Anger and irritation burned quickly in a fiery twister in his gut when he saw who had come calling. “Reddington, Boxton,” he hissed, his jaw clenched. “What can I do for you?”
“Spencer, ol’ chap!” Boxton leaned on the door’s frame. “Come to see if dear Mary has had her fill of you.”
Gabe’s jaw clenched ever tighter, the grinding of his teeth echoing in his ears.
Reddington licked his lips eagerly. “Thought p’raps we could have a private performance.”
Gabe desperately wanted to knock their heads together, breaking both of their curst, handsome faces.
Instead, Gabe winked and grinned, running his fingers through his wet hair to slick it back, and allowing his robe to gape open slightly, deliberately revealing a patch of curling chest hair. “I’m afraid I’ve worn her out, gentlemen.”
As much as he hated to do it, Gabe opened the door wider, giving the two scoundrels a view of Mary on the bed. As awareness of Gabe’s implication dawned, neither man looked happy. In fact, both wore menacing expressions of hostile predators. Dark, hungry, and desperate.
Self-preservation and protectiveness bloomed in Gabriel’s chest. “Perhaps tomorrow evening she will not be so fatigued,” Gabe said. He knew that he and Mary would not be in residence tomorrow evening and he would rather these men be pacified now with hopes for the morrow than both furious and ravenous enough to intrude upon their solitude and Mary’s rest this evening.
Wolfish smiles lit the cads’ faces as they gazed past him at Mary. Gabe hated the invasion of her privacy, and quickly narrowed the opening of the door so the men were forced to look at Gabe.
“Do you give your word that we can have a go at her on the morrow?” Reddington licked his lower lip.
Gabe expanded his lungs in a deep breath, then slowly released it. “Yes.”
“Say it,” Boxton spat.
Gabe turned his sardonic gaze on the reprobate, abusive rake and lied through his teeth. “I give my word.”
* * *
A great shiver ran through Mary as something brushed her cheek. She felt herself frown, her bottom lip curling out in the likeness of a child’s pout. She did not wish to wake.
A light puff of air on a silent laugh brushed her cheek next. “Mary.” It was Gabe, whispering in her ear, the warmth of his body as he leaned over her, the smell of his sandalwood soap, and cloves on his breath…
He filled her senses.
Mary liked it.
She turned on her back and slowly opened her eyes, allowing them to adjust to the dim firelight that lit the room.
Startling blue eyes gazed back at her. “It is time.”
Time? Oh! “Yes, of course.”
Suddenly Gabe was gone. And so was her warmth. She sat up, one hand to her hair as it had gone wild in her sleep. She really should plait it as most ladies did, but she had never been one to habitually bind her hair.
Gabe had retreated to his solitary game of cards at the table once more, and Mary set about preparing herself. She pulled one of her travelling boxes out from beneath the bed and flipped open the lid. Pushing aside a selection of white, lacy underthings, she reached for what she sought: the false bottom to her box. Within that lay an array of weaponry: a pistol, gun powder, shot, knives, even darts. She retrieved a leather strap and sheath, a dagger, and from beneath it all, a simple, front-buttoning black bombazine frock that she used especially for sneak-work. She placed the items atop the coverlet at the foot of the bed then closed and replaced her travelling box.
The hairs at the base of her neck prickled and Mary glanced up, catching Gabe’s gaze.
Her breath caught in her throat. In his eyes was something wild and unpredictable that sent both excitement and tingling nervousness through her. Goodness. His gaze held hers, deep blue and unmoving. Mary’s heart began to thud in her chest and her breath came fast.
He wore all black and his hair still held the dampness of wash, the ends curling into tight ringlets.
Gabe’s gaze turned heated, and her palms grew damp. Mary had caused many a man’s arousal and was familiar with the expression on a man’s face in that state. But on Gabriel it felt different. Suddenly, she lost her nerve. Breaking eye contact, Mary turned her attention to her task.
She rose from her kneeling position on the floor and gathered her things, retreating behind the privacy screen.
Coward.
With a silent sigh, Mary set to dressing herself. She slid the knife inside the sheath, then attached it to the long leather strap. With an unnecessarily surreptitious glance around her hidden corner, she lifted the skirts of her night rail and wrapped the strap tightly around her upper thigh.
She had not been prepared for how Gabe’s stare would make her feel. Could he truly have been aroused or was he simply skilled at affecting the image of an aroused man? Was it part of his act? If so, why would he do it when it was just the two of them alone in the room? Had she simply imagined arousal in his gaze? But no, she was far too practiced to have been fooled. Could he truly have been aroused by the sight of her kneeling on the floor in her night rail? It did not make sense. Gabriel was proficient at disguising his true feelings, if he had not wished Mary to know it, then he would have hidden it.
But that would mean… Impossible. Gabe had wanted Mary to see the arousal in his expression?
Her breath caught in her throat at the thought. There could be only one reason for him to allow his feelings to be seen. He wanted her.
Her heart raced, pounding and skipping along happily within her foolishly hopeful chest.
She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. Gabe had seen her perform this evening; he was simply reacting as she had intended all the men to do. He was male, after all; it was not about her, personally, but the movement of her body and what it made his man-parts feel. She must remember that. This evening was about their assignment, not about passion or heated glances.
In the interest of a hasty return to bed once they made their escape from the house party and retired to an inn, Mary kept her night rail on in the place of a shift and donned her charcoal frock over top. Dressing in her nighttime spy attire was as welcome as returning home. It was comfortable, it was safe, and it did not suffocate her with corset, stays, or innumerable, hot petticoats. She felt free, powerful, and entirely dangerous.
She felt like a spy.
She finished buttoning herself up and straightened her long sleeves and bodice, and with renewed confidence Mary rounded the side of the screen. Without a glance in his direction, she strode directly toward her dressing table and sat to gaze at herself in the reflective glass, then set to work on plaiting her hair and tying it into a sensible knot at the base of her neck.
Satisfied with her modest appearance, Mary rose and turned to face Gabriel. His gaze was already on her, but the heat had dissipated.
Mary nodded with mute meaning and they broke off to snuff any lit candles about the bedchamber. Ever silently, they quit the room to stride side by side down the dark corridor, vigilantly careful not to make a sound.
The moan of a cat was carried through the air from behind a door, though Mary suspected it was not a cat. The tick-tock of clocks echoed through the still house giving Mary the eerie feeling that the grand, femininely appointed building had a heartbeat. Tick-tock, bu-bum went the heart, though only she and Gabe flowed through the wide halls.
Mary had the ludicrous urge to look over her shoulder for ghosts or ghouls, despite her certainty that they were alone. Perhaps the building judged her for spying on its masters.
A light touch brushed her arm and she turned her gaze to Gabe as he crept along beside her.
He pressed a finger to his lips, the signal for silence—did he think she would shout?—then moved his finger to tap his ear. Listen.
Voices. Very low, very quiet, but there were indeed voices coming from further down the hall, belowstairs.
She nodded in understanding and they sped their pace.
Painstaking
ly precautious as they were and the groaning steps of the grand staircase notwithstanding, they arrived at the Kerr House study without incident.
Gabe turned the knob and swung the door open on silent hinges before closing it soundlessly behind them.
Her eyes, having long adjusted to the darkness, immediately spotted something troublesome. Her heart froze in her chest as she swung her head toward Gabe, who stood stony-faced beside her. The pedestal was open and the strong box was gone.
Chapter 22
Gabe’s stomach knotted in aggressive nervousness. Could the traitor have known that they were searching for the documents? Was Mary in danger? What of his and Mary’s cover identities? Or could someone else have reached the documents before they could return to get them? And if so, who had them, how could Gabe get his hands on them, and what the devil was he to say to Hydra?
He started at the light tug to his sleeve, or more accurately, the fission of disconcerting awareness that burned its way up his arm. He turned his troubled gaze to Mary.
“What?” he mouthed.
Mary tapped the lobe of her ear then pointed to the wall of books.
Ah yes, he thought. The voices. He crept over to the bookshelves and pressed his ear to the leather spines.
“…arranged this meeting. Very clever with the house party, it was an easy enough way to gather us all together without suspicion. But enough nonsense,” one man said. Damn, but it sounded like Hale. “We have all seen the documents, but what of the transfer?”
“Yes, yes! The transfer. Bit tricky, eh wot?”
Gabe’s startled gaze sought Mary’s. Mr. Piper!
“We’ve discussed it at length,” another voice said; this one smooth, cultured, and entirely arrogant. Lord Reddington.
Gabe barely suppressed the urge to look smug.
“And we’ve decided on London on Thursday next,” he continued. “Our contacts are already making the journey across the channel.”
“Enough time to conclude with this agreeable house party, eh wot?”
There was a hushed murmur and Gabe pressed his ear harder against the bookshelves.
“Indeed. What should we make of the new additions?” Hale said.
Mary tapped Gabe’s shoulder, then crooked her finger at him. Intrigued, Gabe sidled closer to where she knelt. She pointed toward the bookshelf and then Gabe saw what she had intended him to see. A crack! Just wide enough to peer through. He pressed his eye to the narrow opening, squinting the other. The light from the small room beyond affording him an excellent, albeit limited, view of the traitors.
Yes, Lord Reddington and Mr. Piper were indeed co-conspirators. But who were the rest? Was that Hale’s leg he saw from beneath the table?
“Miss White’s character is infallible.”
“She’s a whore, Reddington.” Hale said.
Gabe sensed Mary stiffening beside him. Interesting.
“I beg your pardon?” Reddington said, outraged. “That angel is—”
“I grant you, Reddington,” Hale continued, “she is as handsome as they come and talented in things far beyond my imagination, but she is a whore.”
“I say, Hale! She is—”
“You may argue over the virtue—or lack thereof—of Miss White another time. Tonight, we discuss business, eh wot? While I agree that Miss White is as simple as she is seductive, what of her paramour, Mr. Spencer?”
Gabe must admit that Mary played the part of the simple actress very well. But he knew Mary was anything but simple.
Again, another speaker mumbled inaudibly. Damn, but Gabe wished he could see the others at the table. Who were the other traitors? And what were they saying about him?
“I am not so certain on that score. He seems harmless enough,” Hale said.
More mumbling. Gabe tamped down on his irritation; it was imperative that he remained alert and did not allow his emotions to distract him.
“I concur,” Piper said. “Something about him screams ‘liar,’ wot, wot?”
Reddington grinned malevolently. “I would gladly remove him from our path.”
A hand waved through the air, the owner of said hand, however, was out of Gabe’s view. “You just want to take Miss White for yourself. Bastard.”
Who was that? Lord Kerr? Lord Boxton? Mr. Jackson? Blast. He couldn’t tell.
“If we will not eliminate the man, then at the very least we should continue to watch him, eh wot? Make a note of anything suspicious and let me know.”
“It is late, and I have a soft, young woman waiting for me in my warm bed. Let us move along.” Lord Hale picked up several pieces of parchment from the tabletop and gazed at each one in turn. “I must admit that your craftiness has well and truly surprised me. These documents are a testament to our strength. We will succeed if we remain united and focused.”
Gabe glanced down at Mary where she peeked through the crack below him. He knew she was taking mental note of what those documents looked like. Good girl.
“This meeting, where will it be?” Lord Hale continued to flip through the documents as he spoke. “Lord and Lady Sheffield are hosting a ball at their house in town on Thursday next. My damned wife demands my attendance…”
“A great many of us will be in attendance, as well. Quite the thing, eh wot?” Piper heaved a great sigh. “Very well. Thursday next after the ball, at the Crowned Pig’s Grunt.”
“Ugh,” the unknown man scoffed. “I do detest that place. Filth and rats everywhere.”
Hale slapped his hand hard on the table and Gabe could feel Mary flinch. “It is the only place!” He pointed his finger at the out of sight man, then roared, “I hear you complain once more and I’ll reach down that curst bothersome mouth and rip your throat out!”
Bloodthirsty blighter. Quick to temper, as well.
Several rumbled replies rose up through the small room, confusing Gabe as to who was speaking and how many men occupied the room. One man rose, his chair scraping across the wooden floor. Damn! He and Mary were about to be spotted!
Gabe gripped Mary’s hand and scrambled to find a place to hide. Mary pulled him to the study’s door, then silently pressed the latch and swung it open, leading Gabe through it before closing the door behind them.
They had no chance of fleeing down the long hall without being noticed when the traitors left the study.
Mary released his hand and felt her fingers along the wall in the hallway. Apparently satisfied with what she found, she pressed the wall, sliding a hidden panel open to reveal a linen cupboard.
Further scraping of chairs could be heard faintly from the hidden room and Gabe’s heart began to pound against his ribs. They had mere seconds before they were discovered!
They clambered into the small cupboard, the space only affording them enough room to stand with their fronts touching intimately. Gabe slid the panel closed, leaving them in total darkness.
Everything was silent, but for the huffs of their breaths and the thundering of his heart in his ears. He twisted his neck, aiming his ear toward the study across the hall, and listened for any sign that the traitors had left their hidden meeting room.
Then he heard it. A faint click followed by distinct footfalls and hushed voices.
He turned his head back toward Mary to make a motion for silence, but what he saw arrested him. Through the darkness of the small space, Mary’s grey eyes glittered with what Gabe could only interpret as desire. Desire fer me. It could just as easily have been fear or anxiousness, but Gabe was certain he saw need in her gaze.
Mary’s breath hitched, her breasts pressing firmly against his chest. Her gaze locked with his, and his body gave an answering tug of need. Lord knew how long it would be before they had a clear opening to escape this closet…and there was something that Gabriel was burning to do.
Quelling the urge to release a beastly growl, Gabe pressed his lips against hers.
This kiss was no less delicious than their last. As impossible as it was, she still tasted of sweet t
ea and lemon curd.
Her slender fingers stretched out and gripped his lapel, crushing the material within her tightly clenched fists.
Gabe cupped her jaw, running his thumb over her chin. With a gentle nudge, Mary opened for him, and Gabe slid his tongue between her teeth to dip inside the warmth of her mouth. Oh Lord, save me from this woman! His gut clenched, his skin tightened, and his cock veritably screamed for release. Instead, he dipped his tongue inside her molten mouth, lapping and tasting over and over again
Unable to assuage his need with just a kiss, Gabe covered her bombazine-clad breast with his hand and kneaded it through the fabric.
Oh yes! She responded in kind, running her hands over his chest and waist, pulling agitatedly at the fabric that separated them.
He fumbled with the material of her modest décolletage, tugging until he freed one glorious breast. Ah! Without torturing himself a moment further, he crouched to take her nipple deep into his mouth, as he had so desperately fantasized about doing.
Her fingers clenched, her nails digging deeply into the flesh on his side and the back of his neck, but she remained blessedly silent. He smiled against her breast before sucking in earnest. He sucked, nipped, licked, and scraped her with his teeth.
But he was still desperate for more. He wanted her. He needed her. He must have her.
Her hips undulated against the hard ridge of his tightly restrained erection, the motion sending his eyes rolling in the back of his head. And that was all the invitation he needed.
His frantic fingers trembled as he grabbed fistfuls of her skirt and lifted it higher. He grazed her thigh with the last handful of bombazine and Mary twitched. Good.
Moving his mouth back to hers, he set to work making her want him as damned much as he had grown to want her. And blast it, he wanted her more than any woman had made him want before.
* * *
Mary was lost, floating in a sea of passion. Gabriel made her feel things she had never thought possible for her to feel. She had always thought women silly when they spoke of such feelings of dizziness, swooning, and weakness in the knees. Now she found it not so silly. If Gabe and Mary had not been gripping each other as tightly as they were, Mary was certain that she would have been reduced to a puddle at Gabe’s feet at the very beginning of this interlude.
The Thespian Spy Page 17
