W ake him up?
How was Maximus asleep?
As far as she could tell, he was completely and totally awake. But the pain in him was visceral. And for the first time in her life, she wanted to do exactly as a man asked. She wanted to give herself over to a man. She wanted to feel alive, just as he did. And what if they could have that together?
It was a shocking revelation.
And before she could allow herself to think, she strode forward, grabbed him, seized his face, pulled him down, and kissed him. It went against everything she had always told herself. It went against every promise that she had ever made to her mother.
Unless, of course, she refused to allow herself to be kept. Unless, of course, she made this her madcap journey—a wild, quick fling where they both experienced life. Where they woke each other up because, if she was honest, she had been asleep too.
The last years had been about her just trying to get by. Just trying to survive and keep her dream of escape alive. But her dream? It wasn’t even a truly great dream. It was simply to get out of the East End of London. And it wasn’t enough.
Fleeing to America was not enough.
This night was the beginning of the rest of her life. She was sure of it, and she’d never have imagined she’d be so happy to have been caught stealing a clock. If things had gone according to plan, she could have slipped out of Heron House, but instead she was in his room.
She’d met a powerful man, determined, it seemed, to help her. And she’d met the legend of a woman she’d been so fascinated by, the dowager duchess. Though she would not catch Maximus for a husband, and she’d never become his official mistress, she was not going to let this opportunity go by, especially when he’d made such a request of her.
But more than anything, here with him, she knew she could experience the pleasure of a powerful man without compromising herself. She could experience his prowess for sensuality alone.
And in this house, who knew what paths might open to her?
The kiss was passionate, strong, long, shocking. After all the years of pushing down her passion, it suddenly came to the surface.
After all, why hold back now?
Her life had almost imploded. She’d almost been thrown into jail. She’d almost… Almost was such a dangerous word. She would not live her life by almost now. While she would never give herself to him in exchange for money, she could live fully with him for a bit, couldn’t she?
And she could show him what he needed.
His hands roved over her back like liquid fire, and she melted into him. Oh, how she loved this. It was as if she had finally given in to the sugary treat she’d forbidden herself for so long. And it was better than she’d ever dared contemplate.
The way his mouth moved over hers was perfection. He bowed her body against his, melding them together as one. His hot tongue teased her lips and slipped inside her mouth, coaxing her with a rhythm as old as the stars.
She moaned against his mouth, and much like a dam that gives way, there was no going back now. She wished to throw herself entirely into this chance that she had been given. Come what may.
And just as she was about to, the chamber door suddenly flung open, and a cacophony of richly clad bodies burst in.
“Maximus,” a mischievous male voice called, “we’re in town.”
And then another man let out a shocked but clearly delighted exclamation before he started applauding. “Are you getting married?”
She stilled in Maximus’s arms, turned ever so slightly, closed her eyes, and groaned.
“Bloody hell,” he gritted.
“Who are they?” she asked, alarmed but also highly curious. “And why does everybody seem to assume we’re getting married?”
“It’s my family,” he whispered against her temple.
“Well, we are a few of the family. There’s loads of us,” one of the men called. “I’m his twin, Octavian.”
She turned a bit more and spotted three, tall, exceptionally good-looking men, two of whom were in uniform. One in a naval uniform, the other in an army uniform, and one dressed as if he was just out of Eton but eager to be on his way in society.
“We’ve come to take you out on the town,” the one in the naval uniform said. “But it seems as if you’ve already had your excitement for the night. Should we head to the chapel? Has Uncle secured a special license?”
Maximus rolled his eyes.
“We’re not getting married,” she said.
Octavian cleared his throat, the gold fringe on his uniform swinging. “Oh, forgive me. We did not mean to intrude on a tête-à-tête then.”
“This is too interesting!” the youngest one said, his russet hair glinting in the moonlight. And he looked far too excited by the drama, as if this was the best moment of his life. “Does Grandmama know?”
Maximus let out a bleat again.
“Your family’s quite odd,” Peggy said.
“Yes,” he said, “they are.”
“Is it always like this?” she asked.
“Yes, it is,” he said tightly. “Everyone experiences this when they meet them. Don’t be alarmed. Truly, I don’t know of a person who’s come into our family who hasn’t felt like this, or said what you’ve just said, at some point.”
She let out a huff. “Well, I’m not coming into your family,” she said.
And then the one in the naval uniform, with the exceptionally stoic face, arched a brow, gave a sly grin, and said, “You clearly are. I’m Calchas. A pleasure to meet you…” He put in a pause as if waiting for her name.
“Peggy Cutmore,” she said.
“Peggy Cutmore,” Octavian repeated, striding towards her and offering his hand. “Extract yourself from my brother and accept my greetings.”
She winced at that, but then quickly extricated herself from Maximus’s embrace and took his hand boldly in a good, solid shake.
“A pleasure to meet you, Peggy,” Octavian said merrily. “You seem to think that you’re not going to be part of this family, but if Grandmama knows you’re here, there’s no way she’d allow you to be here without marriage! Remember what happened to Aunt Perdita when the family burst in on her?”
“Wedding!” exclaimed the youngest man, who had yet to introduce himself.
“And then, of course, there was my own mother,” Octavian continued. “She had to marry Papa right away. Scandal impending and all that. So you’re clearly—”
“I’m a thief,” she said quickly, if only to make him stop his assumptions, though his revelations were quite fascinating.
Maximus let out another groan. “You lied so much not long ago. Why do you feel the need to be honest now?”
“I don’t want them getting the wrong idea,” she defended.
“And what idea is that exactly?” Maximus demanded.
“That I might be your mistress,” she said.
“Oh dear,” Calchas said. “We never would’ve thought such a thing about you. Not the way you’re dressed, and certainly not the way you’re acting.”
“What does that mean?” she exclaimed.
“You don’t give off courtesan feelings,” Octavian mused, his brow furrowing as he considered her.
“I don’t?” she queried.
“Definitely not,” Maximus agreed.
“Really? Why is that?”
“You’re not very seductive,” said Calchas.
She laughed. “I’m not?”
“No. Very pretty, of course,” Octavian rushed. “But you actually give off this sort of errant feeling that if we were to do something wrong, you’d jab us in the eye. That’s not usually the feeling a mistress gives off.”
Maximus nodded. “It’s true.”
She beamed. “Actually, I quite like that.”
“Good,” Calchas said. “Now, you’ve met Octavian. This is my cousin, Laertes.”
Laertes gave her a quick bow, his boyish smile impossible not to like. “We should leave you and go to our club, but this is far too much fun.”
And then a voice piped from the hall, “Why do men always have all the fun?”
“Cymbeline,” Maximus groaned, “you’re not supposed to be here.”
A face peeked around the door. “Well, I’m always lurking at doorways and windowsills. You should know that I’m going to pop up at the most inopportune moments.”
The three men turned back.
“We are not taking you to the club, Cymbeline,” Octavian said plainly.
“It doesn’t matter if you dress up as a boy,” added Calchas. “It’s not going to happen.”
“My Season is next year,” Cymbeline lamented, “and I need to live a little before I—”
“You will have plenty of years of living,” Calchas drawled.
“You’re a Briarwood,” said Octavian. “Not a boring chit who can be shoved away in the country.”
The exchange was fascinating to Peggy. They acted as if she wasn’t there or…as if it was perfectly normal to speak like this all of the time. Perhaps it was.
Cymbeline sighed. “I suppose, but I don’t see how marriage will make it possible for me to have as many adventures as you.”
Octavian nodded. “It’s a fair point, but I don’t think you could argue that Briarwood women are without adventures.”
Cymbeline let out another sigh, but then she strode forward, her pale gown swishing about her. “You’re a thief, are you?”
Suddenly, Peggy rather regretted saying such a thing, but there was no going back now. She’d been rather glad that she’d been plain-speaking, but now she wondered at her own wisdom. Was it just because she was tired, or did this house and this family make everyone act absolutely absurd?
“So if you’re not marrying Maximus and you’re a thief, what are you doing here?” Cymbeline asked.
Maximus stared at her. “Yes, exactly. What are you doing here?”
“Well, it would seem that Maximus,” she explained, “and I have made a mutual agreement.”
“Have you?” asked Calchas. “How very intriguing. And what is that mutual agreement?”
She cleared her throat. “We’re going to teach each other how to live.”
“Were you unacquainted with how to live before?” Octavian drawled.
She pinned him with a quick stare. “I’m going to show him how to live like me, and he’s going to show me how to live like him.”
“You’re going to live like a man?” Cymbeline cheered. “How amazing. And if I was going to live like a man, I’d want to live like Maximus. He’s absolutely marvelous.”
“Is he?” she asked as her heart began to pound wildly.
Yes, he did rather seem marvelous. For a toff. She could see that the cousins—all the cousins—absolutely adored him. There was something about this family that made her consider lowering her usually considerable defenses. Not much. But perhaps just a touch. Because somehow, despite the madness of all this, their banter and ease with each other made her feel as if they might not be as terrible as everyone else.
“Right.” Octavian swung his gaze between Peggy and Maximus. “We shall leave you two to this living. But I did want to check on Maximus.”
Maximus let out a groan. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“No, you’re not,” Octavian said. “We’re twins. I know.”
Calchas gave a knowing look. “I’m not even your twin, and I know.”
Laertes agreed. “Exactly. It’s why we’re all here.”
Cymbeline piped up. “True. You haven’t convinced any of us, though I know you think you have, Maximus.”
Maximus let out another groan. “This is what it’s like having a large family.”
She blinked. It was quite overwhelming. She had no idea what was going on. “I don’t even know what to say,” she said.
“Silence is often a very good option,” Maximus replied. “At least with this lot. Then they can’t use what you say against you.”
And then they began to bustle out of the room.
But Octavian stopped at the door, glanced over his shoulder, and said, “This is an interesting beginning. I can’t wait to see what happens.”
And with that, he strode out the door. Cymbeline followed him, proclaiming, “You’re going to take me into London. I’ve got breeches. I can do it. I can pretend to be a boy.”
“Not a chance,” Calchas called.
Their voices, arguing, faded down the hall.
“What was that?” she asked.
“That was the Briarwood entourage,” he said.
“They’re your…friends?”
“Cousins, family, friends,” he affirmed. “It’s quite exhausting trying to make them think I’m fine, which apparently I’ve failed at.”
They were silent, the room oddly bereft without the presence of the boisterous Briarwood clan.
“Did you mean it?” he asked. “What you said.”
She blinked. “Yes. I have a condition though.”
“Oh?” he said.
She drew herself up and then, before she could think twice, she seized the chance that had been put before her. “You want me to wake you up. And if I’m honest, I want the same. So we’re going to spend a short period of time together, waking each other up, showing each other about life, and then you’re going to let me go. You’re going to help me get to America. Do you understand?”
“I don’t want you to be my mistress,” he said softly.
She let out a groan. “Don’t be a dunce. I’m not going to be your mistress.”
“So the kiss…” he ventured.
“The kiss has nothing to do with the rest of it.”
“Does that mean there will be no more kissing?” he said, looking bereft. “Because if so, I have a strong objection.”
“I think that’s part of me waking up,” she said honestly. “Learning that I can enjoy life without having to…” She swallowed.
“What?” he asked.
“Make my living from it.”
He crossed to her slowly and took her hand in his. “I can’t understand what you’ve been through. Not really,” he said, “but I promise you this. I will help you. And I will never use you ill. Can you believe me?”
“No,” she said firmly. “But I’m going to try.”