A Secret in Her Kiss (11 page)

“Hmm . . . I don’t remember.” But the way his gaze followed his fingers across her bodice belied that claim.

“I can’t say it.”

His hand stilled. “That’s unfortunate. Since you are the one giving orders.”

This whole episode was about brazen pleasure, wasn’t it? “My breasts. I want you to kiss them.”

He lowered his lips to the skin visible above the neckline of her bodice, his lips barely grazing her. “This is what you had in mind?”

She narrowed her eyes. If he wanted specifics, he would have them. “Yes, but I want that all over.”

His hand covered her breast as she spoke, kneading and caressing.

Gasps interrupted her next words. “I want you to—strip me of my dress and cover—the same area with your tongue.”

“Ah.” He lowered her bodice, exposing the dusky ring at the peak of her breast. But before his lips touched her again, he groaned, pulling back. The candlelight dusted golden shadows over his face. “This will complicate things.”

She squirmed, her breasts spilling free. “It doesn’t have to.”

His thumb circled her nipple and she moaned. “But it will. Each time we see each other, this will burn in the back of our minds.”

But that was the point. They wouldn’t see each other at all soon.

“Sex is natural. You must have had passing relations with women before, relations that you enjoyed, then moved on,” Mari said.

“And you think that is what this will be? How many men have you kissed?” He traced her lips. “How many men have caressed your breasts?” He cradled one eager mound, stroking it until she moaned helplessly. “How many men have slipped between your slender legs and spent themselves inside of you?” His hand slid down her waist to graze the sensitive heat between her legs.

A soft cry of pleasure escaped her. “N-none.”

“Then you fool yourself if you think this is something you can do lightly.”

“The choice is mine. Stop protecting me.” She pressed herself against his hand. She needed this. She needed him to take her.

Lines of strain creased his face. “I can’t. Mari—” He stiffened and gently set her away. “Go through that door to your right. It leads to the morning parlor.”

“What—”

“We’re about to have an audience.”

Chapter Eleven

B
ennett positioned himself in front of the side table containing the brandy decanter as the main door opened.

“Prestwood! This is where you disappeared to.” His cousin entered the room, followed by a taller, turbaned gentleman. “Too much attention, eh?”

Bennett shrugged and poured himself a drink.

The other gentleman stroked the thin black beard that outlined his chin. “This is the Major Prestwood you have mentioned?”

Daller nodded. “Yes. Major Bennett Prestwood, may I introduce Talat Bey.”

Ah, the husband of the beautiful Fatima. “Pleased to meet you.” The man’s grip was viselike as they shook hands, an instinctive test of male dominance. Bennett kept his grip firm but saw no reason to engage in schoolboy contests.

The bey assessed him like a lion selecting his prey. “I have heard much about your father, the Earl of Riverton. An amazing diplomat, is he not?”

Bennett smiled fondly. “Indeed he is. I regret none of his tact passed to me.”

His cousin chuckled. “I am glad I inherited a small portion. I wouldn’t have done as well in the military as you have.”

Bennett sipped his drink. That claim was impressive seeing as how Daller was a cousin on his mother’s side.

Talat absently rubbed the knuckles of his right hand. “Your father led the peace negotiations for the British at Versailles?”

Daller answered for him. “Yes, the earl was quite indispensible to the Regent. I had nothing but praise for his decisions.”

The bey continued to watch Bennett. “What brings you to my country so soon after your glorious victory at Waterloo?”

Bennett lifted his glass, falling into his appointed role of bored aristocrat. “My country estate seemed far too tame. And my mother is after me to marry.”

“If you are seeking to avoid marriage, you have had poor luck, have you not? Your name has been linked to Miss Sinclair’s,” Talat said.

Bennett set his glass on the tray. “Intentions change. Miss Sinclair has captured my interest.”

Talat circled to study a picture behind Bennett. “She is interesting. More so now than in the past.”

Bennett turned so the man wasn’t behind him. “In what way?”

Talat shrugged and glanced behind the desk. “Her work, of course.”

“What work?” Bennett sipped his drink. What did the man know? And if he knew about her drawing for the British, why would he tip his hand?

“With the plants and insects. Surely, you know of it.”

Bennett nodded. The man was searching out information. “I do know of it.” He grinned, playing his role. “But I hope plants are the furthest thing from her mind when she is with me.”

“She is much changed tonight. You are fortunate that you arrived and plucked the diamond everyone here had missed. None of your countrymen paid her much heed. You must be adept at discovering things about her that the others do not know.”

His cousin inserted himself back into the conversation. “She is much improved tonight.”

Bennett frowned. While Mari did look exquisite, she didn’t need improving.

Daller removed his snuffbox. “We were just discussing the deplorable state of security in some of the regions of the empire. I mentioned your encounter with the thief yesterday while you were visiting sights.”

Talat moved to the other side of the desk. “I apologize for the bad impression you must have gained of this glorious country.”

“No need to apologize. It could have happened anywhere.”

“Quite right,” Daller agreed. “His Majesty’s government is dedicated to assisting its allies maintain the same level of peace and safety English citizens enjoy. In fact, I have come across some information you might find of interest.”

The bey finally turned his attention to Daller. “Indeed?”

Daller’s chest puffed slightly with importance. “Just some small facts I thought would be of use.”

“I have always thought our relationship with the British too distant. Perhaps the sharing of information will help close that gap,” the bey said.

Bennett straightened, grasping this turn in the conversation as his polite reason to leave. Alliance building wasn’t his area of expertise or interest. “I will leave you to your discussion then.” He needed to check on Mari. The parlor door she’d shut behind her now cracked open. She must be growing bored.

Daller shook his head. “No need. I simply need to point out something to Talat on the map. It’s British intelligence, mind you, but I know you can be trusted with classified information. It is just an intriguing tidbit my superiors are allowing me to share with the bey as a gesture of goodwill.” He unfolded a map from his desk with a flourish.

In other words, the man wanted to show off his prowess after being compared to Bennett’s father.

Bennett kept his gaze from the partially open door. Mari worked for the British. She could be trusted.

“I received word that there is a large encampment of bandits holed up here.” He pointed to a rocky, mountainous region to the east country. “Five miles north of the village of Gangos. The man who eliminated these criminals would receive great favor with the sultan.”

Talat glanced briefly at Bennett, then down again at the map. “A curious location.”

Daller leaned on the desk. “I thought you would find it of interest.”

M
ari withdrew from the opening. She pressed her back into the textured wainscoting next to the door. Gangos was Esad’s former territory. He’d served there for over two decades. After he’d returned to Constantinople to advise the sultan, a nasty group of bandits had begun terrorizing the area. Esad couldn’t leave the people he thought of as his own to be protected only by their ineffectual governor, so he’d begun hunting the criminals himself. To have Talat rout the band of cutthroats Esad had been struggling against for several years would humiliate him in the eyes of the sultan’s court.

Despite Daller’s overtures to Esad when he’d first arrived as ambassador, Esad had little patience for a man who received a post based on family connections rather than his own efforts. It was no accident that the ambassador was providing Esad’s rival with this information. It was a play for power, pure and simple.

Mari pressed her palms against the wall. If she got to Esad fast enough, he could use his own resources in the region and act before Talat.

But the ambassador had said the information was classified. Bennett would hold that label sacred. He’d order her to keep it secret. Even if she explained the repercussions, he wouldn’t let her go to Esad with the information.

She pressed her shaking hands to her cheeks.

In fact, he’d forbid her. He’d see giving classified information to Esad as a betrayal of England.

As treason.

He must have suspected she was still in the parlor, and he hadn’t found some way to ensure she was out of earshot before the ambassador shared the information. He trusted her.

She pushed herself upright against the wall. It didn’t matter if the information was not intended for her ears. She’d heard it. She would not let harm befall Esad while she had the power to stop it. She owed him too much.

For Esad she would betray England.

Betray Bennett.

Her stomach heaved. Esad was the only rock she’d ever had to cling to.

She pressed her knuckles to her mouth. She respected Bennett and admired him, but he was nothing more than a fleeting moment. After Vourth, he would leave and not look back. Neither of them intended for him to stay in her life. Her actions tonight would simply cement that.

His poetry left her with no doubt how deep his loyalty to his country ran. He would not forgive her.

She scrubbed her burning eyes with her fingertips. If she didn’t go to Esad, she wouldn’t forgive herself.

Mari slipped from the room.

Chapter Twelve

M
ari wasn’t in the parlor.

Bennett straightened his jacket. It had taken him longer than he’d thought to extricate himself from the ambassador and the bey. She’d no doubt crept back to the ballroom. Which was for the best, since there’d be an epic scandal brewing if they’d both disappeared for a full hour.

Too bad they’d been interrupted before they’d earned that scandal.

He’d known passion simmered inside her. He’d felt it in both of their previous kisses. But he hadn’t known that she’d embrace that passion, or that the simple touch of her damnably innocent fingers would render him as hard as a pike.

And her confession that she’d studied the
Kama Sutra
—he didn’t know whether to laugh or be horrified.

He strode toward the ballroom. She’d claimed she could handle the repercussions from a liaison. But he couldn’t break himself of the thought of her weeping in her room after she understood the ramifications of her choice.

What if she did meet a man she desired to marry? She’d curse her shortsightedness and regret every time he’d touched her. Bennett’s teeth clenched.

But was she right? Was he being a fool protecting her from herself?

No. He’d much rather suffer the excruciating ache in his body forever than know he’d hurt her.

He surveyed the ballroom. No sultry red dress graced the dance floor or hugged the perimeter. Unease settled in his gut. Where was she?

Bennett strode to the garden, shrugging off calls for his attention along the way. It wasn’t like her to play the coward. She would’ve faced the women head-on, not fled to the garden. But he searched it anyway, surprising no fewer than three amorous couples.

His tension increased in pitch. He scanned the ballroom again. The room was crowded. It was highly doubtful someone could take her by force, although he couldn’t rule out coercion or deception.

Running out of options, he even braved the gaggle of females surrounding the retiring room.

Her father. Perhaps something had happened to him?

Bennett found the man in the card room. Sir Reginald sat discussing pottery with a man who twitched like a cornered rabbit. In fact, when Bennett approached, the other man seized the opportunity and scampered away.

“Ah, Major. Made good your retreat?”

Bennett smiled, although he wanted nothing more than to grab her father by the shoulders and ask why he hadn’t thought to keep an eye on his daughter.

“Not quite, sir. I am looking for your daughter. We’re to dance the next set.”

Sir Reginald set down his glass of brandy on the arm of the chair. “Oh, she’s not here.”

Bennett forced himself to remain relaxed. “I didn’t expect her to be in this room.”

Sir Reginald shook his head. “No, I mean she went home. Wasn’t feeling well. I must say she did appear a trifle peaked.”

“And you let her return home unaccompanied?” The words emerged as a growl.

Sir Reginald blinked, as if it hadn’t occurred to him to do otherwise. “She can look after herself.”

She shouldn’t have to. “How did she get home?”

Sir Reginald appeared nonplussed. He bumped his brandy but caught it before it plunged to the ground. “I’m not sure. I assume she took our coach. Oh, we did not come in our coach. The ambassador’s then, perhaps?”

Bennett spun away. Something wasn’t right. If she’d been ill, why not wait for him or at least send a note? She’d probably overheard the few things he’d said to Talat about her, but there had been nothing there to upset her. True, Talat had seemed a trifle on edge, but there had been nothing there to make her flee. He cursed the frantic tone that edged into his thoughts. It wouldn’t help the situation. He would find her. No other option was acceptable.

Rather than wading through the ballroom again, he cut through a side exit to the stables. A quick inquiry informed him that the ambassador’s coach was still at the residence and that no vehicles had left in the past hour. After a bit more questioning, however, one of the grooms recalled a woman leaving the house on foot.

What the devil was she thinking? She knew her life was in danger. Why had she fled? She had enjoyed their interaction earlier. Hell, she’d been the one who initiated the whole thing. She couldn’t be running from that.

Darkness shrouded the street. No streetlights dotted the path. Only the occasional light from an open window illuminated the way as he hurried through the roads to her house. Someone must have threatened her. It was the only thing that made sense. But why wouldn’t she have come to him?

He knew she was angry about Vourth, but he’d thought from their interaction that she’d come to understand that he had no choice. That she’d trusted him.

Then again, he was certain Sophia trusted him and she’d kept her secret for three years.

Bennett increased his pace until his legs burned and his lungs heaved.

He didn’t bother to knock when he reached her home. He strode through the main hall to Mari’s portion of the house. Her maid jumped when he entered and dropped her embroidery hoop.

“Is Mari here?”

Achilla shook her head. “She left.”

Relief warred with anger. She should have had more sense than to walk home unprotected, but at least she’d survived. “Where did she go?”

Achilla picked up the embroidery and held it to her chest. “I don’t think I have leave to say.”

Bennett drew in a deep breath. He wouldn’t fault her loyalty under other circumstances, but now it could get her mistress killed. “I will say this once. You know I am Mari’s protector. Her life is in danger. Where is she?”

Achilla paled. “She had Selim ready the coach. She wanted him to take her to Esad Pasha’s house. She had information for him.”

She wouldn’t.

If Mari had heard the intelligence on the brigands, then she would also have heard it was classified. She worked for the British government, she wouldn’t betray it.

Information was a precious commodity. How Daller decided to use it shaped England’s relations with the Ottoman Empire. If it bought Talat favor and influence with the sultan, it would be powerful indeed. If Daller had intended for the pasha to have the information, he would have gone to him on his own.

A sick feeling swept through him. The information was not hers to give. Yet Mari had no other reason to flee to the pasha. “How long ago did they leave?”

Achilla flinched. “Half an hour.”

More than enough time to reach the pasha’s house.

More than enough time to earn her a place on the gallows.