Page 22 of The King of Whitechapel (Victorian Outcasts #7)

twenty-two

B RIGHT SUNLIGHT STREAKED across the room when Elizabeth opened her eyes.

Someone had covered her with a thick quilt, but she didn’t remember falling asleep in her new bed. The last thing she remembered was Christopher telling her he wouldn’t leave her after she’d nearly accused him of having abandoned her on purpose. Heaven, she’d been too tired.

She must have slept for a day and a night because it was dawn. It was the first time in years she’d slept more than five hours in a row.

She gasped when she found her meagre belongings in the middle of the room. Her carpetbag and trunk sat on the hessian carpet, but she hadn’t heard anyone entering her room and bringing them in.

Since she still wore the bloodstained clothes from her work at the tavern, she selected a fresh gown and washed herself slowly. The cut on her palm didn’t sting anymore, not even when she used the soap, but, goodness, the water was icy cold, and goose pimples covered her skin.

She opened the door and peeked outside.

Loud, indistinct voices came from downstairs. The walkway was empty, though, and she didn’t remember if Christopher had told her where the water closet was. A hot bath would be wonderful.

She left her bedroom, holding the bunch of dirty clothes, and stopped in the middle of the walkway. Christopher hadn’t told her where his bedroom was, had he? She had no idea where he could be. Never mind. She’d ask Finn or Jane.

A low growl came from behind her, causing her to freeze. Her pulse turned into a fast pounding in a moment. Without moving her body, she craned her neck slowly to take a look over her shoulder.

Darko stood behind her, his fur on end and his upper lip curled up to remind her of how powerful his fangs were.

“I live here,” she said in the gentlest tone possible. “You have to get used to my presence.”

His amber eyes narrowed to slits. He growled again, this time with more passion.

They said that running away from an angry dog was counterproductive because a dog enjoyed the chase and would consider the runner as prey. But at that moment, she didn’t care about what people said.

She made a dash for the room next to hers, since Darko was blocking the way to her door. He chased her, barking bloody murder. His paws scratched the wooden planks of the floor. A cry escaped her as she rushed into the room and slammed the door behind her.

The eerie sound of the dog’s nails scraping the door made her shiver. He kept barking. Great. She had only to wait for him to calm down, get bored, and leave.

“It’s a habit then,” Christopher said from behind her.

“Bah!” She turned around, dropping her dirty gown and pressing her back against the door.

He was fully immersed in a large brass bathtub. Steam curled up in the air, filling the room with the fragrance of bergamot. He propped his elbows on the rim of the bathtub, showing his well-defined biceps and shoulder muscles. With his wet hair pulled back, his beautiful eyes attracted all the attention.

“What is it?” he asked as if it were perfectly normal for her to stand in his bedroom while he was taking a bath.

She swallowed hard. “Darko.”

The dog intensified his barking in reply.

Christopher tilted his head up. “Darko, quiet.”

His tone wasn’t even commanding, but Darko stopped barking immediately.

“He scared me,” she said. “I ran here.”

“Never run in front of a dog. It makes them think you’re prey.”

“So have I heard.”

He reclined, wringing a sponge. “I’m sorry about him. He can be an ass when he wants. I’ll keep him away from you.” The muscles in his arm became all sharp ridges as he squeezed the sponge. “Where did you want to go before Darko frightened you?”

“I was looking for the water closet to take a bath.”

“What a coincidence!” He smiled, regarding her from underneath his spiked eyelashes. “Plenty of room here.”

She chuckled. “I interrupted you. Sorry.” She really wasn’t.

“I don’t look sorry, do I?” He gave her a smouldering look that raised the room temperature.

Her gaze locked with his, and a warmth she hadn’t had the luxury to experience in a while spread through her.

“I should leave.” She picked up her clothes and opened the door an inch.

Darko went mad with barking again.

“Botheration.” She shut the door again. “Your dog is a menace.”

“He doesn’t trust you and is scared of you.”

“I’m sure he isn’t.”

“He reacts to fear with aggressive behaviour.” He went to rise but paused. “You might want to turn around. I don’t mind, but you do.”

“Yes, well, of course.” She averted her gaze although she wasn’t a lady anymore, so she didn’t have to follow the strict rules of society, and she was a little curious.

The sound of water splashing and then of fabric came. She took a tiny peek in time to see him wrap a towel around his hips. Droplets trickled down the sharp edges of his muscles. When he turned around, the scars on his back glistened in all their horrors, a reminder of what he’d gone through. Her chest tightened for him. If Pearce had shown some compassion for him, he wouldn’t have ended up in Whitechapel. Not that Christopher wasn’t responsible for his choices, but she could understand the drive that desperation gave him.

“I’ll have a new bath drawn for you.” He walked over to her, all predatory menace, and once again, she remained frozen but not out of fear.

She was caught between an angry dog and a naked criminal, and she had no doubts about which one she preferred.

“Let me open the door,” he said, never keeping his eyes off her.

“No!” She winced at her high-pitched voice. “I mean, of course, you can open the door of your bedroom. But it’s dangerous.” She stepped aside, clenching her clothes against her chest.

“Don’t worry.” He flashed a lopsided smile. “He won’t hurt you.”

“I feel rather pessimistic today.”

As he inched the door open, she held her breath.

“Mate.” Christopher let the hellhound in.

Darko barked and yapped, lowering his belly to the floor. His tail twirled like a windmill, going around in circles. He didn’t look like the growling beast she’d seen a moment ago. He dropped on his back and exposed his belly, his hips moving right and left.

Christopher crouched to give him a belly rub. “He can be a little scary, but he’s just a big puppy.”

“I’m sure of that. It’s the long, sharp teeth that worry me. And the growling. And the murderous attitude.”

“He’ll become your best friend soon, once he knows you.” He rose and crossed the room to his wardrobe, and she couldn’t help but stare at his naked back again.

The past years had shaped his body into a machine of muscles and harsh ridges, and she couldn’t deny a hint of curiosity about his gangster persona. He had to be terrifying when he wanted to.

Darko followed him, completely captured by his master.

“I trust you feel better,” he said, slipping behind a screen.

“Well rested. The bruise doesn’t bother me, and the cut on my palm isn’t even itchy.”

“I’ll take a look at it after you get a bath.” He came out in a fresh set of dark clothes that added a new layer of danger to him.

“Why do you always wear black?”

“Black doesn’t show the blood. If people don’t see the blood, they’ll think a stab or a bullet does nothing to you.”

“Oh.”

He straightened his jacket. “My water closet is the closest. Over there.” He pointed to a door on the other side of the room. “It’s not large enough for this bathtub, though. But I have a modern water boiler there. It won’t take long to fill the bathtub again. Wait here.”

Darko followed him out of the room, not paying her the slightest bit of attention. She unclenched her arms from her clothes, exhaling. The room was just like Christopher—no frills but only sturdy furniture, and it radiated safety. Everything smelled like him. It was as if he were holding her. She stiffened again when Jane entered the room and walked straight to the water closet.

“The Guv told me you need a bath.”

“Yes.”

Without looking at her, Jane connected a large tube to the base of the bathtub. The water in the bathtub was sucked away through the attached tube with a gurgling noise that made her giggle. Then it was a matter of filling it with hot water from the boiler, using the buckets. She helped carry the hot water although Jane scoffed and shot her sideways glances.

Jane wiped her hands on her apron once the job was done. “There. Hot water to the rim for the princess.”

Elizabeth scowled. Being kind was one thing, but letting someone bully her was another.

“There’s no need to be so bitter towards me,” she said. “I’m no princess. I work at a restaurant.”

“A few months of hard work won’t change the fact you’re an earl’s daughter.”

“We can’t choose our parents, can we?”

“I’m not your servant.”

“I’ve never thought you were.”

“Every toff thinks that people below them are servants.” Jane strode to the door. “When you finish, go to the kitchen. It’ll shock you, but you’re going to break your fast there.” She left the bedroom and shut the door with a thud.

“I’m not shocked!” she said to Jane’s back.

Unfair. She might have had a sheltered life but not an easy one. With a high social status came expectations, rules, and an astonishing lack of freedom. She hadn’t been free to choose her own path, and it was easy to judge someone else’s life. Oh, well.

The tension left her body when she sank into the hot water. She kept an eye on the door, half wishing Christopher would come, but he didn’t. She shouldn’t be disappointed by him being a gentleman.

“Elizabeth?” His voice came from the other side of the door.

She’d talked too soon, and she wasn’t sorry. “Come in.” Wait. Did she just tell him to come in while she was naked in the bath?

She didn’t have time to add anything else.

The door was flung open. “Sorry, I was—” He entered, his jaw hanging open. “I …” The heated, intense gaze he gave her was like a velvety caress on her skin.

Not that he could see much, just her naked shoulders, arms, and the top of her breasts.

Her cheeks flamed. “I forgot I was in the bath.” Oh, what a great thing to say.

He kept staring at her. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, it’s fine.” She cleared her throat, careful not to do abrupt moves, lest she show too much. “What did you want to tell me?”

He slid inside and shut the door. The room became small when he walked over to her. “I have to go to the docks and check on a shipment. I’ll be away for a few hours.”

She nodded. “All right.”

From his position next to the bathtub, he had a good view of her body in the water, and judging by how his eyes darkened, he was fully focused on her. Although, since she was hugging her bent knees, there wasn’t much to see … unless … She slowly straightened her legs as much as the bathtub allowed and unfolded her arms. He let out a deep sound of appreciation, which was funny. She was scrawny, and her skin had lost its healthy glow. She was as attractive as a scarecrow, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He knelt next to her, letting out a breath. She thought he was about to say something, but instead, he trailed a finger over her jaw, leaving behind a path of goose bumps on her skin. She felt that light touch on her most sensitive parts. He was delicate and gentle, yet there was nothing delicate or gentle in the riot of sensations bursting within her.

He drove his finger down her neck and over her shoulder but stopped before reaching her aching breasts. She tried not to look disappointed, but she didn’t have to worry.

He rolled up his shirtsleeve. His gaze dipped as his hand did. She let out a moan when he brushed her nipple under the water. Her toes curled, and a throb pulsated between her legs. He rubbed and pinched her nipples lightly until she was breathing hard.

“I have to go,” he whispered, his voice rimming with regret. Before withdrawing his hand, he dipped it further, brushing her thighs. “I wish I could stay.”

She couldn’t speak. Feeling cared for and desired was so good. He kissed her, a chaste, sweet kiss on her bruised brow, but she sighed, nevertheless.

“Rest,” he whispered against her skin. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

She blew out a breath when he left. She had no idea why she’d behaved so boldly; she blamed it on the struggles she’d faced, on the fact that a lot of rules didn’t matter anymore, but she didn’t regret it.