The Thespian Spy

by Cheri Champagne

  His skin was taut and his heart thudded madly in his chest as he gazed at Mary, awaiting a response. He had surprised her, of that he had no doubt. Hell, he had surprised himself.

  Nervousness churned its way through his stomach at her silence, and Gabe found his mouth running away with him once more. “I think aboot ye. I think aboot th’ way yer hips move, aboot the way yer hair would fall over yer shoulders as ye rode me. I think aboot bending ye over a chair, or a table, or any number of damned pieces of furniture te take ye from behind, and swiving ye long into th’ night. I think aboot making ye scream my name, and the dreamy look in yer grey eyes as ye come. And God, I think aboot yer breasts. Pert and smooth with dusky nipples tha’ I want te pull into my mouth and feast upon.” By now his raging erection would be painfully obvious to her, tenting the towel at his waist, but he could not bring himself to care. He was laying himself out before her. And by damn, if she let him have her, he would be grateful for his second chance. “I want ye. I need ye.”

  * * *

  Mary stood near the foot of the bed in the inn’s cramped bedchamber, shock and arousal swirling around and working their way through her.

  She had been so certain that he hated her. That he believed her unfit to be a spy and disapproved of her life’s journey. In a way he had, but not for the reasons she had let herself believe all these years.

  Her heart pumped a staccato beat in her chest as she gazed at him. He wore naught but a towel about his waist and down his thighs, his arousal beneath it all but straining in its eagerness. The sight sent another flood of warmth straight down her middle to pool at the apex of her thighs.

  His face was still swollen, and the purple discolouration that came with the beginnings of bruising started to show around the cracks on his cheekbones and lips. The light of the low burning fire mingled with the brightness of the sunset shining in from the room’s one window, lighting him in half wavering and half still light. The effect was beautiful.

  Mary’s stomach quivered as she took in his appearance. He was in earnest, standing before her, spilling his feelings on the table and waiting for her response. She could sense his desperation and fear of rejection.

  As much as she wanted to ease his discomfort, she could not help but point out the painful truth. “You could have had me last night, Gabriel. You left me in that bed. I had very obviously been willing to give myself to you, but you made your excuses while still inside me and clambered off the bed as though the hounds of hell were at your heels.”

  Remorse filled his features. “It was wrong of me, Mary. Ye surprised me. Frightened me.”

  She gave him a puzzled frown. Frightened?

  He shook his head helplessly. “I cannae think of how t’ explain.” He hesitated. “I didnae ken ye were…tha’ ye were a maiden, Mary.”

  A nervous tingle shot its way through Mary’s stomach. He knows. Damn it, he knows. How could a man tell something like that?

  “I didnae wish te hurt ye. I was confused and surprised. It took me off guard and I did wha’ a coward would do. I fled. I apologize, Mary. I didnae mean te make ye feel unwanted. Because damn it, ye’re anything but.”

  As much as she wished to take his words for what they were—both flattering and comforting—there was one more issue that remained unresolved. “What of twelve years ago? What of when you abandoned me for Scotland?” Her lip quivered. “I heard you,” she continued on a whisper. “That day in the streets of Carlisle, I heard you speaking to the Misses Smithe.”

  Gabe grimaced. “Aw, damn, Mary, ye were nae meant te hear tha’.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Evidently.”

  He tentatively gripped her hands within his, pulling her arms from their defensive stance. “I was afraid even then, Mary. I was too proud te admit my true feelings. My father had just died, and despite his absence from my life fer so long, I felt tha’ I suddenly needed te be the man tha’ he couldnae be fer mum. I needed te protect my mum. The second we left Carlisle I missed ye. I deeply regretted nae speaking te ye. I said as much in my letters…”

  “Letters?” Mary pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and worried the tender flesh.

  “Aye. Did ye read them?”

  Mary regretfully shook her head. “I burned them unopened.”

  His lips thinned, but he nodded. “Aye, and ye had reason te.” His hands tightened over hers. “I’m verra sorry, Mary.”

  She gazed into his warm, blue eyes as he spoke.

  “Despite how I treated ye, yer friendship meant a lot te me.” He cringed. “An’ despite how I behaved last night, yer offering was more than tempting.” His voice deepened, “Ye make me yearn fer ye, leannan. Ye make me burn.”

  His words were a soothing balm to her aching heart. And his cockstand was very clear evidence that his words held truth.

  One thing was certain. Mary would not waste this opportunity. If Gabe wanted her, then have her he shall.

  She closed the short distance separating them and lifted her arms around his shoulders to tangle her fingers in his curly chocolate locks. “Take me, Gabe,” she whispered. “However you want me.”

  The muscles in his jaw jumped. “Are ye certain tha’ is wha’ ye want, leannan?”

  She looked up into his glittering blue eyes. “Yes.”

  His reaction was instantaneous. He wrapped his arms tightly around her to hold her anchored to him and his mouth crushed down onto hers. She released a short moan of surprise at his speed, but swiftly melted into his kiss. He fisted his hands in the fabric of her dusty day dress as he pressed her firmly into his chest.

  The metallic taste of Gabe’s blood entered her mouth as the split in his lip reopened. Gabriel didn’t seem to mind, so neither did she. He kissed her long and hard, his tongue lapping fervently at the inside of her mouth.

  With his lips still locked with hers, he withdrew his arms from about her and pulled frantically at her clothes. Mary aided him, leading his hands to the fastenings at her front. He fumbled with the small buttons, but finally twisted them open.

  With tongues intertwining and breath mingling heatedly between them, Gabe pushed her dress off her shoulders to slide down her body and into a pile on the floor. Her chemisette and woollen stockings soon followed, until she stood nude before him.

  He reached up to tug gently on Mary’s already falling coiffure until her hair hung loose about her shoulders.

  His eyes half-lidded, he reverently ran his fingers through her hair. “Yer hair,” he groaned. “So fine… So pretty…”

  He wrapped his arms tightly around her once more and lifted her bodily in his arms, bringing her to the bed to lay her atop the counterpane. He climbed up after her, kneeling between her legs.

  “Not a little waif any longer,” he said, the timbre of his voice deep and rumbling.

  She tilted her head to gaze quizzically at him, but he dipped to press his lips to her neck. He licked, nipped, and teased the side of her neck, her collarbone, and the upper swells of her breasts.

  Her hands found his soft hair once more and she dug her fingers in. She felt hot. Hot and eager. Her hips rose off the counterpane of their own accord, seeking his touch and the satisfaction she knew would come with it.

  “Be patient, leannan.” He grinned against the skin between her breasts.

  He slid his lips lightly up one mound until he reached her nipple, then leisurely sucked it into his mouth, pulling a gasp of delight from her.

  He groaned, the vibration tingling across her breasts, and then scraped at her bud with his teeth. She gasped, and her hands tightened in his hair, her hips lifting up once more.

  He grunted. “Damn it, Mary, ye’ll be the death of me.”

  Lifting one hand off the counterpane and relying on the other to support his weight, Gabe slid the tips of his fingers over her waist. She quivered, gooseflesh erupting over her skin at his sensuous touch.

  “I cannae wait,” he ground out.

  Mary whimpered as he left her b
reast, the air in the room sending a chill over her damp, puckering skin.

  He lowered himself down her body until his head was settled between her thighs. It might be the raw need fogging her mind, but Mary was utterly at sixes and sevens as to what he might be doing.

  He pressed her knees apart, splaying her wide open for his delectation. Heat spread over her cheeks as his eyes lit with fiery desire. Without preamble, he spread her feminine folds and pressed his mouth to her most private area.

  “Oh!” She breathed. “Oh, Gabe!”

  His tongue swirled around the small nub there, the feeling was similar to that which she had experienced with his fingers, but oh, so much more delicious!

  He lapped and licked, swirling and flicking his tongue over her sensitive nub.

  It was a shocking intimacy, but she could not complain. In fact, she could scarcely think at all. Her incoherent moans of delight echoed off the walls of the room, each one seemingly encouraging Gabe to increase the pace of his amorous attentions.

  Her moans turned rapidly into short, heavy gasps as she arched her back, her head pressing firmly into the pillow.

  Her fingers sought out his hair and she twined them through the ruffled locks, tighter…tighter, as he wound her closer to the explosion she knew was sure to come.

  Flicking his tongue faster and increasing his pressure, Gabe eagerly coiled her need to a feverish pitch. Stars appeared behind her eyelids in a fiery display of light, her hoarse cry of gratification erupting from her as her pleasure hit in wave after crashing wave of ecstasy.

  Chapter 31

  Gabe stared down at Mary as she rode her orgasm, his own need pushing him to the brink of his own ill-timed eruption.

  “God, Mary,” he breathed. “Ye’re beautiful.”

  Her expression was soft, her eyelids closed, her mouth fallen open on her echoing cry of delight.

  Gripping the towel from about his waist, he tugged it off and flung it aside. He could not wait a moment longer to claim her as his own, but damn it, he could not hurt her. He would not hurt her.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled both of them so he lay on his back and she was sprawled across his chest.

  “Ride me, Mary.” He shifted her legs so she straddled his hips, his throbbing erection straining eagerly toward the soft skin of her stomach.

  She gazed down at him with foggy confusion written across her features.

  “Ye set the pace. I donnae wish te hurt ye.” He guided her hips upward and over him, then lifted his hips to show her. “Take me inside ye and move as ye would ride a horse.”

  Comprehension dawned and her eyes lit with anticipation. With one hand holding his member, she guided him inside her as she slowly lowered herself atop him.

  Gabe hissed a breath as he made the valiant attempt to restrain himself.

  He gripped her hips, his fingers digging deeply into her skin as he watched her. She slid slowly downward, taking in a small amount of him at a time, each fraction of an inch a small amount of torture, far more potent and effective than anything he’d endured before.

  Finally, she had reached her barrier; there she halted. Gabe’s gaze bored into her warm, grey eyes.

  He took a hard swallow. “Tha’ is yer maidenhead.” He could feel a sweat break out across his brow as he held himself back from taking her in wild, frenzied thrusts. He grimaced, “I donnae wish to hurt ye, Mary.”

  She leaned forward, pressing her hands to the uninjured part of his chest. “Hush. I give this of my own will. You are not forcing me, Gabriel.”

  Her gaze stayed locked with his as she abruptly lowered herself onto him, breaking through the barrier and taking him in to fill her completely. She uttered a small cry of pain and Gabe grimaced again.

  She took a deep breath, then hushed him again. “It was scarcely a pinch. I do not know what all the fuss about maidenheads is about.”

  He grinned, quick and wide, relief flooding him. “Then ride me, leannan.”

  Gabe’s eyes rolled briefly backward as she began slow, learning her pace. The leisurely movements drove him nigh mad with need.

  He guided her hips with his hands, gradually increasing her pace until he had her bouncing atop him with greater urgency. Her breasts swung with each movement, her hair falling over her shoulders and around his head, creating an auburn veil of privacy for them both.

  He watched her features as she grew closer to finding her pleasure once more, and he held back. It pained him, but he held back, waiting for her to find fulfillment before he did the same.

  She was a Goddess. She was a revelation. How could he have gone so many years without taking her?

  Her breath came in quick gasps as she sped her pace ever more, and Gabe’s heart hammered against his ribs. Her nails dug into his chest and her head arched back as she cried her delight into the room, her hot sheath squeezing around him with each wave of her pleasure.

  His stomach quivered and his ballocks tightened as he let out a hoarse shout of his own and spilled himself inside her.

  Replete, Mary dropped forward to lie on his heaving chest. He brought a hand up to stroke her hair, clearing it away from her face, and then twining it around his fingers.

  “I donnae ken wha’ te say, Mary. I have ne’er experienced anything akin te tha’ in my life.”

  “Mmm,” she hummed sleepily against his chest.

  With women he had always been aloof, always holding himself back from fully engaging himself with them. But with Mary… With Mary he felt it all. She evoked a plethora of emotions in him. He revelled in every movement, every sigh, every moan of delight. He felt just how connected two people could be. He now understood why they called it making love, because when you’ve found the right woman, it showed one just how much one loved—

  He stilled, his eyes growing wide—even with the swelling his injuries caused—and his previously slowing heart rate picking up speed once more. It cannae be! Love? He felt connected to Mary as a friend, certainly, but to love her? It was far too dangerous for him to love. It caused poor judgement and opened one up to attack. Bloody hell, what if she became pregnant with his babe?

  His pulse tripped over itself. Yes, he and Mary were both spies and could ordinarily defend themselves but having one’s emotions rule one’s thoughts could be perilous. He could not live with himself if something happened to Mary.

  Wha’ have I done?

  * * *

  “What do you suppose we should do?” Lord Hale leaned forward, his elbows on the round table in their small, hidden meeting space.

  Evelyn rubbed a finger agitatedly across her eyebrows, smoothing each one into a delicate black arch, while she listened to the others talk. She had explained in detail what had occurred in the dungeons and now they thought of what course of action to take.

  “We go after him, eh wot?” Cecil Piper said.

  “Naturally,” Hale replied. “But who shall go? What direction shall we take? And what of our rendezvous?”

  “We will send Lady Kerr’s giant and another loyal brute so we might enjoy the last days of this house party, eh wot?”

  Hale raised an eyebrow. “You trust them to carry out the task after the failure in the dungeons?”

  “Indeed.” Lord Reddington tapped the table with his index finger. “How do we know we can trust them?”

  Piper rolled his eyes at the others. “They will be more than eager to prove themselves capable of carrying out the task.”

  Hale nodded. “Excellent.”

  “As for where they will go,” Cecil continued, “we will send them to London. It is the most obvious place for a rendezvous with whomever is higher up in the chain of command.”

  “But what of Miss White?” Lord Boxton asked. “Is she a target, as well?”

  “No,” Evelyn finally cut in. “She was just as she seemed, a harmless—albeit remarkably talented in seduction—actress. I’m certain that she thought it all a grand erotic game. We must find Mr. Spencer, however. And when we do,
we must kill him.”

  * * *

  A bird chirping an early morning song somewhere in the distance slowly brought Mary awake. She stretched her arms languidly above her head, a satisfied smile pulling at her lips. She was, she would grant, a mite sore, particularly after their third bout of lovemaking in the night. But she was most certainly happy.

  She opened her eyes. The curtains had been opened sometime in the morn—had they closed them last night?—and sunlight streamed in to brighten the small, threadbare room. It must be nearly eight of the morning, mayhap even later. Perhaps she had better rouse Gabriel so they might be on their way.

  “Gabe—” She turned her head to wake him, but his pillow was bare. No Gabe.

  Sitting up, she looked around the room. “Gabriel?”

  His trunk sat, closed, upon the only chair in the room, but all other evidence of his presence, or of the events of last night, was gone.

  She flung the coverlet aside and rose, nude, from the bed. The sun warmed her bared skin through the window, but a chill ran through her bones. Why had he left? Surely if he regretted being with her, he would not have made love to her twice more.

  She internally shook herself. There was no sense in having such thoughts. Gabe was probably arranging equipage or requesting a meal or tea brought to their room… Ooh. In which case, she had better dress.

  Quickly performing her morning ablutions, Mary set about preparing for the day. She washed her hair with the new soap she had specially bought before their assignment.

  Something felt different within her. Her body veritably vibrated with joy in the aftermath of her night with Gabriel. He’d described the ways that he’d imagined having her, and they’d certainly explored some last night.