"An' not jus' the beddin' part neither… though God knows I couldn't get enough o' that. No, I wanted other things with 'er, finer, softer things—" Stewart stopped abruptly, scowling. "Things men like us 'ave no business wantin', not if we value our 'ides. She poisoned me, Marissa did. Made me weak an' then called the dogs in for the kill."
The fact that he'd stopped short of his goal—had that been a sign of weakness? Gavin squelched the uncomfortable thought. She had saved his life, and he'd owed her was all. Eye for an eye. Now they were even, and he wouldn't falter again.
"I am in full control of the situation. This is about vengeance: Morgan left me to burn in Grimes' flash house and, because of him, I spent years rotting in the hulks. I have one purpose for Percy Fines," he said, his jaw hardening, "and it isn't soft or weak."
From the other side of the desk, Stewart gave him a man-to-man look. "Mean to give it to 'er 'ard, do you lad?"
"Precisely."
His mentor grunted. "See that you do. That's what wenches are for, after all. Maybe you should tup a few to 'elp you remember the fact."
A sudden scraping sound cut off Gavin's reply. He tensed, and his mentor took on the same vigilant posture. They both waited for the furtive noise again... where had it come from?
Stewart motioned to the door.
"My thanks for the advice." Gavin said the words loudly as the other man moved with rapid stealth to the entrance. Gavin removed a pistol from his desk, readying it. Stewart yanked open the door... and Evangeline stood framed in the doorway.
Her thin brows arched. "That's some welcome, lover."
Gavin cursed and tossed the weapon back into the drawer.
Stewart, however, gave Evangeline a considering look. Beneath his beard, his mouth settled into what might have passed for a smile. "Well, if it ain't a sight for sore eyes. Good day to you, Miss 'Arper."
Evangeline sauntered in. "And to you, Mr. Stewart." The randy gleam in her eyes and the low cut of her gown gave an inkling of her purpose. A bulging reticule swung from her hand.
Just bloody perfect.
"Was just sayin' to Hunt that 'e's been workin' too 'ard. A man needs a bit o' distraction now an' again." Stewart aimed a pointed look at Gavin. "'Elps 'im to keep 'is focus."
"Well, it just so 'appens I'm lookin' for a bit o' distraction myself," Evangeline said. With easy familiarity, she perched onto the arm of Gavin's chair, her generous rump pushing into his lap.
"I'll leave you two to your business, then." Whistling, Stewart shut the door behind.
"What's with 'im?" Evangeline jerked her chin at the door. "Usually 'e's grimmer than the reaper, but today 'e's practically dancin' a jig to see me."
"Never mind him." Gavin cleared his throat. "What can I do for you today?"
"Tisn't so much what you can do for me, love, as what I can do for you," she cooed at the same time that she wriggled fully onto his lap.
The contact with the feminine curves led to an immediate physical response. He'd been dog drawn since the first bloody meeting with Percy. Even frigging himself on a daily basis—fine,severaltimes a day—didn't seem to help matters. He couldn't get her out of his head; as a result, he was hard. Constantly.
With deliberate slowness, Evangeline undid the strings to her purse. His throat flexed when he saw what she'd fished out and let dangle from her fingers. A silver chain, with a leather cuff swinging at each end.
"I've a new game for you today, lover." She shimmied against his turgid flesh. "And something tells me you're more than up for it."
When it came to carnality, he and Evangeline were cut from the same torrid cloth. For both of them, pleasure and power were sides of the same coin. His first sexual encounter flashed in his mind's eye. A grimy corner of the hulks, one of the whores brought in by the guards to keep the prisoners from rioting. He had been thirteen and, after three years aboard that stinking ship, had left boyhood far behind. Yet he'd quivered as the moll climbed atop his tense form, her eyes glinting slits in the dark. Her taunting voice returned to him.
First fuck, is it? You ain't much to look at. Let's see if you 'ave what it takes to be a man.
His hands had fisted, pulling his shackles tight as she'd explored him with a touch that was anything but gentle. In the darkness of that despicable place, with the sounds and smells of human degradation all around him, he'd had his first sexual release. Had discovered that chains against flesh could rouse desire as well as pain. It hadn't taken him long to learn that nothing, but nothing, matched the potency of dominating another. Of making an old slattern scream with unaffected bliss as he'd turned the tables and fucked her into submission whilst the other prisoners cheered him on.
Use or be used. Of the two, he knew which option he'd choose.
A hand palmed his groin, and he looked down to see Evangeline kneeling between his thighs. In her leering expression, he saw his past in its sordid entirety, and it made him feel … weary. For the first time, he wondered if a different sort of future was possible. Unbidden, the smell of lemons and soap tickled his imagination. A smile that warmed instead of humiliated. Summer-bright eyes promising a brand of passion that he had never experienced before: one that was pure and unconditional, meant only for him.
Was such a thing possible? Could one taste of sunshine dispel the pleasures of the dark?
"Mmm," Evangeline purred. "I think you're ready to play, lover."
