Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway

7

Once again, Pippa found herself on top of Timothy Cullen, the breath knocked out of her. Since she’d done the knocking down this time, she supposed she couldn’t complain. She twisted her head in the direction of the shooter; the villain was gone. Absorbed back into the shadows of the alleyway from which he’d emerged.

A wise move on his part. The driver of the carriage was now on the ground, a pair of pistols in hand. The little bespectacled mudlark who had exited the carriage after Cull was blowing frantically on a whistle. The shrill call summoned his brethren, who were spilling out of their flash house, armed to the teeth.

Pippa peered down at Cull. “Are you all right?”

Framed by his mask, his eyes were dazed.

“Pippa?” he said hoarsely. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your hide, apparently,” she muttered.

Judging that he wasn’t harmed, she rose and dusted off her trousers. Before she could offer him a hand, he was on his feet. When he pushed her behind him, putting himself between her and where the shooter had been, she rolled her eyes at his belated gallantry.

“The assailant took off down that alleyway,” she said. “Did you recognize him?”

Cull shook his head. “A cutthroat for hire, by the looks of him.”

“Who hired him?”

He continued scanning the environs for danger. “The list is too long to get into now.”

A pair of mudlarks came running up. Pippa recognized the curly-haired girl with the striking amber eyes and the gangly brown-haired lad, both of whom had been on the boat last evening.

“We’re ready to go after the bastard, Cull.” The girl’s words were as fierce as the way she slapped a cudgel against her palm. “We’ll show ’im what ’appens when ’e attacks one o’ us.”

“No, Fair Molly,” Cull said firmly. “You’re not to pursue.”

The lad scowled. “Fair Molly ’as the right o’ it. We should make whoe’er is behind this pay…in blood.”

“Violence isn’t the only way to exact retribution, Long Mikey.” Cull’s tone brooked no refusal. “I want the two of you to set up a perimeter: six larks out front, six in the rear, rotating every two hours. No outsiders in or out. Get the others back inside.”

As Cull gestured to the milling larks, Pippa noticed his slight grimace. Then she saw the tear in the right arm of his coat. A stain darkened the fabric.

“You’re hurt,” she said with concern. “Why didn’t you say anything? Did the bullet hit you?”

“It’s a scratch,” he said dismissively.

“A physician should look at it. Wounds can fester—”

“I don’t need a quack. The bullet barely grazed me.”

For heaven’s sake, she thought in exasperation. The man is acting as if he gets shot every day.

Then she realized that perhaps this wasn’t unusual for him. This tough, brawny fellow who seemed inclined to protect all those around him…except himself.

“At the very least, the injury should be examined,” she insisted. “Then we can decide whether a physician is required.”

He gave her a brooding look. “We?”

“Since you clearly cannot be trusted to take care of the wound,” she said tartly, “I had better look at it.”

His stony countenance awakened her inner butterflies. She didn’t know how to interpret it…or the dark energy coming off him in waves.

“Come inside, then,” he said.

Pippa took in Cull’s residence with a mixture of fascination and curiosity. The “Nest,” he’d explained, housed upward of two hundred mudlarks. At present, many of them seemed to be hanging from the rafters of the high-ceilinged great room. Others congregated around the scarred trestle tables, where they alternated between digging into the heaping platters of food and throwing morsels at one another. Still others lounged on the room’s battered furnishings, playing cards, palavering, or napping.

The place was absolute mayhem. It looked like it hadn’t had a proper cleaning in weeks. Maybe ever.

“What did I say about swinging from the lights?” Cull’s voice boomed. “Off.”

Three children dropped from the heavy metal ring of the chandelier onto a table, chortling as they ran off to engage in some other mischief. Seeing those tots play warmed Pippa as much as the fire crackling in the massive stone hearth. For shining through the dirt and disorder was that rare, sought-after vein of happiness. She was reminded of the loving chaos of her own childhood home. Of witnessing the foundlings at the Hunt Academy flourish under caring attention.

An unexpected wave of longing washed over her. As Longmere hadn’t gotten on with her family nor approved of her being so “hands-on” with the foundlings, she’d spent less and less time at the academy. Since Longmere’s death, she hadn’t returned. Not out of a lack of interest but because she was…ashamed.

Of how easily she’d given up the people and work she loved. Of how readily she’d traded her independence—herself—to gain her husband’s approval.

“I’ve been looking for a housekeeper,” Cull said. “They are surprisingly hard to come by.”

The brusque words made her realize that he had been studying her. That he’d misinterpreted her silent anguish as a reaction to his home.

“What makes a home isn’t the housekeeping but the welfare of those inside. Your larks look happy and healthy,” she said quietly.

He grunted. “They’re a pack of bleeding savages.”

His gruff affection did that funny thing to her insides again. When she’d first met Longmere, he’d given her butterflies too. The thought chilled her.

Timothy Cullen and his mudlarks are no concern of yours,she reminded herself. You came to tell him to leave you alone, remember?See to his wound, deliver your message, and get out.

“Where do you want me to look at your arm?” she asked abruptly.

“We’ll use the infirmary.”

She knitted her brows. “You have an infirmary?”

Cull suddenly looked behind her, barking, “What did I just say, Teddy?”

Pippa’s heart seized when she saw that a ginger-haired boy had snuck back onto the chandelier and was swinging upside down by his knees. Suddenly, he lost his hold, plummeting head-first to the ground.

Swearing, Cull raced over.

Thankfully, the boy got to his feet and appeared generally undamaged.

“I ain’t feeling so good,” he said woozily.

“Maybe next time you’ll listen, Teddy.” Sighing, Cull hauled the tot under his good arm, carrying him like an untrained puppy. “Come with us.”

From the great room, Pippa followed Cull through a warren of passageways. Anyone unfamiliar with the Nest would get lost in the winding maze, and she kept her steps brisk to keep up with her host. As they passed various chambers, she noted with some surprise the resemblance with the Hunt Academy. There were dormitories for the boys and girls, and what appeared to be…classrooms?

Adult larks were giving lessons to the younger ones. Pippa passed a room covered in mats, where a female lark demonstrated defensive maneuvers and ways to evade an attacker. In the next room, a male lark was blowing on a whistle as his smaller comrades scaled ropes suspended from the ceiling and practiced balancing upon narrow wood beams. The room after that had a group of adults clustered around a chalkboard, writing down…the prices of crops and coal? One of the larks spotted Pippa and closed the door.

“You train your charges rigorously,” Pippa mused.

Cull cast a glance back at her. “I don’t send them out unprepared.”

Hearing his disgruntled tone, she realized she’d unintentionally offended him. Before she could apologize, the boy tucked beneath Cull’s arm spoke.

“Cull don’t let us go on missions unless we’re ready.” The tot twisted his head to look at her. “I ’aven’t gone on one yet on account o’ failing the reading test.”

“You’re taught to read?” Pippa said in surprise.

The mudlarks’ curriculum had more similarities to the Hunt Academy than she’d first supposed.

“Curb your tongue, lad,” Cull said curtly. “That is mudlark business.”

Teddy fell silent until they reached the infirmary, which contained neatly made cots and a wall lined with cupboards. A woman with salt-and-pepper hair was folding linens on a table. When Cull set Teddy down, the boy ran over to her.

“Mrs. Needles!” Teddy cried.

The lady crouched, meeting him eye to eye. “Oh, dear. Back again, Teddy?”

“I banged me ’ead,” the child said solemnly. “It ’urts.”

“Let’s go take a look at that lump, shall we?” Mrs. Needles stood up, her gaze landing on Pippa. “Beg your pardon, ma’am. I didn’t see you there.”

“This is Mrs. Needles, our matron.” Cull paused, raising his brows in silent question.

Appreciating his discretion, Pippa introduced herself. “I am Pippa Lumley. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Needles.”

“She pushed Cull out o’ ’arm’s way,” Teddy exclaimed. “Brave one, ain’t she?”

“Indeed. I am doubly pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Mrs. Needles shifted her gaze to Cull. “Why, Cull, your arm is bleeding. I’ll need to bandage that up.”

“You take care of Teddy.” Cull glanced at Pippa, his gaze unfathomable. “Mrs. Lumley has volunteered to look after me.”

Cull was playing with fire, and he knew it.

Having Pippa this close was a mistake, but he couldn’t make himself put a stop to it. They were in one of the private rooms, which Mrs. Needles used to treat more serious injuries. Cull’s wound wasn’t serious by any means, but he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to be naked on a bed with Pippa. Even if the bed was a cot, and he was sitting on it while Pippa stood. And all right, he was the only one naked and hardly that: he was down to his shirtsleeves, his sleeve rolled up so that she could fix his arm.

But Christ Almighty, it felt good to be near her.

She didn’t seem as taken with the situation. She kept her gaze studiously on his nicked forearm, cleaning the gash with hot water, an adorable furrow between her brows. Call him depraved, but he fancied her in men’s garb, which accentuated her femininity. Her trousers outlined her long, slender legs. She’d removed her cap and coat, the rounded mounds of her breasts straining her waistcoat in eye-popping ways. Her hair was simply coiled at her nape, stray swirls of sunshine escaping and framing her face.

“You’ll live,” she announced.

I’d die a happy man where I am. “Thank you,” he said.

“I didn’t do much.” She wound a bandage around his arm, her head bent over the task. “Just cleaned you up a bit.”

“You risked your neck to save mine. You could have been hurt.” Dark energy pumped through his veins; if anything had happened to her because of him, he would lose his bloody mind. “Don’t do anything that stupid again.”

Her head snapped up. “You are calling me stupid?”

Bleeding hell. He’d never been good with words.

“Not you. Your actions,” he began.

She braced her hands on her slim hips. “So you are saying I acted stupidly.”

Aye, bad with words he was. And even worse at explaining himself.

“You’re right,” she went on before he could dig himself a deeper grave. “I am foolish for bothering to help you, Timothy Cullen. When my actual purpose was to tell you to stay the blazes away from me!”

He blinked. A rumble started in his chest and escaped from his mouth.

Ire flashed in Pippa’s eyes. “Are you laughing at me?”

He was trying to stop. He really was. But he’d never met a woman as full of endearing contradictions as Pippa. Who was so intent on protecting herself with a prickly shell that she’d forgotten her own tender heart.

“I should have let you get shot,” she said through pearly gritted teeth. “But since you are regrettably alive, I will deliver my message: call off your mudlarks. I neither want, nor need, your interference in my life. In fact, I’ll be happy if I never see your blasted face again!”

She whirled to leave, and he couldn’t let her go. He caught her by the waist, pulling her between his legs. With her standing and him sitting, they were eye to eye. She shoved at his shoulders, but he held on tight.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

At his apology, she stilled.

He pushed his luck further.

“I wasn’t laughing at you but the situation. It’s amusing,” he admitted. “That you’d save a fellow who you were going to tell to sod off.”

She stared at him, her thick lashes fanning. They were sable, like her fine curving brows, and an alluring contrast to her golden locks.

“That was silly of me,” she said. “The shooter could have put an end to my problems.”

Since her lips had a wry curve, he decided that she didn’t really want him dead. Which was an improvement.

“By the by.” She eyed him. “Why is there a list of people who want you dead?”

“My charming personality?” When she didn’t smile at his jest, Cull sighed. “The mudlarks have enemies. Cutthroats who want to take us over for power and profit.”

“Like that blackguard Crooke who beat you when you were just a lad?”

“Aye,” he said in surprise. “I didn’t think you would remember.”

“My memory is not lacking.”

“Not a single thing about you is lacking.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Are you flirting with me while sporting a bullet wound?”

The words echoed what she’d said to him all those years ago. Because of her, those had been the happiest weeks of his life. Yearning, hot and unrequited, incinerated his control.

“I would flirt with you even if I were at death’s door. I’ve missed you, Pippa.” The truth left him, stark and unstoppable. “I have never stopped thinking about you.”

“You left,” she said stiffly. “Without bothering to say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry. I…I didn’t want to leave, but the mudlarks needed me.”

Uncertainty clouded her brow before she drew herself up. “It matters not. It is all in the past.”

“Not for me.” He pulled her against him, gazing into her wide eyes. “I’ll always dream of you, sunshine. Dream of this.”

Swooping down, he gave her the kiss of his fantasies.

What in heaven’s name are you doing? Pippa’s inner voice protested. Push him away. Push him…ooh…

The voice faded. There was only Cull and the hot possession of his mouth.

She’d wondered if time had romanticized her memory of their kiss in the bell tower. Of that toe-curling feeling she’d had of being worshipped. But, no, she hadn’t imagined it: the tender drag of Cull’s lips, the way he courted her mouth with gentle pressure, made her feel special. Wanted.

Yet she was no longer the innocent girl she’d once been. She was a woman who’d been through too much. Who’d gambled on love and lost. While she’d lost faith in that fickle emotion, however, a different kind of desire remained. A desire that her marriage had never assuaged, even though she’d tried to find pleasure with her husband.

“Pippa, whatever is the matter with you?” Edwin’s appalled tones pierced her to the quick. “Lie still; such forward behavior is unbecoming of a lady. You really ought to watch your wine at supper.”

She remembered her stammering apology. As she unearthed that buried trove of shame, what she felt wasn’t embarrassment: it was a wave of strange and uncontrollable anger. She was tired of denying her needs. Of denying herself.

If Cull doesn’t like me the way I am, she thought darkly, then he can take himself off.

Spearing her fingers into Cull’s thick hair, she jerked him closer. She felt his start of surprise…and was ready to bolt the moment he rejected her. His response was a low growl that sent a tremor through her. The next instant, she was arcing through the air, and when she caught her breath, she was flat on her back.

On the cot. Pinned beneath Cull. His tongue was inside her mouth.

When he delved deeper, a bold and aggressive thrust, she answered with a moan. No one had ever kissed her this way before, and in case no one would again, she was determined to make the most of it. She let her instincts take the lead, licking him back, and his groan told her he liked that. She liked it too; the slick rub of their tongues released a cascade of sensations. The tips of her unbound breasts stiffened against her shirt, and damp warmth bloomed between her legs.

Cull plundered her mouth. She kissed him back, letting him sweep his tongue into her tender cove and doing the same to him. Abandoning herself to the dizzying discovery that a kiss could be so much more than a pressing together of lips. Tenderness gave way to hunger, and they ate at each other’s mouths. She buzzed with energy as if she’d suddenly come awake after a lifetime of sleeping.

This is passion, she thought dazedly. What I have always dreamed of.

“Jesus wept, you’re even sweeter than I remembered,” Cull said in a guttural voice.

He trailed kisses over her cheek and nuzzled the curve of her ear. She shivered as he tongued the sensitive lobe before sucking it deep. Need pulsed from her ear to her breasts to her woman’s place until she was throbbing everywhere. Needing everywhere. She ran her palms over Cull’s shoulders, marveling at the thick ridges of muscle beneath the rough linen, the strength of this man whose lips were now fastened upon her throat.

Sucking, licking. Nipping.

She was light-headed, floating in his scent of soap and sea. He unbuttoned her waistcoat and cupped her breast. When he thumbed her nipple through the fabric of her shirt, she moaned. He licked a path from her collarbone to her ear while strumming her sensitive nub. When he pinched lightly, she felt that sweet throbbing between her legs. Poised on the precipice of pleasure, she was ready to leap.

He raised his head, and her heart stuttered at the ravenous desire in his eyes.

“You are so bloody beautiful,” he rasped. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

Mesmerized by his yearning, she felt an answering recognition. A sense of rightness. When he reached for the buttons of her shirt, she put her hand on his.

“Wait,” she said.

He was motionless, his gaze questioning. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, but please take off your mask.” Feeling oddly shy, she said, “I want to see you.”

His large body tensed above hers. “Pippa, I…I don’t think that is a good idea.”

She blinked. “Why?”

He sat up on the edge of the cot. Away from her.

Raking a hand through his hair, he said, “I don’t take my mask off in front of outsiders.”

A chill pervaded her. All of a sudden, she was thrown back to a year ago when Livy had informed her of Longmere’s death and his heinous and clandestine activities.

Secrets and lies. Longmere had specialized in them. If Pippa had learned anything from her marriage, it was to avoid a man like her dead husband. A man she could not trust. Who would shower her with compliments, make her feel special, then pull the rug from under her feet. Yet here she was with the dashed Prince of Secrets…

Who already left me hanging once. Why am I such a fool?

Furious at herself, she surged to her feet. “I have to go.”

“Pippa—”

“Don’t, Cull.” She cut him off with a glare. “This was a mistake. If you come near me again, I vow you will regret it.”

Propelled by the threatening heat behind her eyes, she fled.