Page 27 of The King of Whitechapel (Victorian Outcasts #7)

twenty-seven

F OR CHRISTOPHER, TIME could stop right there and then, in his warm, dark bedroom.

Spending a night with Elizabeth in his arms wasn’t new, but he would never grow tired of holding her in his sleep. They’d slept through the night, holding each other with desperation, as it’d happened years ago in the cottage. But this time, no one would take her away from him. Only she had the power to decide to leave him, and if that was her choice, he’d accept it.

He caressed her silky hair, incapable of keeping his hands to himself while she was so close. Her shoulder felt silky under his fingers. The curve of her hip made him want to grab it, and her breast filled his hand nicely.

She opened her eyes and smiled. “What are you doing?”

She stretched out, thrusting her breasts towards him, and he couldn’t stop himself.

He caught her nipple between his lips and drew it into his mouth. Her soft moan had him ready and aching for her in a moment. She moved under his lips, rolling her hips.

When he slid his hand between her legs, he found her deliciously wet. He burned to take her properly, make her feel how much he wanted her, but that had to wait.

The more he rubbed her, the wilder she became, breathing hard and jolting until she gripped his shoulders and pressed her mouth against his chest. He held her again, glad his touch gave her so much pleasure. Little pulses went through her. He watched her becoming flushed and glowing, utterly beautiful, completely devastating.

He kissed her forehead. “Good morning.”

She laughed, running her hand down his chest. Her touch was like fire on his skin. Each finger marked him. Each touch made him hers. She stroked his hip and thigh before gripping him. His body gave an involuntary jerk.

She kissed his chest. Her spicy scent teased his nostrils as she fondled him. The movements were slow and gentle, but a fiery battle of emotions was going on inside him. He had to force himself to stay calm and still, instead of thrusting inside her like a beast in heat. Between her velvety lips on his chest and her gentle hand wrapped around him, he was bursting with need and pleasure. Energy erupted within him as quickly as a firework and just as powerful. She kept her grip on him when he spilt in her hand, a groan rumbling out of him.

She kissed his cheek, lips, and neck, this time in a sweet fashion that melted his heart. “You’re beautiful, too.”

“Great. Now that we’ve established we’re both beautiful, I’d like to kiss you again.” He slipped his hand between her thighs.

She giggled. “I like it when you do that.”

“I like it, too.” He spread her legs and watched her, licking his lips. He was about to taste her when footsteps pounded.

“Guv!” Smithy’s loud voice and insistent banging on the door tore a curse out of Christopher.

“What in the bloody hell?” he shouted.

Elizabeth jolted.

“Them coppers again. They’re searching the warehouse. They have a message from the duke for you.”

“Bloody hell.” He gritted his teeth.

“Guv!” More banging.

“Dammit, Smithy. Wait!”

The banging stopped.

He kissed the tip of Elizabeth’s nose and slipped out of the warm bed. “Sorry.”

“Go. Don’t worry.” She gathered the bedsheet up, covering herself, although she glowed more brightly than the morning star.

Pulling his trousers on, he smiled. She was just too beautiful, all pink, dishevelled, and wide-eyed.

“We aren’t through yet,” he whispered.

“I do hope we aren’t.”

He kissed her one last time before going out. He shut the door behind him, careful not to let Smithy catch a glimpse of a half-naked, glowing Elizabeth.

“When did they arrive?” he asked, going down the stairs and forcing himself to think about work.

“At dawn. They were looking for you.”

“Guv.” Finn hurried towards him, carrying a book under his arm. “What can I do?”

Christopher took his arm. “I need you to go to Pearce’s house and interrogate the servants today. Ask them about the bloody ball.”

Finn frowned. “The servants? I can come with you to the warehouse.”

“No, go to the duke’s house and question the servants. Stay away from trouble.”

Finn exhaled through his teeth. “Yes, Guv.”

A carriage was waiting for Christopher when he exited the palace. The drive was too short for him to analyse the situation in depth. After he’d managed to fool Pearce’s men, retaliation was expected, only not that fast.

He strode to the warehouse with Smithy at his side. At least a dozen officers were there, batons in their hands, in a standoff with his men. His name was shouted, and a few people pointed at him. One of the peelers left the group and walked towards him. But the man wasn’t a peeler, or at least he hadn’t been one until recently. He was, Butch, the former leader of the Reapers, the brutal gang Christopher had dismantled and kicked out of Whitechapel.

“What the hell?” He stopped in front of Butch.

“Your highness.” Butch performed a mocking bow. “We meet again.”

“What are you doing here?”

Butch stroked his scarred chin. “We have a message to deliver to the King from the duke.”

“What message?”

“This.”

The blow was so quick he barely had time to dodge it. His men shouted a war cry before charging. Blades and guns were pulled out, and the chaos started.

So it was going to be one of those days.

* * *

The palace turned into an improvised hospital in the span of an hour. Elizabeth walked through the courtyard where bleeding and groaning men kept arriving. It was amazing how the morning had changed from wonderful to nightmarish in a short period.

The news of a violent brawl at the docks had spread quickly, and the wounded had started to flow in the garrison. Although she hadn’t done much aside from carrying buckets of warm water, clean cloths, and bottles of carbolic acid to those who took care of the wounded. There were men she’d never seen, but no trace of Christopher.

The coppery scent of blood combined with that of disinfectant gave her a headache, and she had to take deep breaths not to feel dizzy at the sight of slashes and cuts.

“Elizabeth!” Jane shouted from the other side of the courtyard. “I need hot water now.”

She hurried to bring the bucket to Jane, averting her gaze from the wounded man. “Did you see Christopher?”

“No.” From Jane’s clipped answer, Elizabeth couldn’t understand if the woman was worried or not.

Finn was stitching a wound on a man’s arm, and she nearly gagged. She hated raw steaks because of the blood. She wasn’t made for such carnage.

Sidestepping a pile of bloody rags, she spotted Smithy who had a bandage around his forehead. She rushed to him. “Where’s Christopher?”

He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s coming.”

She didn’t have time to feel relieved. Shoulders hunched, Christopher came in, half-dragged by a tall man. Blood trickled down from his forehead, but with his black clothes, it was impossible to say if he was bleeding anywhere else.

“Christopher.” She slid an arm under his, helping the man carry him. “What happened?”

“Nothing we haven’t already seen.” His voice sounded strained.

“Where to, Guv?” the man asked.

“My room.”

She staggered under his weight when they went up the stairs. “Where are you wounded?”

He let out a raspy chuckle. “It’ll be quicker to tell you where I am not.” He groaned when the man laid him on the bed.

“What do you need, Guv?”

He waved him away. “Take care of the others. They’re in worse condition.”

“Worse condition? You can barely walk.” Elizabeth prepared a bowl of hot water. “Let me see where you’re hurt.”

“I need help to get undressed.”

She unbuttoned his shirt while he grimaced. Blood soaked his chest, but she didn’t see any gush or gunshot wound.

“Where is the wound?” Her voice sounded high-pitched to her own ears.

“This isn’t my blood.” He rolled to his side. “My blood is on the back.”

She pulled off his shirt to reveal a slash across his marred skin. The shock froze her for a moment. “Heavens.”

There was so much blood she couldn’t understand how serious the wound was.

Jane, barging into the room, broke the moment. “Guv, let me see.” Blood stained her apron. She examined the wound, prodding it and ignoring Christopher’s groans. “Not deep but nasty.” She glanced at Elizabeth. “Clean it and stitch it. You should be knowledgeable by now.”

Her pulse slammed in her veins. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t know where to start.”

“It’s like needlework.”

Elizabeth shivered. “But …”

Jane took her shoulders none too gently. “You decided to stay. Good. That’s our life. That’s what you have to deal with. Clean the wound and stitch it. You’ve seen me doing it a few times. Do it,” she said to Elizabeth before leaving.

“Ah …” She rubbed her forehead.

Christopher winced, propping himself up. “I’ll guide you. Start with the hot water and wash the cut.”

“I know a little, but I learnt recently, and I’ve never seen a wound like that.”

“Don’t worry.”

“All … right.” She cleaned the wound with water first then with carbolic acid.

He shouted into the pillow when she applied the disinfectant to the cut.

“I’m sorry.”

He waved dismissively although all his muscles contracted and spasmed.

She rummaged through the box that contained the necessary supplies for dealing with a wound. The stitching was the biggest problem. She’d seen it done a few times, but that was it. And what was the difference between the straight needle and the curved one? What type of thread should she use? There were different types of them, some thick, others thin.

“I can’t do it.” She panted, her hands trembling. “I don’t know how to do it.”

“Stay calm. It’s all right.”

But it wasn’t all right, and there was so much blood. What if he died? What if she made a mistake and the wound wouldn’t heal or became infected? Her vision darkened at the edges. Her legs quivered.

“Sit down, Elizabeth.” His commanding voice couldn’t be ignored.

She did as told, choking on air. “I’m sorry.”

“Shush. Take deep breaths and don’t faint, please.” He whistled, and Darko rushed inside, twitching his nose at the smell of blood. “Fetch Finn.”

Darko raced out of the room and returned a few moments later, barking. Finn followed him.

“Guv.” He glanced at her and at Christopher. “Are you all right, miss? You’re so pale. Let me get you something.”

“Excuse me.” Christopher waved a hand, stopping Finn. “I’m bleeding and need stitches.”

“Yes, Guv.” Finn searched through the medical box without flinching while checking the wound.

“What type of needle and thread are you going to use?” she said, swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth.

“You can ignore straight needles. They’re for easy cuts. I always use curved needles. The thick ones are for seriously deep wounds, but for this one …” He leant over to examine the slash. “A medium width needle with a type four thread. You were lucky, Guv. It could be worse. Shall I give you laudanum?”

“Just bloody stitch it.”

She averted her gaze as Finn stitched the wound while Christopher clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Nearly done, Guv,” Finn said, completely focused on the task.

She distracted herself by trying to pet Darko. The dog didn’t bark or growl, but he seemed preoccupied with his master’s health.

Christopher groaned in pain.

Finn clicked his tongue. “Sorry, Guv.”

She took Christopher’s hand. “Why don’t you take the laudanum?”

He drew in a few deep breaths. “It makes me sleepy, and I need to be awake to make decisions.”

“Done.” Finn cleaned the wound again before bandaging it with a long white strip of fabric. “You can’t move too much, or it’ll start bleeding again. I’ll check it later. I have other people to stitch.”

“Go.” Christopher rested his head on the pillow.

Elizabeth covered him when Finn left. “Finn was incredible. I’m sorry I was useless.”

He licked his lips. “You’re shocked.”

“I am.” Her voice cracked. “Just thinking you could have died while I was completely useless fills me with fear, and I can’t stand the blood. I might get used to it, but I can’t now.”

“Elizabeth.” He held her hand, leaving a smear of blood on her skin. “What happened today is a natural occurrence in my life. This is what it means to be next to me.”

“I’ll get better at this. I promise.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, muttering something she didn’t catch. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“I do, because I want to stay here.”

He pushed himself up, pain straining his features. “Would you help me get downstairs?”

“You need to rest.”

“I must see how the others are faring. That’s another natural occurrence in my life.”

She swallowed past the knot in her throat. “I’ll help you.”

* * *

Elizabeth stroked Christopher’s head as he finally slept soundly. He’d spent a few hours with his men, talking and discussing with his lieutenants before allowing himself to rest. She’d watched horrified as he’d pushed himself to the limit, disregarding his own well-being to take care of his men. Thinking she could have lost him made her feel as if she were falling from a high cliff. And she hadn’t been able to help him.

Jane entered the room, quiet on her feet. Without telling her anything, she examined his face and took a sniff of his back, lifting the blanket. “No infection. He finally accepted the laudanum, I gather.”

“He did. He fell asleep immediately.”

Jane pulled the cover up and exhaled. “This is what I mean. I don’t hate you, but as you must have seen, you aren’t made for this life, girl. Finn told me he’d stitched the Guv because you couldn’t do it.”

She sat on the chair. Could she feel more useless?

For the first time, Jane’s expression softened into something almost maternal. “You should leave while you can. I’m telling you for your own good.”

“I won’t leave him.”

Jane grinned. “You will. You’re too spoiled not to.”

A flicker of annoyance shot through her exhaustion. “You don’t know me. Yes, I’ve never stitched a wound or seen the aftermath of a bloody battle, but Christopher is everything to me.”

“Because he gave you a home and helped you when no one did.”

“Because I love him!”

The words came out of her without her thinking, but they were true. She felt them deep in her soul. She loved Christopher. She didn’t want to go anywhere without him. She wanted to stay with him, whatever that meant.

That shut Jane up for a full minute. “I hope you mean it.”

“I do. In my world, a man like him, an illegitimate son of a duke, is scorned and despised. My mother forbade me from talking to him and warned me to stay away from him. When my parents kicked me out, they told me that if I would accuse Christopher of attacking and forcing me, they would forgive me.”

Jane gasped. “They wanted you to blame him, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong?”

“Yes. They said it was the only way to save my family’s reputation.”

“And what did you do?”

She touched Christopher’s hand. “Well, I’m here, am I not?”

Jane smiled again, but her smile didn’t hold contempt. “You’re one strong lady.”

“I’m trying to be one, but I’m not like you. You were right about that.”

Jane fiddled with her apron, seemingly incapable of meeting her gaze. “Do you think I’m strong?”

“I haven’t met a woman stronger than you are. I mean it.” Elizabeth gave her a nod. “You have my respect.”

Jane lowered her gaze. “I’m not strong,” she whispered. “When I was a governess in Lord Latymer’s house, I tried many times to defend myself from his prowling hands. He would catch me off guard when I was alone and touch me inappropriately.” She drew a shuddering breath. “Sometimes I froze, so shocked I was. But even when I shoved him and rejected him, he would insist, saying I was only playing with him. And the ironic thing is I was the one to lose everything and branded as a trollop.”

“You aren’t weak, Jane, and what happened wasn’t your fault. Sometimes fear paralyses us. It doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. That man was a swine, and you did your best in a very difficult situation. You needed the job and money. Don’t blame yourself.”

Jane raised her gaze, and there wasn’t hostility as she stared at Elizabeth. “Thank you,” she whispered. She opened the door and paused. “I’ll teach you how to stitch a wound.”