A License to Wed: Rebellious Brides (15 page)

“If they have, you can be assured it was only as a last resort.”

She smiled. “I see. Sort of a kill-or-be-killed scenario?”

“Something like that.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“It can be at times.”

“Are you
Le Rasoir
?

He stiffened. “What do you know of
Le Rasoir
?”

“I know he is an elite spy who has eluded discovery by the French. Duret believes you are
Le Rasoir.
He has the right of it, doesn’t he?”

He was silent for a moment before answering in a somber voice. “Yes. It’s a rather unfortunate sobriquet. I did not choose it.”

“I quite like it.” She licked her lips, her gaze locked with his. “I find it powerfully…arousing.”

A flush appeared beneath the light freckles sprinkled across the sharp planes of his cheeks. “Do you?”

“I didn’t think it possible to find you more appealing.” She interlaced her fingers with his and breathed his scent deep into her lungs. “I found you extraordinarily appealing when you were just a bookish clerk. But now—”

His voice was husky. “Your opinion has changed?”

“Most definitely.” She pulled her hands away from his to dig the tails of his shirt from his breeches. “I find the idea of you as a master of intrigue and leader of men very…exciting.” He lifted his arms as she pulled his linen shirt over his head and tossed it away.

He slammed the door shut behind him with a resounding bang. “Lady Elinor, you are full of surprises.”

“As are you.” She ran her hands up his arms and over his bare chest, marveling at the quiet power of his smooth, taut form covered with lightly defined curves of muscle. He carried no extra flesh to speak of. “This is definitely not the body of a clerk who stands at a desk all day.”

He removed his spectacles and placed them carefully on the bench with his tailcoat. “My work sometimes requires physical exertion.”

She ran a light finger over a fading scar high to the left of his rib cage. “I can imagine.” She put her lips to it, her tongue running over the raised puckered skin.

He inhaled sharply. “Perhaps I should have mentioned the exact nature of my work sooner.”

Her hand slid down over his flat, steel stomach to his burgeoning erection. He felt hard and warm against her palm as she rubbed him through the rough fabric of his breeches. “It’s a pity you didn’t.”

His breathing deepened as he watched her unfasten his breeches. “Had I known how you’d react like this, I definitely would have.”

She pulled his smallclothes out of the way so she could take the long, hard length of him into her hands. His member was warm, with satiny soft skin surrounding its iron strength. She stroked with strong, sure motions.

“So, my spymaster.” She knelt before him and smiled through half-lowered lids. “How will you command me?”

His eyes flashed as he looked down at her on her knees before him. “Are you mine to command as I see fit? You’ve never been particularly biddable before.”

“In this I assure you I am.” She ran a light finger along the impressive length of his erection, and leaned closer. “Ask anything of me. Anything at all.”

Warring expressions crossed his flushed face, desire certainly. As well as reluctance to ask for what he wanted.

Her husband had introduced her to this kind of bed play and had guided her into doing it well. She’d enjoyed the openness and experimentation Laurent had brought to the marriage bed. But those intimacies, while pleasurable, had lacked the intensity of feeling and urgency that characterized her couplings with Will.

With her husband, she’d always held a part of herself aloof because her heart had truly belonged to another man. Now that she was finally with Will again, she wanted to give everything of herself. Holding his hard flesh, she guided the soft tip of his shaft against the outline of her lips.

He gasped. “Elle!”

She smiled against his private flesh and took him into her mouth.

“Good God.” Shock vibrated from the words as he fell back against the door. Yet, at the same time he undulated against her, silently urging her to take more, his body seemingly at war with the gentlemanly part of his mind.

She obliged, taking as much of him as she could manage, running her tongue over the soft-hard texture of his shaft, reveling in its musty scent. She wrapped her fingers around the beautiful length of him and stroked, her fist meeting her lips in a rhythmic motion. She lightly scraped her teeth against his sensitive flesh, her tongue gliding behind. He half-cursed, half-moaned, and gripped her head as she used the combination of her mouth, tongue, and hands to bring him to the edge of his control.

She took in the sight of his glorious form as she gave him pleasure, the tension in his body emphasizing the neat muscles rippling down his arms and chest to the hard plane of his belly. Dark copper hair dusted his broad chest, and his head was tilted back against the door, his face flushed, his strong features contorted into an expression of delicious agony. She’d never quite realized how beautiful Will was; he’d masked the depth of his virility and physical appeal behind spectacles and a studious manner.

He abruptly pulled away and reached for her. She felt a flash of surprised excitement at the easy strength with which he lifted her from the ground and turned to press her up against the door. He kissed her hard, almost harshly, in his passion. She reveled in it, threading her hands through his hair to hold him tight to her as their tongues tangled.

He lifted her up against the door and shoved her skirt to her waist. She curled her legs around his hips as his fingers went to the place between her legs and stroked the wet flesh there. She cried out when he entered her with one strong motion. Totally consumed, he stroked in and out of her with rough urgency, the movements causing a loud rhythmic thump each time he drove farther into her, pinning her to the wall with vigorous force. Pressure, unbearable and delicious, welled within her. He buried his face in her breasts, and with a long low grunt shuddered hard against her as his seed shot high into her womb.

She cried out when a powerful climax shuddered through her. Her heart pounded and the sensitive flesh between her legs pulsed insistently around the beautiful length of him. She realized her cheeks were wet; she was weeping.

Years of deeply held hurt, need, want, and love seemed to cascade from her body, leaving her limp and light. She felt completely satiated for the first time since Will had loved her on that long-ago evening when she’d become a woman and he’d indelibly marked her as his forever.

Will lay in the cramped berth, listening to Elle’s soft breaths as she slept beside him. The boat rocked gently, and a slice of bright afternoon light shone in through the small cabin window. Tucking one arm behind his head, he pulled Elle’s soft sleeping form tighter against him and brushed a kiss on her hair-tousled head.

His prick twitched at the sultry memory of her lips wrapped around him and at her obvious pleasure in giving him an incredible gift that few ladies of her station would even consider. She’d known what she was about, too. Her apparent enthusiasm for the act suggested she’d willingly done the same for Laurent. Pressure bore down on his chest at the thought of Elle loving another man; the image of her using her lips and body to pleasure her highborn husband made him want to ram his fist into the nearest wall.

“What is it?” Elle’s voice, raspy with sleep, sounded beside him.

Had he said something? “What is what?”

“You’re growling.”

“Am I?” His lips caught hers in a gentle kiss. “I must have been dreaming.”

She ran the tip of her finger over the bridge of his nose. “Your nose is not as straight as it used to be. Did you break it?”

He nodded. “When I was on assignment in Tangiers.”

“Tangiers? Sounds exotic.” She burrowed more deeply into him, her soft form flush against his, offering warm skin-on-skin contact. “I hope whoever gave it to you fared much worse.” He had, but Will thought it best not to share the details. “Will?”

“Hmmm?” he murmured, relishing the feel of her supple flesh against his.

“Why did you ask me if I knew Sparrow?”

His stomach tightened. “Beg pardon?”

“Twice you asked me if I knew him.”

“I thought perhaps since you have become acquainted with many people through your routs—”

“No.” She shook her head. “I think you assumed I knew him through Duret.”

“It seemed a distinct possibility.” Relishing the newfound intimacy between them, he resolved never to lie to her again, no matter what the cost.

“You thought perhaps I worked with Duret to trap Moineau.” She perched her upper body up on her elbow to meet his gaze. “I didn’t. I swear it. He was going to bring my daughter to me. I would never want him hurt. Never.”

He ran a hand over the curve of her shoulder. “I believe you.”

She stopped short. “You do?”

He brushed a kiss across her cheek, his chest aching with the depth of his feeling for her. “Yes.”

She smiled, happy and brilliant, and climbed over him.

His hand grazed over her bare back down to her bottom as she left the bed. “Where are you going?”

She stooped to the floor and grabbed her chemise, yanking it over her head to cover herself. “To clarify matters.”

He shifted onto his side to watch her, grateful that the French-style chemise left her smooth, long legs bare to his appreciative inspection. “Why don’t you do that here in bed next to me, preferably unclothed?”

She picked up her boned, white cotton stays. “Where is your picklock?”

He gestured toward his tailcoat. “In the pocket. Why? Do you intend to break out of here?”

She strode over and retrieved the ring of small metal shafts. “It is time for the suspicion and distrust between us to end.” She used the most sturdy of the metal pins to tear at the narrow pocket that ran down the front of the stays.

“How does your destroying your under things assist in that endeavor?”

The fabric tore away at the seams, and instead of the ivory busk that was normally used to stiffen a lady’s corset, out came tightly rolled pieces of paper, stacked one atop the other, down the length of the pocket.

He sat up and blinked. “What the devil? Do not tell me
―
”

She regarded him with a knowing smile that made his blood heat. “I believe you’ve been looking for these epistles.”

He bounded up from the berth and reached for them. “They are the contents of Duret’s package.”

She dropped the letters into his open hand. “Yes.”

He stared at the missives in his palm and then up at her. “But I searched these garments.”

She shrugged, an insouciant twinkle in her slate eyes, and reached for her discarded gown, which lay in a heap by her feet. “It seems you are easily distracted when I am disrobed.”

“I don’t deny that,” he said wryly, thinking back to when he’d examined her clothes. He’d definitely been absorbed by the sight of her bare curves, but…His head shot up. “You minx!”

She drew her Cleopatra coin from the pocket of her discarded gown and tossed the disk into the air before catching it easily in the same hand. “Yes,” she said, affirming his suspicions. “I decided to add another distraction.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You pretended to drop the coin by accident. You made me believe you were embarrassed for me to know you’d held it dear since I gave it to you.”

“Oh, that part was true,” she said. “I was embarrassed for you to know the depth of my attachment to your gift. But it was more important for you not to find the packet until I was ready to give it to you. Until I was sure you could be trusted.”

He grabbed the corset to examine the narrow pocket. “How did you manage to get those missives so deep into this pocket?”

“Sophie helped. She’s very enterprising.”

So the maid had been involved. Just not in the way he’d thought. The truth had been right under his nose this entire time. His mouth went slack. He couldn’t believe it. “You outsmarted me.”

She tilted her chin down, regarding him through lush lashes. “I’ve heard
Le Rasoir
can be ruthless when crossed. I shudder to think of how he might punish me.”

He dropped the missives and advanced on her, his blood rushing hot in his veins. “Utterly ruthless,” he said as he swooped down to toss her over his shoulder.

Delighted laughter erupted from her willowy form as she lay draped over his shoulder, her short chemise laying her creamy bottom bare. He gave it a sharp slap.

“Ouch,” she yelped. “That hurt.”

He tossed her facedown onto the berth and leaned over to put his lips to the soft swell of her rump. “My apologies.” He slid his hand to the place between her thighs. “Let me make it better.”

She sighed and flopped over onto her back, as he settled atop her and entered her with one smooth stroke. “We shall have to fight more often,” she said, her breath coming harder as he rocked into her in long, leisurely motions, “if this is how you choose to make things up to me.”

He nipped her earlobe. “Do you not worry that
Le Rasoir
will soon have you begging for mercy?”

She turned her face to catch his lips in a slow, soulful kiss before whispering in his ear. “I’m counting on it.”

Much later, Will and Elle sat facing each other on the wooden cabin floor with Duret’s missives spread between them. “Why are you giving these to me now?” he asked.

She smiled softly, her hair unkempt and tousled around her shoulders, looking so like the young woman who had stolen his heart at the pond. “Because I have no doubt you will take me to my girl and because there have been enough misunderstandings and secrets between us.”

Warmth welled in him. He felt as if he was seeing Elle, the woman, clearly for the first time. She’d turned out to be even more enchanting than the girl he’d loved. “I won’t let anything or anyone come between you.” And he’d never spoken truer words. He’d do whatever it took, easily giving his own life, to reunite Elle with her child.

She studied him. “Will, tell me more about your work. Was it always so dangerous, even when you used to visit us at Langtry?”

He reached for a missive. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m curious. I suppose I want to know everything there is to know about you.”

“No, it wasn’t dangerous at first. The more precarious missions came later. I was initially recruited into the service while still at university after proving adept at cryptography.”

Her eyes rounded. “You were a code breaker? Did you enjoy it?”

“Very much so at first. I was drawn to the challenge.” He couldn’t help but bask in the admiration he detected in her eyes. “The trip to Belgium to help retrieve my colleagues was my first taste of danger. I only went along on that assignment because there was an urgent need for a code breaker.”

“After that, I suppose you were drawn to the risk.”

“After I lost you, the challenge of cyphers no longer held the same appeal.” It had been the darkest period of his life. With Elle gone, everything lost meaning. “I couldn’t stay in London. I felt your absence too keenly there. So I sought more and more assignments that took me out of the country. Nothing could fill the void, but the distraction of work helped.”

She blinked, her eyes bright. “I’m so sorry. I should have had more faith in you.”

He couldn’t bear to see her upset. “That’s in the past. We should look forward now.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her gently. “And you have shown faith in me by giving me Duret’s package, which we should examine.”

She sniffed, blinking back tears and offering a watery smile. “Do you think we’ll find anything of interest?”

He picked up another missive and examined the writing. “Let’s find out, shall we? There’s no time like the present to learn why Duret was making such a fuss.”

He grabbed another message from the floor and handed it to her. He began to read his own, enjoying the sensation of her presence beside him and the sense of a shared purpose.

They worked through the dispatches, some of which contained a thread or two of useful information, but nothing worthy of inciting Duret’s excitement.

A while later, Elle looked up from the latest missive she’d been reading and blew out an exasperated breath. “I fail to see how this information is helpful at all. Why should a list of books Napoléon is asking to be sent from an English bookseller be of any interest to anyone at all?”

Will gave her his full attention. “Napoléon’s reading list?” He took the missive from her. “Why would he order books from a London bookseller?”

He scanned the list, his gaze moving over titles having to do with the topography of Ireland, geographical books on various Irish provinces, maps and atlases of Wexford, Gorey, and Enniscorthy on Ireland’s eastern coast.

“Who is Count Andreossy?” she asked.

“The French ambassador to London.” Will looked up from the list. “Why do you ask?”