Perry stared back defiantly. “Yes, I was named for the peregrine.”
“Swift and deadly,” the duke murmured.
“I try to be,” she replied.
Garrett might as well not have been in the room. Perry met the duke’s stare, her eyes slowly darkening. The sight of it stirred something dark and protective within Garrett.
Doyle came back into the room with the duke’s overcoat and top hat. The duke’s gaze dropped, as if nothing unusual had occurred, and he slipped his arms through the great cloak as Doyle held it out. That faint, mocking smile played over his lips again.
“Very well, then,” Moncrieff said, accepting his hat. “I want this matter concluded as swiftly as possible.”
The duke disappeared with Doyle. Silence fell, thick and heavy, as Garrett and Perry listened for his tread and waited until the front door had closed. Perry let out a breath, then turned to him. “What did he want?”
Garrett started loosening his cravat. He didn’t know what was going on in her mind, but he was still irritated with her. “To hire me for a private matter.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
That mulish look was back.
“I thought not,” he replied, crossing to the decanter and pouring himself a snifter of blud-wein. He needed it badly. “Do you want one?”
Perry shook her head. “Don’t get caught up in his games, Garrett. You know what the Echelon is like. He’ll be moving you like a pawn, playing at some game himself.”
“You don’t think I know that?” He threw the glass back. It eased something within him, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
They stared at each other. At an impasse.
“You have your duties,” Garrett said softly. “Perhaps you should go and bathe, then see to making a list of the Echelon’s master smiths—or those mech artisans in the Enclaves that could possibly create such a thing as a mechanical organ.”
She lingered. As if she wanted to ask him something. But he’d set the terms between them today. All or nothing. He was damned tired of reaching for her and having her throw it back in his teeth.
Still, Perry looked troubled. As though she was fighting some thought that was tearing her in half. He’d never seen her like this and it worried him. His irritation washed out of him and he lifted a hand toward her. “Perry—”
She stepped back, that smooth mask sliding into place again. “You’re right. I need to get clean.”
The moment was lost. Perry turned and Garrett was left staring at her back with the horrible feeling that something momentous had been decided.
***
What the hell was she going to do? The duke had recognized her. That little mention of the peregrine—the symbol of her father’s House—was a certain sign, but why had he simply walked out? What was he playing at?
Perry had always thought that seeing the duke would be the worst nightmare she could imagine, but it wasn’t. Seeing the duke with Garrett, knowing that he watched as Garrett stepped between them protectively, was worse. It locked her chest up tight with panic until her head grew faint.
This was why she’d fled in the first place and never gone home. The first time she’d realized that Hague was keeping girls in the dungeons and doing something awful to them, the Moncrieff had promised her that if she ever breathed a word of it, he’d kill her father. The shock of that threat, murmured in an almost gentle voice, had torn her from her safe world.
And so, when she’d finally escaped, she hadn’t gone home.
Knowing how much her father would grieve hurt her, but at least he was still alive to grieve. Her sisters were happily married, each with several children of their own. Nothing could change that. They were safe.
But was Garrett safe?
The truth was becoming clearer in her mind, solidifying with each detail.
She
couldn’t stay.
Could she?
Perry groaned, raking her hands through her still-wet hair. The silence of the room was deafening, and Garrett’s words kept echoing in her head. Demanding more from her than she could give.
She didn’t realize she was moving until she was through the door. Damn it, what had the duke asked of him? She needed to know.
Night had fallen with economical grace as she made her way to his rooms. Too many random thoughts swirled through her head, but what beat in her chest was the steady, dooming beat of an executioner’s drum.
Perry rapped at his door with her knuckles, bruising them in her haste.
“Come in,” Garrett called.
A shiver of breathlessness ran through her. Her hands were shaking but somehow she managed to open the door.
And there he was.
Shirtless.
“Garrett.” Perry stopped on the threshold as if she’d been hit, staring at the naked expanse of his back.
He’d been shaving. Lather still decorated one cheek and he held the blade poised against his skin, his eyes locking on her in the mirror in surprise. Water dripped down his bare chest in the reflection, gleaming on the muscles. He’d discarded his shirt haphazardly over a chair, and his leather pants fit him snugly enough for a part of her to ache.
She’d seen him in a state of undress before. But she’d not expected it now, and the shock stole all of the words she’d been thinking of. Perry could only stare.
It took a moment for him to recover too. He cursed under his breath as his hand slipped and a bright line of red sprang up against the lather. Holding his cheek taut, he scraped the blade down his cheek, his attention returning to his task. “What do you want?”
You.
Slowly she shut the door. “May I speak with you?”
“Only if you have something interesting to say.” Another stroke of the blade. His cheek was bare now and he angled his chin to shave beneath his jaw, wielding the blade with a dexterity she couldn’t take her eyes off of. Her gaze slid over the faint red line on his cheek. Healing now, but she could scent the blood in the air. Hunger burned in her throat.
“Something along the lines of what we spoke of today. Secrets, for example,” he continued. Flicking the last bit of lather from his jaw, he put the blade down and dabbed his face with a small wet towel. His skin was slightly pink and smooth, gleaming in the gaslight. Again he caught her looking at him in the mirror. “Otherwise, I have work to do. I planned on seeing what I could find out about—That’s right. That’s between the Duke of Moncrieff and myself. I know how much you like secrets.”
“Garrett—”
He tossed the towel aside and turned toward her. Gaslight cast alluring shadows over his body. She’d seen it before. Felt each hard line of it in that alley. But the reality of it left her unable to tear her gaze away, her breasts aching and her sex growing damp with need.
“Now that’s not fair,” Garrett murmured. “No touching. No kissing. No looking at me like
that
, Perry.” Slowly he crossed his arms over his chest. The muscle in his biceps rippled and she knew he’d done it deliberately. “Otherwise we’d have to stop pretending these are games, wouldn’t we? We’d have to deal with the fact that things
have
changed between us. No going back. No pretending otherwise.”
“You were the one avoiding me,” she blurted.
His eyes were hot flame. “So this is punishment?”
“No.” She looked up at all that leashed fury and hunger, all of it just for her. If she didn’t take this chance there’d never be another. “Kiss me.” It was the only thing that made sense right now. The only thing she wanted to think about.
A moment of shock widened his blue eyes. Then they narrowed. “Make up your bloody mind.”
I’m frightened and I need you…
All of that got lost on her tongue as she stepped toward him. Then her hands were on his face and she was reaching for him—or maybe he was reaching for her. Perry didn’t know. She was fracturing inside, splintering into a thousand little pieces, and then one of his hands slid up the nape of her neck, cradling her scalp, and the other locked around her waist. Holding her together. Their mouths met and it was everything she’d ever hoped for.
Real.
Not like one of the thousand dreams she’d had of this moment. This was
real
. Garrett was kissing her and she could feel how much he wanted her. How much she wanted him.
A kiss so long denied. A yearning so long held that she felt it quivering deep within her. His tongue met hers. Lashed over it. He was right; sometimes he wasn’t a gentleman. He was angry. She could feel it vibrating through the tense line of his shoulders. Perry dug her short nails into his back and he grabbed her wrists, forcing her back, back…
Her back hit the wall, but there was nowhere to go. Only him. Each hard inch pressed against her, his mouth devouring hers as he held her wrists pinned to the fine wallpaper.
And it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. She bit him, teeth sinking into the flesh of his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. The taste of it exploded on her tongue and then they were both tearing at each other, teeth and lips and tongues tangling in a sudden urge to drink the other in.
He slammed her back against the wall, one hand sliding under her arse. Perry locked her legs around his hips, feeling the hot grind of his erection right where she wanted it.
“Damn it,” he whispered, stealing a breath. His lips met hers on a groan that vibrated through his chest. “This is not—I’m not doing this. Not until you give me something, damn it—”
This was all she could give. The moment she’d seen him, she’d known she couldn’t stay. The Moncrieff had found her now and he wouldn’t back down. Nor would Garrett if he knew who she was. It hurt. That this could be the last night they had together. Perry kissed him, long and slow and hard, her hands sliding up to cup his cheeks. A quiver ran through his body and she rolled her hips, nudging against him, riding over the heated flesh digging into her hip.
Yes. This. Now.
One final good-bye.
Garrett sucked in a sharp breath. Then her hand was sliding down between them, the hard muscle of his stomach flinching beneath her exploring touch. Perry reached the edge of his waistband before he moved, capturing her wrist and shaking his head.
“No,” he gasped, his eyes glassy with desire—and something else. She saw shadows there, stealing through his irises, sweeping away the beautiful blue. Fierce need. “Perry, I have to be in control.” Another shudder went through him. “I
need
to be.”
Perry slid down his body as he stepped back, her boots hitting the floor. What was he doing? Her eyes flared wide. He couldn’t be saying no. Not to this. Not now.
But he caught her hips and then he was turning her, her hands hitting the wallpaper. Pressing her hard against it, until her forehead rested against the embossed green-and-gold print and her breath wet her lips.
“Fuck,” he whispered, pinning her there. “You come to me like this? After today?”
“I could go,” she threw back over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his for one strained moment.
“You would, wouldn’t you?” Something in his eyes darkened. “Too late for that, love.”
Garrett’s hands slid over her hips and tugged her belt open even as he pressed her against the wall. She was pinned by his weight, by the strength in his hard body. A delicious shiver went through her.
Fingers slid into her hair, knotting around it until he drew her head back. His other hand deftly dealt with the buttons on her trousers. Perry gasped.
“You don’t get to say no anymore.” He bit her neck, then suckled at the skin. The shock of it echoed through her, reminding her of other hungers. This wasn’t the first time a blue blood had taken her blood. And she’d liked it once, perhaps too much. The ache in her nipples intensified.
“You don’t get to pretend this isn’t happening.” Fingers skating lower, over her hip. Down. Finding the slit in her drawers.
His fingers found her, hot and wet and wanting. They paused for a moment as if surprised at something, then whispered over her flesh with long, slow strokes that stole the breath from her lungs. Perry groaned, rotating her hips, wanting more.
“You don’t know how much I want to be inside you,” he whispered. One teasing fingertip delved into her, then out again, dancing over her sex. “Fucking my way into you. Nice and slow. Until you’re begging me for more.”
He was going slowly enough to kill her. Perry slid her hand over his with a gasp, pressed it harder. More. She wanted more.
One hand wrapped around her throat. Curling her back into his body, her head thrown back against his shoulder. Trapped there as he wrought delicious damage on her.
“Yes,” he whispered against her ear. “Right there?”
Perry bit her lip, trapping a moan. Her body spasmed as his finger rubbed over that one special spot. Again. And again. Destroying her. Tightening every nerve in her body until she was quivering. If he hadn’t been holding her up, she would have fallen.
Her short nails raked the embossed figures on the wallpaper.
Please
.
Don’t stop.
But his fingers were slowing, slowing, tracing teasing little circles that left her grinding against him, desperate for more.
“Everything has changed,” he whispered, his hot breath on her sensitive neck. Lips brushed against her skin, the graze of teeth. “Admit it, damn you. Everything changed. And you wanted it to. That’s why you wore that bloody dress at the opera. You wanted
this
.”
“
Yes.
” The plea burned over her lips. The only truth she could ever give him.
A muscled thigh slid between hers, spreading her legs. “You want me.”
Perry shook her head, quivering on the edge of ecstasy.
“Say it,” he hissed, one finger broaching the wet heat of her body. Then two. Filling her. Stretching her. He stopped moving, both fingers buried deep within her. Leaving her on the edge. Waiting.
“I want you,” she whispered. “Please…please don’t stop.”
“I don’t intend to.” His thumb caressed the center of all that feeling, and the edge crumpled beneath her feet.
One touch to fling her into the heart of all that sensation. One touch to break her. Perry cried out, pressing her trembling forehead against the wallpaper and leaning on it.
Oh
God…
A sob caught on her breath. She barely felt him tugging her around, pressing her back against the wall. Perry looked up, her vision glazing.