A License to Wed: Rebellious Brides (14 page)

“Hmm?”

“You said earlier that you’ve been in love with me for half your life.”

She stiffened. “What of it?” she said after a moment, weariness leaking into her tone. “You’ve always known that I loved you unreservedly. But you dismissed my devotion as the silly imaginings of a young infatuated girl.”

“You said you’ve been in love with me half your life,” he repeated. “You did not use the past tense.”

She’d gone very still, and then a shudder moved through her. “You’ll think me very silly, but that is the truth of it.”

He stared at her glistening pale shoulders and the nape of her slender neck. Her face remained cradled in her crossed arms, hidden from his view. “You are wrong.”

Her head came up and she glared at him over her shoulder. “Do you still believe this is some girlish infatuation?”

He shook his head. “I meant to say I do not think you are silly.”

She covered her pink-stained face with her hands. “You don’t have to say anything further. I shouldn’t have unburdened myself.”

“I’m glad you did.” He inhaled deeply to ease the strangled feeling in his throat, but it didn’t help. “I’m honored. Truly I am.”

“I know you don’t feel the same way.”

“You’re wrong again.”

She kept her face averted and spoke in a cool voice. “If you’re done rinsing my hair, you can step away now.”

A fierce, painful longing throbbed in his chest. “The truth is my heart is so absolutely devoted to you that I can truly see no other woman, try as I might.” He placed a tender hand on her damp shoulder. “And believe me, I have attempted to do so these many years when I believed you lost to me forever.”

She sat very still, her eyes downcast. His heart thumped hard in the silence weighting the chamber. Then her hand came up to touch his, her finely tapered fingers interlacing with his. His heart took flight as he tightened his hand around hers and brought his lips to her glistening shoulder, pressing them against the warm, damp skin. Her hand slipped around to cup his head, drawing him to her. He mouthed her shoulder, brushing his lips over to her neck where he licked the moisture and suckled the spot with all tenderness.

He felt the shudder that ran through her, followed by the slight heave of her narrow shoulders and an inelegant muffled sob. She was crying.

His chest constricted. “Please don’t, Elle.” He shifted around to the side of the metal hip bath and took her into his arms to offer what comfort he could, cocooning her in the warmth of his body and the strength of his embattled love for her. Her arms came up to cling tightly to his neck, and she pressed herself to his chest. Emotion spun through him. How many nights had he yearned to hold her in his arms again?

He came to his feet, bringing her with him because he wanted no further barriers between them. Water splashed and slopped everywhere as he slipped his arms under her knees and swept her out of the bath. She clung to him, her face pressed into his shoulder. He carried her to the bed and set her gently down upon it.

“How is it even possible?” she murmured through her tears, searching his face as he leaned over her. “That you have loved me all these years?”

“How could I not?” He bent to kiss away the flood of tears on her red, blotched face and experienced a powerful need to reveal his true heart to her as she had just done. He could do no less. “Loving you is not a choice. It is the strongest urge I have ever known. One that is completely beyond my power.”

A renewed surge of moisture streamed down her cheeks. He couldn’t bear to see her overwrought and know he was the cause of it. He came down on the bed beside her, taking her into his arms.

He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. “Please don’t cry, my love.”

She let out another sob that sounded like a snort. “I am an inelegant crier.”

He smiled against her hair, inhaling the lavender scent of the soap that clung to her damp skin. “You? Inelegant? Impossible.” She shivered in his arms, and he cursed himself for not remembering she was wet and could catch a chill.

He jumped up and grabbed the drying cloth. Coming back to her, he passed it gently over her shoulders, wiping her slender arms one by one. He brought the cloth to her breasts and rubbed them gently dry, watching their pink peaks harden into little pearls he longed to take into his mouth.

He swallowed hard, not bothering to try to contain the rapid swelling between his legs. Now that he’d refused to deny what was in his heart, he would not pretend he didn’t desire her physically in the fiercest way.

A flush spread through Elle’s body as she watched Will’s gentle ministrations—her body naked and vulnerable, his larger, clothed form bending over her as he dried her chilled skin.

Her emotions were in a tangle. He loved her still. Had always loved her. It was impossible.

“I am not as I was,” she said, suddenly realizing no man had seen her thus since she’d given birth. She watched him move the cloth over her breasts, massaging lightly as he dried them. She caught her breath at the tingles of pleasure that streamed down to the deepest part of her belly.

“You are more beautiful than ever.”

“A woman’s form changes after she gives birth.” Her eyes went to the small pouch of loose flesh at her belly. She didn’t regret it. Susanna was well worth everything.

“The change adds to your beauty.” He let the towel fall away. She no longer had need of it; her body was broiling under his gaze. His large, warm hand slid down over her waist to caress her belly. “It speaks of your life experience.”

His mouth replaced his hands, touching her stomach with a sense of awe that made her belly quiver. His lips trailed up her body, kissing and caressing her sensitive flesh, from her belly button, across her sternum, to the underside of her breast, before his mouth closed over the pert tip and suckled hard. Sensation shot through her, and she arched into it. His hand stroked down her body in a motion that was both gentling and possessive, asserting his claim to her, while worshipping every inch of her skin.

She watched his fingers slide lower, to the secret place between her legs. She felt him parting her sensitive folds, and when he stroked her she almost cried out.

“Every part of you is beautiful to me.” She closed her eyes and moaned, desperate for his touch. He found the place where so much of her pleasure was centered and circled it, rubbing gently. “How can you not see how lovely you are?”

Coming up to lean her body weight back on her elbows, she forced her eyes open to watch the play of his fingers moving between her legs, probably the most erotic thing she had ever seen. Hot need vibrated from every cell in her body.

Then his hands were gone, and before she could protest he’d moved her body, positioning her so that her bottom was at the edge, her legs dangling over the side of the bed. Confused, she sat up. He knelt on the floor before her and draped each of her legs over his shoulders before burying his face between her thighs.

She cried out as his tongue touched her sensitive folds. She remained sitting upright, mesmerized by the sight of his dark copper-covered head between her legs, his tongue and teeth suckling her folds, nipping and teasing, pushing her into a delirium of pleasure. She buried her fingers in his tousled curls, holding him to her, as unbearable pressure built within her body. Heat consumed her, and the world narrowed to the need wracking her body and Will’s complete devotion to tending to her body’s desires.

She arched and cried out when the tension broke. Blissful waves pulsated through her, and she fell back against the mattress in a boneless state of contentment, a heady sensation rushing though her blood. She smiled, her thoughts in a pleasant haze, grateful that Will was as skillful at finding the key to a woman’s pleasure as he was at picking locks.

Urgent need throbbed down the hard length of Will’s prick. With Elle’s musky taste still on his tongue, he stripped off his waistcoat, groaning at the vision of her lissome form spread naked before him, beckoning like an earthy angel with a soft radiant smile lighting her face. Her legs were still parted from when he’d feasted on her, her intimate parts bared to his gaze, the plump, pink flesh guarded by a damp, glistening soft triangle of fur. A powerful need to bury himself deep inside her shook him to his core.

But he was filthy from the road and refused to subject her to the rank odors of his unwashed male skin, layered as it was with sweat, dust, and the smell of horses. He turned toward the bath she’d abandoned. The water would have cooled by now, but his body was aflame and he welcomed the relief.

“Will?” He turned back as Elle pushed up to a sitting position, with her knees still dangling over the edge of the bed and crossed one knee over the other in a ladylike pose at odds with the miles of bare skin and shapely limbs. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed. Her honey-colored hair fell in tousled waves about her shoulders. Her breasts, soft, round, and pert, made his throat go dry. “Come to bed.”

“I am begrimed.” He watched with avid interest as she stood, bare as the day she was born, and walked to him. “I must bathe.”

“By all means.” She put her arms around his neck and pressed her warm lips against his. He could feel the warm softness of her breasts through his thin linen shirt. “And I intend to assist you as you’ve assisted me.”

She pulled his shirt over his head and seemed to marvel for a moment at the sprinkling of dark copper hair on his chest. He sat on the bed to remove his boots and rose to divest himself of his breeches and smallclothes.

“Mmmm,” she murmured appreciatively, pushing him back onto the bed, coming down on top of him.

“Elle, I am not fit to lie with you in this state,” he said huskily as his hands roamed over the swells of her buttocks and squeezed. “I carry the dust and dirt from the road.”

“I don’t care.”

Trembling at the thought of moving inside her again, Will couldn’t find the strength to argue. Instead, he caught her hand and pressed his lips to the inside of her palm, his mouth lingering against her satiny skin. “This is the way to madness.”

She ran her hands through his hair. “Why should we not enjoy each other? You are not married and I am no innocent.”

He stared into her clear eyes. “Do you want this, Elle? Truly? We are under much pressure. Perhaps you will later regret seeking comfort in this way.”

“I will not be sorry. I want this more than almost anything.” She cradled his face in her hands and leaned over to touch her lips to his. He opened and took her in, his tongue stroking hers in slow sensual movements.

He put his arms around her waist and sat her at his hips, his member pressing against her bottom. He massaged her breasts, toying with the pert ends, squeezing and fondling the sensitive flesh.

“Lean over me,” he said gruffly. She did as he asked and he eased himself up to mouth her breasts, sucking on the tender points, giving them his full devotion. “I cannot wait. I have to be inside you.”

She reached over to kiss him, long and sensual, stroking her tongue against his with seductive intent. “Yes.”

He flipped their positions so that he was now on top. He relished the slide of their warm skin against each other. Holding her gaze, he took hold of his prick and guided himself between her thighs. She sighed when his engorged flesh pressed into her. She angled her hips to take him in, and he pushed into her with a decisive thrust. He was surprised to hear her grunt with pain. He felt too large and she too tight.

He looked into her eyes and registered the discomfort there. “Elle?”

“It is nothing.” She lifted her hips to take more of him. “It has been more than five years since I’ve lain with a man. I suppose my body will require time to adjust.”

Five years? Confusion clouded his mind, but then she wiggled under him and said. “I want more of you. Please.”

Every other thought fell away. Their gazes linked, and he began to move slowly inside of her until he felt her passage begin to relax and to welcome him. His heart ached with feeling as they looked into each other’s eyes, her slick tightness an erotic caress with every stroke. His tempo became more urgent as pressure and pleasure built from his core, until he was desperate to release himself into her.

His brain blanked when he came, and somewhere he heard her cry out too and felt her tremble beneath him. His heart pounding, a warm buzz spread throughout his body and a paradisiacal euphoria filled his head. He kissed her, long and full of tender meaning, emotion burgeoning in his chest at the intimacy of their coupling. This was the first completely true moment between them since he’d found her again.

Shifting to her side, he gathered her in his arms. As she snuggled into the warmth of his body and pressed a kiss to his chest, he experienced a profound sense of homecoming and wondered how long this unfettered honesty between them could last.

He didn’t bathe until morning, and she assisted, as promised, so he hardly noted the cooled water. As she massaged soap into his hair, he felt more relaxed and contented than he could remember.

“Elle.”

“Hmm?” she murmured sprinkling water over his hair to rinse it.

“You said last night that you haven’t been with anyone since…Laurent.” He couldn’t bring himself to call the man her husband. Even though Laurent was long gone to kingdom come, jealousy and resentment of the person who’d taken Elle from him still simmered in his gut. Any child of Elle’s should have been his, not some bloody Frenchman’s. “Is that true?”

She began to dry his hair with a cloth. “Yes.”

“So you and Duret never—”

She swatted him with the drying cloth. “No, never. I shudder to think of it.”

He caught the cloth and held fast to prevent another onslaught. “Most of Paris was under the impression that you were his mistress.”

“I thought I needed him to help me find Susanna so I indulged him.”

But what of the minder who’d seen Duret leave her house in the early morning hours, when most people were still at their breakfast? “But he visited your house alone?”

“Yes, he enjoyed stopping by unannounced for breakfast from time and time.” She bit her lush lower lip. “I suspect he would have taken matters further if he’d been able.”

He sat up straighter in the bath. “What do you mean?”

“Duret suffers from a war injury that has unmanned him.”

His eyes widened. “Are you saying he could not…perform?”

“So it is said.” She tilted her head. “Apparently, he has exhausted a fair number of strumpets across Paris who’ve tried to…resurrect his abilities.”

“How do you know this?”

“My attendant, Sophie. She might have been an abominable lady’s maid, but she was an excellent source of information.”

“So he didn’t touch you.” He exhaled, a deep sense of relief settling in his chest. He believed her. “Thank God for that.”

“Why?” she asked. “Do not tell me you were jealous.”

He grabbed her and pulled her into his lap, his heart full of love for her, not caring that her chemise was getting sopped. “I am jealous beyond reason at the thought of any man touching you.” And then he kissed her long and hard to stop any more maudlin admissions from escaping his foolish lips.

He had found passage to England late that day aboard a vessel delivering a shipment of cod to the port city of Salcombe. The wind was not in their favor, so the captain expected the voyage to take a day and a half.

Elle wrinkled her nose at the pungent odor of fish that permeated everything on board, including their narrow cabin with its single berth built into the far corner. “I may never eat fish again after this voyage.”

“What it doesn’t offer in comfort, it offers in security,” Will said, pacing the short length of the space as he surveyed the cabin, running his hands over the dark mahogany walls. “We are safe from Duret’s men here.”

“How do you know?” she asked, genuinely curious. “That French farmer almost betrayed us.”

“The farmer wasn’t one of mine.” He bent down to examine the lock on the cabin door. “The captain of this ship is.”

“One of yours? What does that mean exactly?”

“Information is the most powerful weapon we have against Napoléon. We engage the services of a number of individuals in our vast informational network who provide us with detailed and reliable reports.”

“Individuals such as ship captains.”

“Indeed. As well as merchants, customs officials, smugglers, post office workers, justices of the peace, tavern owners.” Will rattled off the list in an absentminded tone.

“What is it exactly that you do? You said Moineau reported to you.”

Will took out his picklock and fingered through the shafts on the ring. “I’m superintendent of a subsection of the Home Office known as the Alien Office.”

“The Alien Office?” She watched as he selected two shafts and inserted them into the lock. “Isn’t that the office that registers foreign visitors?”

“Yes. We do monitor the comings and goings of our guests from abroad, particularly the French émigrés.” He inserted a second pin with his other hand. “However, we also have a small, secret service subsection that undertakes a number of clandestine activities.”

“And you engage in these clandestine activities?”

There was a click in the lock. “There, that should fix it.” Will stood, shoving the picklock into his pocket. “I manage the Crown’s agent network.”

She stared at him, warmth swirling deep in her belly. “You’re a spymaster.”

“As was my uncle before me.” He pulled off his coat and placed it on a wooden bench built into the cabin wall. “It’s something of a family business for the younger sons.”

“You said before that you were called away after our night together. What sort of assignment was it?”

Perhaps sensing the deepening timbre of her voice, he finally turned to give her his full attention. “Two of our agents had fallen into the wrong hands and needed to be retrieved. I’m not at liberty to discuss the particulars.”

“What a pity.” She sashayed toward him, her body flushed all over as though she’d been dipped in a steaming bath.

His golden-green eyes widened. “Is it?”

“Most definitely.” She took both of his hands in hers, examining the long, strong fingers. They were a little rougher than a gentleman’s ought to be. Her eye caught on a faded scar that almost ran the full length of his thumb. “I wonder what these hands have done,” she mused. “They’ve certainly picked more than a few locks in their time.”

The cords in his throat moved. “A fair number.”

She flattened the palms of her hands against his and raised their touching hands between them. “Have these hands killed? I wonder.”