by Alyson Chase
“You’re just scared of the sound the caves make when the wind comes through. You always were lily-livered.”
A floorboard creaked, and Liz pressed closer to the wall.
Hobby sniffed. “I’m not scared. But it sounds like the gates of Hell open up in them caves, and every poor soul trapped below is howling in torment.”
“Don’t worry, Hobby. The devil doesn’t want you.” There was a muffled clap, like Nalley slapped Hobby’s shoulder. “Besides. It won’t take long to trade a box for a bag of Sovereigns.”
Liz sucked in a breath and fell back a step. The chandler had stolen the box with the key. And he was selling it. Tonight.
The men’s voices grew louder, and Liz turned and sprinted for the main room. She skidded to a halt next to Peggy and fell onto the bench, her chest heaving.
Nalley and Hobart appeared a moment later. The tradesman shuffled up to the table, twisting a handkerchief between his two hands. “Yer Grace, I’m sorry but I don’t have any more of my candles. But next time I’m in Lincoln, I’ll be sure to stop by.”
Liz gathered her reticule and dropped some coin on the table. “Thank you.” She tugged Peggy to her feet. “Feeling all better now, Mrs. Todd? Lovely.”
Nalley scooped the coins into his hand and nodded farewell as Liz and Peggy hurried out the door.
“Well?” Peggy stumbled on a patch of ice. “Did you learn anything?”
Liz wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist. She glanced over her shoulder as they made their way to the carriage. Their footman hopped down from the front seat and opened the door. Liz handed him her purchases and accepted his hand to help her in. After the cook settled across from her, Liz leaned forward. “He’s selling it tonight.”
“What. Your gift for the duke?”
Liz flushed, chewing on her bottom lip. “Yes. My gift.”
“So”—Peggy hiccupped—“what are you going to do?” The carriage rolled into motion.
Liz smiled. That was one of the benefits of being married to a spy. Once she told Marcus what she’d learned, that key was as good as recovered. He’d know just what to do with Misters Nalley and Hobart. “Don’t worry yourself, Marcus and I will take care of it.”
Chapter Three
“What do you mean you won’t do anything?” Liz paced the library, one hand on her lower back the other rubbing her abdomen. “I overheard where and when the thief is going to sell your key. Why wouldn’t you take some of our footmen and confront the bounders?”
Marcus arched an eyebrow. “Where? You heard cliffs and a cave. That could describe any number of places along our coast.”
“There is only one cave that howls like the gates of hell have been opened.” Why was he being deliberately obtuse? That cave was well-known for the noise it made. There was something about the shape of the rocks and a hole on the far side that the wind rushed through. Liz didn’t quite understand it, but it had been Marcus himself who had been the one to explain the phenomenon to her, for goodness sake.
Marcus stood from his makeshift seat on the edge of the desk and strolled over to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her until she faced away from him. Marcus replaced her hand on her back with his own.
Liz sank back into his touch as he kneaded the ache away.
“What you overhead at the tavern contradicts my own information.” He dug his knuckle into a particularly tight muscle, and Liz whimpered. “I don’t want you to concern yourself over this,” Marcus said, his voice low. His breath caressed the rim of her ear a moment before his lips fluttered across it. “You only need to think about preparing for Christmas and the arrival of your sister and Julius. How does Mrs. Todd fare? Will I need to hire another cook for the Christmas feast?”
She almost succumbed to his charms. Her husband’s hands were as silken as his words. It would be so easy to leave the problem to Marcus.
If only he wouldn’t be a thickheaded fool and listened to her.
She stepped away and turned. The gold streaks in his hair shimmered in the flickering candlelight. His eyes were soft, and so dark they seemed to absorb all the remaining light in the room.
She would resist the draw of those eyes. Liz bit her bottom lip. She must.
“Peggy feels much better.” Last Liz had seen her, she was being tended to quite nicely by Mr. Todd. Peggy’s aversion to deception seemed to have ended when she realized her ‘moment of faintness’ meant an afternoon of having her feet up and a doting man bringing her cups of tea. “But Marcus—”
“Liz, the matter is at an end as far as you are concerned.” He cupped her neck and brushed his thumb along her jaw. “Now, let’s turn our attention to more important matters.”
More important? Marcus had impressed upon her just how important that missing key was. Lives were at stake.
He lowered his head and pressed soft kisses along her jutting lower lip.
His attempt at distraction was obvious. Liz gripped his silk cravat and tugged him closer. Obvious and successful. For now.
He drew up her skirts. His fingertips danced over the flesh of her inner thighs, making her shudder.
He found her slit and slid his finger inside her wet heat.
A growl rumbled deep from his chest. “I believe you’re more eager now since you’re with child than you ever were. And that’s saying something.”
Dear lord, she was. She arched her hips into his caress. After the cravings for lemons had disappeared, her cravings for Marcus had increased threefold. Just one look at him and she ached. Even when he was being a thickheaded fool.
Marcus walked her backwards until her thighs hit his desk. “Liz. My Liz.” He gently bit down on her lip and tugged. “How do you want it?”
“Any way. Every way. I only want you.”
He circled her clit, his touch as light as a feather.
Except that way. She wasn’t in the mood for teases. “More,” she demanded.
“When I say.”
“Marcus!” She pushed her hand against his, trying to increase the pressure.
He tutted and peeled his fingers away.
“No!”
He gripped her hips and turned her around. Placing his palm on her lower back, he bent her over his desk.
She rested her elbows on the cool surface, dropping her forehead to the wood. He would take his time. Make her wait until she was about to burst from her skin with wanting. She’d married a tyrant.
He raised her skirts, and the evening air cooled her heated flesh. She’d long since stopped wearing pantalets. Around Marcus, the lack of undergarments seemed more efficient.
He kissed the base of her spine, and a shiver rolled through her. An ache settled low in her belly. “Marcus,” she whispered. “I am the mother of your future heir. The woman you chose to be your duchess. Stop this teasing and give me satisfaction.”
The crack of flesh striking flesh tickled her eardrums a second before the sweet heat of his spank spread through her right arse cheek.
Liz groaned. Pushed her bum higher.
“Have I mentioned how displeased I was to hear that my wife patronized the most disreputable public house in Lincoln?” He rubbed soothing circles on her stinging skin until the heat diffused.
“That tavern is the only public house in Lincoln.” Should she tell him that Peggy hadn’t in fact been ill? That deception could earn her quite a delicious spanking.
Or not. If Marcus were angry, he might truly punish her. By not touching her.
His hand disappeared from her body. There was a moment of anticipation, her breath stuttering, before he brought his palm down to strike the same spot as before. He lifted his hand again, and three sharp blows stung her flesh.
Her body sagged onto the desk. Heaven. The way her mind emptied, free of worry, of any lingering irritations, with every stoke was heaven. Under her husband’s hand, Liz had found the sweetest peace she’d ever known.
But it wasn’t enough. She needed him, inside her, completing
their connection. Reaching back, she found the falls of his pants and rubbed the bulge that lay behind.
“Hands up,” he growled. “Grip the edge of the desk.”
Excitement licked through her. She thrust her hand above her head, hitting a ledger and knocking it to the ground.
Neither she nor Marcus paid it any mind.
“Hurry.” Liz widened her feet and curled her toes in her slippers.
The velvet-soft head of his length nudged her entrance before sliding down between her lower lips. His crown stroked across her clit, and she whimpered.
At times, she hated her tease of a husband.
He drew back and when he pushed forward again, his cock eased inside of her, a steady pressure that didn’t end until his hips pressed against her bum.
Liz sighed. Other times, she loved the sweet torment.
He kept his pace slow, ratcheting up her need in skillful and oh-so-frustrating increments. She adored his self-discipline, but she had to admit she missed the rare times when he lost his control. Ever since he’d learned she was increasing, he’d never lost his mastery over himself. The roughest he became during their relations now might be a nip to her throat. All very nice indeed, but she longed for a morning where she didn’t want to get out of bed for soreness.
A sting danced across her right cheek. “You aren’t supposed to be thinking at this moment.” Marcus dug his fingers into her hips, angled her to his liking.
His length dragged across a sensitive spot inside her channel. Her muscles clenched, and her heel thudded against the shaft of his boot. “Harder, please.”
Marcus caressed the side of her belly as he made his way up to thread his fingers in her hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you there.” He bent over her and pressed his lips against her nape. He slid his other hand between the desk and her thigh to cup her mons. He pressed the heel of his hand into her clit as he plunged deep, again and again until her entire world arrowed to the spots where his hand and cock touched her body.
Heat spread from her pelvis, raced along her extremities, a moment before her completion burst through her. She dug her nails into the wood and moaned, low and long.
Marcus pulled out and flipped her over so she sat on the desk.
She leaned back on her hands and tried to catch her breath. He’d been right. Marcus always got her there.
Her husband pushed her skirts to her hips, lined himself up, and drove into her. His eyebrows were drawn close in concentration, his focus so intense it almost felt palpable. She slid back an inch on the desk, and Marcus gripped her hips, holding her steady for his taking. He pounded out his own release.
He rested his palms beside her hips and leaned close, his chest heaving. “Sweet, Liz.” He kissed her chin, her throat.
Liz stared at the mistletoe ball above her and grinned. It had seen much more than a kiss stolen beneath it. She clutched the back of Marcus’s neck and scratched her fingers into his hair.
He raised his head and gave her a heavy-lidded look. Pressing a kiss to her lips, he stood straight. He pulled out, tucked himself back into his smallclothes, and refastened his falls.
Liz stood on unsteady legs.
Marcus handed her a handkerchief. “Feeling better, darling?”
She felt splendid, and if doctors didn’t recommend frequent sexual intercourse for pregnant women, they very well should.
“I feel lovely, but I didn’t feel ill before.”
He adjusted the knot of his cravat and smoothed the tail below his waistcoat. “You were worrying, and that’s not an activity my wife should engage in.”
Liz frowned, her contentment evaporating. “I might be round with child, husband, but I haven’t lost my senses. Unless you’ve forgotten the circumstances of our meeting, surely you remember that I am a woman capable of handling much more than a little worry.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I want to share in your concerns. Help to ease your burdens, solve your problems together.”
Bringing her hand up to his mouth, he bussed her knuckles. “You’re a duchess now. My duchess. And, thankfully, your intrigues are over.”
“But—”
“No, Elizabeth. I have my position, and you have yours.” He circled his desk and plucked up the fallen ledger. “And speaking of positions, I have to determine the schedule for our crop rotations tonight. I’ll be up in a couple of hours.”
Liz clenched her fist, letting the bite of her nails in her palm control her tongue. She loved Marcus and had no doubts about his feelings in return.
But somewhere along the way she seemed to have lost his respect as a partner in their marriage.
“I’ll leave you to it then.” She paused at the door. “Shall I have refreshments sent up?”
He smiled. “A glass of that wassail would be lovely.”
Liz nodded and slipped out of the library. She paced down the hall and descended the stairs to the kitchens. With each step, a little of her anger eased. Respect wasn’t something that she was entitled to. It was earned, every day. Perhaps somewhere along the way she’d stopped earning it from Marcus. She’d left her days of espionage behind so readily, it was no wonder that her husband forsook her abilities.
Her slippers hit the stone tiles of the kitchen, and the aroma of rising bread made Liz’s stomach gurgle. She blew out her lips. If she wasn’t hungry for Marcus, she was hungry for food. Being with child meant constant cravings. She wandered over to the stove. Three long lumps lay atop it, covered with cloths. She peeked under a towel and reached for a bit of dough.
A hand smacked hers away.
Peggy stood next to her, shaking her head. “Bread dough isn’t good for the baby.”
Liz rolled her eyes. The list of food items the cook claimed weren’t good for the baby was growing every day. “I didn’t expect to find you here at this time. Especially as you weren’t feeling well earlier.” She arched an eyebrow.
“I didn’t trust the scullery maids to get the kitchen in proper shape for the morrow.” Peggy sniffed. “Besides, Mr. Todd brought me a slice of the walnut cake and I wanted the orange.”
Both of those options made Liz’s mouth water. “I don’t suppose walnut or orange cake would be bad for the baby?”
“Have a seat.” Peggy nodded her head at the long table the servants ate their meals on. “I’ll get the plates.”
Liz hopped over to the bench seat. “Peggy? Do you know if Jack is still sleeping in the stables?”
“I believe so.” She set two plates on the table then returned with a square cake dusted with sugar and bits of candied orange peel. “Even in the winter, the stable master still wants someone in there all night. Thinks someone would dare steal a horse from the duke.” Peggy snorted. “That’s not likely to happen.”
“Quite so.” Liz cut a generous slice and dumped it on the cook’s plate. Her own slice might have been a speck larger. “I think Jack should come in tonight. It’s awfully cold for a boy his age to sleep out of doors.”
Peggy poured a glace of milk and shoved it across the table to Liz. She peered at her narrowly. “His Grace’s stables are a luxury compared to where most sleep.”
Marcus did take the best of care with his horses, and consequently the men who tended the animals. But that didn’t help Liz’s cause. “Still—”
Peggy’s fork clattered to her plate. “I knew it. You’re planning on going out tonight. to follow Nalley and that candle fellow. I can see the truth of it in your eyes.”
Liz looked over her shoulder. The kitchen remained empty but for the two of them. “What if I am?”
“Lawks, you’re a duchess,” Peggy hissed. “And you’re with child. And women of your station don’t go galivanting around the countryside in the middle of the night! In. Winter.” She shot the last two words out, like she was pounding the final nails home in a horseshoe.
Liz rubbed her belly. All that was true. And nothing she wanted to acknowledge. As horrible as her life had been the year before she’d met Marcus, there had
been a certain freedom that came with being a disgraced woman. No one cared what she did when she could fall no lower.
“The cliff Nalley mentioned is barely two miles from here.” Liz piled the remaining crumbs of her cake into a pile and pressed her fork against it, trying to salvage one last bite. “And it isn’t as though a woman never goes about this time of year at night. We’re planning a sleigh ride on Christmas evening.”
“That may well be.” Peggy planted the tip of her index finger on the table. “But there you’ll be accompanied by footmen, and your husband, and any number of other people to look after you. If you go to the cliffs tonight, you’ll be all alone with a couple of ne’re-do-wells.”
Liz reached across the table and took the woman’s hand. “I won’t be confronting them. I only want to see who purchases the stolen k—” She cleared her throat. “Gift. Then I shall come right away and inform Marcus. Once I prove to him that Nalley and the chandler were involved in the theft, he won’t be able to disregard my suspicions. He’ll go to the authorities and take care of it.”
Pressing her lips together, Peggy shook her head. “You have a knack for making the craziest ideas sound right logical.”
“Then you’ll help me draw Jack away from the stables so I can take one of the horses without attracting anyone’s notice?”
“No.”
“But Peggy—”
“No, we won’t need to smuggle one of the duke’s horses out.” She sighed, her large bosom heaving. “Because I’m going with you, and we’re going to take a cart.”
“But how?”
“I’ll tell Mr. Todd I received word that Polly Tibbets is in labor. The man has a soft spot for the girl since she was a maid here at Hartsworth before her marriage. He’ll let me attend to her with a basket of goodies.”
“Not alone. And not after you’ve been ill today.” Mr. Todd might seem like a stiff, unfeeling sort of person with everyone else, but he worshipped Peggy. He would be as loath to allow his wife to go galivanting about as Marcus would. Although it wouldn’t be as remarked upon if a woman of the serving class traveled alone. The rules of society could be such nonsense.
