"I didn't know if I should stay," he said. "I wanted to make certain Max was all right."

"He's sleeping." She took a seat on the settee where he'd been perched a moment ago. Seeing she expected it, he sat again. "He told me something before he dropped off, and I confess I don't know what to make of it."

He listened to her story with steadily rising brows, then scratched his stubbled jaw. "So, you believe he was taken from another city in Ohram, brought here, and used in a secret experiment to make him fit for upper-cla.s.s Yama to feed on?"

"Taking etheric-force is supposed to have significant benefitsa"aside from being pleasurable. As long as the rohn avoid becoming addicted, it's said they live longer, healthier lives. If the daimyo could enjoy the same advantages without suffering the taint of human emotion, why wouldn't they jump at the chance?"

Adrian rose and began to pace, absently rubbing his right wrist. He couldn't help thinking of Tommy Bainbridgea"even though the boy's disappearance seemed unlinked to Yamish affairs. "Did Max mention anyone else? Any other child being subjected to these tests with him?"

"No, but we can't a.s.sume they only tried this once. Adrian." She caught his arm to stop him going back and forth. "Do you think Herrington had anything to do with this experiment?"

He considered that. "I don't know. It seems unlikely. If he wanted Max for more testing, why involve the Children's Ministry? For what it's worth, your father has a better reputation than most of the Yama in Awar. Humans like him. With his archaeological projects, he's actually become a romantic figure."

Adrian took her hand in both of his as she made a face. "I am aware of one Yamish doctor working here, the one who put in my implants. He struck me as more than capable of doing this, but perhaps that's because his manner was so foreign. He has the Queen's seal of approval, at any rate. She appointed him to oversee the process of retraining human doctors as part of the negotiated exchange of technology." Adrian knuckled his forehead. "I can't recall if I've heard anyone refer to him as a dragon, but the rohn are always giving people colorful names. There could be dozens of Yama they call that."

"I could ask Abul what he's heard."

Adrian shook his head. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. These are highly placed people, people who are adept at intrigue. Your friend could get himself into trouble without even realizing he had." He thought back to the coffee vendor outside his station, to the way she'd stared at him and the doctor, practically boring holes with her eyes. If nothing else, he knew she hated daimyo. The enemy of my enemy a he mused. "There may be someone I can start with more quietly, someone who won't underestimate their ruthlessness."

"Oh, G.o.d." Roxie covered her face in her hands and blew out her breath. "I don't want to be thinking about this, or making you. Right now, all I want to focus on is keeping Max safe."

Hearing her exasperation, Adrian sat again, closer this time, allowing himself the pleasure of wrapping his arm around her back. Roxie sighed and relaxed against him. Saints above, she felt good.

"I forgot to mention this before," he said, "but a former colleague of mine sits on the board at the Children's Ministry. I'll speak to him tomorrow. He owes me a favor, as it happens. Between us, we might contrive to get you official custody."

"That would be better than a dream." She twisted around to face him. "Are you sure you should involve yourself any further? Considering who I am?"

He kissed her furrowed brow. "Haven't you heard that famous Bhamjrishi saying, 'It's not who you are, it's who you know'?"

She smiled, but her eyes were shadowed. "I don't want to get you in trouble."

"I'm not sure I care anymore."

"Oh, Adrian." Her laugh was sad but not completely. "I don't know what I would have done without you tonight. You were magnificent."

He grinned. "I was, wasn't I."

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Her hands lay flat across his chest, smoothing him through the cloth of his shirt. The gentle friction had his heart racing.

"Adrian?" she said shyly. "I'd like you to know how grateful I am."

He plucked a quick kiss from her lips. "It was my pleasure and my privilege to help you. You don't have to thank me."

She caught her breath with a little sigh. "But suppose I wanted to express my grat.i.tude"a"her fingers circled his middle shirt b.u.t.tona""more substantially than just saying 'thank you'? Suppose I wanted to be grateful for purely selfish reasons?"

"Ah." His heart leaped inside his rib cage. "That would be a different story."

Their eyes met and held. The memory of all that had pa.s.sed between them hung in the air. You're an idiot, he told himself, if you leave this woman behind again.

Not yet ready to accept the ramifications of that, he cleared his throat. "If you're going to be, er, substantially grateful, I think we ought to move to your room."

"I don't want to force you into anything."

He laughed and placed her hand on his markedly bulging c.o.c.k. "I know you're fairly irresistible, but does this feel like I'm being forced?"

"No-o," she admitted, her fingers tightening a little on their own. She seemed to want to test just how hard he was.

With a chuckle that was half groan, he wrapped his arms beneath her b.u.t.tocks, lifted her off her feet, and carried her down the darkened hall to the stairs. Small bra.s.s lamps lit the turn of each flight, and the walls were lined with brick. A faded green runner, patterned with hummingbirds, flowed down the creaking treads.

He set her onto the landing so he could crush himself into the lee of her thighs. It was only one floor to her bedroom, but at that instant it seemed too far. "Why," he asked, "am I always going out of my mind around you?"

She snaked her hand between their bodies to unfasten his strained trousers. "I think we're nota"goodnessa"" She broke off as her palm brushed his arousal through the cloth, apparently finding more than she expected. "I think we're both a little crazy because we're not doing it enough."

Her fingers slipped beneath his linens to curl around his naked flesh. He grunted with the overwhelming relief. Her hand was on him. Her hand was on him. She eased his shaft upward, measuring his strength and weight. He couldn't resist pushing himself through her hold, slowly, so he could savor the sensations, so she'd know exactly what she'd done to him. A coolness at his very tip told him he was growing wet.

She moaned admiringly at his state, her grip both torture and reward. "Maybe three, four times a day, we'd feel calmer."

"Four," he said, catching her lips for a deep, wet kiss. If she wasn't going to mention why they weren't doing this that often, neither was he. "Four would wear me out fine."

He kneaded her b.r.e.a.s.t.s through the conservative dress she'd donned to impress the Children's Ministry, a maneuver that caused her to wriggle against the bricks. The distention of her nipples turned the stiff navy bodice wicked. Smiling to himself, he circled each hardened tip with the pad of his thumb, then bent to suckle them through her dress. The material tasted of starch but smelled of her.

"Take me here," she whispered, releasing him long enough to hike up her skirts.

He touched one perfect thigh, spellbound, then squeezed until he could feel the long, strong muscle that lay beneath. Following it upward, he cupped her dampened underclothes.

"I want you in a bed," he said.

"You can have me in a bed next time." She caught his earlobe between her teeth. "I'm very, very grateful. It's going to take a while to show you how much."

If her mention of next times weren't enough, when she curled the tip of her tongue inside his ear, he was lost.

Immediately outrageously impatient, he ripped her underthings at the crotch. A heartbeat was enough to shove his trousers down his hips. He bent his knees to align their bodies and found her thighs already spread.

"In me," she whispered. "Oh, G.o.d, come in me now."

She was wet, quivering against his crown. The little cry she made when he pressed that part of him inside her sent icy-hot thrills skittering down his spine.

"All of it," she said, her hands urging.

He thrust without a second thought, burying himself within her s.e.x. Her flesh fluttered around him, clinging and then releasing in quick, almost frantic alternations. Adrian thought he'd been hard before, but now his skin felt stretched enough to burst. He ground his teeth together for control.

"That's nota quite all of it," he gasped, swiveling his hips a fraction deeper.

"I want it," she said, one thigh rising to climb his leg. "I want it all."

Taking her at her word, he hooked her knee over his elbow and spread her wide. With one more push, he reached his limit.

"Ah," she said, her head rolling on the brick. "Yes. Yes."

Heat expanded in his groin, the sensation of urgency rising with her response. He braced his knees on the wall and ground deliciously in. The ache of being inside her was heaven, antic.i.p.ation and reward swirling into an intoxicating mix. Everything he knew about his own body said this was going to be quick. He had just enough presence of mind to find her bud of pleasure with his thumb.

As he did, Roxanne gasped something unintelligible, then almost lost her footing as she began to climax. Not about to relinquish his precious mooring, he shoved her tighter against the brick. Then, every bit as needy as she, he drew back and pumped her onward with quick, short thrusts.

"I can't stop coming," she moaned, though it was hardly a complaint. Her hands tightened around his shoulders. "Oh, G.o.d, harder." Her pelvis arched up to help him, shifting the pressure of his strokes to the bottom side of his c.o.c.k, where the nerves were more sensitive. He gasped at the change, his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es pulling tight in preparation, his groin ready to explode.

"Oh, yes," she cried. "Faster. Yes, come with me. I want to feel you. Oh, Lord, I can tell you're close."

She m.u.f.fled a scream against his neck, her sheath quivering violently around his c.o.c.k.

He loved the look of her in climax, the feel, half regretting the need to come himself. Hoping to keep her in her present state as long as humanly possible, he worked her swollen c.l.i.toris beneath his thumb.

She flung her head back at the stimulation, her muscles locking in place. Her shudders deepened. Like drumrolls, they ran up and down his p.r.i.c.k. Sucking a desperate breath, he drew out nearly to his crest, then drove in hard. He was riding the edge of his culmination, close enough to taste. One more time he pulled back against the exquisite suction of her spasms. Her body grasped him greedily beneath the crown. That was it. Muscles tightened at the base of his s.e.x. He surged forward, jolting her into the wall with unthinking force.

She moaned his name as he burst in deep, aching pulses, pouring out the feeling in long, sweet jets. Just barely he managed to keep his feet. He came until he couldn't anymore. Then silence spread around them while he rocked her gently, thankfully, in his arms.

"Well," she said at last, rubbing her silky hair against his cheek. "I'm not sure who showed who they were grateful, but that'll do for a start."

He laughed, helpless not to. "Is that an invitation to stay the night?"

She pulled back far enough to see his face. "Do you want to?"

"Always," he said, then wondered if he should have. That word was a kind of promise. He tested it in his head, a cautious swimmer with one toe in the water. Always. It didn't sound as strange as he'd thought.

More skeptical than he, Roxie's eyebrows climbed her forehead. Whatever her doubts, she didn't air them out loud, just shook down her skirts and offered him her hand.

As she led him the rest of the way to her room, he tried to decide if he were relieved or sorry not to be confronted. After tonight, he couldn't doubt that risking everything for her would have extremely sweet rewards.

Chapter 20.

"I have lied to you," her handsome swain confessed. "I am no prince. Only a humble rag seller. It was my st.u.r.dy peasant blood which allowed me to survive the demon's attack. Alas, one such as I cannot marry you!"

"You can," cried the princess, stamping her dainty foot. "The world and its opinions can go to Hades!"

a"The Pails of the Princess, as serialized in the Ill.u.s.trated limes I wonder if I ought to marry her, Adrian mused, squinting at himself in the bathroom mirror. He dragged Roxanne's straight razor up his cheek. Maybe it was time he admitted he couldn't stay away from her. Atkinson had to view marriage as a lesser evil than living in sin. If Adrian intended to continue the latter, he might as well propose the former. To h.e.l.l with promotion, anyway.

Roxie could do worse than marrying an inspector.

Grinning, he shook foam off the blade and rinsed it under the automatic tap. Being flippant was easy when you'd woken from your first sound sleep in weeks.

As he pulled his upper lip taut to get at the stubble there, a flood of optimism buoyed his spirits. Atkinson wouldn't fire him. Not for falling in love. Yes, he'd be annoyed, maybe even disappointed, but the chief liked and respected him. Adrian had caught him off guard that night at the Astoria, that was all.

He was humming as he tilted his head and began to work on his throat.

Just think: He could sleep beside Roxanne every night, kiss her every morning, help her stuff Max into his clothes, watch her paint and laugh, and be able to reach out and touch her whenever he chose. Charles might not be enthused by the idea, but the boy no longer hated him. He might come around eventually, and Adrian did like him, p.r.i.c.kly though he was.

This was a.s.suming Roxie wanted to marry him.

His hand stilled at the possibility that she might not. Nonsense, he thought. She claimed she didn't care about marriage, but he didn't believe her for a minute. She'd almost said she loved him. She would have if he hadn't been too unnerved to let her. She'd marry him. She had to.

But maybe he ought to wait for her to start dropping hints the way his first wife had.

His stomach clenched at the thought of botching a marriage with Roxanne. He wouldn't, though. For one thing, he already knew they were compatible. For another, he wasn't the same person he'd been then. Even two years later, he knew he'd changed a good deal. His mother told him so every chance she got, though she didn't seem to think he'd changed for the better. Would she consider Roxanne an improvement, he wondered, or a sign of continuing decline? But who cared what his family thought? It was his life, his happiness.

If she'd have him.

Just because Adrian had been her first lover didn't mean she wanted him to be her last.

He frowned blackly, then cursed as the razor nicked his chin.

"Knock, knock," Roxie said, leaning against the open door. "My, Adrian, that towel becomes you."

Though her tone was light, it held a thread of tension. He hoped she wasn't worrying about his reaction to their current morning after. Banishing unpleasant thoughts, he turned to beam at her.

His face fell. "You're dressed!"

He'd been hoping to kiss her awake before he left for work, to rest his hand on her cool, soft breast and feel the peak tighten under his palm. He'd promised this to himself as a reward for letting her sleep. Now she'd deprived him.

"You don't like it?" She looked down at herself, sober as a nun in moss green velvet. The gown's long sleeves and high neck ended in half-inch ruffles of the same cloth. She'd sc.r.a.ped her glorious hair back from her face and contained the resulting bun with a small netted toque. The hat's matching baby ostrich feather trembled as if in alarm. The outfit was smart, but he couldn't help finding it funereal.

"It's handsome," he said, honestly enough.

She rolled her eyes, then clucked when she saw the cut on his chin. "You hurt yourself!"

She closed the gap between them and touched her finger to the wound. Despite their night of debauchery, his c.o.c.k stirred slightly in interest.

"It's just a nick." Smiling, he tightened the towel and leaned forward to lick her right cheekbone. "The thought of you distracted me."

She laughed as he continued to lap at her freckles. "Adrian, what are you trying to do? See if they come off?"

"I thought they might taste like something. Nutmeg. Apricot. Something yummy for the most beautiful freckles in the world."

"You're an idiot." Playfully, she pushed his shoulder, still damp from his bath.

"No, I'm not. They're the most beautiful freckles in the world, and they're all mine. I don't want anyone else tasting even one."

Her eyes flew to his. He forced himself to hold her stare, though he was almost as surprised as she by his vehemence. He hadn't planned on broaching the subject of fidelity in quite this fashion, but what was wrong with saying he wanted her to himself? At the least, he wanted that understood.

Roxie cleared her throat and looked at the floor, obviously taken aback. "I'm bringing Max to babyschool this morning," she said.

"Oh." He blotted the last of the soap from his face. "I guess that explains the dress. Do you want me to go with you?"

She shook her head. He was disappointed, despite having business of his own to attend to. He'd liked having her ask him for help. How was he supposed to convince her he was indispensable when she did everything herself?