“I work for a milliner,” she lied glibly. “And I’m already late. If you’ve finished discussing my stupidity then I’ll be off.”
“In what direction?” His voice was lazy.
Rats. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I’m looking for North Water Street.”
“And you were heading south,” he observed.
It didn’t matter how bewitching he was, he was thoroughly annoying. But she’d lost everything—her father, her comfortable living, the houses in London and Somerset. She at least still had her pride, and she had manners. “Thank you very much,” she said stiffly. “I appreciate the rescue.” She paused. “But I could have fought them off myself.” The knee trick had worked so effectively that the big man was still hunched over, moaning slightly to his privates. She could have used it on the other two and then run for it.
“Oh, really?” he drawled.
She didn’t want to look at him, but she kept her gaze at his shoulder. He was dressed in plain clothes of good quality—breeches, a white shirt, a dark blue superfine jacket that was loosely tailored, and no cravat whatsoever. She noticed a glint of gold beneath his black curls and recognized a hooped earring. She shouldn’t have been so shocked—of course he was a sailor, with that bronzed skin and lean, wiry body, though he was definitely taller than most. “I don’t need help from someone who’s doubtless no better than the others. I’ve been warned about sailors on leave. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said in icy tones. It wasn’t the wisest thing to say, she realized, but she was furious, both with them and with herself. He was right—she’d been an idiot to get lost in this part of town. She should have paid closer attention to Mr. Fulton’s directions.
“You gonna let her get away with that?” the talkative one said, outraged.
The man had been leaning against the brick wall, watching everything with casual interest. He straightened then, and for the first time she felt the full force of his attention. It was a disturbing feeling. “If you were warned you should have listened. But then, we’ve already established your stupidity.”
At least she had the wit to bite back her instinctive retort. She glared at him instead. “I think I’ll go now.”
“I think not.” He caught her arm, his strong hand surprisingly hard on her upper arm as he pulled her around. She lost her footing, and fell against him, or maybe he’d dragged her there, but suddenly she was plastered up against a warm, male body, her eyes at the level of his bare neck and gold hoop. “I think you need a taste of what you just escaped. That way you’ll learn your lesson.” To her shock he put his hand behind her neck, tilting her head up, and his mouth came down on hers.
It was hard against her lips, and to her astonishment he used his long fingers to push her jaw apart, enough for his tongue to thrust into her mouth, and she held still, motionless with shock.
It was disgusting. Foul. He tasted of fresh coffee and cinnamon, and she considered biting him. What was he doing to her? Whatever it was, it was wrong. And yet… how very odd… it was strangely enticing. She could feel the anger and outrage in her body begin to soften, and she tried to summon her fury back. It had disappeared. She heard fuzzy noises in the distance, and she realized it was the hooting of the men who’d attacked her.
He lifted his head, looking down at her out of hooded, dark eyes. “Open your mouth, my little idiot, and kiss me back.”
She opened her mouth to tell him to go to the devil when he covered hers once more, holding her tight against his body as he continued with his shocking kiss, something she’d never experienced before. His tongue touched hers, coaxed, and for some reason she let hers drift against his, as he deepened the kiss, and she wondered idly if she was going to swoon.
That wouldn’t be a good idea, not with the three sailors making loud sounds of approval. But lord, she’d been wrong about this kind of kissing. It was too intimate, too intense, too seductive. It made her want more, and for a moment she pictured his hands on her breasts, his hands pulling up her skirts and taking her in public up against a brick wall. She wanted to dissolve into the absolute splendor of his mouth, and she moaned in pleasure.
A moment later she was released, and she fell back, putting a hand on the side of the building for surreptitious support. Her rescuer had turned from her to the three men. “She’d be a waste of time, boys. She kisses like a virgin. You’re better off paying for some companionship.” He tossed them a handful of coins, and even the hulking one caught them deftly.
“Thank you, cap’n,” they said cheerfully, backing away as if they hadn’t been about to commit rape and kidnapping. “You knew we meant no harm. Just having a bit of fun, that’s all.”
“Next time find someone willing.”
They ran off, and Maddy had finally managed to stand on her own two feet as anger washed through her, stiffening her. “You reward them for
trying to rape me?” she demanded icily.
The man shrugged. “At least they’ll be too busy to bother you again. And they’ll have a much better time.”
She was so furious she could barely speak. “How lovely of you,” she said in a biting voice. “And now I suppose you’re going to insist on accompanying me to my destination.”
“No.” He glanced down the empty alleyway. “In truth I was more concerned about those boys getting in trouble with the law than your precious hide. Water Street’s just two streets away—follow the smell of the sea and you’ll find it. And turn right if you’re looking for North Water Street.” To her complete astonishment he started walking away, as if they’d had nothing but a casual encounter and not the searing kiss that she could still feel, still taste.
She wanted to throw something at him. He’d called her stupid, something she couldn’t abide, and then he’d kissed her in that disgusting manner, as if she were some cheap doxy. Except in the end the kiss hadn’t been disgusting at all, it had been… astonishing.
She reached up her gloved hand and rubbed her mouth, trying to scrub the feel of him, the taste of him, away. It didn’t work—it only seemed to deepen the brand. She watched him go, his tall body striding through the alleyway as if he owned it, when he suddenly stopped, turning back to look at her.
His dark eyes seemed to bore into hers, and she felt her heart catch in her throat, a strange sensation washing over her skin as she stood motionless.
“Fuck it,” he said succinctly, shocking her with the forbidden curse. He crossed the distance between them in a few long strides, and before she realized it he’d caught her up in his arms again, pushing her back into the shadows.
She ought to be afraid. He was a stranger, this place was deserted, and he could do what the others had threatened. Rape by a Greek god was still rape.
But he wasn’t going to rape her. He wasn’t going to hurt her. He kissed her again, hard at first, as if imprinting his claim on her, and then more slowly, brushing his mouth against hers, softly, back and forth, and she knew her lips were trembling beneath his. Her words were her best weapon, but they were locked in her throat as she felt his tongue, his outrageous, shocking tongue intrude into her mouth and the sensations moved through her body like fire. She knew she should protest, shove him away, use her knee again, give vent to the outrage that should have filled her. But she couldn’t lift her knee when she was already standing on her toes, trying to get closer to him, when her arms had somehow found their way around his neck, her breasts pressed against the rough cloth of his coat. She felt his hand slide down her back, cupping her bum, pressing her hips against his.