CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
10 am, Monday July 1st
Outside Toronto General Hospital
Inspector Brackenreid pushed open the hospital doors wide, halting on the top step to inhale deeply. The man looked like a wreck. "Christ! After all that, no one to arrest! All over a bloody letter. Now I've heard it all. Good night, Doctor. Murdoch, I want your report first thing tomorrow." With that he replaced his hat, got in the police vehicle and was gone.
Julia stretched her arms towards the sky, reveling in the cool night air. It was after 10 pm as she and William walked out of the hospital, the constabulary having obtained a full confession, secured Argyle Hudson to his bed with handcuffs and posted a constable outside his room. She thought there was really no need for the last two actions: Hudson had deteriorated quickly in just a few short hours, and Julia knew the next time she was going to see him was on her autopsy table, most likely in the morning. There was nothing for it: just like nursing soldiers in the Great War, tucking them in and waiting for them to succumb to their wounds and die. It was just the way things were.
Beside her, William also stretched his shoulders, rotating his neck as if to let the tension go. Over the last several hours it felt to her as if the two of them were very in tune with each other, not so far as to finish each other sentences but… of one mind.
"We never did have that coffee," she said.
He shrugged, pointing at his watch, but his luscious brown eyes never left hers.
"I'm sure I could manage to scrounge something up at my hotel - even at this late hour..." she trailed off, matching his gaze. "I'd like to stretch my legs as well."
"I will walk you home if you like," he said.
He ordered the constables to take the remaining police motorcar back, while they walked the several blocks to her hotel, making innocuous small talk. Her skin tingled when he brushed her hand with his, and it was lovely when he politely took her arm. She found the anticipation to be exhilarating...imagined how her fantasies were going to be fulfilled...until her own worries intruded.
Was he going to want coffee? Or me?
After all - the man was so damned literal!
Her earlier high spirits faltered. What if his interest was all wishful thinking? He rid himself of his curse - what need did he have to revisit the cure? He had not said word one about their night of passion. What if this was his way of telling me there was to be nothing more between them? She made several passes at getting him to open up, be explicit while they were walking - to no avail. She offered up several of her best puns, getting a polite laugh out of him...nothing further. She decided to be even bolder, chivvying him up to her room instead of the hotel's dining room for their coffee. All the while he was a complete gentleman, exactly proper. She began to think she'd have to spell it out for him…
No sooner had her room door closed behind her, he grabbed her, all pretense of propriety gone, and pushed her up against the door. Gone was any timidity of the prior night, and in its place was strength and determination. His confidence was clearly restored, and he was unhesitating, his experience as a lover on full display.
She melted, yielding eagerly to him. "Are you sure you don't want a drink?"
"You are intoxicating enough for me." Grabbing a fistful of hair, he pulled her head back with one hand and held her face in place with the other, fervently kissing her before making his way down her neck with his mouth, sending delightful waves of pleasure through her. Pressing against her with his weight, she felt his arousal through their clothes and giggled in expectation. His stubble was rough against her skin, opening her floodgates of desire. Making a deep throaty sound, she closed her eyes. "So, it seems you like a bit of roughhouse yourself, William."
"Care to find out, Julia?" he asked, abruptly picking her up and carrying her back towards her bedroom, dropping her on the bed to undress himself. Lest she be left behind, and excited at what would happen next, Julia hurried to shimmy out of her own clothes, eager to continue.
Soon naked, he pushed her back onto the bed and climbed atop her, pinning her hands on either side of her head as she squirmed to get closer to him. His weight felt delicious.
But he lay still, his eyes making steady contact, telegraphing his unspoken intention: this time it was not going to be out of pity or curiosity between them, but passion. He wants to be in charge tonight.
Oh, I thought you'd never ask. She nodded at him and smiled. Being in charge was exactly what she was thrilled for him to be.
This time.
