Forever and a Day. Delilah Marvelle

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       Knowing she was being silly, he edged toward the bolted door and, despite hearing nothing, said in a taunting voice, “I hear footsteps.”

       She whipped her apron down from her face and gawked at him in exasperation. “You do not.”

       “No. But I got you out, did I not?” He leaned against the bolted door and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to appear indifferent even though he was thoroughly agitated to know some man was yelling out her name in the throes of passion. “How often does he do that to you? And why?”

       She rolled her eyes, her smooth cheeks flushing. “He has a bit of a fancy for me.”

       “A bit? He was saying your name.”

       “Oh, all right, more than a fancy.” She glanced toward the wall and lowered her voice, pointing at him. “This doesn’t leave the room.”

       Now, this he had to hear. “I won’t say a word.”

       She heaved out a breath and waved toward the wall. “John Andrew and this redhead from over on Anthony Street started seein’ each other about a month ago. I thought it was movin’ toward matrimony and was actually quite happy for him. Then I ran into the woman one mornin’ whilst gettin’ my yams, and she thanked me for the business I was givin’ her. I told her I most certainly didn’t know what she was talkin’ about, and that’s when she laughed and told me all about how John Andrew Malloy pays her fifty cents to ride her up the hole he shouldn’t, all whilst callin’ her Georgia.” She snorted. “I about fainted. But better her than me, I say.”

       Robinson drew in a ragged breath and let it out. He was going to slaughter this John Andrew Malloy.

       A door slammed in the distance beyond, making them both pause. Steady footfalls headed toward them from next door, followed by a knock that vibrated the bolted door he was still leaning against.

       “Ey, Georgia!” a man called from the other side. “Open up.”

       Her eyes widened as she slammed down a reprimanding foot. “Drat you and that mouth, Robinson!” She hurried toward him, shaking her head, and waved him away with both hands. “Step aside before he chews my door to bits.”

       “I intend to chew him to bits. Pardon me.” He whipped toward the door, his chest tightening as he undid the bolts. He was going to scatter the bastard’s innards across the entire length of the corridor.

      “No.” Georgia shoved him away from the door and swung a finger toward the shadowed wall where the lamp didn’t reach. “Step into the shadows and put your back against the wall. I don’t want him seein’ your face.”

       He squinted at her. “Are you defending this man?”

       “No. I’m defendin’ you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “John happens to be one of the boys. And the rule around here is not to stir the pot before you’ve had a chance to put anythin’ in it. You don’t want him spreadin’ rumors and havin’ people hunt you down. He’s known for it. Now get in the shadows.”

       He threw up both hands in exasperation and fell against the wall behind him with a thud.

       “Don’t say a word until I get rid of him.” She pointed at him one last time as if that were going to keep him in place, then unbolted the door and swung it open.

       His brows rose a fraction at what came into view in the dim light just outside his shadowy hiding spot.

       A tall, shirtless youth who looked barely old enough to shave casually leaned against the doorway outside, his smooth, muscled chest and face glistening from the sheen of sex-induced sweat. Wool trousers were crookedly affixed on those narrow hips and his two large feet were as bare as the day he was born. He edged in toward Georgia, long strands of blond hair falling into his eyes. “I’ve had a long day, Georgia. Don’t make it longer by telling me what I can and can’t do in me own low closet.”

       “You’re touched in the head, John. Touched.” She tapped her forehead with a finger. “I couldn’t care less about what you do in your low closet. I just don’t want to hear it. You’re bein’ overly stupid and loud.”

       The edge of John’s mouth lifted. “Just imagine how overly stupid and loud it’d be if it were happening in your low closet?”

       Georgia set her hands on her hips. “You’d only snap at the first thrust, John. There’s barely enough of you as it is.”

       Robinson bit back an exasperated laugh and shifted against the wall. She certainly knew how to serve up a good tongue.

       John paused. “Is that Matthew? Was he the one up and banging on the wall like Fecky the Ninth?” He pushed past Georgia, striding into the room, and jerked to a halt, scanning Robinson. His eyes widened as his sweat-sleeked face flushed all the more. He glanced back over at Georgia. “Who’s this prick? And what’s he doing in your room?”

       Robinson narrowed his gaze and pushed away from the wall, ready to fist the runt back out into the corridor where he belonged.

       “Back against the wall, Robinson,” Georgia warned, pointing at him. “And don’t say a word.”

       Gritting his teeth, Robinson fell back against the wall, but held the youth’s gaze, challenging him to come at him.

       John swiped his hair out of his eyes and leaned toward her, his bare chest rising and falling more steadily. “Christ, Georgia. You can’t be trusting men you don’t know. Get rid of him. Before I do.”

       “Don’t be playin’ all high and mighty, John, whilst you’re playin’ with your whores loud enough for the whole buildin’ to hear.” Georgia grabbed the youth by the arm, directing him to the open door. “I’ve been behind on the rent by a whole dollar forty-five since my reticule was swiped and I’m boardin’ him to make up for it, is all. So you needn’t be jerkin’ your chin at me. I know what I’m doin’.” She tried shoving him into the corridor.

       John yanked his arm away from her and spun back. “You’re doing more than boarding him.” He swiped a hand over his face. “You’re fecking him for extra money to move west, aren’t you?”

       She gasped. “I’m not feckin’ him!”

       “Like hell you aren’t.”

       Robinson shook his head from side to side. “Have a little more respect for the woman,” he called out from up against the wall he was still sentenced to. “And while you’re at it, sir, put on a shirt lest you blind us all with your lack of refinement.”

       John’s eyes widened. “Smite me. He’s a fobbing Brit. Sir and all!” Shoving past Georgia, John veered toward him and said through clenched teeth, “You’d best leave lest I bloody you up well enough for your whore of a mother in England to feel it.”

       Robinson pushed away from the wall, straightening to his full height of six feet four inches, towering well above the boy by a whole head and a half. “I’d like to see you try, little John.”

      “Get out!” Lunging, John snapped out a clenched fist up toward his face.

       Robinson vaulted aside as John’s white-knuckled fist smashed into the wall СКАЧАТЬ