Chapter One
London, 1863
Emma Marie Murdock had no idea that hiring a man to take her virginity was going to be such a bother.
“Excuse me, miss, can I help you?”
Emma jumped and turned to the freckle-faced boy standing behind her, his brows drawn in curiosity if not downright suspicion. Evidently her hiding place behind the crates on the dock wasn’t as good as she’d thought.
“No,” she said, smiling, “I was simply adjusting my bootlace . . . as I wait for my husband.” She added the last part in hopes the boy wouldn’t think it odd for her to be on the docks unchaperoned. Married women didn’t need chaperones.
The boy nodded as though he believed her—even though she suspected he didn’t—before he ambled away to leave her to her spying. Well, perhaps spying wasn’t the appropriate word. It sounded underhanded.
“I’m simply being cautious,” she mumbled to herself, settling back into her spot. A woman couldn’t be too careful when selecting the right man to deflower her and from her vantage point, the man she’d been watching for the last two days was definitely the right one.
Tall, broad shouldered, narrow hipped, his white shirt open to the waist revealing the sweat glistening on his chest, he worked on the pier, loading crates with several other men, though none matched his size or presence. Dark hair brushed across his forehead, moving slightly with the breeze that slipped down the wharf. His thighs bulged against his tight breeches each time he stooped to lift a crate. Like statues of the Greek gods she’d seen in a museum, he’d taken her breath away the moment she’d spotted him.
But being a magnificent specimen of manhood was not her only requirement. Her, um . . . employee had to be someone who wouldn’t associate with her future husband, and that meant he couldn’t be a wealthy man or one with a title. It simply wouldn’t do for her to carry on polite discourse at a dinner party with the man she’d paid to relieve her of her maidenhead. A dock worker would work perfectly.
He stopped for a second to wipe the sweat from his brow, then, before she realized his intent, he removed his shirt.
Merciful heavens! She covered her mouth with a gloved hand, unable to tear her eyes away. The large muscles rippling across his shoulders and down his arms reminded her of the stallions in the fields near her home. Her face heated at the thought.
He would be her stallion . . . If he agreed.
If he agreed, he would take her to bed and cover her with that magnificent body.
If he agreed, he would take her maidenhead so her future husband wouldn’t discover on her wedding night that she was not the widow she claimed to be.
If he agreed, she could begin her search for that wealthy future husband before it was too late.
Her fingers tingled at the thought of actually touching him, of feeling those muscles beneath her palms. She’d never touched a man intimately, and the idea of him being her first made her mouth go dry. Every inch of him was perfect.
Would she have pleasure? She’d heard the first time was difficult for a woman, and he was rather large. She tapped her finger against her chin as she considered finding a smaller man, but a quick glance around the pier dispelled that notion. In her heart, she knew she wanted her Adonis. It was bad enough she had to marry for wealth instead of love and if for no reason other than a selfish one, she wanted at least one night with a stallion before walking down the aisle to her yet unknown husband.
She shook her head to stop such thoughts. A lady of proper breeding probably wouldn’t harbor such desires, but then she wasn’t truly a lady, only a servant pretending to be a lady. If only there were another way to protect those she loved.
“Bother,” she mumbled again. She had studied the man enough and time was running out.
With a deep breath for fortitude, she smoothed her hands down the front of her gown and stepped from behind the crates. But as she hurried across the dock, her resolve weakened and her courage waned, both disappearing the second she reached his side.
Not the best of timing.
Perhaps she needed to think through this idea a little more.
“May I help you?” he asked, stopping to rest his hands on his hips.
Her options were clear. She could claim a case of mistaken identity and run, only to find herself still in need of a suitable candidate, or she could relocate her absent courage and talk to the man. Luckily, the latter option won out.
“Are you married?”
His brows lifted with surprise. “No.”
She smiled. It was important to her that her stallion not be married. “Might I have a word with you?”
“Certainly.” He folded his arms across his chest and waited as though she was going to speak with him there . . . on the dock . . . in front of God and everyone.
“I meant, in private. Is there somewhere we can speak in private?”
One of the men beside him chuckled, and Emma wished she’d followed her first instincts and run. But she was already committed. Sort of.
Tipping his head in a gesture of compliance, he motioned toward a building on the pier. Emma didn’t hesitate in making her way to the offices of the Benton Shipping Company. The two-story wooden building was the largest on the docks. Flanked by warehouses and bustling with workers, the whitewashed structure dominated the waterfront. The man ushered her inside and to an office just off the entry as he pulled his shirt back on.
“Will your employer mind us borrowing his office?” she asked once he closed the door behind them.
He paused, apparently thinking over her question, then said, “No. He’s a good man.”
Situating herself in a leather-upholstered chair, she studied the office while he took a seat opposite her and began buttoning the shirt he’d removed earlier. That is, she tried to keep her eyes averted, but watching his fingers deftly manipulate the buttons as they covered his flesh inch by inch was mesmerizing if not hypnotic.
Would he undress her as quickly? Would those fingers touch her skin with the skill of an experienced lover or would he be timid and gentle? Her pulse quickened. Perhaps it would be best if she didn’t study her Adonis so closely until he agreed to the deed.
The desk, though cluttered, was ornately carved and gleamed from a good polishing of beeswax. A crystal carafe of liquor sat on a silver tray atop a mahogany table. Thick oriental carpets cushioned her feet and the pillows tossed here and there were covered with deep red velvet. Mr. Benton’s company apparently did quite well for itself.
“Perhaps we should start with a proper introduction,” he said. “I’m—”
She raised her hand to stop him. “Oh no, we mustn’t. I’m afraid discretion is of the utmost importance.”
He raised his brow, then frowned. “As you wish.” He hesitated, clearly confused. “What did you need to speak to me about, or is that a secret as well?”
He thought she was daft. She could tell by a look in his eyes that said he wasn’t sure if he should run or lock her away. And right now, she wasn’t sure either. Watching him from a distance was quite different from actually talking to him face to face.
“I’m sorry. I know this is all rather strange.” She pulled a handkerchief from the sleeve of her gown, clutching it so her hands would have something to do. Otherwise, she feared she’d flutter them about like a nervous chicken while talking to him. After clearing her throat, she began reciting the story she’d concocted on the long journey to London. Not a word of it was true, but if he knew the truth, he’d never agree to help, or even worse, he might expose her ruse. No, a lie was her only option.
“You see, sir, I find myself in the most difficult of situations. I married an older gentleman a few months back. He was a dear man, but unfortunately didn’t live long after our wedding.” She lifted the hanky to dab at the corner of her eye, a gesture she hoped would garner sympathy.
“My condolences.”
Good, it worked. “Thank you.” Lowering the hanky, she continued with her tale. “My problem has since come from his family. They are threatening to have our marriage annulled on the grounds that it was never consummated. They are only doing it to take the properties and little allowance my husband left for me.”
“Was the marriage consummated?” he asked, and suddenly her courage waned again.
“No,” she answered, thinking perhaps she should’ve selected a man who wasn’t quite so handsome. Each time she looked at him, she had trouble concentrating on anything except the thought of him kissing her.
“You have my sympathy, but I’m afraid I still don’t understand what this has to do with me or how I can help you.”
If she didn’t ask him now, she never would. “Well, his family is going to have me examined by a doctor, you see. And I need to hire . . . I mean . . . ” She stopped for a fortifying breath, dropping her gaze to her hands. Her carefully planned speech rapidly tangled, not unlike the hanky she’d wadded beyond repair.
“I—I—” she stammered, her throat going dry.
It was so ungodly hot. Her corset dug into her sides, threatening to steal her breath, and the borrowed satin gown wasn’t allowing for much air either.
Forcing in another much needed breath, she lifted her chin before blurting out her request.
“I need to hire you to take my virginity so I can pass the doctor’s examination and keep my inheritance.”
She kept her eyes averted waiting for his response, but there was none, only silence. Painful, humiliating silence.
Finally, she dared a peek at him, surprised his face showed no expression. No shock, no humor. Nothing. He was obviously too astonished to speak or react, and she couldn’t blame him. It had been a horrible plan, one that even a common dock worker recognized as beyond deplorable.
Her heart pounded. Her ears rang. She had to escape before she subjected herself to any more humiliation.
“I’m sorry. This was obviously a bad idea,” she said, wondering why the room tipped suddenly when she stood to her feet.
“Bloody hell,” Cage blurted, missing in his attempt to catch the lady before she swooned in a pile of blue satin on the floor. If she hadn’t totally stunned him by her request, he would have seen the collapse coming and caught her before she melted. But he hadn’t and she had and now he had to do something with her.
Lifting her into his arms, he searched the office for some place to lay her, but there were no divans and the desktop was too cluttered to allow her a resting spot, so he returned to his chair, holding the wilted woman on his lap.
“Madam?” he said, patting her cheek. She was quite pale, not a small accomplishment considering the fiery red color she’d sported just before fainting.
Should he call her madam? The woman had just offered to hire him to bed her, and he didn’t even know her name. He brushed his knuckles against the side of her face. With her beautiful silky skin, dark lashes fringing pale cheeks and lips he’d love to taste, why she believed she’d have to pay a man to take her virginity was perplexing. There were thousands of men who would line up for the opportunity.
Cage frowned at that disturbing thought. The foolish chit had no idea how dangerous her proposition had been. Had she offered it to any of the other men on the docks . . . He shook his head. The possibilities were terrifying.
A small coo accompanied by a flutter of lashes signaled that she was coming back. Deep green eyes looked up at him, first with wistfulness, then with confusion and finally with shock. Her eyes reminded him of Claris, and a sick knot landed in his gut.
“Oh my!” She attempted to sit up, but the swift movement of her hand to her forehead told him the room still spun.
“Don’t move too quickly. You’ll swoon again.”
Standing, he stepped to the chair she’d vacated only a few moments before and lowered her to the seat. He would have been content to hold her, but she seemed highly uncomfortable with the arrangement. Odd, considering she had just propositioned him for stud services.
“I fainted?” she asked as he poured her a glass of brandy.
He handed her the glass, which she accepted with trembling hands. “Just after you offered to hire me to . . . help you with your dilemma.”
Keeping her gaze focused on the brandy, she said, “I understand if you don’t wish to accept m—”
“It’s not a matter of accepting.” He stopped himself before the topic went in a direction other than the one he intended. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to ask a strange man to bed you?”
“I know this is rather unusual.”
“Unusual? Bloody hell, woman, there are men out there who would do as you ask and much more before turning you over to their companions for their entertainment!”
Her face turned white, and for a moment he suspected she might swoon again. Perhaps he’d reacted a little too strongly, but he knew too well the horrors the wrong group of men were capable of with a vulnerable young woman at their disposal. Especially one who had asked for a bedding.
He hoped his warning made an impact.
“If you don’t wish to help me,” she said, her voice breaking, “I shall find another.” Then she stood and headed toward the door.
“Wait!”
She paused but didn’t return to her seat. She didn’t even lift her head.
“Isn’t there some other way out of your situation? Can’t you simply marry another wealthy man? You’re certainly pretty enough to catch another’s attention.”
She looked at him then, a tear glistening in her eye when she peered over her shoulder. “I can’t wait that long. I need the inheritance in order to provide for my family.” She opened the door. “I’m sorry I bothered you,” she said softly. “I’ll find another. Good day.” She walked from the office.
“Damn it.” He stood. He should follow her.
Damn it. He sat. He shouldn’t follow her. He didn’t know her, and her problems weren’t his concern.
Damn it. He stood again, but he crossed to the window instead of following her and leaned on the sill to look out at the docks.
Who was she? Her eyes reminded him of Claris, but of course she couldn’t be Claris. Claris was dead. Had been for years. But Claris’s eyes had been the same shade of green and had possessed the same ability to twist his gut. One pleading look from his childhood friend and he’d given her anything she wanted, whether it had been a toy or a piece of candy. Claris had been the sweetest, most trusting, kindest person he’d known.
He squeezed shut his eyes. He didn’t like to be reminded of his childhood playmate. Her death had hurt too much. With a deep breath, he opened his eyes and noticed the woman was talking to a group of men on the pier outside. She was propositioning another candidate just as she’d promised.
“Blast it all to hell and back!”
Knocking over a chair in his haste, he bolted from the office to stop her before any of the men took her up on her offer.
“Pay no heed to my sister’s request,” he said, grabbing her arm. “She’s not quite right in the head.” He tapped his temple as he pulled her away from the group.
“What are you doing?” she ground out when her gloved fingers couldn’t loosen his hold .
“Saving you.”
“I didn’t ask you to save me.”
He ushered her back into the office. “Ah, but you did.”
“And you refused.” She had a point.
“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”
She pulled her arm free of his grasp and frowned. “Maybe I don’t want you anymore.”
As tempting as it was to take this woman at her word and leave her on the dock, the damnable sense of honor his father had drummed into his head wouldn’t let him leave her to her foolish plan. “A deal is a deal.”
“But we didn’t have a deal. You refused, lest you forget. Why are you changing your mind now?”
He would like nothing more than to forget, but he wouldn’t sleep at night if her body was found in an alley and he’d had some way of preventing it. So now he needed a plausible reason to accept her offer.
“I need the money.”
“Money?”
“You said you wished to hire me. Doesn’t that imply payment of some sort?”
“Oh.” She stopped talking for a moment, thank God. Evidently she was reconsidering her refusal of his refusal for her to accept his previous refusal.
“Well then,” she said, “I suppose we have an arrangement. I can only afford to pay you a guinea as most of my funds are currently tied up, but if you require more, I can possibly accommodate you after the estate is settled.” She looked quickly about the room and swallowed. “Should we lock the door?”
The woman shocked him speechless.
“Now?” he asked once his mouth started working again. “You want to do this now?”
“Why not?”
Why not. Why not. “Because Mr. Benton might return at any moment, and I don’t think he’d appreciate us using his office for such a deed.”
A weak excuse, but apparently a successful one.
She nodded, then creased her brow. “When, then?”
“I’ll need time to make the proper arrangements.” And invent a bevy of excuses to keep her at bay. While the thought of bedding her was tantalizing, he was not like the men who’d taken advantage of Claris. He’d figure out a solution to the mysterious lady’s dilemma even if it involved finding her another husband or suitable employment.
In the meantime, she had to believe he was going to do as she requested or she’d approach another man, he was sure, and with her naiveté, the consequences could be deadly.
He pressed his hand against his aching head.
What had he gotten himself into?
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EMMA'S DILEMMA