This time Merryn was a little more prepared, not quite so stunned by something so utterly beyond her experience. Now, instead of discovery, there was an edge of wicked excitement and a heat that lit her from the inside out, burning her up, making her long for more. She knew she wanted this. Garrick had shown her that there was a part of herself she had not realized existed, a wild, wanton side so different from the cool, rational Merryn Fenner whose life had been lived vicariously in the pages of books.
She opened her lips to Garrick and touched her tongue eagerly to his. He tasted delicious. She could not name the sensation that held her but it felt like temptation distilled. She was drowning in it, so potent, so hot. There was a tight, tense ache in the pit of her stomach. Her mind spun. The solid stone of the Fleet seemed to rock beneath her feet.
She felt Garrick groan deep in his throat. He laced his hand in her hair and gave her back all she asked for, more, deepening the kiss, his tongue moving against hers, demanding a response she barely understood. Merryn forgot where she was, forgot every last one of the rules that guided a lady’s behavior and slid her arms about his neck so that she could draw him closer, pressing her body against his as though the layers of clothing between them simply did not exist. His tongue slid along the inside of her lower lip, his teeth closed about it, biting softly, and Merryn’s body clenched tight as a fist, deep inside.
Someone laughed close by, a lewd sound, full of suggestiveness. There was a crash from near at hand and someone swore loudly and the sounds and smells of the prison slid back into Merryn’s mind.
“Sure I can’t hire out a cell to you so you can finish your business, sir?” a voice said and Merryn pulled herself from Garrick’s arms and turned to see the jailer leering at them.
For a second she caught Garrick’s expression. His eyes were blazing and his face was taut with desire. They were both breathing as though they had been running. Then his face changed. The naked desire was gone, replaced by his habitual cool indifference.
“Consider your debt paid,” he said.
“Twelve shillings,” Merryn said. She was proud to be able to find any voice at all. “For one kiss. You are extravagant, your grace.”
“It was worth every penny,” Garrick said, “but I apologize that I chose to take payment in public.”
Merryn shivered deep inside. No doubt a kiss meant little or nothing to Garrick, rakehell that he had been. She, in contrast, felt cast adrift, lost. The heat in her blood was cooling now and it left her feeling as bereft and alone as she had done the previous night. This was wrong, this desire she had for Garrick. So how could she feel it so intensely that it hurt?
Garrick drew her close to him, belatedly shielding her from the curious glances and the knowing stares of the inmates and guards. His face was hard and set, as though he was angry with her, or perhaps with himself. He said nothing else until they were outside the gates and even then he gave her no choice, practically throwing her into the carriage that was standing waiting, before jumping in after her and slamming the door. Tumbled on the seat, out of breath and dismayed, Merryn reached for the door only for him to catch her wrist and pull her back so that she was practically sitting on his lap.
“Forgive my presumption,” he said, “but you will not leave my protection until I see you are safely home, Lady Merryn.”
Thoroughly incensed, Merryn struggled to free herself. “I would in all probability be safer anywhere else than with you,” she snapped.
Garrick laughed. “Let’s not put that to the test.”
He rapped on the roof of the carriage and the horses moved off. He sat back, watching her, crossing one elegantly booted ankle over the other knee.
“What were you doing in the Fleet?” he asked.
“I am surprised that you need to ask,” Merryn said resentfully. “You were there before me, weren’t you? You gave Dr. Southern the gin to render him so drunk he remembered nothing!”
She waited but Garrick did not deny it. A smile that was not quite nice curled his lips. “You would have to call before seven in the morning if you wished to see Dr. Southern sober, I fear.”
“He said that you visited him often,” Merryn said, “no doubt to make sure he is well supplied with drink and therefore insensible.”
Garrick’s smile deepened. “I do visit him often,” he agreed. “For whatever reason.”
“He also said that you bought him out of prison.”
“Also true,” Garrick said. “I paid off his debts on both of the most recent occasions he was in the Fleet.” He sighed. “Dr. Southern was physician to our family for many years. When I returned to England and found that he had ceased to practice because of his weakness for the bottle, I tried to help him. I paid his debts. I visited him in the Fleet.” He shrugged. “I quickly realized that there was nothing I could do for him. He prefers to be in the prison because it is familiar to him. He feels safe. He is fed and housed. If I buy him out he only seeks its shelter again.” His mouth thinned. “He is an unhappy man but his unhappiness at least is not on my conscience.”
“He is in your pocket,” Merryn said, “bought off by you, your creature.” She felt bitter and frustrated and she could see something in Garrick’s eyes, something of regret and pity that only made her all the angrier. “I’ll go back,” she said. “I’ll find a way to get him to talk.”
“I wouldn’t advise it,” Garrick said. “You saw what happened today. Next time you might get yourself into far greater difficulties.”
“I would have persuaded them to let me go,” Merryn said.
Garrick grabbed her without warning, his hands biting into her upper arms. His touch was fierce. It was so sudden and so shocking that Merryn could not hold back a gasp.
She had never seen this anger in him before. For a moment she thought he was going to shake her. His eyes were black with fury, his mouth a hard line. She could feel tension radiating from him.
“Persuade them?” he said. “With what?” He bit the words out. “You had no money. And you have only one other commodity to sell.” His gaze raked her with insulting thoroughness. “Would it have been worth it—a few fumbled liberties—for your freedom?”
“Is that what you took from me?” Merryn said. She was shaking now. Her voice was shaking, too. “A few fumbled liberties?”
She heard Garrick swear under his breath. He dropped her onto the seat and pinned her there with one hand on each side of her. She pressed back into the plush cushions, trying to put some distance between them. His physical presence was overwhelming.
“You are too courageous and too stubborn, Lady Merryn,” he said. “You never seem to learn that one day your persistence will get you into trouble.”
He was very close to her. Merryn stared into his eyes. They were the deepest brown, flecked with gold and green and they held her gaze with absolute demand. She felt odd, light-headed. She knew she was an inch away from shifting her gaze to Garrick’s mouth, and then he would kiss her again, or she would kiss him. It was inevitable; and there would be the same undertow of anger and longing and helpless desire in their embrace that there had been before. Her stomach felt odd, tingling with nerves, aching for something deeper.
“Tell me,” she said suddenly. “Tell me about Stephen’s death.”
The change in Garrick was extraordinary. She saw darkness fall across his eyes like a veil, thick, impenetrable, shutting her out. The line of his jaw was as hard as granite. He said nothing at all.
Merryn stared at him, baffled and frustrated, while outside the carriage the flow of people swirled around