by Emma Wildes
The kiss was deliberately long and hot. Molding his mouth to hers in sensual pressure, he changed the angle time and again, licking the line of her lips, slanting against her until she yielded to his silent request and parted to let him inside. His tongue slid into her mouth and began to explore and caress just as he let go of her wrists and slipped one arm around her slim waist and let his other hand find the wealth of her silky hair. He tugged at the pins and the whole mass came loose, tumbling in a satisfying fall over his arm and down her back. Cradling her nape in one hand, he wickedly rubbed his tongue against hers in carnal indulgence.
It was not the way to kiss an innocent young maiden and he didn’t care in the least. It was erotic, it was graphic, and it was the most enjoyable thing he’d done in a long time.
Her initial shocked immobility seemed to fade to something indefinable—if not participation, then at least submission.
When he finally lifted his head to peer down at her face, her eyes were closed, the lashes thick and dark against her pale cheeks. Her freed arms were not precisely embracing him back either, but one small hand rested lightly on his shoulder and the other hung limply at her side.
Slowly her lashes lifted.
He expected outrage and fury. More, he knew he deserved outrage and fury. But Jessica just stared up at him with those lovely eyes and swallowed, the muscles twitching in her slender throat.
He wanted to kiss her again. He ached to kiss her again. Gently sliding his thumb along the line of her jaw and down the graceful curve of her throat, he lifted her chin with a forefinger. Her fingers tightening on his shoulder was all the invitation he needed.
Their mouths melded together, this kiss was gentle as the other had been fierce and demanding. She opened willingly, letting him savor her sweetness and warmth, her hand creeping up to touch his hair and clasp his neck. That simple gesture and the light pressure of her forearm against his heated skin sent fire spiking through his body, an unexpected exultation tightening his chest. Jessica was kissing him back and she was enjoying it.
There in the pooling moonlight, he was keenly in tune with every response she made to him. The quickened beat of her heart. The breathless gasp when he brushed his mouth across the underside of her jaw and touched the sensitive place under her ear. The way she shivered in his arms as he took her mouth again and again…
“Uncle Alex?”
The interruption barely registered until Jessica jerked suddenly in his arms, fighting and pushing to be free. He let her go and turned around. A small figure stood a few feet away on the path, staring at them. Long blond hair hung in spirals over a pale embroidered sleeping gown. Tiny bare feet peeped from beneath the hem.
He was plagued, he thought darkly as he stared at his eight-year-old niece, by young girls wandering around in the Grayston gardens where they had no business being and at the worst time possible. Clearing his throat, he said hoarsely, “Anne, sweeting, you should be in bed.”
“I was in bed. But you didn’t come up and say good night like you promised. I came to get you.” Her slim shoulders lifted. Anne looked curiously at Jessica’s scarlet face and then back at him again. “What were you doing?”
Oh Lord. He said, “We were…er…discussing something.” “But how could you talk with your—”
“Never mind.”
A wide grin suddenly split Anne’s cherubic face. “You like each other, don’t you? Are you going to get married like Mama and Papa?”
Alex hastily stepped forward and reached down to take her little hand. “That is not an appropriate question, young lady. Come on, I’ll tell you a story once you are safely tucked in.”
“Can Jess come too?” Wide, innocent eyes blinked up at him.
Alex glanced over to where Jessica stood silent, the situation obviously rendering her mute. She was enchanting with her tumbled moonlit hair, her parted mouth still moist from his kisses. “Of course. If she’d like.”
But she turned and ran the other way.
* * * *
Jessica jerked off her dress and tossed it furiously on the bed. She wasn’t sure what made her angrier. Alex Ramsey and his insufferable and insulting advances, or her own weak and willing participation in them.
The rest of her clothes followed her dress and she pulled her nightrail over her head with trembling fingers. In a restless pace across to the mirror, she plucked a few telltale dangling pins from her loose hair. Alex Ramsey had more audacity than any man she had ever met in her life.
She might have seduced me…
Actually, if she were honest with herself, Jessica didn’t doubt it. With his Adonis-like good looks and tall, well-muscled body, Alex had certainly been the hero of her girlish fantasies. He might have cut a swath through the lovely and aristocratic ladies of the ton, but there was little doubt that those very ladies were ever so willing.
It was no wonder women wanted him when he could kiss them that way.
Nathaniel had kissed her once or twice, but never like what had happened this evening. His embraces had been respectful and chaste and his lips brushed hers in a discreet caress.
Damn Alex, she thought in sudden despair. He’d wanted to teach her a lesson and he’d amply succeeded. The feel of his mouth on hers, the insistent, shocking glide of his tongue, the strength and warmth of his body as he held her…it would all be imprinted on her mind and senses forever.
What was worse, she had enjoyed it. A shiver of memory racked her body.
A knock on the door interrupted her traitorous thoughts. Jessica grabbed her robe, shrugged into the sleeves and moved to answer it. Ariel stood outside in her own dressing gown, her gleaming red hair a halo around her lovely face, her green eyes alight. She smiled warmly. “I don’t mean to disturb you, Jessica, but I thought you might want this. As late as it is, a messenger just arrived from London.”
Taking the heavy missive and recognizing the gold seal with the heavily embossed G in the middle, Jessica felt a quick surge of joy, replaced immediately by a flicker of guilt. “Thank you.”
Ariel followed her back into the room and sank down on the bed next to her in a sisterly fashion as she opened and scanned the letter. Jessica said, “It’s from Nathaniel. He just got my message and wants me to come to him in London. He…he says he can’t get away right now to escort me. Something about a missing ship.”
Ariel reached over and clasped her hand, giving her fingers a quick squeeze. “Then go to London you must. This is what you’ve been waiting for so anxiously.”
“Yes,” Jessica admitted, looking at the familiar handwriting and seeing only the spiky images against the white background. “We’ll all go,” Ariel announced, shaking back her bright hair. “Marcus has business there so often that surely he won’t object, and Alex has been grumbling about trying to replace the furnishings in the house locally but not having much success. It is simply perfect timing and I’ll plan a small engagement party once we get there.”
Her throat tightening with emotion over the other woman’s generosity, Jessica shook her head. “You’ll do no such thing. You’ve done more than enough for me already. I really couldn’t let you.”
“What nonsense.” It was a stout declaration. “And don’t deny me this, Jessica. That huge old mansion in Mayfair just sits there like a lump of stone. I can’t remember the last time we had a social event of any size. I’m getting excited just thinking of it.”
“I—”
“It’s settled.” The Duchess of Grayston got regally and gracefully to her feet. “I insist.”
Alex. How could Jessica reject his presence if his sister-in- law wished him there? “You’re too kind,” she said faintly.
Chapter 6
Silence filled the dingy room. It was very small and square, lined with paneling that looked dusty and worn, the dark, musty draperies drawn at the tiny window, the furnishings nothing more than a desk, a chair and several lopsided bookshelves. It was not at all like the grand office one might have expected, consideri
ng the importance of his host. Outside, Alex could hear the rumble of London traffic and shouts from the busy street.
Only in town for a few hours, he’d been surprised enough to be summoned to this meeting. He was even more than surprised to learn why.
Finally, Alex said, “With all due respect, sir, I am a soldier, not a detective. When you requested this meeting, I thought I was getting my new orders and being sent back to Spain.”
The man across from him smiled—more a baring of his teeth than anything. Of indeterminate age and thin build, General Wright wore an elegant dark frock coat, crisp cravat, and his thick graying hair was drawn back in a tight queue that did nothing to soften his sharp features. “These are your new orders and I believe you are what we are looking for, Ramsey, and just the man we need. Something must be done at once. The second murder set off a veritable landslide of correspondence through my office.”
Still a little off balance, Alex looked at him in consternation. “I’m your man? Forgive me, but how so, sir?”
“Let’s see.” The general leaned back to steeple his thin, claw-like fingers, his lips still drawn in that predatory arc. “Did you or did you not discover a conspiracy of weapons trading and actually plan an elaborate false exchange in which you captured both French and British agents and a code book that proved invaluable to Wellington?”
That news of that little incident had filtered back to London was a bit of a surprise. Alex frowned. “Yes, but—”
“Why did you go to all that trouble, Ramsey?” Eagle-sharp eyes narrowed in the general’s face.
The tiny room suddenly seemed stifling. Alex cleared his throat, uncomfortably perched in a chair too small for his weight and height. “We were losing weapons and ammunition. I needed both and was tired of shorting my men. Something had to be done.”
“Your commanding officer says you were both efficient and…er…quite clever. He was very impressed. So, by the way, am I.”
“Thank you, sir.”
General Wright lifted an unruly eyebrow. “Not to undermine your achievements in the field or belittle the fine job you’ve done as an officer, but quite frankly, you have the opportunity, background and more importantly, the apparent intelligence for this job. You’ve also been rather conveniently wounded, giving you an excuse to stay here in England without rousing suspicion. In short, Colonel, the timing is excellent.”
In vehement protest, Alex said, “But, sir…it’s like groping in the dark. You say the murderer must be able to move through the upper classes. How on earth am I to monitor the activities of every single member of society, watching for suspicious movements? If you cannot tell me about this mysterious committee and its purpose, how can I even know what to look for?” He didn’t bother to hide his distaste for the project.
Wright leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Have you ever heard of the master French spy, the one the Spanish call El Diablo?”
“Well, yes, of course. I think most officers serving in Spain know that name.”
“This stinks of him, Ramsey. To high heaven. His cold-blooded signature is all over these two crimes. What’s more, word of his activities in Spain has died down to nothing. It is very possible he’s right here in London.”
“If you’ll pardon me, that doesn’t help much, sir. This is a big city and what little I know of El Diablo
is that he seems a man able to keep himself hidden. As far as I can tell, we can’t trick him, find him or even get a good description. Where am I supposed to start? For that matter, why would a French spy come to London to kill off two aristocratic gentlemen?”
Wright shuffled some papers on his desk. “Here. This is your starting point.”
Accepting the paper offered, Alex squinted at it in the dim light. “What is this?”
“Though I cannot tell you the purpose of this secret group, here is a list of the members. Needless to say, this information is in the strictest confidence, Ramsey.”
As he scanned the contents of the document in his hand, Alex went very still. “My brother’s name is on this list. In fact, I know several of these men.”
“Yes, indeed.” A nod. “You are very observant, Colonel.”
“Marcus is in danger?”
The general smiled again, the canine effect unsettling. “With two of ten men dead in the past month, I’d say they all are. Orschell’s death, so soon after Litchfield, makes this situation very suspicious. The sooner you find the bastard cutting them down, the better.”
“Do I have a damned choice? I assume my brother’s head being on the block is another reason why I am your chosen man.”
“Perhaps.” The response was as bland as Wright’s face. “Please keep in mind these orders are from very high up. Much higher than myself, I assure you. Someone wanted you and you only.”
Fighting the urge to crumple the piece of paper in his fist and fling it to the floor, Alex said, “Very well, sir. Fill me in on anything else you know.”
The general gave a somber nod. “I suppose the first bit of news is that our quarry prefers a somewhat…shall we say, showy presentation of his victims, very much in the style of our good friend, El Diablo. Litchfield was found hanging in Hyde Park, stripped naked, poor fellow. Lord Orschell was skewered while attending a crowded fete at Lady Ashton’s a few days ago. The murderer propped him up with a sword on the steps of the gazebo in the garden. I’m told it looked as if his lordship was just sitting there, contemplating the stars. The surgeon who attended the body says he was strangled first with some sort of rope. Quite gruesome.”
“No notes, no clues nearby?”
“The constables looked but found nothing.”
Alex tried one more time. “The authorities are far more trained to investigate this sort of thing than I am, General Wright.”
Wright brusquely shook his head. “The investigators would never be allowed to know as much as you do now nor would I hand over the list to any one of them. It has to be you, Ramsey. We need a high-ranking officer who will keep his mouth shut. Someone smart, someone efficient, someone who can bring this case to a close quickly.”
Alex folded the piece of paper very carefully and tucked it deeply into the inside pocket of his coat. “I will do my best, sir.”
The general stood. “Good luck, Colonel. I have two…well, I suppose you would call them operatives, at my disposal, who might be of some assistance if you should need help.”
“Spies, sir?” Alex lifted his brows high. “They gather information for me, Ramsey.”
“I’ll send word if I can think of a use for them. Thank you, sir.”
Escorted out of the building by a young private in an immaculate uniform, Alex stepped out into the street and felt the unusual heat settle over him like a blanket. The warm air made the atmosphere more foul than usual, which he hated, but at least it wasn’t raining. He could not abide the mud and filth of the city streets during a torrid summer rain. With a tug to loosen his cravat, he strolled purposely down the walk.
Damn it all, he’d thought he was supposed to head back to Spain in a week. He’d only agreed to accompany his family to London because he knew he would be receiving his orders.
Back to blood, back to war, back to the men he had been trained to command. Wellington was moving toward Salamanca and needed him. What a hellish situation.
Now this.
The worst part of it was there was nothing now to force him to miss the celebration party Ariel insisted on throwing for Jessica and Nathaniel Greene. Over the past few days he’d become slowly aware the kiss in the garden had been more than a grave error on his part inspired by irritation and too much drink. His little niece, Anne, smiled sunnily whenever he was near, looking every bit like a child with a secret, to his eyes not fooling a soul. Jessica avoided him more than ever, and who, exactly, could blame her?
And he—he recalled too vividly rose-petal lips, arms that clasped his neck lightly, and hair that glimmered with a thousand shades between sable and gold.
<
br /> What a fool he was. She was certainly not available for a love affair with or without her engagement. Jessica was a marriageable young lady from a good family and he should not have touched her.
Now that he had… No.
If he wanted a woman, there were plenty for him in London. He certainly did not need a resentful hellion. Perhaps it would be just as well if he went to one of those dreadful fetes and found a willing and experienced bed partner who would approach a night of mutual pleasure with equal detachment.
“Ramsey!” The faint sound of his name being called roused him from distraction and he lifted his head quickly, scanning the opposite side of the busy street. A tall figure stood there, waving his arms wildly to catch his attention.
Must be his day for surprises. He shouted back, “Rivers?”
A hackney lurched between them, obscuring the view. When it passed, the man called out and gestured. “There’s a tavern at the end of this street. Your side. Let’s have a drink, if you’ve a minute. I’ll meet you there.”
Alex waved and nodded, feeling pleased at seeing an old friend, all thoughts of Jessica thankfully banished from his head, at least for the moment. He strode along and reached the seedy tavern first, pushing his way past the crowd at the bar to find a dingy table in the corner. After four years in Spain, the faint stench of stale ale and unwashed bodies didn’t bother him much, nor did some of the rough-looking customers. A few minutes later, a tall man wearing severely tailored clothes and a wide grin pulled out the opposite chair and sank into it. He offered his hand across the sticky table and Alex grasped it firmly.
“Alex Ramsey, in the flesh. I heard you were back in town, all tongues are wagging. How the devil are you, anyway? It’s been…what? Two years?”
“At least,” Alex admitted quietly. “Too long.”
Jack hadn’t changed much. Very straight dark hair was gathered at his nape in a queue with a ribbon, he was broad-shouldered and tall, and his eyes were like midnight without a moon. Unmistakable intelligence gleamed in those black eyes and a crooked smile lit his lean face as he gestured for the barmaid. “Too long is right. We need a drink to celebrate.”
