enough when they were alone.
It was then she saw a body breaking from the throng below, running for the stairs. An angry loser from the gaming table had waited until Adrian’s back was turned and was coming after them, his arm raised in threat.
Her husband cocked his head at the sound of running footsteps on the treads behind them; without a word, he switched his stick to his other hand, turned and brought the thing down on the head of his adversary. Then he gave a shove backwards with it, knocking the other man off balance and sending him down the stairs.
‘Idiot,’ he muttered. ‘I shall take my play elsewhere, if this is how they wish to behave here. What he thought to accomplish by that, I have no idea. He should know damn well that I am blind, not deaf.’
‘Blind?’ She should not have been surprised, for it had been obvious as she’d sat with him that he could not read the cards in his hand, nor recognise his own wife, though she sat in his lap.
He smiled, not the least bit bothered by it. ‘Not totally. Not yet, at least. I can see shapes. And light and dark. And enough of you to know that you are a more attractive companion than that blighter I just knocked down the stairs. But I fear that cards are quite beyond my scope.’
‘But how?’
‘You are a curious one, aren’t you?’ He climbed the rest of the stairs with her, opening the door at their head and leading her down the gloomy corridor behind it. ‘It is a family condition, aggravated by a war injury. There was a flash, you see. And I was too close. Without that, I might have lasted a good long time with these tired old eyes. A lifetime, perhaps. Or perhaps not. Not all the men of my family have the problem. I understand that it can take some time before the world begins to go dark.’
‘But I never knew.’ And his family had lived beside hers for generations.
‘A blind man?’ He smiled, and turned suddenly, pushing her against the wall and pinning her hands above her head with his ebony walking stick. Then he kissed her again, more ardently than he had at any point in their brief time together. His lips were on her mouth, her cheeks, her chin, her throat. And she felt the delicious loss of control she’d felt when he kissed her below stairs, and nothing had mattered but the moment they were sharing. He sagged against her so that he could suck and bite at the tops of her breasts, where they were exposed above the neckline of her gown, as though he could not wait a moment longer to bare them, and take the nipples between his lips. It made her moan in frustration, arching her back, struggling against the wood that held her in place and kept her from giving herself to him. It did not matter that he could not see who he was kissing. It was Adrian, and he wanted her. And, at last, she would have him the way she’d always imagined, the way she had wanted him for as long as she’d known the reason for kissing.
He gave a slight buck of his hips so she could feel what their kisses had done to him. And she felt her own wet heat rising in response at the memories of hardness and length and welcome penetration, and the panting eagerness to be so possessed.
And then he said in a voice that was not nearly flustered enough, ‘It is only the eyes that are the problem. The rest of me is quite healthy, I assure you. Once we snuff the candles, you will find me much like any other man.’
Like any other man? For her, there had never been another. But what was happening to him was so common he was barely affected by it. Her eyes flew open and she stared past his shoulder, aware of their shabby surroundings and remembering the reason that she had come looking for him. He had treated her abominably since the day they had married. And now, after a few kisses she had forgotten it all, willing to be used in a public hallway like one of his whores. ‘Let go of me. This instant. Release my arms, you beast, or I shall scream to bring down the roof.’ She struggled against his lips, against his body and against the stick that stayed her hands.
He stepped back and lowered his cane, a slight puzzled frown upon his face. ‘Are you sure? There is a private room just down the hall. The door locks, and only I have the key. We will be all alone, with no fear of interruption.’ He paused, and then his lips twitched into a coaxing smile. ‘I can give you the guinea I promised. There is more than enough from the table tonight. You should know for you saw it. I can tell money well enough, one coin from another,’ he assured hurriedly, as though assuming this might be the problem. ‘They feel differently in weight and size. And as for the rest of it?’ He stepped close again. And when she did not pull away he dipped his head and began to kiss her again, slowly working his way down her throat to settle on the hollow of her shoulder. Then he moved just enough so his lips were no longer touching her, then spoke and let his breath do the teasing. ‘I have been assured that the reliance on other senses has made me an unusually observant lover. I particularly value touch in these moments, and use it to good advantage. And taste.’ He licked with just the lip of his tongue, as though he were sampling her flavour.
Emily gave another dizzy shudder; she could swear that she felt that single lick to the very core of her body, making her imagine he was kissing her in a place that was most unlikely and very improper. And she wondered, would he be shocked if she suggested such a thing?
Or had he been doing that, and worse? He had been assured of his prowess, had he? Assured by whom? She buried her fingers in his hair, trying to pull him away, focusing on the last three years, the doubt, the loneliness, the anger. Had he been going blind, even from the first? Had he known when they married? Had he hurried to marry a foolish woman who was oblivious to his disability?
And what had he been doing since he left her?
Adrian gave a small grunt of pain from the tugging on his hair and lifted his face as if to gaze at her, but in the same sidelong way he looked at everything that told her he could not really see. ‘The coin I offered is still yours, for services rendered at the gaming table. But now that we are above—’ he gave a small shrug ‘—if you do not think it sufficient, I am open to discussion on the subject.’
She balled her fist and gave him a clout upon the ear. ‘I am not a whore, you cloth-brained drunkard. And even if I was, I would not lie with you for all the money in the world.’
The blow did not faze him at all. And the insults made him laugh. But he released her with a bow. ‘Then I apologise for my mistake, though I can hardly be blamed for it. If you are not a whore, then what are you doing in a place such as this?’
It was a fair question, and even she did not know the whole answer to it. At last she said, ‘I was searching for someone.’ She stared at him, willing him to recognise her. ‘For my husband.’
‘And I assume, since you are alone here with me that you did not find him?’
‘No, I did not.’ For the man before her, although right in appearance, was as far away from the man she’d thought she married as was possible. A little bit of her anger gave way to disappointment. And then she felt the growing heat of embarrassment. If he was already amused, how hard would he laugh to realise that he had wasted kisses on his own wife?
‘I should have recognised that you were a lady of breeding earlier by the tone of your voice.’ He sighed, and tapped his forehead with the head of his cane. ‘Perhaps the gin has finally addled my brains. But when you came upstairs with me, I was under the impression …’ He cleared his throat and grinned, allowing her to fill in the rest.
‘You might not be able to see where you gamble, but I have the misfortune of two good eyes. I foolishly blundered into a place that was not safe for me. You came to my rescue, and I thought that, unlike the other men here, if I got you alone it would be possible to reason with you. Which I am doing, now.’ Though he could not appreciate the fact, she reached to straighten her hair and clothing, trying to erase the signs of her earlier compliance.
‘Well. Never mind what I assumed.’ He gave another little clearing of the throat. ‘The less spoken of that the better. I was wrong, and I am sorry if I have given offence. If there is a way I