knows I was carried away.”

“No,” she murmured, touching his cheek.
But you can now. You can hurt me worse than anyone can.
“It was wonderful, Robert.” She felt a panicked need to know him better, as if it might protect her though she knew it was too late. There was no better time to talk to a man than when his mind and body were unguarded and at ease.

She snuggled against him, resting her chin against his chest, pillowed on her folded hands, and decided to start with something easy.

“Have you had many lovers, Robert?”

“Are you jealous, wife? Counting you, I’ve had one.”

“But where did you learn that from? How did you become so…responsive, to a woman’s needs?”

“I am a soldier. I’m not a monk. And as I told you before, a man who fights must learn to be aware and observe. Pleasing a woman is not all that different. Pay attention, gauge the reaction, and respond. ’Tis harder to do with you, though. I lose myself in the moment. I apologize if I was too rough. I can usually exercise more self-control.”

“So can I,” she said with a happy grin. “Did you enjoy the mirror?”

“I certainly enjoyed the unfettered view of your delicious bum.” He rubbed the object of his admiration with a warm hand as he spoke.

“Ah! But I fear it made you dizzy.”

“The novelty was nice, but yes, it did after a while. It made me feel as if I stood outside of things, too. More observer than participant.”

“I’ll get rid of it. It was a joke, really. After you said the only place I might keep one was in my room.”

He chuckled and ruffled her hair. “I would say put them in your conservatory, but I fear if you did I’d be constantly walking into them, mistaking them for walkways and pretty paths.”

“Mmm. We don’t want that…. Robert?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Why all these questions?” His fingers brushed the outer curve of her breast. “Surely, under the circumstances, we have better things to do.”

She raised her head to look him in the eyes. “Though my life has been very different from yours, my survival has depended on noticing things, too. There’s sadness in your eyes at times, and something dark. You said you were haunted by memories. I wondered if there was some lost lover, who still has a claim on you.”

His hand stopped, and he lifted it away. Her stomach plummeted and she feared she’d made a bad mistake.

“No. There is no lost love for whom I grieve. I did have a great admiration for Elizabeth Walters. As a youth, I served under her father. She was a sad and lonely child and I enjoyed paying attention to her. It seemed my duty to care for her when her father died…but I was more disgruntled then heartbroken when she chose another.”

“Then what—”

“My memories are nothing fit for your ears, Hope.” His voice was cold.

She snorted. “Not fit for my ears? From whence do you think I’ve come, Robert? What do you think I haven’t heard or seen?”

“True horror, sweetling. You watch it in your plays.”

“You forget. I grew up in the streets of London. I have seen the dead, frozen in place, their arms stretched out for alms. I have seen young girls raped. I have seen men murdered for an accidental insult. I have seen more than you think.”

He cocked his head and looked at her strangely. “Yet you seem so innocent, almost pure. How do you manage it? What magic kept the light within you alive through the dark? It was something I never managed.”

“I…” She blinked, shocked that he’d opened a firmly locked door, if only a crack.

“Perhaps because you were a witness and not a part.”

“I lost my maidenhead at auction, Robert. I was a part.”

“I’ve heard the story. Your mother sold you. It was not your doing.”

“No. Not then. But after that I sold myself.”

“To survive.”

“To prosper.”

“You weren’t very good at it, though, were you?”

“What do you mean?” She asked bewildered.

He folded his arms around her, pulling her close. “I watched you the night we married. Your joy and spontaneity were so genuine. You seemed to me ill suited to your role. Lacking the detachment and cold-bloodedness required to keep from being hurt. That’s not wise for a courtesan, I would think. “

“No, Robert. You’re right. It isn’t.” She wasn’t sure why she was crying. So many hurts, so many disappointments. And it didn’t escape her that he hadn’t really answered her question.

He pulled a coverlet around them both, and used his discarded shirt to dry her tears.

“Tell me of your life, Hope. I’ve ofttimes wondered who you are.”

Did she really want to remind him of who and what she was? But if she didn’t share her past with him, how could she expect him to share his with her?

“If I tell you of my ghosts, Robert, will you tell me of yours?”

“My memories, my dreams, are ugly things. It’s only with you I forget them. That bothered me at first. It seemed somehow…neglectful. But I’ve grown to like it. It’s been a long time since I’ve woken in the morning looking forward to the day. Can we leave it be for now? Tonight I’d like to hear about you.”

“I’m sure you have already. There’s many a story or lampoon about me. I’ve been called Cinder-wench and Cinder-whore because of my humble beginnings.

“Hush!” He pressed a finger against her lips. “I want to hear
your
story. Not the words of spiteful courtiers and jealous rivals.”

“I was raised in a brothel, Robert. Called the Merry Strumpet. No one made that up. It belonged to my mother so I was a princess of sorts. I had a pretty kitten and a room of my own. I’m told my father was a captain like you are though he died in debtor’s prison, and before my mother became a bawd she was a whore.”

“Your father was a military man? That helps explain your combative spirit.”

“I am very good-natured when…when my good nature is not being abused.”

“I am but teasing, Hope. Though you rather prove my point. Could it be your mother was once a lady of good circumstance, and misfortune and poverty rather than depravity, brought her so low? Many were reduced to dire circumstances before and after the war.”

“Reduced to being a brandy-soaked bawd who auctioned her daughter’s virginity and drowned in a ditch after a drunken ramble about town?”

“Ah… Yes…well…”

“It’s no matter to me. I arranged a lovely service for her and a placed a monument at St. Martin-in-the-Fields. I’m not ashamed of who I am, Robert.”

“How is it you are so accomplished and speak so well, with such humble beginnings? Even a poor accent would have ruined you at court. How have you converted your demons to graces?”

She blushed. She had never been called well-spoken and accomplished before. Nor possessed of graces.

“Be careful, Captain, or you will soon be talking like a courtier. It’s because I am a good mimic. I try to take all the good that I can from the bad, and whenever I’ve the chance, I watch and learn. When my mother sold me I was a still a virgin, but her more lecherous clients sniffed around me from the time I was ten years old. Many were wealthy, aristocratic and traveled. They sent me on errands and told me stories from all over the world. I learned to be comfortable and confident with conversation, and with handling gentleman from all stations of life.”

“You make it sound almost easy.”

“I was fourteen when she sold me. He—Sir Charles Edgemont—didn’t believe I was untried. He thought my mother cheated him and was very rough and angry at first. It wasn’t easy.”

“It must have seemed a great betrayal. You must have been frightened and felt very much alone.” He thought back to Caroline, and to himself, and his heart felt a sudden stab of pain. “You were so young. I’m sorry, love.” He was at a loss as to what further to say other than offering to kill the man, and he was fairly certain that wasn’t the thing to say at this time.

Hope reached for a flagon of wine from a side table and filled a goblet and tossed most of it back in one swallow.

“I hated him at first, though I didn’t let it show. I had wanted to escape my life for some time and I saw him as an opportunity. I used him as much as he used me, but it was her I really hated. I never saw or spoke to her again. The service…when she died. It was a strike at those who mocked me through her. I am glad I did it now, for other reasons. I have come to see her differently since.”

Her voice, usually expressive, was a dull monotone. Well used to the art of denial and concealment, he knew by her air of studied indifference that it had hurt her far more than she let on. He reached down to scoop up Daisy and deposit her on the bed. Then he scooped up Hope again and gave her a warm hug. She twisted and elbowed him but quickly subsided, leaning back against his chest with a tired sigh.

“It was my lot in life, I suppose, and there was no escaping it. Better to be the plaything of just one man than many. I was alone in the world after leaving my mother and I vowed that in the future I’d trust no one but myself. I’ve not always managed that as well as I might, and whenever I’ve forgotten I have paid.”

She thought of Charles and how he’d used her trust to trick her, and she wondered what new hurts trusting Robert might bring. She gave him an assessing look through the mirror but he didn’t see.

“I also vowed to take whatever life sent me and use it to my advantage. In the end, I had a business relationship of sorts with Edgemont. One that we both honored. It was with him I truly became a courtesan. I learned to tolerate him, and to manage him, using my charms and his guilt. In the end he taught me many useful things.”

Robert was surprised and a little threatened by her candor. It seemed a challenge of sorts.
Will she expect the same openness from me?

“He felt bad for his initial behavior, of course, and sought to make reparation with gowns and jewelry, some of which I was able to convert to coin and turn into savings. I stayed with him for three years. He introduced me to good manners, good company and good living, and at my insistence hired me a dance master and a tutor who taught me to read and write. We parted when he married. By then the king had returned to London and the theaters had reopened and he left me an entrée though Orange Moll.”

“Ow!” Robert snarled as Daisy pounced on his shoulder, digging her claws into his bare chest for purchase, leaving bloody scratch marks as she reached for a loose strand of hair. Wincing, he pried her off him and dropped her in Hope’s lap. “Damn it, woman. If Cressly harbors some monstrous being it’s this bloodthirsty little thing!”

Hope smiled as her maligned and offended kitten crawled into her arms and bumped her chin with a furry head, then settled down to wash herself in dignified reproach. She hugged her and kissed the top of her head, and Robert did the same to her. She felt a tremendous sense of comfort. She’d never told anyone her story, though people told stories of her. Robert’s reaction was reassuring. If he was going to get stiff and judgmental he’d surely have done so by now. It felt good to talk of it with someone else. Like being relieved of a burden or finding that one was mistaken in thinking oneself alone.

He interrupted her musings by stealing her goblet and downing the rest of her wine. “So you seized the day and launched a career as a great adventuress, by going to work for that famed theater maven and fruit seller, Orange Moll. The one you flattened with your fist.”

“Yes! She was freakishly tall, you know.”

He smoothed a stray tendril of hair back behind her ear. “I’m sure she seemed so to you.”

She looked up, glaring at him in the mirror, and he smiled back smugly, pleased with his joke.

“And so? How did you go from orange girl to hosting parties with His Majesty in Pall Mall?”

Her voice grew more animated as she continued her tale. “Moll had a license to sell oranges and sweetmeats at the new King’s Theater and I was hired as one of her girls. It paid for rooms at the Cock and Pie tavern just a stone’s throw away. It was cramped, but it had a window over the street. I worked six days a week and kept a sixth of my takings, selling oranges in the front row of the pit.