Temptations of Anna Jacobs (11 page)

Her hands slid up around his neck, pulling him tighter to her. He picked her up by her bottom and set her on his lap. Her skirts bunched up at her knees and he longed to slide his hands up both legs to the center of her. To explore and see if she was wet for him, as wet as he was hard. His mouth left hers and he trailed kisses down her jaw to the column of her throat and then down her neck, across her collarbone to her shoulder, where he nipped lightly.

She released soft, sweet sounds of pleasure, then sighed contentedly as he continued his perusal of her body. He pulled her closer to him, and he rubbed himself against her core. She sucked in a breath, but said nothing in protest. He kissed the tops of her breasts, where her labored breathing had them rising and falling above the bodice to the point he couldn’t stand it any longer. With a quick maneuver he pushed the bodice down, freeing her breasts.

He dipped his head and took one nipple in his mouth. The hard, erect little nub beaded against his tongue, and Anna moaned loud and long. Her hands gripped at his shoulders and she arched toward him, pressing her breast farther into his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her. But he knew that couldn’t happen. She was a lady, a virgin, and therefore off-limits for him. Still he wanted her, and she obviously wanted him, so he’d give her a little more, then he’d force himself to walk away.

He moved himself so that again he was pressed against the apex of her thighs, and he shifted the fabric of her skirts out of the way. Then, as he moved against her, her eyes flew open briefly, filled with wonder and then shuttered closed again. He kissed at her throat, cupped her breast, then kissed her again, all the while moving against her. He could imagine her wetness against him, though he knew it was nothing but his imagination. There were far too many layers between them. Still the hard ridge of him rubbed her in just the right spot, and she hiked her legs up, instinctively wrapping them around his waist.

To walk away from her would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.

Then her climax hit and she tossed her head back and gasped again and again as the pleasure rocketed through her.

When the pleasure subsided, she opened her eyes. Their heavy breaths mingled, and he tried his best to reign in his desire. He could take her right here in this carriage; he knew she’d let him. But then where would that leave her? He was a bastard. A bastard who had been sent to prison for murder. Certainly Annabelle Jacobs deserved a hell of a lot better than the likes of him.

“Drew,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“I found that immensely enjoyable.”

Her honesty shook him. “Yes, well, there’s a lot more where that came from, but I should not have taken such liberties with you.”

“Shouldn’t that be my choice?”

“Some things are best left alone, Anna.” He’d just used her. Allowed the darkness inside of him to rear its ugly head, and instead of getting lost in a bottle, he’d got lost in the sensations of Anna. “I am not a man you want in your life. Your reputation would be ruined simply by being acquainted with me, let alone this.” He removed her from his lap, placed her on the seat across from him, let her straighten her skirts. “I should take you home.”

She nodded without argument.

Anna rolled over in bed for the hundredth time. What did her reputation matter if she wanted to be with Drew? She couldn’t deny that, not the physical desire, nor the desire for the simple pleasure of his company. The things he said to her, the way he touched her—certainly that meant he wanted those same things. That he craved her presence as she did his.

But ultimately he’d told her that she shouldn’t want him around. It made no sense. He was the son of a duke, and he, for the moment, was gainfully employed with Scotland Yard. Yes, he’d been arrested, but she knew he’d not killed those women, and it mattered not to her what the rest of London believed. She’d already heard, firsthand, what his awful mother thought of him, but that only made Anna think poorly of the dowager duchess, not of Drew.

Though he hadn’t mentioned looking for a wife, if he were, Anna would certainly be interested in being said wife. He had said that had they met under different circumstances that he would court her like a proper gentleman. Perhaps he merely needed the right sort of encouragement.

***

Mitchell Harrison had made a decision and today was the day to follow through on it. He knocked on the front door and was once again led into Lady Wickersham’s parlor. She was already seated, working with embroidery while sitting before the fire. She looked lovely in a gown of pale blue. Her hair was piled onto her head in an artful coiffure.

“Mitchell, is everything all right? Is something wrong with Annabelle?” Her hand fluttered to her throat as she spoke.

“Yes, all is well with Anna. I did not mean to alarm you. I came to see you.”

“Many apologies for my lack of manners; please sit.” She motioned to the sitting area. They took their seats and he watched her fold her hands precisely in her lap. Such a lady. She was delightful.

“I suspect you have heard about Anna’s recent examination.”

“Yes, those dreadful books she’s been poring over. She spends much of her study time at her brother’s, as I cannot abide the books and those illustrations. It’s all too much for me.”

“I imagine it would be, for such a genteel lady such as yourself,” he said.

“Yes, thank you for acknowledging such a thing. Annabelle seems to be completely immune to and put off by my genteel nature.”

“Anna is many things, but I’m not certain I would classify her as genteel. I believe she is the only one of my students who hasn’t retched during class.” Then he frowned. “My apologies; I should not mention such things to you. I merely meant that she is an extraordinary woman. I should think you’d be proud to know that she received the highest score on this examination. She even scored higher than seventy percent of her male counterparts.”

Lucinda smiled. “Of course I am quite happy for her. I knew she would do well; she’s always been so focused. Even as a little girl, she would fuss while I would braid her hair. She hated being taken from her books so very much and couldn’t understand why it mattered to me that her hair be presentable.” She sighed. “I merely wanted so much more for her.”

“You are a good mother,” he noted.

“Yes, I like to believe I am.” Again her hand fluttered to her throat.

“I wonder if perhaps I could take you to the theatre or a museum sometime.” There, he’d said it—the absolute worst thing she could do was tell him no. He’d kissed her once, but things had been a little awkward between them after that. He was hoping that the moment they’d shared hadn’t been simply a response to the brief argument they’d had and instead was the spark of something more to come.

“I am not certain how to respond to that.”

“I believe the appropriate response would be either ‘Yes, thank you, that would be delightful’ or ‘No, sir, I believe you are quite mad.’”

She laughed. “Yes, I would be delighted.”

“To which one? The theatre or museum?”

“Either. Both.” She smiled, looked up at him from beneath her lashes. It seemed some things age couldn’t erase.

“Both sounds perfect to me. I shall call on you again sometime and we can make our plans.”

“Yes, I think that might be just the thing.”

He stood, took her hand and bent over it.

“Thank you, Mitchell, for coming personally to tell me about Annabelle’s academic achievement. I am proud of her. I am merely concerned for her future.”

“As I said, you are a good mother.” And then he left her presence, feeling more hopeful than he had in a very long time.

***

It had been two days since Anna had seen or heard from Drew. Since the night she’d accompanied him to the pub and he’d kissed her with more passion than she’d ever known, there had been no contact from him. She missed him; she couldn’t deny that. But she’d also been plagued by the investigation. The more she thought on the theory that a different weapon had been used in the most recent killing, the more certain she became. Even knowing that the Ripper was injured, the differences were too pronounced. But before Anna brought any of this information to Drew she wanted to make certain that her assumptions were well-founded. So she went to see Doctor Harrison.

Anna tapped her knuckle against the wooden door to Doctor Harrison’s office.

“Yes, come in,” he muttered.

She opened the door and he set aside whatever he’d been eating and wiped his mouth on his napkin. “Annabelle, come in, dear, come in.”

“Thank you, Doctor Harrison. I do apologize for intruding on your meal.”

“Nonsense. I could stand to miss a few meals.” He patted his slightly rounded stomach. “Now what is it I can do for you?”

“I’m afraid I need some guidance.”

“Nothing to be afraid of for that,” he said with a chuckle.

She wasn’t certain if she should tell him she’d been assisting in the investigation—unofficially of course—or not. It wouldn’t be that far-fetched, considering who her brother was, but most people also knew that Simon had been sent away. “I was hoping you could look through some notes and photographs and then give me your opinion.”

He nodded. “You seem nervous, Annabelle. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, well, this is a sensitive situation. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask for your confidence in this matter.”

“Certainly. As a doctor, I find that most situations I deal with are sensitive in nature. It comes with the profession.”

She withdrew the folders from the bag and placed them on his desk. He opened the first one, then gasped audibly when he reached the first photograph.

“Dear heavens, is this that Ripper fellow from the newspapers?” he asked. He wiped his mouth, which had lost nearly all of its color.

“I’m afraid so. Doctor Harrison, you know my brother has been the lead inspector on the investigation and, well, I’ve had the opportunity to study the notes and I have a theory, but I want to make certain I’m correct before I bring anything to the attention of the authorities.”

“Very well.” For the next half hour he read through notes, examined pictures and flipped back and forth between files, making notes of his own. Finally he set them aside. “Interesting.”

“What is?” she asked.

“Well, I do believe the most recent victim was done by the hand of a different killer.”

“Yes, that seems quite evident to me, too. The injuries are simply too different.”

“You said that you were the one to stumble upon this?” When she nodded, he continued, “Obviously the police surgeon is not paying close enough attention to the details. Not only does it appear that the wounds were caused by a different hand, but the cuts themselves are different, indicating to me that a different blade was used.”

Anna took in the relief that washed over her. She’d suspected those very things, but she didn’t quite trust herself on such matters.

“But the most obvious piece of evidence is the fact that there were no organs removed,” he said.

“Precisely.”

It seemed promising enough that she’d have something new to bring to Drew.

“Thank you, Doctor Harrison, for the second opinion.”

“It doesn’t appear that you needed it, but I’m happy to provide it anytime. And I shall keep my mouth closed about the matter.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “If you need solid evidence, though, you could perform an experiment of sorts.”

“Precisely what type?”

And then he explained in detail the rather gruesome fashion in which they could test the knife theory. It seemed to be the perfect plan. “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome,” he said with a smile. “By the by, you did excellently on your examination, Annabelle, though you do still need to pay closer attention to those sutures.”

Anna grinned back at him. “I will absolutely do that.” Then she gathered her belongings and left. She would bring the information to Drew as soon as she was able.

The Ripper could not abide the countryside any longer.

His greatcoat beat at the back of his knees as the wind whipped around him. It was irritating having to return to the streets in such a fashion. He’d grown quite accustomed to hunting in the more affluent parts of town. He especially liked finding his victims at his friends’ balls and soirees. It had been such a thrill to sit in the club and hear talk of his work: the horror, the suspicion, the awe.

Now he was back on the streets, in a darkened alleyway with the filth, the impoverished and the whores. He’d already had two try to coerce him, but they hadn’t been right. But as he leaned against the lamppost, he could see her now. She rounded the corner and came down the street, heading right for him.

She was perfect; the right one for tonight’s kill. Petite, but with just enough plumpness to make her appealing. She had a ruddy complexion to her cheeks. She liked her drink. They all did. The lot of them. Filthy whores.

He crooked his finger to call to her and she sidled up to him, her generous hips swaying as she moved. As she got closer he could see she was far younger than he’d first thought—probably only twenty.

“Och, a fine gentleman you be, come this way.” She took his hand and led him deeper into the alleyway. When they finally reached a secluded area, she smiled up at him. The moonlight was sparse tonight, but he could see enough to realize she was missing several of her teeth. “How you be wanting it tonight?” She pulled her skirts up around her waist.

He could stand it no more. These whores were not as much of a challenge. Those tarts in Mayfair had fought back, begged for their lives. These were too easy.

He withdrew the knife from the inside of his greatcoat and had it up against her throat before she could scream.

“I’m going to cut you,” he told her.

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, but he’d sliced into her throat before her pleas could begin. He didn’t want to hear her voice again. Her head lobbed back and blood spurted across his face and then poured down her neck. He cut her cheeks, her eyelids, then let her body drop the ground. Swiftly he cut through her clothes and then into her abdomen.

He knew what he sought and as he reached his hand into her warm, wet body, he found it with ease. Several precise cuts later and the organ sat in his hand.

Oh, it was good to be back.