Tarnished Knight - By Bec McMaster Page 0,3
died, she’d despised the grim tenements and filthy hovels. For nearly a year she’d managed to scrape enough coin together to feed herself, until a too-friendly neighbour had made it clear that he could find other work for her…if she was willing to lie on her back. She’d hated the world then, hated the rookery. When she first went to Blade and begged for protection in exchange for her blood, he’d frightened her as much as the rest of the world had. And no wonder. Who wouldn’t fear a man who was called the Devil of Whitechapel?
Only when the snows came, washing away the grimness and painting the world in a feathery white, had she come to see any sign of joy or laughter in this dark world. Blade had been patient with her, offering her a position as his housekeeper when it became clear she was so frightened of the blood-letting that she could barely stand it at first. Even the grim men who worked for him had begun to terrify her less as she grew to know them. Tin Man with the thin metal sheeting over his scalp and his inability to speak; Will, the feral verwulfen boy who Blade had rescued from life in a cage and Rip, whom she’d almost fainted in front of when she first saw the broad-shouldered giant.
He’d caught her as she swayed, wrenching her against his hard body and sucking in a sharp breath. All she could remember were those piercing green eyes staring down at her in surprise, and the heavy feel of the muscle in his left forearm as she gripped it.
In his own quiet way, Rip had won her trust the most, soothing her with his deep voice and helping her with her chores. Reaching for things that were set too high for her and accompanying her at a respectable distance whenever she had to go out. A quiet, solid presence that shadowed her. Never saying much. Rarely touching her. And dangerously brutal whenever some man called out a lewd remark to her.
They stopped doing that within a month of her arrival at the Warren.
Rip had never asked for anything in return for his help and she’d gradually realised he never would. That more than anything had made her start trusting men again.
Though he worked as one of Blade’s enforcers Rip was gentle with her, as if even he feared his strength. And he had a sense of humour so dry that it often took her a moment to realise he’d made a joke. Then that slow smile would spread over his face, catching her breath in her chest and warming parts of her that missed a man. He was her friend, and only that, though Esme was the first to admit that she longed for more.
She’d slowly become accustomed to the world she lived in over the years. Accepting her role as Blade’s housekeeper and even as his blood thrall. Before his wife Honoria had arrived, of course. Blade drank his blood cold now, out of respect for his wife and Esme…Well, she was waiting for Rip to ask her to be his.
A man stepped out of the shadows ahead, watching her. Esme’s lips curved in a genuine smile as she saw Will. He noticed her of course, his amber eyes roving the streets with a predatory interest. Men gave him a wide berth as he stood and smiled at her, ignoring them. He’d been bigger than everyone else ever since he’d arrived in the rookery as a boy. Most people saw that as dangerous but Esme knew he would never hurt her. Will was verwulfen – of course he was dangerous – but he was also fiercely protective and that protection had always extended to her.
“Will!” She held out her gloved hand and he offered her his arm. The move was awkward but well-intentioned. Even through the thick oilskin of his coat she could feel the unnatural heat of his skin and the hint of tension in the thick muscles of his forearm.
Esme looked up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’.”
“William Carver,” she scolded. “I may not have your hearing or your sense of smell, but I know when you’re lying to me.”
A flush of red darkened his high cheekbones. “Come. I’ll walk you home.” A faint, almost Scottish burr corrupted the words, a sure sign that he was nervous or upset. He rarely showed any sign of his birth country now.
Esme planted her feet as he tried to steer her