The Copper and the Madam by Karyn Gerrard Page B

less. So he
was spending the night. Taggart also reported a brawny, dark-haired
man entering the back entrance. The fellow described to him by his
butler when he stopped at his townhouse earlier fit the description
of the burly brute who now pawed the woman in the kitchen. Southen
knew this man was also a detective and had been asking questions
about him this very day. The coppers were not as incompetent as he
thought. Though, he couldn’t resist the little clue he left carved
on the pretty boy. They must have made the connection. Time to
act.
    He dismissed Taggart with a bag of coin and
instructed his coachman to wait fifteen minutes. If he did not come
back out, he was to leave and return at first light and park down
the lane out of sight.
    Finding the back entrance unlocked, Southen
had slipped in and ducked between the crates in the small room off
the kitchen.
    The detective was making a meal out of the
cook, and she returned his kissing and groping quite
enthusiastically. They were occupied, good. Southen tested the
tread on the back stairs off the small storage room. He knew,
thanks to the map, these stairs led to the second floor where the
madam had her office and private room. Behind the wall were the
passageways and rooms where he could hide for the night. He tapped
the knife and length of rope hanging from his belt. Tucking his
cane under his arm, he held onto the banister and crept up the back
stairs. Pain tore through his leg, but he pushed on. The damned
copper and the cook wouldn’t hear him over their moans, at any
rate.
    Southen paused on the stairs when the woman
said “we shouldn’t” in a low voice and heavy footsteps moved
towards the back entrance. The bolt slid home with a snap. Too
late, you incompetent idiot . A chair scraped across the floor.
The burst of passion had fluttered out for the time being. The
copper thanked the cook for a meal. As conversation broke out
between the two, he continued on his journey.
    The anticipation of exacting his revenge at
last made him as giddy as a school boy.
    Tomorrow, the bitch would be his.

Chapter Thirteen
     
     
    Rory wiped his mouth and tossed the napkin on
the tray. The hearty stew took the edge off his hunger for food at
least. Unlike the rooms downstairs, which were decorated in a
garish and gaudy fashion, hers had muted, light green fleur-de-lis
wallpaper, an oak dresser and matching four-poster bed. A few
Parisian rugs on the oak floor added to the tasteful decor. In the
corner sat a cream colored, overstuffed velvet chair and next to it
a bookcase filled with expensive, leather-bound fiction and
non-fiction titles alike. Rhiannon’s blue dressing gown hugged her
body tight, caressing her ample, shapely hips and abundant tits.
His desire for her exceeded even his own expectations. The feelings
were far more than physical. They had revealed so much of
themselves to each other. The bond between was them potent and
real. Would the connection hold beyond the here and now? Did he
want it to? He would be contemplating marriage at some point.
    He stood and sauntered toward her. Pulling
the tie of her dressing gown, he pushed the silk garment off her
shoulders until it hit the floor. The luminance of her alabaster
skin stunned him afresh. He laid hot, passionate kisses on her
neck. He lowered the thin strap of her nightgown then did the same
with the other. She held the garment to her body.
    He moved behind her and kissed and caressed
her shoulders until soft moans escaped her lips. She rested her
head against his chest.
    Rhiannon faced him and let go of the gown. It
pooled at her feet, leaving her gloriously naked. His already
throbbing cock hardened to iron. She brushed her fingers across his
erection.
    “Rory, I want to give you pleasure. Here.
Orally.”
    He froze. No . No one had ever taken
his cock in her mouth. The thought of it filled him with
abhorrence. Too many horrid memories were tied to that particular
sex act.
    He stepped back, but Rhiannon