Scandalous Wager: A Whitechapel Wagers Novella Read online

  He looked down at it, seeming to study her fingers. She hadn’t worn gloves. Another sign of her impropriety.

  “I won’t have a husband to share carnal pleasure.” Lizzy saw him swallow hard, watched the movement across his throat, and the impulse to kiss him there, to taste his skin, overwhelmed her.

  He reached up and placed his hand over hers where it lay against his chest. His hand was warm and strong. It nearly enveloped her own.

  She could feel his heartbeat now, racing, thumping a wild tattoo against her palm.

  “I want to share those pleasures with you.” There. The words were out now. She could not take them back. She could only wait for his reaction.

  Chapter Two

  Ian blinked hard and then blinked again. Surely this was some lusty dream.

  Lizzy Ainsworth stood in front of him—brown hair pinned tight against her head and her dark blue gown buttoned so high he feared she might choke. Yet his brain struggled with the words coming out of her lush mouth.

  His body had no problem with them, of course. Lizzy was on his mind far too often. The very proper daughter of his superior intrigued him beyond reason. Any mystery snagged his interest, and the conundrum of why a well-bred miss would choose to spend her days in Whitechapel drudge work played on his mind ceaselessly. She was his own puzzle to solve.

  And carnal pleasures? They had shared them aplenty in his fevered dreams. The notion of finding out what lay beneath the tight, buttoned down restraint of her plain dresses, of pulling down her hair and letting it fall around him, of learning the thoughts reflected in that intelligent, searching gaze of hers—those were the desires that consumed his days and nights.

  She stood gazing up at him now, closer than they’d ever been to each other, and he studied the green and gold flecks in her honey-brown eyes.

  His mind still couldn’t make sense of it. Elizabeth Ainsworth in his dingy flat, her hand on his chest, asking him to ruin her.

  He latched onto the phrase she’d spoken. “Carnal pleasures?”

  He sounded stupid, like a green boy who had no notion of what went on between a man and a woman. But he knew. And he yearned to show her everything he knew. If he had any talents as a lover, he wanted to use them to make Lizzy Ainsworth cry out his name as she writhed beneath him.

  But, dream or not, it was impossible. He couldn’t bed her any more than he could court her. Not yet. Perhaps after he’d risen in the police force, achieved the status and financial security her father had. Achieving such a rank, proving his father wrong and making his mother proud—God, rest her—was all Ian had ever wanted. He had listened to his father tell him he was nothing for enough years to make becoming something a priority. It was the desire the fueled him, pushed him to work longer hours, to ask for more work, to say yes whenever a task arose, and it had gotten him an inspector’s rank long before others of his own age and experience could even smell the title.

  His work meant everything to him. And it was the reason he couldn’t spread Lizzy’s long legs and bury himself in whatever heaven he’d find there. Ned Ainsworth would never promote him and he’d have his head—and probably chop off his cock as well—if he dared to touch one of his dignified daughters.

  Heaven help him, he touched her. He couldn’t resist. Lifting his hand, Ian cupped her smooth cheek. God, she was soft. And warm. And willing. Her mouth opened slightly and he took it. He tried to be gentle and failed miserably. Her lips were full and so damn sweet. Sweet and wet. He tasted her with his tongue, plunging in deep, his mouth moving over hers, pressing into her, claiming her in the only way he could.

  It was hard to pull away. As hard as the evidence of his desire for her between his legs. But even if she’d gone momentarily mad, he had to be sane and return her to Ainsworth unspoiled. His livelihood depended on it.

  He rested his forehead against hers for a moment before withdrawing, trying to catch his breath. She made a tiny whimpering sound as they separated, and it nearly unhinged him. The ache in his groin was nothing compared to the burning sensation in his chest at the notion he’d disappointed her, the notion that he had squandered the most extraordinary opportunity he’d ever been given. He began to doubt anything Detective Chief Inspector Ainsworth offered him in terms of success and advancement could truly compare to the pleasure of claiming Lizzy.

  She began to plead. “Please, Ian. I can assist you with my father. Speak well of you. Promote your interests wherever I can. Especially with Sara.”

  “Sara? Who is Sara?” It dawned on him as soon as the question was out of his mouth and reason began to return to his lust-glazed brain.

  “She’s my sister, of course. She’s very steerable. I’m certain I could convince her to accept your proposal.” Her voice had taken on a frantic, excited tone, like a pickpocket attempting to talk his way out of an arrest.

  Ian laughed. He couldn’t stop the bitter chortle from bubbling up.

  “Let me see if I understand you, Miss Ainsworth.” As soon as she heard his tone, she looked as miserable as he felt. “You came here to lay with me so I can marry your sister?”

  Lizzy’s brown eyes went wide and she started to back away toward the door. Her lips, still red and swollen from his kiss, trembled as she spoke. “Forgive me. It was a mistake.” She turned to grasp the door latch and stopped. “Please don’t tell my father.”

  Ian crossed the room in two long strides and planted his hand on the door above her head. He leaned into her back and nuzzled her neck, frustrated to find more bloody blue dress than soft, warm skin. “Take your hair down, Lizzy.”

  Ian feared the dream was over as much as he knew he should end it.

  Then she turned her head, and he kissed the corner of her mouth. Gently this time. Tenderly. Seducing her.

  He felt her body sag back against his just before she lifted her hand. Soft fingers skidded across his face as she reached for a pin in her hair. He continued to kiss her—pressing his lips against her check, trailing them along her jawline—as she removed each hairpin. Sinuous curls tickled his face as she freed strand after strand.

  When her hair was unbound and tumbled down around her shoulders in glossy waves, he pulled away just enough for her to turn and face him, her back against the door.

  What a beauty she was, with her thick dark curls and creamy smooth skin. The flush in her cheeks and fire in her eyes made his body twitch with anticipation. He had never wanted a woman like he wanted this prim school teacher.

  Ian wrapped his hand around the back of Lizzy’s neck, sinking his fingers into her hair, and pulled her toward him for a kiss. She came willingly, opening to him eagerly. He took his time, tasting her with light kisses, running his tongue across her lips, nipping at each in turn before he thrust his tongue into her mouth and savored her fully.

  He reached to slip the first fastening at the neck of her dress. Her smaller, more nimble fingers met his and they raced to unfasten the buttons that ran from her chin to her waist. All twenty-seven of the blasted things.

  As each devilish fastener released, more and more of Lizzy’s warm flesh was exposed. He wanted to taste every inch of it. But he had to go slow. Though she had asked for this, he didn’t miss the way her gaze shifted away from him now, as if she could not quite look him in the eye.

  Her chemise was thin and gauzy, hiding nothing from his view. Ian untied the single ribbon closure and slid the material aside. He stroked the back of his fingers across the mounds of her breasts, pushed high by her corset.

  “Look at me, Lizzy.” Their gazes locked and she bit her lip as he touched her. The sight made Ian bold. He tugged at the edge of her corset, pulling it just low enough to expose her nipples. Hell with going slow. He dipped his head and took one hardened tip into his mouth.

  “Ian.” She captured his head in her hands and pulled him against her, forcing him to take more of her body into his mouth. Sliding her fingers into his hair, her nails scraped his scalp, shooting sensation from the top of his head straight
to his already throbbing groin. The need to be inside her, to give her what she’d come here seeking, blotted out everything else. Even the warning voice inside his head had quieted. Mostly.

  He released one swollen pink nipple and moved his mouth to the other. He licked and nipped at it lightly, just scraping his teeth along the edge. Ian felt Lizzy’s whole body quivering and he was heady with the realization that he gave her pleasure. Pleasure she had never known with any other man.

  He released the delicate bud of her nipple and raised his head to meet her eyes. He read desire in her gaze, as fierce as his own. No fear. No regret. Just need, as raw as his own.

  Ian cupped Lizzy’s cheek with the palm of his hand. “I want you, Lizzy.” Not her silly sister or any other. This passionate, simple beauty, this schoolmistress with a predilection for East End slums, this woman who set him on fire—he had to make her his own.

  He heard her voice, husky and low, over the heated blood thundering in his ears.

  “Then take me. Please.”

  Chapter Three

  He wanted her. He said he wanted her. Even if he only meant this moment, this breathless, incomparable moment, it would suffice. The memory of his words, his kiss, and his body pressed against hers would warm her always.

  He was hers for now, hot and blessedly real in her arms. She’d imagined this, dreamed of it, but her imaginings were nothing compared to his body molded with hers, his tongue, searing and wet, on her flesh. His scent, clean and woodsy, surrounding her.

  Lizzy needed to touch him, feel his bare skin against her own. She slid a hand up to his neck, stroking the hollow there before slipping the top button on his shirt.

  He lifted his head to watch her hands work. He didn’t offer any help and then began to distract her—kissing her face, her cheek, her nose, and nipping at her lips.

  Lizzy finally reached the last closure and slid her hands beneath the cloth.

  Ian released a hiss of breath when she traced a line with her fingers across the carved muscle of his stomach, dipping into the dark patch of hair above the top button of his trousers.

  “Lizzy.” Her name was a plea from his lips, and the heat of his breath warmed her skin as he spoke. Emboldened, she slipped the first button of his trousers, then the next, and the—

  Ian’s hand closed over hers, stilling her progress. “If you continue, I will end up taking you against this door.”

  “Yes.” It was the only word Lizzy could muster and her whole body thrummed with the sentiment. She wanted him here, now, with the battered door at her back and Ian before her, inside her, overwhelming all of her senses.

  She reached to continue unbuttoning his trousers.

  Ian reached too, framing her hips in his hands and then sliding his hands down to begin bunching her skirt, lifting, pulling, gathering her petticoats until his fingers grazed the bare skin of her thighs just above her stockings.

  Lizzy gasped and dropped her head back against the door as he traced the edge of her stocking, sliding his fingers toward the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh.

  “Your skin is so soft here.” He danced his fingers delicately across her skin as he spoke.

  “Please.” She wanted him to touch her where no other man had.

  He slid his hand around her thigh and dug his fingers into her skin as he lifted her leg to his hip.

  She made a sound when her foot left the ground and he grasped her face with his other hand, cupping her chin between fingers and thumb.

  His dark gaze bore into her, and the desire she saw there stoked her own. But more than desire, she saw a question, uncertainty about what they were doing, what they were about to do. But Lizzy had no doubts. This was what she wanted. Nothing else mattered.

  She nodded her head and opened her mouth to voice her consent, but he stopped her words with a kiss.

  As he filled her mouth with his tongue, Ian pressed her harder into the door at her back, grasped her hand, and slid it between them. He pressed her palm against him, and Lizzy wrapped her fingers around his rigid shaft.

  He was impossibly hard and soft at the same time. The silken skin beneath her fingers contrasted sharply with the unyielding stiffness. She longed to see him, taste him, explore every inch of him.

  He pulled away from their kiss as she continued to touch him with exploratory eagerness. He pressed his forehead into the door and seemed to hold his breath as her fingers roamed.

  She turned her head and whispered against the dark curls covering his ear. “Your skin is so soft here.” She smiled as she echoed his words back to him.

  “Temptress.” He hissed the word against her neck.

  Then, as if being rudely woken from a blissful dream, thunder sounded in her ears and the door shuddered at her back. Someone bashed at it three times with enough force and volume to wake the whole building.

  Ian cupped one hand over her mouth and gently lowered her leg to the ground with his other.

  “Inspector Reed, we’ve found another one, sir!”

  ***

  Constable Evans’ frantic tone told Ian all he needed to know about what had been found. Another body. Another woman slashed and left on display. In a back alley, perhaps, but someplace she would be discovered. This East End killer wanted everyone to see his grisly handiwork, and Ian knew the fiend would continue to claim women’s lives until they caught him. Murder was not rare in Whitechapel, but it could usually be ascribed to avarice, drunkenness, or a crime of passion. This was something altogether more sinister.

  “Where, Constable?” Ian called through the door as he pulled Lizzy away from it.

  She began straightening her dress and refastening the long stretch of buttons on her gown.

  “Off Berner Street, sir. Dutfield’s Yard.”

  “I’ll be there directly.”

  “Shall I send word to Detective Chief Inspector Ainsworth?”

  Lizzy’s eyes went wide at mention of her father’s name and Ian pulled her close into an embrace. Her body vibrated, and Ian wasn’t certain if she shivered in fear of the monster loose in Whitechapel or the prospect of her father finding out she had been in his lodgings this evening.

  “No, Evans. Let’s determine what we have first. I’ll meet you on Berner Street.” Ian could hear Evans’s heavy footsteps fade as he made his way back to the yard.

  Ian turned to speak to Lizzy, but she was gone. He heard the clink of dishes and stuck his head into the tiny room that housed his sink. She was washing the teacup she’d used earlier.

  “I am quite capable of my own washing up, Miss Ainsworth.” He said the words with as much lightness as he could muster considering what awaited him on Berner Street. Then he held out his hand to her. “Come, Lizzy. I’ll fetch you a cab down the road and see you into it before I head out.”

  “Is it another young woman? My father won’t speak of it at home, but I saw something in the newspaper.”

  Ian was not surprised to hear that Lizzy read the newspaper, nor was it unexpected that Chief Inspector Ainsworth would want to shield his family from the horrors his division investigated. But it made Ian doubt, made him stop and wonder what Lizzy could find so appealing in him, a man who spent his time face to face with such ugliness.

  “I’m sorry to keep you from your work.” There was sincerity in her tone. A chief inspector’s daughter would know better than most the challenges of the work he did.

  He crossed the distance between them until he stood next to her, as near as he’d been before he pressed her into the door and lifted her leg with the intention of taking her, thrusting so deep inside her that she would know she was the only woman he wanted. Not her sister, not any other woman, just Lizzy, the straight-laced schoolteacher who yearned for carnal pleasure.

  She closed her eyes when he leaned toward her and trailed light kisses down the side of her face, lingering at the shell of her ear. “Do not dare apologize for what we started here tonight.”

  She turned her head away from him. “Perhaps it
was a mistake. Maybe I should not have come.” She spoke the words quietly and the tension in her body screamed uncertainty.

  His hands were on her waist, holding her physically, but he sensed she was retreating emotionally. The last thing he wanted was for her to have any regrets. He sure as hell didn’t. His only regret was that they would not be able to finish what they started, at least not this night. But they would finish it. He would have her. He was determined on that now, and, if he was lucky, he would have her as thoroughly and as often as he was able.

  He reached up to hold her face between his hands. Her gaze still held the same desire he had seen when she walked through his door. Whatever doubts she struggled with, they hadn’t tamped her hunger for him. The realization fired him with a surge of yearning.

  He kissed her, slowly, savoring the taste of her. When he finally pulled away, a heady sense of certainty filled him.

  “This isn’t finished between us, Lizzy.”

  Chapter Four

  The night had been the most exhausting he could ever recall. Before they could remove the first woman’s body, another had been found less than a mile away in Mitre Square. The second body bore more severe words than the first, though neither woman survived their attack. It seemed the killer had been disturbed during the first assault and chose another victim to fulfill whatever insatiable need drove him to destroy women.

  As with the other victims, the wounds followed a pattern and bore a similarity that convinced Ian they were the work of the same killer. With each new body found, some doubted that they were the assaulted at the hands of the same man. But most officers merely feared there would be more. Now, after two in one night, the whispers at the scene had been that next time there would be three, as if the murderer was invincible, unstoppable, and could take all the time in the world to perform his deadly business.