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A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

Page 115

by Alice Coldbreath

“Don’t you dare,” he had ground out, but his lust must have been written all over his fucking face. She squeezed and Clem had uttered a whimper. There was no other word for it. He was hanging on by a fucking thread.

“Don’t come,” she said, and his head snapped up to look at her in an agony of desire, shock, and sheer fucking awe.

Speech was beyond him. His cock was already pulsing inside her. “Dora,” he gasped. “I can’t …”

“You can,” she insisted, her hips moving fitfully. “I’m so close.”

He felt the sweat standing out on his brow. “I—fuck—” Clem shattered and, mercifully, for the sake of his pride, so did Dora. In the aftermath, he lay flat on his back feeling utterly undone. He was a heaving, panting mess. What the hell just happened? So much for him taking a more detached approach.

Fuck it, he had already messed up this encounter. He would try again on the next. Rolling into her, he dragged her body back against his own. “Allsop would not have done for you, Dorabella,” he heard himself tell her. “He was not man enough for you.”

Shut the hell up, Clem, he told himself when Dora’s head turned slightly to look back at him. Even in the failing light of the room he could see the surprised bewilderment in her expression. She had no idea why he wanted to talk about Harold Allsop in this moment and neither the fuck did he!

TWENTY-NINE

When Dora woke the next morning, Clem had already made himself scarce. She frowned and made her way down to fetch hot water for a good wash. Today was a Thursday so she did not have an afternoon performance, only an evening one. As such she could have the morning off. Maybe that was why Clem had taken off for The Eagle without her? Then again maybe not.

He had been doing that more and more lately, she reflected as she washed and dressed. Telling her to simply catch a cab in for rehearsals whenever she saw fit. Foolishly, she wished they could just travel in together as they had in the early days, but Clem clearly did not feel the same way. He was busy of course, and that was why Eddie and Sam so frequently escorted her.

His being busy, she also hoped was the reason she and Clem did not take luncheon together so often anymore, even when their schedules did coincide. She missed those shared meals more than she could say, though of course, they now lived together which was a whole new level of intimacy. She should not begrudge the fact they no longer ate alone together, that would be ridiculous.

She did not mind sharing him, in fact she took great pride in the fact she had brought someone into their family. It still seemed astonishing that she could lay claim to such a man as her husband. She fancied that even Felix had already started to notice some of Clem’s better qualities. Impulsively that morning, she had shown both her brother and Mrs. Cherwell the sketches Clem had done of her.

Felix had been considerably taken aback and had looked them over several times in baffled surprise.

“He has flattered me of course,” she said when her brother remained speechless. “But you must admit they contain some artistic merit.”

Felix cleared his throat. “You never said he was an artist,” he said sounding vaguely accusatory.

“He is a man of many hidden talents,” Theo had not been able to stop herself from bragging.

Mrs. Cherwell was a lot more straightforward. “Guess it’s like wot they says. Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. He’s made you look like one of them wotsits.”

“Wotsits?” Theo had echoed feeling mystified.

“Fast women wot ‘angs in portrait galleries,” she said forebodingly. “Lives their lives steeped in sin and then comes to nasty endin’s.”

Theo could only suppose she meant artist’s models and felt highly gratified. “Do you really think so?” she asked, sneaking another look at herself through Clem’s eyes.

“’E could have at least drawn you on some hair for decency’s sake!”

“He rather likes my short hair now,” Theo said trying not to sound smug and failing in the endeavor.

“I can see that, miss!” The housekeeper retreated to her kitchen muttering what sounded suspiciously like “indecent, I calls it!” under her breath.

Theo had shrugged and returned the drawings upstairs. Mrs. Cherwell’s words had strangely bolstered up her spirits after her recent misgivings. Sometimes lately, she would catch Clem silently observing her with a troubled expression on his face, but if she ever questioned him about it, he immediately snapped out of it and denied anything was amiss.

She hoped to goodness that everything was fine as he repeatedly insisted. Only sometimes she could not help but worry that he might have grown tired of her companionship already. It would not be so very surprising, she reflected. She had lived a rather narrow life experience so far, though she was eager to broaden her horizons. Clem had always lived such a full and colorful life.

Before she got too anxious, she reminded herself that he had finally shared more of his beginnings with her which was highly gratifying. Maybe it would just take Clem longer to view her in the light of family, she considered. His own experience of family life had been so disjointed after all. That boarding school of his had not sounded a pleasant place, even if he had come across a sympathetic schoolmaster or two.

After his mother’s death he had no female presence in his life at all, until he moved in with his Aunt Nancy and Uncle Dan at fifteen. Then it had not been long before he had struck out on his own. Though she was sure he must have never lacked for female company as a young man, he had probably not seen much by way of working marriages, she thought and marveled anew that his father had seen fit to treat him so shabbily.

At the top of the stairs, she paused before crossing the landing to knock lightly on Henrietta’s door. “Come in,” her sister called, and Theo entered, still carrying Clem’s sketches.

“How are you feeling this morning?” she asked. Once again, Henrietta was fully dressed, this time in a sober gown of navy blue. She wore a coral-colored cameo at her throat that had been their mother’s. “You are looking better by the day,” she added approvingly.

Henrietta smiled wanly. She was unpacking her trunk. “What have you there?” she asked with a flicker of curiosity.