by Aston, Alexa
He only wanted Gemma. Now. Forever. And beyond.
Chapter Eleven
Gemma awoke and found her bedchamber still dark. She’d surprised herself by falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Now, though, she was wide awake.
And able to think about last night—and Burke’s kiss.
She had skillfully avoided other men’s kisses during her come-out Season. A quick turn of her head. Pretending she had to sneeze. Sensing someone approaching and greeting them by name. It had only been a handful of times but Gemma hadn’t felt the need to kiss any of those suitors.
Need burned within her now to kiss Burke Nicholson. Repeatedly. From now until the next Season rolled around and beyond. And to do much more than kiss him. She realized there were things about her body which she hadn’t a clue. Her response to his kiss had changed it. Changed her. New sensations trickled through her and then had begun swiftly galloping. Her breasts felt heavier. Her belly had erupted with the mad pounding of butterfly wings. The place between her legs tingled and throbbed. All of this was so foreign to Gemma. Her natural curiosity, though, wished to explore it more thoroughly.
But would that chance ever occur?
Burke had only kissed her to throw Lord Hampton off the scent from what they did in his private study. Her new partner had repeated a more lengthy performance for Viscount Carpenter, whom she knew was close friends with Hampton and would share what he’d seen pass between her and Burke. Gemma had felt foolish and naïve as he’d had to explain to her what flirting consisted of and how to do it. That hadn’t mattered, though, when he began to kiss her. It might have been pretend to him but for her, something had awakened and come storming to life.
Yet she didn’t think he was wholly unaffected by their performance. It seemed anytime they touched, something sparked between them. She didn’t think that was natural. It had never happened with any other man she’d come in contact with. Burke had been the only man who caused such an incredible sensation.
Could he really kiss her as thoroughly as he had and be unmoved?
He had to have loads of experience in kissing or he wouldn’t be so skilled at it. She wondered if men felt differently when they kissed. Could Burke be so talented at it and yet feel nothing for her? Gemma didn’t think she could kiss someone so ardently and not be moved by the experience.
If he did experience any of the stirrings she had, what did it mean for their partnership?
The hardest thing to acknowledge was feeling horribly disloyal to Rob for enjoying the kisses of the man who’d somehow gotten her husband killed. Or had he? What if Rob, in his inexperience, had done something to reveal his and Burke’s true purpose? Was Burke assuming the burden of guilt that should lie with her husband? As long as Gemma had no access to the circumstances, she would never know. And Burke had been there. His remorse was evident. He shouldered the blame for the incident, whatever it involved. It had been war, though. A thousand things could have gone wrong. Someone the two men had recruited could have betrayed them without their ever knowing.
Gemma beat her fists into the mattress, knowing she was trying to excuse Burke. Wanting him to bear no culpability for Rob’s death.
Because she wanted him . . .
Oh, Lord—what did that even mean? She knew she wanted to kiss him. She craved his fingers touching her face and spread across the small of her back. Wicked thoughts began to spring up. Burke kissing her throat. Moving lower. To her breasts. Touching them. Kissing them. Touching between her legs.
Gemma flung the bedclothes back, groaning as she sat up. Her body wanted those things. She wasn’t even sure why but her skin felt hot to the touch just thinking of Burke. It would probably become enflamed if he did any of those things to her. If her body felt the need for it, then she supposed it was something that occurred between a man and a woman. With no mother to have explained these matters to her, Gemma was on her own.
The trouble was she might never kiss Burke again. Just because they’d gone into their act last night didn’t mean a repeat performance would follow. It was only to occur if they were discovered. If they were careful, they need never let it happen again. She knew she’d gone mad when she began toying with ways to make Burke fall back into his role of her pretend lover.
Climbing from the bed, she washed and rang for Joanie to help her dress. Burke would arrive sometime this morning. They hadn’t established a time. She needed to get a hot cup of tea in her and remove herself from such insane fantasies. Record her impressions of last night’s search.
Since it was still early and Mrs. Pettigrew wouldn’t have breakfast prepared yet, Gemma went to the small room she used as her study. She kept it locked, not even allowing Joanie in to clean since this was where she laid out the work she did for Sir Paxton. Unlocking the door, she went to the desk and withdrew paper and pencil. She berated herself for not doing so last night, when her impressions were clearer. In the future, she would do so.
Of course, last night she’d still been in a fog, thanks to Burke’s kiss. Writing down what she’d discovered had been the farthest thing from her mind. She resolved to commit herself wholeheartedly to their investigation and cast aside all the foolish notions about kissing him.
Gemma closed her eyes, trying to see the words from the two letters she’d found. She wrote down what she could recall from the undated one and then used a separate page to record what she remembered from the one less than two weeks old. When she finished, she slipped them into her desk and left the room, locking the door behind her. Making her way to the dining room, she entered.
Burke was sitting there as if he belonged, sipping a cup of tea, a plate of eggs and ham before him. He looked more handsome than ever as he rose to greet her.
She dug her nails into the palm of her hand and tried to compose herself.
“Good morning, Burke,” she said brusquely and took a seat.
“Hello, Gemma,” he said softly and sat again.
Mrs. Pettigrew sailed through the door.
“Here’s your breakfast, my lady,” the cook said. “You need anything else, Mr. Nicholson?”
“I don’t, Mrs. Pettigrew, but thank you for asking.”
She gave Gemma a wink and left the room.
“I wasn’t sure when we would meet this morning,” Gemma began.
“I am an early riser. I blame it on my army years,” Burke explained. “I hope you don’t mind my breakfasting with you.”
“Not at all,” she said neutrally. “In fact, anytime we need to meet and discuss what we found, you are welcome to come then. That way, we both have the rest of our day to accomplish what we need to do.”
He placed his cup in its saucer. “Are you working on breaking a new code for Morris?”
“I am. I’ve also decided to work on my own cipher for British agents to use. Sir Paxton hasn’t asked for me to do so but he could in the future. I want to play with several kinds and be ready with the best creation if he asks.”
He smiled again, the second time he’d done so. It relaxed his usually serious face and made his lone eye twinkle with mischief. A part of her ached for him, having lost his eye. He was incredibly handsome as it was with his silk eyepatch. He must have been devastatingly handsome without it. Yet it somehow suited him, giving him that air of insouciance that added to his charm.
“You are always prepared, Gemma. I like that. It makes for a good partner since I rarely am. I don’t mean I take my assignments lightly. Far from it. I learn everything I can and then try to live in the moment. I’ve found I’m adept at changing to meet new circumstances. That couples well with my powers of observation. Being flexible made me a better spy, I believe.”
“And you think I’m not a good one because of my preparation?”
“I think nothing of the kind,” he said firmly, his gaze penetrating her, sending a thrill through her. “Because you haven’t been to war and you’ve taken on a challenge unlike anything you’ve ever done before, being as ready as possib
le will help you survive. Think of the reams of pages you have on all those whom Morris deems suspicious. You used that last night when you played on Hampton’s sympathies. You’d listed where he has a fondness for pretty, young, innocent women. You acted to the hilt, guilelessly saying the room was unlocked and blushing when he gave me savvy looks as to what we’d been up to. Your knowledge of him helped you act accordingly.”
Gemma wasn’t certain she’d done everything Burke attributed to her. She had tried to act candidly yet a bit unsophisticated and seen how her words assuaged him, allaying his fears.
“Thank you,” she said graciously.
“We make a good team.”
She busied herself with spreading marmalade across her toast.
They ate quickly, talking about those on the list who’d attended last night’s ball, and which ones they’d spoken to. Gemma mentioned she’d overheard Lord Melton, a man on their list, discussing his new mistress and gave Burke her name.
“He said he’d gifted his former mistress with an emerald necklace as a sendoff and that she already had a new protector in mind. He called her Elise. I have nothing in my notes on her or her last name.”
“I’d like to find this Elise and talk with her. See if she has anything of value to pass along.”
The thought of him talking with beautiful, experienced courtesans put a damper on her mood. She knew he would do the same when he read the report she’d composed this morning and wish to spend time with Selina Crawford, Lord Hampton’s latest mistress.
“If you’re through, we can adjourn to my study. I wrote down what I could remember of the two letters I discovered and my impressions of them.”
He gave her an appreciative nod. “We hadn’t talked about doing so. I’m glad you thought of it. Sometimes, it’s the very minute items recalled that can hold the key to unlocking a case.”
Burke rose and pulled her chair from the table, helping her to her feet. Gemma wished he hadn’t touched her because those irritating butterflies swirled inside her belly again. She took a calming breath and led him to her study, unlocking it and entering. Going to her desk, she removed her notes and handed them to him.
Burke sat and she went to the window to look out, afraid that she would merely stare at him otherwise. He studied her pages for some minutes and then cleared his throat.
Gemma returned to him and took the seat beside him. “What do you think?”
“First, you have tremendous recall. I didn’t see the original letters but you have recreated a good portion of them, I believe.”
She shrugged. “I’ve always had an excellent memory.”
“My gut tells me the undated one came after the one with a date,” he said.
“I felt the same. The first is more from someone you’re just beginning to know. The second seemed more personal in nature. I’m sure they’ve had . . . relations between the writing of the two. The tone of the second letter seems as if they’re closer.”
“You’re certain of the address?”
“I am.”
“I will go to this Selina’s residence before I investigate Lord Melton’s former mistress. Morris had Lord Hampton ranked higher on his list of possible traitors so I want to visit Selina first.”
“How do these things work? Will you just knock on her door?”
“I think I’ll keep watch on the house first. See who comes and goes. Talk to a servant or two if I can. Then approach the alluring Selina Crawford.”
Jealousy flared within her, an unknown emotion until this moment. “And how do you know she’s alluring?” Gemma asked sharply, regretting her tone immediately.
Burke gave her a wicked grin. “Aren’t all mistresses?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she said primly. “I’ve never met one and never plan to be one.”
“You are a widow now, Gemma,” Burke said, his words as smooth and rich as velvet. “Have you ever considered taking a lover? Society almost expects it of widows.”
She choked and sputtered so that Burke leaned over and patted her firmly on the back several times. Unfortunately, it left him so close to her that when she calmed, their faces were inches apart. Gemma fought the urge to press her lips against his. She stilled, forcing herself not to lean toward him.
Then Burke closed the gap between them.
Their mouths touched. Fire rippled through her. Her arms went around his neck as his hands clasped her waist and lifted her from the chair, pulling her body against his. Every fiber in her being came to life. His hands left her waist and settled on her back, roaming up and down as he urged her to open to him. Gemma did and his tongue slid inside, stroking hers. All of those crazy sensations from the night before came back a hundredfold and she tightened her hold on his neck, pressing herself against his hard, muscled chest.
A low growl sounded from him. The intensity of the kiss changed, becoming more demanding. Gemma clung to him, the pounding between her legs becoming stronger the deeper he kissed her. She whimpered and he held her even tighter. She began toying with the hair above the nape of his neck, weaving her fingers through it. Burke backed her up until she bumped against her desk. He eased her down until her back lay flat against it, her legs dangling.
He stepped between them and bent over until he was resting against her. He reached up and took her hands from his neck, entwining his fingers with hers and lowering their joined hands to the desk, where they rested on either side of her head. Burke kissed her until Gemma had no rational thoughts left inside her. All she knew was sensation and need.
His broke the kiss and trailed hot kisses along her throat, nipping at it playfully, causing the most delicious tingling to run through her. He moved lower and, with his teeth latched on to her fichu, pulled it from where it rested against her neckline. Lifting it away, he dropped it to the ground, his gaze falling to her breasts. Gemma saw the hunger in his eye and prayed he would find his fill.
His lips danced along her naked collarbones, bringing a chill to her. He took his time before resting them along the top curve of her breast. By now, she was wild with a hunger of her own. Her fingers tightened against his as his tongue outlined the upper curve of her breast. Back and forth it went, causing her to mewl like a kitten. He switched to the other one and her hips tried to rise, only they were pinned by his weight.
Burke lifted his head, his eye glazed with desire, and met her gaze.
“Do you want more, Gemma?” he asked softly.
Chapter Twelve
“Yes,” Gemma said breathlessly.
Burke wanted her to want him. He needed her to want him as much as he wanted her. Never had he had such a physical and emotional response to a woman. He knew it was madness to pursue her. The crown had need of them as agents in the war against Bonaparte. Becoming involved could prove disastrous. He also had to consider that he’d done something to get Gemma’s husband killed. He doubted he could ever totally win her trust. She’d admitted as much before but put aside her personal feelings for the good of England.
So why in the bloody hell was he sprawled atop her?
Because he had to have her.
This craving for her—this unquenchable thirst—went beyond anything in his experience. It pushed aside all sensible thought. All he wanted was for his mouth to answer her siren’s call.
Burke’s mind called out for him to stop. To end his pursuit. It still wasn’t too late.
He ignored the angel begging him to be a gentleman—and listened to the devil whispering in his ear.
Releasing her hands, he allowed the back of his fingers to graze along the curve of her breasts. The fichu she’d worn hid the low neckline of her dress. Without it, the tops of her round globes were easily seen. But he was greedy where Gemma was concerned. He wanted to see them bared to him. Dipping his fingers into her gown, he cupped each breast and squeezed gently. Her breath came rapidly, in short bursts, her blue eyes darkening.
Burke moved his hands to her shoulders and pushed her gown from them, lowerin
g it to her elbows, pinning her arms. Her stays imprisoned what he desired and he scooped her breasts from them, marveling at their round perfection and pink nipples which now puckered.
Gemma shifted under him again and he thought of how he wanted her in his bed, writhing under him. He knew the desk wasn’t comfortable. Hopefully, the bed would come soon.
He toyed with her now, kneading each breast and playfully tweaking the nipples. Her breathing quickened and he saw desire flare in her eyes. He bent and put his mouth on one breast, his tongue circling the nipple and then flicking across it. She gasped and then moaned as he sucked on it, her body shuddering beneath him.
“Burke!” she cried out, her hands grazing his waist and clutching the fabric of his coat as if she were drowning and he were an anchor to steady her.
He kept up his assault, first on one and then the other, enjoying every minute of it. Gemma began making little sounds in the back of her throat, which only heightened the experience for him. He grew as hard as a rock but knew this wasn’t the time or place. She would need wooing—and convincing—before she graced his bed.
He raised his head and blew softly, the air causing her nipple to pebble in need.
“Burke,” she moaned. “Oh . . . oh . . .”
“What do you want, Gemma?” he asked, raising his head to see her.
Her face was flushed with rosy color, the blue of her eyes as dark as a stormy sea. That full, bottom lip quivered slightly and she bit into it, stilling it.
“I . . . I want you . . . to touch me,” she said faintly.
“Where?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t, Gemma. You’ll have to tell me.”
Burke knew she needed her release but enjoyed the game they played.
“Between . . . my legs.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
A blush crept up her neck and spilled onto her cheeks. She nodded.
“I can do that,” he agreed and saw relief sweep across her face.
