The Lamplighter's Love (7 page)

“I never did,” Mary assured him. It was only
the truth. “I’m not sure why that would be. But I knew you would
stop if I said I didn’t want to.”

“I was very pleased you did want to.”
Another kiss, longer this time.

“So I gathered. Are you really going to make
me wait for hours?” she asked breathlessly, stirring against him
and trying to shift her legs apart. “I don’t think I can bear
that.”

“All I’ve been waiting for is to regain
enough control that I won’t go off like a green boy the moment I’m
inside you this time.” He swallowed hard, looking as though any
control he had won was fragile at best.

Mary melted a little more at the keen
intensity in his dark-fringed eyes, the hunger and emotions she
could read so clearly there. How could he have ever thought, even
for a moment, that she could refuse him anything? Didn’t he know he
was everything?

“I don’t care about that.” She blinked back
tears, hoping he wouldn’t see, or at least that he wouldn’t
understand their cause.

“But I do, my love.” And he began kissing
his way down her body, marking her with gentle bites, breathing
fire into her veins until she felt like finely blown glass that
might shatter into a million sparkling slivers at the slightest
touch.

When he said he wanted to taste her, Mary
had no idea what he meant. It was a shock to her, his hands parting
her thighs to press them open and back in a lewd display, his head
lowering toward her lap. She couldn’t quite believe it, that first
hot, slick slide of his tongue over her slit. It felt too good,
impossibly good. She thought she might die if he did it again.

Then he did it again, and all she could
think of was wanting more. More fluid heat, more tickling breath,
more of it all. And especially more of
that
, his lips
pressed to her clitoris in a scandalous parody of a chaste kiss,
just before he slipped his mouth open again to circle the tender
nub with his tongue.

“Nicholas!” she cried, seeking his head and
gripping his hair with both hands.

“Please! Now, oh please, now!”

Raising his head, he met her gaze with
lustful, heavy-lidded eyes. “You want me now, Mary? Then you shall
have me.”

He levered himself over her in one swift
movement, using one hand to position himself and thrusting far too
quickly into her tight sheath. But she was eager and wet, and she
drove him on, clasping her legs around him to draw him in when he
would have slowed down to ease his passage.

“Now,” she repeated, greedy for what he
could give her. When she arched her back, his reserve seemed to
break. He shoved himself in to the depths of her with a shuddering
cry, and then plunged in again and again, setting a bruising
pace.

Mary clung to him as he took her, mindlessly
matching his rhythm until her pleasure reached a blinding crescendo
and burst through her body. Her cry of bliss seemed to spur
Nicholas, who groaned as he reached his own release, pushing deeper
still until he was completely spent.

They lay there, tangled together in happy
exhaustion, not sleeping but not quite awake. Just floating,
caressing one another tenderly, lost in their love.

But time marched on, and Big Ben soon chimed
the end of their idyll. Eleven o’clock. They counted out the bongs
together, rueful about the inescapable confirmation.

Nicholas leaned over her with a final kiss
then rose a little stiffly to dress himself.

Mary watched, unable to find the energy to
stand just yet. When she moved it would be over, and she couldn’t
bear that. Just a few minutes more, she pleaded with herself.

“God.”

Nicholas had straightened from tying his
boots and was standing, hands in his hair, looking aghast.

“What? What’s the matter?” She sat up then,
clutching the blanket to her chest automatically. “Nicholas?”

“I forgot. Oh Mary. I’m so sorry, darling, I
forgot.” He strode back to her and bent over, the picture of
concern.

“Forgot what?” Her mouth grew dry at his
expression of misery. And drier still when he reached beneath the
blanket and placed his fingers gently against her sex.

They slid easily over the delicate skin,
which was far, far too wet.

Mary closed her eyes for a moment, hoping to
open them and discover she’d been dreaming. It didn’t work. It was
all too real. Nicholas’ seed was spilling out of her now, and if
there were damage it was already done.

“I’m sure it will be all right,” she lied,
as cold dread spread through love-warmed limbs.

“How long until—”

“I’ll let you know. A few weeks, I suppose.
I’m not entirely sure.”

He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket
and wiped his fingers clean, then Mary, a gesture she found sweet
if futile.

And then, because she knew she was going to
cry and she couldn’t do it in front of him, she smiled and stroked
his cheek.
One last time
.

“It will be all right,” she repeated. “But
you should go now. You don’t want to be late getting back. People
will ask questions.”

“I can’t just leave you,” Nicholas objected,
but Mary was already shaking her head.

“I’ll stay here the night, since I’ve
already paid for the room. And I’ll be back at the hall in the
morning before anybody even notices I’ve been away.”

After a few moments of obvious uncertainty,
he nodded, though he didn’t look happy about it. “Lock the door
behind me.”

“I will.”

When he was gone, and she had watched from
the window until he disappeared around the corner, Mary retrieved
her chemise and drawers from the floor and pulled them on, then
bundled herself in the bedclothes. But she had taken a chill, it
seemed, and couldn’t manage to make herself warm again. As she lay
there shivering, the tears came at last, inexorable as the storm
that began to howl outside, rattling the windowpane with each
gust.

The morning brought clear, icy stillness to
London, and a sense of equally crystallized purpose in Mary’s mind.
She was awake and away well before dawn, returning to the guild
hall over pavements still bearing a pristine coating of snow. It
crunched lightly under each footstep, and the freezing damp had
numbed Mary’s toes by the time she mounted the stoop in the alley
behind the hall to let herself in by the kitchen door.

The scullery was already bustling, of
course, and Mary paused on the threshold to absorb the warmth, the
sleepy camaraderie, so similar to that of the workroom floor.

Friends? She wouldn’t be leaving many of
those behind, she reflected, finally making her way up to her room
to change. Acquaintances, yes. Colleagues. But she could really
only name one true friend whose companionship she would miss when
she left the guild. And he was the reason she must leave.

It had come to her, at some point during
that long and mostly sleepless night. She could stay, and take the
scraps she’d been offered while Amberherst took a place at the head
of the table. She could spend her ten years doing the work she had
trained to do, and afterward take the pension that was due any
retired master.

But to do that, she knew, would be to lose
her soul. Watching Amberherst steal all the reward, watching
Nicholas find and marry a suitable woman. Remaining here,
friendless and marginalized, would kill everything that was good
inside her.

And while returning to her parents might
kill a part of her as well, at least she would be back among
family. And have a chance of putting her dashed hopes behind her,
finding a new way to make a life. She was still a master of the
Lampworkers, that credential would not be stripped from her. She
could find something worthwhile to do, if she tried.

When she ducked back out of her room to make
her way down to breakfast, Amberherst was there. Waiting, leaning
on the wall opposite her door, hands in his pockets. How had she
never noticed before how very unpleasant his smile was?

“Pleasant evening?” he inquired softly.

“Not that it’s any concern of yours.” She
made as if to sweep past down the hall, but he blocked her with one
arm.

“It concerns me very much, and I think you
know why. It’s a decent meal they serve there at the Pig and
Sprocket, isn’t it. Nice rooms too.
Mistress
Mary.”

She glared at him, too angry to speak. He
took her silence as leave to continue.

“Some say the Lamplighter’s not really even
a man anymore. But I guess you’d know different, eh?” He made an
obscene gesture with his hands, and she smacked them away without a
second thought.

It was an unfortunate move. In a trice,
Amberherst had her wrist in his and spun her away from him to twist
it up behind her back, pinning it there with agonizing pressure as
she struggled to get away. He was tall enough to have the
advantage, however.

“Haven’t you done enough already? It’s over,
Amberherst. You can have the position. You can be the Lamplighter.
I’m packing my things after my shift and leaving, and I wish you
and the guild luck in finding a replacement.”

She took a grim satisfaction in knowing he
would have to do a great deal more of the work than he’d intended,
until said replacement could be found or trained.

“Oh no, you innocent little darling you. Are
you really that stupid? You’re not going anywhere. Without you, my
deal falls apart. And if I get so much as an inkling that you’re
considering doing a disappearing act, your little arrangement with
the Lamplighter will be made very, very public. You were even fool
enough to make it easier for me, by running off and fucking him
last night. Innkeepers are fairly cheap, I was pleased to learn. It
will help no end to have a neutral party to corroborate.”

Amberherst yanked her arm higher, pulling
her back against his body, and to Mary’s infinite disgust she felt
a stiff lump poking at the small of her back. Her struggles had
aroused him, the vile beast.

Struck with sudden inspiration, Mary made
herself go limp, as if the fight had gone out of her, and ignored
the screaming pain in her shoulder and arm as she slumped down and
back against Amberherst. And then, when she felt his grip relax,
she stood firm to put space between them and brought her free hand
down hard, her fist connecting directly with that hateful
bulge.

He screamed in her ear but lost his grip as
he shifted his hands automatically to his crotch. Mary wasted no
time in fleeing, and by the time he had recovered enough breath to
start adding coherent words to his shouts, she was safely down the
first flight of stairs, on the hall where the senior masters lived
who were spinsters.

Never
, Mary promised herself, slowing
to catch her breath as she rounded the landing and headed down to
the first story.
This will never be me
.

Amberherst hadn’t dared follow her, and in
fact his noisy presence in the women’s residential wing must have
caused him some difficulty, Mary thought when her panic eased.
True, he hadn’t been in among the female students, but generally it
was understood that even among the adults, any visiting male
masters would be discreet for the good of all involved. The guild
hated a scandal. Maybe Amberherst would be at the center of his
own, and never get the chance to create one regarding her.

Mary was feeling somewhat cheered by the
idea of Amberherst trying to explain his presence, howling and
clutching his genitals, in that particular hallway. For surely his
noise had awakened any of the ladies who might still be abed.

But her watery cheer was snuffed out when
she arrived for her shift in the Chair that afternoon, and saw the
look on Nicholas’ face when she raised the screens.

He was angry. Not just angry, livid. Jaw
clenched, eyes dark, lips pressed into a thin line that spoke as
loudly as any words might. And he didn’t say a word as she
unbuckled him. But he grabbed her hands as soon as he was free,
holding on far too tight.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally ground
out.

Mary wasn’t sure what to say, because she
wasn’t sure what he’d learned. She shrugged instead, looking away
from his painful glare.

“They’ll make a slave of you, Mary. Keep you
in the shadows while that arrogant son of a bitch gets all the
glory. No title. No standing. No extra benefits after you’ve
sacrificed your youth to them, your prospects, your health more
than likely. And for what? You would truly prefer that to the life
I could give you?” He gave her hands an urgent little shake.

“Of course I wouldn’t,” she whispered.

“Then why? I don’t understand. Smith says
you’ve made no objection, given him no reason to think you won’t
accept. Amberherst has already signed a contract, and yours is
waiting in Smith’s office for your signature. When were you
planning to tell me?”

Lines of bitter regret marred the handsome
planes of his face, and Mary wanted more than anything to smooth
them away. Behind him, the machine that dominated both their lives
continued to clatter and whirr, conducting the business of the city
without them.

“Shouldn’t somebody be checking on things?”
she whispered, nodding toward the Chair.

“Hang the engines. Let them all keep their
own schedules for a minute or two. Mary, why won’t you
explain?”

The bitterness faded into misery, and it was
more than she could bear. Something broke inside her, or turned
like a switch, and all the things she hadn’t said came tumbling out
at once.

“I was doing it for you, Nicholas,” she
cried, “for you! Because I thought you needed a chance to see the
world outside this place first, and find a real countess. And then
after they told me, I hadn’t given you my answer yet, and I knew if
I went with you, you would be sure to find out what they’d tried to
do. And don’t you see, you could never have been sure I hadn’t done
it, married you, just to get away from this. And then while I still
wasn’t sure, Amberherst—”