From Afar Read online

  Dedication

  To Stephani, for giving me the nudge.

  Chapter One

  November 1817

  London, England

  Raphael Laurent dropped down onto the tree branch and blinked against the bright light spilling from the window. He didn’t have to wait for his vision to adjust to know he was already in the room. The hollow tightness in his chest eased and Raphael took the first unrestrained breath he had taken since last night. Air filled his lungs. Cool and thick and ever so sweet. An old remnant of his conscience tugged at the back of his mind, threatening to douse the arousal quickening his pulse. Pushing it aside, he flicked the length of his greatcoat behind him.

  He certainly needn’t worry he would go to hell for his unsavory behavior. He had been in hell, or rather a very good imitation of hell, for the past thirty-six years.

  Cloaked in the shadow of the tree trunk, he unbuttoned the placket of his black knee breeches and pushed aside his shirttail. Gaze fixed on the nude pair standing at the side of the bed, he pulled out his cock and ran a hand along the hard length, his touch light, mimicking hers.

  For at least the hundredth time, he silently thanked whoever had left the large oak tree standing behind Madame Bessette’s brothel. The limbs were strong enough to hold Raphael’s weight and positioned perfectly. Not directly in front of, but slightly to the right of this particular window. The window to Hannah’s bedchamber—the favorite whore of Lord Aleric Vane, third son of the Duke of Haverton.

  A whore who did not ever feel a need to close the drapes. The heavy scarlet velvet was pulled back, exposing the decadent room. Scarlet-and-cream patterned paper covered the walls. A bed large enough for any games Aleric wished to play stood to the left of the window. Discarded clothes were scattered on the wooden floor at the foot of the bed. The fire burning in the grate surely kept the November chill from the room.

  Raphael flared his nostrils—damp earth, dry leaves, cool moist air, and a foul combination he could only attribute to London. Not one hint of Aleric. The window must be closed. Why couldn’t it be summer? The window would be open and he’d be able to catch the scent of Aleric’s arousal on the night air. Male sweat mixed with the musky hint of pre-come and the heady spice of his blood rushing through his veins.

  No bother, though. It was only a thin pane of glass. He had his eyes and ears, and they were more than up to the task.

  Hand braced against the tree truck, Raphael continued to stroke his cock as he watched Aleric’s large hands coast up and down her back. His dark hair mingled with Hannah’s honey brown as he dropped his head to nuzzle her neck. Raphael’s lips tingled, as if the silken strands of Hannah’s hair tickled the surface. Idly stroking Aleric’s prick, she pressed her mouth to his chest.

  If only she would move one small step right, then he would have a full view of Aleric. As it was, her slight form shielded half of the impressive width of his chest. Denying Raphael the hard abdomen, the crease of his navel, the thin trail of dark hair that led to—

  She dropped to her knees, Aleric’s arousal now visible over her slim shoulder. Thank you, Hannah. Raphael’s cock twitched. A frisson of lust raced up his spine. He could almost feel the wet heat of the whore’s agile tongue lapping at the head of his cock, a light whisper of a caress, teasing the tip. Frustration welled up inside him.

  Spearing one hand into her hair, Aleric cupped Hannah’s skull. She heeded the silent request and opened her mouth, taking Aleric’s cock inside. Fisting his own cock, Raphael thrust his hips, mimicking Aleric’s subtle motions in rhythm to Hannah’s expert attentions.

  Aleric closed his eyes and tipped his head back, exposing the strong cords of his neck and the proof of his quickening pulse. Hunger spiked Raphael’s desire, the mix potent and heady, consuming his senses. He bared his teeth, his jaw slowly opening and closing, his head going light. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. He could hear the beats of Aleric’s heart, feel the vein yielding beneath his assault…

  His hand began to slip from the tree trunk, his body swaying toward Aleric, when he regained himself. With a quick shake of his head, he straightened and willed the sharp points to recede, running his tongue over his teeth and forcing the need back. Hell, one of these nights he’d fall out of the tree if he weren’t more careful.

  He blinked, clearing the lingering haze of hunger from his vision, and refocused on the bedchamber.

  Hannah’s grip on the base of Aleric’s prick shifted. On the next upward glide, she straightened two fingers along the rigid length. Then sliding down, took both Aleric’s cock and her fingers into her mouth. Once she had sufficiently wet them, she reached behind Aleric’s ballocks, her rhythm never broken all the while.

  Raphael could tell by the look on Aleric’s face that she didn’t penetrate him. The little minx teased. Talented whore, that Hannah. He could well understand why Aleric preferred her.

  The moment Aleric tilted his hips, seeking more, she pulled her lips from his prick and reached into the top drawer of the bedside table. Anticipation shortened Raphael’s breaths. Holding onto the tree, he leaned forward, craning his neck, trying to see into the drawer. He let out a low grunt of satisfaction. Not his favorite, but the glass plug was a close second. The tapered width substantial enough for a pleasing stretch. Enough to fill Aleric’s passage. To stay firmly in place.

  Stroking Aleric’s cock, she looked up and showed him the toy. The wavy ends of her honey brown hair grazed the arch of her lower back. “Shall I?”

  A smirk pulled one edge of Aleric’s lips. Holding her gaze, he widened his stance.

  She chuckled, low and throaty, full of wicked delight. She brought the glass plug to her mouth and sucked on it. Raphael rested his shoulder against the tree and slipped two fingers into his mouth, wetting them. Cupping Aleric’s ballocks in her palm, she spread his firm cheeks with two fingers. Hannah slowly pulled the toy from between her lips. The glistening wet length caught the candlelight.

  Raphael’s arse tightened in envy. Bark scratched the soles of his bare feet as he shifted on the limb, widening his stance. Careful not to wipe off the moisture, he worked his hand down the back of his loosened breeches and slipped the prepared fingers between his cheeks, hovering over his entrance.

  And eased them inside just as Hannah pushed the glass plug inside.

  Aleric lifted slightly up onto his toes and then sank down on a grunt. Through ingrained habit, Raphael bit his bottom lip, stifling his own grunt. Needing to ease the ache, he worked his fingers deeper. Thick and lush, pleasure spiraled through him, but it wasn’t enough. His gaze fixed on Aleric’s prick jutting from the dark thatch of hair, the crown flushed plum-red, the length wet from the whore’s mouth. If only that thick prick were inside him right now. Stuffing him full. Stretching him wide. Slamming into him.

  He pulled out to shove a third finger inside, needing the sweet stretch, but resisted the impulse to thrust and instead stroked his cock as he forced himself to proceed at Aleric’s pace.

  Hannah licked the fluid leaking from the small slit in the head of Aleric’s cock. Raphael flinched against a jolt of sharp sensation. With one hand still between Aleric’s thighs, fondling his ballocks, she went back to sucking cock.

  Aleric’s dark lashes drifted down. He gripped her slim shoulder. A tremble racked the strong muscles of his thighs as Hannah’s cheeks hollowed on the next upward glide. The lines bracketing his mouth tightened. His brows knit together.

  Raphael furiously stroked his cock, flicking his thumb over the head, using the pre-come to lubricate the length. His ballocks tingled, tightened, begged to be touched. Need coiled sharply inside him. Tightening ever more.

  In one quick motion, Aleric grabbed Hannah, lifting her and turning toward the bed.

  She bent over the bed an
d arched her back in invitation. Her hair spilled over her shoulders. “Yes, Aleric, fuck me,” she purred.

  Aleric slipped a finger between her spread thighs.

  You know she’s ready. Fuck her, Aleric. Now.

  On a low rumbling growl, Aleric grabbed her hips and thrust forward.

  A moan shook Raphael’s chest. He could just glimpse the rectangular end of the plug lodged firmly up Aleric’s passage as he thrust into her. If only he could be behind Aleric, his cock filling that perfect muscular arse. His hands on Aleric’s lean hips. His teeth scoring the smooth plane of Aleric’s shoulder blade. If only he could taste his skin. Feel the heat from his body.

  A wave of need almost brought him to his knees. His breaths came hard and harsh. Fingers still in his arse, hand still wrapped around his length, he tried to slow his pace in an effort to hold off. To wait for Aleric. But the hard bite of impatience rode over every inch of his skin, not to be denied. His cock, hard and heavy in his palm, demanded its due.

  Bracing a hand on the scarlet coverlet, Aleric leaned over Hannah and reached under her hips.

  She shuddered. “Oh!” Clutching the coverlet, she bumped back against him. “Oh, I-I’m… Yes, Aleric.”

  A strained smirk pulled Raphael’s lips. Only a true gentleman saw to a whore’s pleasure, and Aleric was most assuredly a gentleman.

  Aleric’s thrusts quickened, hard slams that shook the bed. The wooden joints creaked under the onslaught. His muscles bunched and flexed beneath pale golden skin glistening with sweat. An orgasm gripped the base of Raphael’s spine. Aleric abruptly pulled back and reached for his cock.

  Fierce and sharp, a climax raced up Raphael’s prick. His body clenched his fingers in time to the release racking his senses. He ground the inside of his cheek between his teeth to stifle the shout as he came, pouring onto the courtyard below, just as Aleric painted Hannah’s backside with his own seed.

  Gasping for breath, Raphael sagged against the tree trunk. His pulse pounded through his veins, the heavy thumps filling his ears. He flinched as he pulled his hand from his loosened breeches, fingers slipping from his body, and then he buttoned the placket and tucked in his shirttails. At his townhouse, he could devote an entire night to stroking himself off over and over. Yet the combined force of the solitary orgasms couldn’t rival even one of those while in this tree. The sight of Aleric somehow made the sensations stronger, more powerful.

  Still dazed, Raphael shook his head to clear it. Pulling a lace-edged handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, he wiped his hands and focused back on the room.

  Combing her fingers through her tousled hair, Hannah sat on the edge of the bed, knees together and ankles crossed, the arch of her back exaggerating the flare of her slim hips.

  His strides a bit off, Aleric walked to the washstand. Solid and powerful, every line in his body molded fluidly to the next. The broad width of his shoulders. The sculpted expanse of his back. The firmly rounded backside. The strong thighs and muscled calves. He dunked a cloth in the basin, wrung it out and swiped between his legs. Reaching behind, he removed the plug and then dropped it into the basin. He crossed to the mahogany dresser where a crystal decanter of spirits waited on a silver tray. Likely brandy, given Aleric’s preference for the liquor. His back to Hannah, he poured a generous amount and downed the contents. After refilling the glass and taking a sip, he set the glass on the dresser and picked up his black trousers from the floor.

  Flicking her hair behind her shoulders, Hannah stood and, letting her hips sway, walked slowly across the room. She wrapped her arms around Aleric’s waist and rubbed her cheek against his back. “When will I see you again?”

  He went still for a moment. He gave her a pat on the forearm, gently unwound her arms from his waist, and stepped around her.

  “Aleric, when will I see you again?”

  Avoiding her gaze, he pulled his white shirt over his head, tucked the length into his waistband and continued to dress.

  Tension nipped at Raphael’s stomach. Brow furrowed, he passed a hand over his abdomen, trying to ease the growing knot.

  She tilted her head. “Aleric? When?” Desperation leached into her tone.

  He took a long swallow of brandy. Using the mirror on the wall opposite the bed, he tied his cravat in the usual Mathematical knot.

  Her spine went ramrod straight. She lifted her chin. “I turned down Lord Albright’s offer to be my protector.”

  Aleric turned to hold her defiant gaze, his beautiful blue eyes as world weary as Raphael’s. “Unwise choice, my dear,” he said, the rich baritone flowing around Raphael.

  Her eyes flared. Face contorting with rage, she grabbed a hairbrush from the washstand and threw it. “You bastard!”

  Ducking, Aleric continued to button his black coat. The brush flew over his shoulder. “Calm down, Hannah.”

  “No!” She glanced about the room and grabbed the decanter from the dresser.

  Taking a step back, Aleric held up a hand. “Please, Hannah.”

  Amber liquid sloshed within the crystal as she drew the decanter back, taking aim. “No. Now I’m stuck here because of you!”

  He reached into his coat pocket. “Here. Leave then.”

  She eyed him for a moment and then set down the decanter. She snatched the pound notes from his outstretched hand and flipped through the small fold. “Thirty quid? Won’t even pay me modiste bill.”

  Aleric flinched, as if she had slapped him. His handsome face blank, he turned on his heel and walked out the door.

  Howling with fury, Hannah grabbed the decanter and threw it. Crystal shattered. Shards sprayed the floor. Brandy dripped down the closed door.

  That horrible hollow sensation returned, tightening Raphael’s chest. Closing his eyes, he winced. He should be used to it by now, but the contrast always startled him. From the promise of…something to endless emptiness.

  And what had just happened in that room? The whore didn’t concern him—they were greedy creatures and he couldn’t fault Hannah for trying to secure Aleric’s protection. The man was a son of a duke. Handsome, fit, and in his prime. The opposite of Lord Albright.

  But Aleric… He visited Bessette’s at least once a week and always told Hannah when to expect him next. Why hadn’t he answered her question? And the way he—

  A distinctive creak pulled Raphael’s attention below. Light spilled from the open back door. He dropped to his haunches and, hunched within his black greatcoat, leaned closer to the tree trunk. A breeze rustled the dry leaves, whisking a few loose strands of his long hair across his lips, the ends tickling his cheek. He quickly tucked them back into the queue at his nape.

  A stooped figure shuffled into view and passed directly beneath him. “Clean it properly,” a coarse, scratchy female voice muttered, the mocking sarcasm clear in her tone.

  He stared at the top of the woman’s frizzy gray head, willing her to walk faster. Aleric would be in his carriage by now, and Raphael couldn’t retire for the night until he’d seen him walk through the door of his bachelor apartments.

  Liquid splashed as the woman dumped a bucket behind a bush in the dark courtyard. “I’ll give ’er proper,” she continued, the bucket banging against her leg as she slowly headed back. “’Er and ’er fancy—”

  The triangle of light narrowed. The door creaked closed.

  Crouched low, he waited to ensure the woman wouldn’t emerge again with another bucket to empty. He slipped his hand into his greatcoat pocket. Soft kidskin, the scratch of a tip of a pin, fingertips finally closing over his latest acquisition. He idly turned it over and over, the smooth, cool stone on one end warming under his touch, as he waited another few moments.

  Apprehension slithered over his nerves, chilling his skin. Raphael went utterly still. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his other senses.

  He was alone, as always. Not one of them had strayed into the vicinity of the brothel. Katerina’s vampires preferred the East End with its abundant, easy prey. I
f that were the case, then why—

  His heart skipped a beat.

  Aleric.

  He pulled his hand from his pocket, shot to his feet and looked through the breaks in the tree branches, beyond the dark window above Hannah’s room and to the roof. Then he crouched, coiling his muscles, and sprang up.

  Chapter Two

  Aleric’s strides didn’t falter as he crossed the entrance hall. Squeals and raucous laughter spilled from the receiving room on the left. The sounds mixed with the rapid click of his evening shoes against the marble floor. A burly ex-pugilist opened the front door as he approached. Tipping his head to the guard, he left the brothel and headed up Curzon Street.

  He let out a snort of self-contempt. Why the hell hadn’t he foreseen that? That’s what he got for choosing one to the exclusion of all the others. But he liked Hannah. Not the most beautiful woman Bessette had to offer, but with her honey brown hair and soft, slight curves she was quite pleasing to the eye. And she didn’t seem to mind catering to his eccentricities. His unnatural preferences. She had even indulged him on a few occasions, shared him with another man. Simply put, he was comfortable with her.

  At least he had been up until a few minutes ago.

  Christ, to be mocked by a whore. Not at all an experience which boosted a man’s confidence. If it were within his means, he’d give her anything she needed to leave the brothel. Not that he wanted a mistress. No, definitely not one of those. But he would have helped her. Only with her had he felt comfortable indulging those particular desires, the ones he kept hidden from all others. And since he’d been unable to swallow his pride and admit the truth, she thought him cheap. Selfish. Uncaring. His offer had turned into an insult.

  He should have saved his money and not gone to Madame Bessette’s. Saved himself the humiliation. Yet Hannah had been expecting him, and he didn’t want to let everyone down. Now he had nothing. The small inheritance from his grandmother long ago spent. What little he’d managed to win tonight at the gambling hell was in Hannah’s small hands. A sum so meager it couldn’t pay a whore’s modiste bill.