by Meara Platt
The biscuits and wine did not go well together, and he realized too late that the pot of tea beside the biscuits was meant for that purpose.
Nicola grinned at him. “Remind me never to put my hand in front of you when you’re hungry. But I wouldn’t mind if you approached our… um, activities in bed with equal ardor.”
“Ah, I promised you an unforgettable night.”
She shook her head. “We have a lifetime for that. If you’re exhausted—”
“Brat, no man is ever too exhausted.” He took her hand and slowly lifted it to his lips. “I wouldn’t pass up a night with you even if I were bleeding and had my guts spewing onto the floor.”
Nicola rolled her eyes. “I’m quite swept away by your poetic words. Have I mentioned that I find you exceptionally romantic?”
He grinned at her sarcasm. “Perhaps my actions will please you more than my words.”
He drew her close and proceeded to show her just how much he ached for her. He was determined to give her an unforgettable night. While there was much to be said for fast and frenzied, he wanted their coupling to be a slow, building pleasure. He took his time removing her camisole, his hands exploring and lingering on her body, his fingers caressing her skin and leaving a trail of heat wherever he touched her. She gave a soft, moaning shudder when he slipped the camisole off her shoulders and carried her to bed.
NICOLA WASN’T USED to being naked in John’s arms or used to being a temptress. When John’s gaze turned hot and smoldering, she buried her head against his shoulder and gave an embarrassed laugh.
He smiled as he set her down on the bed and smoothed her unbound hair off her face. Then his smile faded and he bent to kiss her with a hungry longing that reached deep within her heart. His kiss was magical, its gentle power stirring her senses so that she was aware of his every moment, the heat of his touch, the granite strength of his arms as he took her into his embrace.
He smelled of lavender, for that was the only soap they had been provided for the bath, but on him the scent was manly and rugged as it mixed with the saltiness of his skin.
He kissed her again, hot and exciting, so that every pulse in her body was thrumming and her heart was beating and leaping with rampant abandon.
When he settled his taut, muscled body over her, she practically mauled him with her frantic need. But he was intent on prolonging her pleasurable agony, so she closed her eyes and relaxed her body, allowing herself to take in every sensation that he was purposely arousing in her.
She loved the way he took his time exploring her body with his lips and hands, loved the wicked slide of his tongue along her most sensitive spots, so that by the time he entered her, she was slick and ready for him. Mother in heaven! She was so ready.
His thrusts carried her on a swirling tide of passion, her own hot, pounding need building ever higher, until she felt herself on the precipice. “John… John.” She repeated his name with a desperate urgency. “John.”
I love you.
He was a big man and strong, his powerful grip and granite arms able to crush anything or anyone who got in his way. And yet, he held her so lovingly that she wanted to cry. This was a man who’d suffered torment for most of his life. That he found peace with her, that he needed her and wanted her, was a gift she’d always cherish.
Perhaps he knew it.
She’d made no secret of loving him.
But with each kiss, with each caress, he was telling her that he’d chosen her, too. That he wanted her.
That he loved her?
He would tell her one day, and she’d accept his words with joy. But she did not need him to confess the words right now. They were both in the throes of passion, both reaching heights of ecstasy they were helpless to deny. They fell off the precipice together, reaching that hot moment of release at the same time, now both of them wild and moaning and clinging to each other as though they never wanted to let go.
After a long moment, John rolled off her and laughingly took her into his embrace. Her auburn curls were a tumbling, riotous mess and fell over her shoulders to rest upon his chest, but he did not seem to mind. “What’s so funny?” she asked, smiling at him. “I suppose we did sound like a pair of wild boars just now, grunting and howling.”
“Boars grunt. They don’t howl.” He laughed lightly again. “But you were howling. Squealing. Moaning. Sighing. I’m sure I heard a kittenish purr in there, too.”
“Don’t make fun of me, you beast.”
His gaze turned affectionate. “Wouldn’t dream of it, brat.”
“Did you enjoy… what we did?”
“Hell, yes. I suppose I shouldn’t admit this to you, but you’ve been in my dreams for quite a while now. Hot, wild dreams.”
She rested her chin on his chest and stared at him wide-eyed. “Really? And?”
He cast her a wickedly seductive grin. “This was better than my wildest fantasies.”
“Better? I’m glad.” She kissed him and shot back an impertinent smile. “But do go on. I want to hear more.”
“About how enchanting you are? Very well.” He caressed her cheek and suddenly turned serious. “I never believed I could be happy until I had my revenge against the man who killed my parents. I had been living in a soulless abyss of my own making for too many years. But I’m with you now, about to marry you—”
“For the second time, I might add.”
He nodded. “For the second time. I’d marry you a hundred times, brat.”
Her heart fluttered. “Oh, John. That’s a lovely thing to say.”
“I mean it. For the first time, I understand why the missions I was assigned were given only to unmarried agents of the Crown. We were loners, cared for no one and were not distracted by the dangers we faced. If a mission turned sour and we were killed, we’d leave behind no widows or fatherless children. No one who cared.”
Nicola found it hard to catch her breath. “John, I’ve always cared. You were never alone. I would have… I think I would have moved heaven and earth to save you.”
“I know.” He ran his hand lovingly through her tumble of hair. “Sometimes, the thought of you was all that kept me going.”
Nicola held her breath, hardly daring to let it out now. John was confiding in her, allowing her into his thoughts and into his heart. Was he saying that he loved her? That he’d been in love with her all this time?
He sighed. “We’re not out of danger yet, but I want you to know that you’re not just an obligation to me. You’re not a duty I owe to my best friend. You’re the best thing that’s come into my life and I’m so sorry that I almost let you slip away. Deeply sorry. It’s my fault we’re in this mess with Somersby. I should have said something to you and never did.”
This was probably the time for her to say something sweet and soothing, but nothing like that came to mind. “Well, look on the bright side. We have a deranged villain after us because we’ve found the proof to collapse his evil empire and make England safe again. So there’s that. It’ll be a wonderful story to tell our grandchildren.”
He rolled her under him and kissed her soundly on the lips. “I love you, brat.”
Fireworks exploded and Nicola was certain she’d just heard a chorus of angels sing. All these days on the run, unwashed, usually hungry, and always in fear of their lives, suddenly seemed insignificant.
She no longer minded that he called her brat instead of something more affectionate. Sweetheart. My love. Darling. All these years he’d been calling her brat, he’d really been saying I love you.
“I love you too, John.”
CHAPTER 16
JOHN DREW NICOLA closer so that they were hot, damp skin to hot, damp skin. Hip to hip. The weight of his chest lightly crushed to her soft bosom. They were still entwined so that he felt the male part of him stir whenever Nicola rubbed her long, silky legs against him there. Lord have mercy! Did he have no control over himself when it came to this luscious girl?
She cast him a devilish smirk
as she purposely rubbed her thigh against his throbbing member. “There’s life in you yet.”
He kissed her impudent mouth. “Lord, you’re a demanding brat.” She was also a beautifully irresistible mix of innocent and wanton. “Shall I make you howl with pleasure again? I’m sure your moans and breathless cries were heard as far as London.” He propped himself on one elbow, feeling quite smug and proud of himself, but also overwhelmed by the intensity of feeling she evoked in him.
The girl of his dreams.
She buried her face in his shoulder. “Don’t tell me that! Was I truly that loud?”
He stroked her curls, slowly running his fingers through her thick mane of hair. “I’m teasing you, brat. Although my ears are still ringing from your shouts of ecstasy.”
He was jesting, but the rapid knocking at their door quickly stilled his laughter and put his hunter-predator instincts on alert. In the blink of an eye, he was off their bed, knife in hand, and poised at the door, ready to subdue anyone who attempted to enter. “It’s Edgeware,” a muffled voice called softly from the other side.
John muttered an oath as he eased his stance and lowered his weapon. He glanced at Nicola, who was naked in their bed and staring at him in wide-eyed horror. She’d drawn the coverlet up around her body, but he wasn’t about to open the door and casually allow his friend in.
Nicola was his wife.
Although Ian Markham, the Duke of Edgeware, was a man he would trust with his life, a man who would protect his family and worldly possessions without question or hesitation, he couldn’t bring himself to open the door. “Your timing leaves much to be desired, Your Grace. Give me a moment. I’ll meet you in the smaller private dining room.”
“Very well. Don’t take too long.”
John hastily donned his pants, shirt, and boots and then turned to Nicola, who was staring at him in consternation. “If he saw us and knows we’re here, who else knows?”
“Hopefully, no one. I’ll go down the back stairs. It should be safe enough.” He needed to talk to Ian. In addition to being a wealthy duke, Ian was one of the Crown’s best agents. He would catch on quickly to their situation and lend some much needed assistance.
But it was troubling that Ian had spotted them. He needed to find out how. They’d been discreet, or so he’d thought. He sighed. Ian would tell him if he’d noticed anyone suspicious lurking close by.
“John,” Nicola said, scrambling out of bed to stop him as he was about to open the hidden door and make his way downstairs, “I switched the books again.”
“What?”
She gathered the sheet around her body as she spoke. “I had Mrs. Finch send up a book with a similar leather binding. It worked the first time, so I saw no harm in using the trick again.”
He shook his head and grinned, watching her still fussing with the sheet around her gloriously tempting body. She was the oddest mix of sweetly innocent and sharply clever. “Where’s the real book?”
“Under the mattress. I thought for sure you’d feel the lump under you.”
His grin turned to laughter. “The only lump I felt under me was… you.”
She gave a huff of indignation. “You’re going to give Somersby’s accounts to the Duke of Edgeware and have him deliver it to Prinny, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” The girl was truly clever, her mind always working. She really would have made an excellent agent. “It’s for the best.”
He’d worked with Ian several times over the years and had great respect for him. In truth, he also had a growing respect for Nicola’s quick wit and intelligence. It hadn’t taken her long to consider all the alternatives and realize his intentions.
She nodded. “I think it’s a good plan. Somersby won’t be looking for him or grow suspicious if the duke pays a call on the royal family. I suppose you’ll give him the deciphering code parchment, too.”
“Yes.” He reached under the mattress and grabbed the book. After opening it to make certain he now held Somersby’s book and not the fake one Mrs. Finch had delivered to Nicola, he shut it again and tucked it under his arm. He dug into his pouch for the parchment. “I may as well take these down to him now. Our work is done, brat. All we have to do is stay in hiding until it’s safe for us to return to London.”
She frowned lightly. “By ‘safe for us’ I suppose you mean safe for me.”
“Yes.” She knew little about handling weapons and was too soft-hearted to hurt anyone. He was the one with years of training and experience. It wasn’t merely his duty to keep her safe. He meant to grow old with her. He meant to share his life and heart with her. “Prinny is likely to put the Duke of Edgeware in charge of hunting down Somersby and rounding up every man named in the book.”
“But some of them may be innocent, merely engaged in harmless smuggling of French goods. My aunt is particularly enamored of French chocolate.”
John grinned as he reached for the hidden door used by the servants. “Ah, she packs pistols and purchases smuggled goods. Your aunt is quite a shady character, isn’t she? Edgeware will use his discretion. He’s one of the smartest men I know. Stay in bed and keep those covers up around your shoulders. Lord, you look beautiful. I’ll be back shortly to worship and adore you.”
He quietly made his way to the small dining room and was relieved to find Edgeware alone. “What’s going on, Bainbridge?”
“Plenty. How did you know I was here?”
Edgeware shrugged. “I’ve been asked by Prinny to hunt down a rogue agent. I wanted the room and was told I couldn’t have it. Nor would Mrs. Finch reveal who occupied it. I grew suspicious and kept watch on the servants’ door figuring its mysterious occupant would try to sneak out at some point. When I realized it was you, I knew I had to warn you. I think that rogue agent may be after you.”
John frowned. “Go on.”
“I’ve put some of it together, for Julian Emory’s sister is also missing. Is she with you?”
John nodded. “She accidentally got herself mixed up in the middle of something big.” He related all that had happened, leaving out only the most personal details of his time spent with Nicola, which Ian would fill in for himself. “Get this book and deciphering code to Prinny as fast as possible. Guard it with your life.”
“I will, but not until I witness your wedding ceremony. I’ll leave immediately after that.”
John frowned. “Don’t you trust me to marry Nicola?”
“Of course, I do. But if anything happens to you, there must be no doubt of her legitimate status as your wife. No one will question my word, especially not her brother, who will come at you with a broadsword when she tells him of all your adventures on the run, which she will do. Sparing no details. That’s the difference between men and women. Women share. Men don’t.”
“When did you turn into England’s greatest philosopher?” John did not like the delay in Ian’s leaving Harwich, but he also had Nicola’s good name to consider. He nodded. “Thank you.”
Ian laughed. “Just tell me where and when to show up. Or will you bring the minister here?”
“St. Mary’s Church, right after matins.”
“Good, that’s only a few hours from now. The sun won’t be up yet.” He took the book and parchment from John. “I’ll sign the wedding register and then head straight off for London.”
“Send word to me as soon as possible.”
“Count on it. I’ll return to deliver the good news about our progress myself.” His smirk was insufferable. “I’m determined to know Nicola better. Any woman able to get you willingly to the altar is a woman worthy of my respect. You’ll have your hands full with her. Was she not in the thick of the plot to abduct her own brother?”
John groaned. “She and Rose Farthingale almost destroyed a year of our meticulous work on behalf of the Crown. But it was our fault. We never realized how… enterprising she and Rose could be.”
“Hmm, hard-headed and determined. She’ll need to be that in order to match wits with you.
But I think that’s what appeals to you most about her. She doesn’t simper. She isn’t helpless.”
John flinched at the remark.
“Ah, I’ve struck a sensitive chord.” Ian held up his hand when John opened his mouth to protest. “We’re all driven by demons that haunt us. We wouldn’t be agents of the Crown, serving in this particular unit, if that weren’t true. Julian found his Rose, the woman with strength and love enough to turn him into a proper husband. Marriage is the best escape from this elite unit. Now, you’ve found your Nicola. I’m happy for you, John.”
“I still have unfinished business,” he said with a grunt, surprised by Ian’s moment of sentimentality. Ian never let on what he was feeling. Never. In truth, there were times John suspected the icy duke had no feelings. Obviously, he was wrong. “I don’t know what might happen next. What about you?”
Ian gave a wistful laugh. “I’m afraid there isn’t anyone with the strength to pull me out of my haunted past. Too many of my demons are still alive and thriving.”
Having said more than he probably intended to share, Ian rose and quietly left.
John remained seated, finding comfort in the darkness. He was used to the solitude. He was not used to handing over important missions. He always finished whatever he started. But the proof of Somersby’s treason was now out of John’s hands and it felt strange.
Of course, it had been the right thing to do. The need to protect Nicola had not influenced his decision. Somersby was hunting for them and that book. Giving it over to Ian was an easy choice. The Crown would take quick action. Perhaps offer him a reward for his good work. He knew what he wanted. It had nothing to do with wealth or stature.
He was a wealthy earl.
He wanted the name of the man who’d killed his parents.
NICOLA SENSED JOHN’S unease the moment he returned to their room. She’d donned her camisole and was sitting beside the dying fire, warming her hands over the glowing embers when the hidden door opened and John strode in. “It feels strange. Doesn’t it, John?”
