“You have made that quite clear before,” Garrick said. He shrugged and slid the pocketbook back into his jacket. “As you wish.” He turned to walk away.
The jailer smiled unpleasantly and tightened his grip. “Well, then, missy, I’m sure we can find a nice cell for you until someone chooses to pay up. Assuming that they do …”
“Wait!” Merryn called. Her heart was thumping. She saw Garrick pause but he did not turn. His back looked very broad and very uncompromising. “Please,” she added, and there was rather more pleading than she liked in her tone.
Garrick turned back to her. A smile tugged at the corners of his lean mouth. “Are you going to beg?” he inquired gently.
“No!” Merryn said. She moderated her tone. “But I should be very grateful …” She stumbled a little over the words. Damn him for enjoying her discomfiture. She could have slapped him, she was so angry.
“Of course,” he said courteously. With a sigh he took out his pocketbook again and paid the jailer, who let Merryn go with every sign of disappointment. Garrick offered her his arm.
“Permit me to escort you back to Tavistock Street, Lady Merryn.”
“No,” Merryn said. “I—”
“It wasn’t a question,” Garrick said, taking her arm and propelling her down the stairs. “It was an order.”
They reached the first landing. Merryn stopped. “I will pay you back,” she said.
Garrick slanted a look down at her. “How? I thought you said you had no money.”
It was a fair question, Merryn thought. Tom paid her a generous amount but she had spent the last of her wages on a copy of Samuel Richardson’s Clarissa. She had not enjoyed the book; now she wished she had the money instead. And she could scarcely ask Garrick to knock the sum off the thirty thousand pounds he had promised her—and she had rejected.
Garrick waited a moment, then smiled and urged her down the next flight. “I won’t press you for payment,” he murmured.
Merryn stopped again. “I’ll borrow the money from Joanna,” she said fiercely. “Or Alex. Or anyone. I’ll go to the moneylenders. Anything not to be in your debt.”
“Anything?” Garrick said. He grabbed her, turning her against the wall. The cold stone pressed against her back. He put one gloved hand against her cheek, tilting her face up to his. The leather of his glove felt cool and smooth against her hot skin. He kissed her.
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
