Chasing Eliza (Cavendish Mysteries 3)

Edwards temper burned. It had taken every ounce of self control he possessed to stand back and allow the events in the office to unfold. A surge of unfamiliar masculine possessiveness had swept through him as he had watched the big man maul Eliza. The hand that had grabbed at her breast was enough for Edward who himself had slammed the door with more force than was necessary.

He had stood in the protection of the shadows and watched Eliza take advantage of the respite she had been given and was intensely proud of her for her fortitude and quick thinking in kneeing the man. Edward himself could think of a lot worse things to do to him. The look of horror on her face as she left the room increased his unfamiliar protectiveness towards her. While he had breath in his body, Eliza was not going to be whoring herself, especially to the patrons at this hell-hole.

With a glint of retribution in his eye, Edward carefully closed the door and waited for the lecherous Bernard to reappear.

Desperation clawed at her as she stumbled upstairs, shaken and terrified. She ignored the catcalls and lewd suggestions from the tap room’s occupants that followed her and quickly slammed the door to her room behind her, blocking out the mocking laughter. Unfortunately it didn’t have a lock – Bernard refused to allow them, so she knew the risks were still very real.

Her stomach quivered in fear as she frantically collected a small mound of her belongings from around the small room, although why she was bothering she wasn’t sure. They certainly didn’t have any sentimental value, most were just small items she had picked up while on her travels with Jemima. But they were still hers and she was loathed to leave them behind for Bernard or her replacement. Besides the relatively mundane activity gave her something to do with her hands while she considered how best to get out of the building.

She couldn’t sleep with anyone. She simply couldn’t become a whore. She had spent many nights when the tap room was closed listening to the sounds coming from the rooms on either side of her room, and had heard enough stories from the girls who worked there to know she couldn’t face the prospect of being subjected to such degradation. She knew Bertram frequented the girls himself and would take great delight in using her as well, most probably as brutally as possible.

She ignored the bawdy dress lying on the bed, obviously left by one of the girls at Bernard’s command. In red silk with tattered black lace edging, its days of being attractive were long gone. It was gaudy and cheap and a stark reminder of what awaited her if she didn’t get herself away from the current threat. Her mind flew this way and that and she fought to suppress the fear that clawed at her. She quickly snatched the dress up and lifting the sash window, threw the horrid item out into the bushes. Briefly she looked down at the ground, mentally calculating if she could jump. It was an awfully long way. Even if she could hit the ground on her feet, there was nothing to say she wouldn’t end up with broken bones and at the mercy of Bernard and his customers. She glanced frantically around the room, desperately looking for inspiration.

She was busy folding the small bundle into a knot, when there was a soft knock on the door. Eliza’s stomach dropped. She didn’t want to answer it in case it was Bernard and he had decided he was going to be her first customer. But she couldn’t leave the man standing at the door. Frantically she glanced around the room, considering the window for a few moments before snatching the heavy candle stick off the rickety wooden dresser. Quickly she extinguished the small flame and tucked the stick into the pouch beside the bed.

A seed of a plan began to tentatively grow and she sucked in a deep breath to calm her fraying nerves. Another knock at the door had her lowering the front of her dress suggestively before moving to stand beside the bed, her belongings at her feet. She didn’t know if her plan had any hope of working, but if it failed she could at least make use of the candlestick.

Takin

g in another deep breath she called for her ‘client’ to enter.

She briefly considered using the candlestick there and then as she watched the scarred wooden door slowly open. The moonlight did little to eradicate the gloom within the tiny unlit room and she could see little of the man who entered but could feel his presence as he slowly entered and closed the door behind him.

Eliza stood quivering with sickening nerves and waited for him to approach. She knew it wasn’t Bernard, or any of the drunken regulars downstairs. They would have stumbled in making as much noise as possible. Despite her fear, her innate curiosity was piqued at just who had decided to avail themselves of her ‘services’ first.

Her heart hammered in her throat so loudly she was certain the men downstairs could hear her trepidation as she stood and watched the shadows in the far corner of the room. She was aware that he hadn’t moved or spoken for several moments and wondered if he had indeed entered, when he slowly separated from the shadows; as silent as a wraith in the moonlight.

Her stomach dropped to her toes as she recognised the man in the tap room who had asked so many questions about Jemima. Every nerve within her was locked on his silent approach, as rippling awareness scattered her senses.

Edward stood in the shadows, and took advantage of the gloom to reconnoitre his surroundings. The room was sparsely furnished with a simple wooden dresser and a single bed on the opposite wall. He could hear the rhythmic banging on the wall from the couple in the room next door and shifted uncomfortably as his body responded to the possibility of engaging in such activity with the woman before him.

Quickly banking that thought out he slowly left the shadows and sauntered across the room. He knew she was probably terrified and didn’t want to frighten her any more than was absolutely necessary but the possessive streak in him wanted her to realise just how dire her situation could have become. He wasn’t going to do anything to ruin her but she was undoubtedly worrying that she was facing a life of whoredom.

His slow approach also gave him time to study her closely. She was standing wide-eyed and trembling next to the bed. The window behind her was unencumbered by curtains allowing the soft glow of moonlight to bathe her in its gentle glow. She looked like an angel as she stood encased in the shimmering light; a fallen angel. The soft mounds of her breasts trembled with each breath she took, tempting him to see for himself if they were as delectably soft as they looked. The wayward strand of hair that had bothered her so much throughout the night had been joined by the rest of her wild mass of curls that lay over her shoulders in a silken cloak. His fingers curled into his palms as the need to slide his hands into the tumbling cascade swept through him.

From a few feet away she stared up at him, her eyes round with fear. As he drew to a halt her gaze drifted, passing over him curiously before she realised what she was doing and her gaze snapped back upwards and caught him returning the favour.

A telltale blush stole through her cheeks and she lost some of her fear as she glared up at him.

Ignoring her silent warning he shifted infinitesimally closer, coming to a stop mere inches from her. He drew himself upright, well aware that she had to crane her neck upwards to look at his face. It wasn’t the first time he had used his height to his advantage, and he had no hesitation in using it again in this situation. He wanted her to understand it was futile trying to avoid the next few moments.

Eliza shivered as she studied the dips and hollows of his shadowed face. She had thought his eyes were dark when he was downstairs in the side room but standing in the moonlight before her, the obsidian orbs positively glistened with menace. He was a huge tower of imposing masculinity calling to her femininity, issuing a stark warning that made her quiver in trepidation.

Edward drew to a stop and watched as she inched backwards carefully, her eyes large pools of molten fear. He inched forwards closing the distance once more and he almost smiled when she immediately took another step backwards. Again and again he used his height to usher her towards the wall and watched as she took one final step backwards and gasped as she bumped into the cold surface of the rough stone wall behind her.

Her eyes popped wide – the expression in them confirmed she had never met anyone like him, nor had sexual knowledge of men. He watched a myriad of emotions sweep over her face; fear warred for supremacy with curiosity before she tried to sidestep him.

He hid a smile and immediately moved in her way, silently challenging her to push him. To lay a hand upon him to force him to move and give her the space she wanted. He had never treated any woman in such a way. Effectively directing her with nothing more than his sheer masculine presence and he was quite impressed with his own endeavours. She was wary and undoubtedly as aware of him as he was of her.

Eliza felt the cold surface of the wall at her back and wondered how he had managed it. He had ushered her, directed her to his own command without uttering a single word. She paused and glared up at him, her stubborn chin tilted in defiance. Her heart pounded as she felt the wild urge to run, get away from him and the threat he posed to her. Without hesitation she moved to dart around him only to find herself caught around the waist and hoisted off her feet before being held tight against him.

The sudden contact of her flesh against his was enough to make them both pause. He felt her indrawn breath and the sudden tensing of her spine, along with his own physical reaction to holding her flush against him. She looked at him, her eyes wide... the procession of roiling emotions that flickered through her dark gaze held him spellbound.

Her hands instinctively sought the masculine solidity of him and now lay on the broad width of his chest.

Her eyes snapped up to his.

His gaze dropped to her soft lips, now parted just a little. He groaned low in his throat and covered them with his.