An Indecent Invitation: Spies and Lovers, Book 1

by Laura Trentham

  He’d received the jolt of his life seeing her standing on the dais like Nefertiti. The buzz of conversation around him had increased and every head had turned to watch her walk into the room with the grace of a queen, her hips swaying lushly. Men had circled like vultures within seconds, sensing lone, easy prey. Staking a claim in front of the room had been his pleasure.

  Her finger traced from the statue’s chest to between his legs. He edged close behind her. “Checking out his dangly bits, are you?”

  She flinched, but her voice was pert. “Yours were a bit more impressive, I’d say.”

  “They’d like to impress you again, my lady.”

  A pinked hue raced up her neck. While he would like nothing better than to tease Lily all evening, he had yet to reconnoiter the upper level. He stepped away from the temptation of her body and looked down one side of the hall and then the other. “There’s something odd about the arrangement of the doors, is there not?”

  He opened the closest door. The room was empty save for a bed and a few chairs. He opened the door directly adjacent. It too was empty but long and narrow. Along the wall, arranged seating pointed directly at a curtained square on the wall. He pulled the curtain aside, revealing a viewing window into a larger room.

  “I don’t understand. Why would you come in here to watch what was going on in the other room?” Lily was a picture of innocent bafflement.

  “Some people are aroused watching other people…do things.” He led her back out and closed the door behind them.

  “What sort of things? Things like we did?” The silver of her fox mask lent her blue eyes an otherworldly quality.

  “Yes, and other things.”

  “Acts that involve a man’s head up a woman’s skirts?”

  Her question had him clutching the door jamb. “What would you know of such things?”

  “One of Gilmore’s statues. Another one had a man’s—” she tapped the statue between its legs, “—in a woman’s mouth. Is that normal?”

  Gray scratched at his hot, uncomfortable wig. “It’s completely normal and enjoyable for both parties. As long as it’s done in love.” While not exactly accurate, he didn’t want to skew her moral compass more than he already had.

  She dug her fingers into his forearm. “What we did…it wasn’t…” Done in love. Although unspoken, the words resonated between them.

  “Wasn’t it?”

  Her chin wobbled. A Cyprian’s ball was hardly the venue to declare his love and intentions. “Let’s move on, shall we? We can check the rooms from the gallery.”

  Moving down the hall, they methodically checked each gallery and, in turn, the main room. There were empty, save for the last.

  A man in smallclothes hung in chains. A masked woman wearing buckskin breeches and a waistcoat held a cat-o-nine-tails and paced before the man, teasing him with the ends while he writhed against the manacles.

  “Is that…isn’t that…Lord Montbatton?” Lily stepped toward the window.

  Gray squinted. Bloody hell, it was. The masked woman flicked her wrist, and the leather strips lashed Montbatton across the legs. He yelped, but his arousal was plainly visible. Lily’s mouth hung open, moving close to the viewing window.

  Gray grabbed her around the waist and frog-marched her out of the room.

  “Wait. Let go, I want to see more.” She tried to push past him back through the door.

  “No. You really don’t.” He used his superior strength to block her. “We’re moving on. No arguments.”

  “Montbatton was in chains? Did he do something wrong? Does he enjoy being whipped?” The questions tumbled out in horror and excitement.

  “Yes and no and probably. I refuse to discuss this right now. We have work to do. Focus, woman,” he said priggishly, disregarding the fact he would still have Lily pressed against a pillar downstairs if she’d hadn’t called him to task earlier. He practically had to drag her to the other end of the hall, checking rooms as they went.

  They had come to the last empty gallery, and he pulled her inside to regroup. The main room was tastefully done. No chains. Not even a bed. A large, comfortable-looking chaise lounge was situated in the middle of room along with a side table and two chairs.

  “Have you ever been lashed?” She grabbed his arm and forced him around to face her. Was he imagining the tinge of jealousy in her question?

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “Yes, I have. The only slight differences were I was upside down and the person holding the whip was an ugly, dirty Frenchman. Believe me, there was nothing enjoyable about the experience in the least.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “About what, sweetheart?” Glad he hadn’t worn gloves, he caressed her cheek.

  “What you’ve had to endure the last years. I wish I could ease your pain somehow.” The mask emphasized the intensity in her eyes.

  She had brought immeasurable light and hope back to his world. He would tell her that, but not here and now. Now, he needed to focus on their goal.

  Emotion roughened his voice. “The staircase is the only direct route upstairs. Windows aren’t a feasible method of arrival or escape. Plus, these rooms don’t afford the privacy they’ll require for a meeting.”

  “Back downstairs then? We can check with my footman.”

  Voices echoed in the corridor. With a flick of his boot, he shut the door. An attractive couple both wearing black half masks entered the main room, their hands exploring one another.

  As soon as the door closed, they kissed. Their tongues sparred as the man caressed the woman’s breast, walking her backward toward the chaise. The woman’s throaty moan carried through the window. Lily stepped closer. Her curiosity and arousal were hypnotic.

  “Would you like to watch for a few minutes?” He closed in behind her.

  “What about the mission?”

  “It can—” go to hell, “—wait,” he substituted.

  The man arranged the woman so she leaned back against the chaise’s red-velvet covering while he knelt at her side. Draping her arms over her head thrust her breasts even higher. The man peeled apart her split skirt, revealing virginal white garters.

  “Do you enjoy watching?” Lily gestured at the other couple.

  Putting one arm around her waist and the other over the swell of her breasts, he pulled her back into him so he could see over her shoulder. “I can’t say as I’ve ever done it. Based on the evidence so far—” he rocked his erection into the crease of her bottom, “—I’d say it’s a resounding yes.”

  The man kissed up both thighs, slowly revealing the woman to the waist. Pushing her knees apart, he moved between them and pulled her bottom to the edge. The woman seemed an experienced courtesan. While the man gazed on the offering between her legs, she loosened her bodice and fondled her own breasts.

  Lily clutched his thigh. Her back arched, thrusting her bottom fully onto his cock and her breasts high for his enjoyment. He’d never intended to take her here, but lust clouded his judgment.

  The man leaned in to kiss the woman’s sex. She moaned and gave a little jerk in response.

  “It’s the statue come to life, isn’t it?” Lily took his hand and guided it to her breast. “Please, Gray. Touch me.”

  He slipped his hand inside her bodice and plucked her breast out, squeezing. He rolled the hardened point of her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

  “That woman is touching herself. Does it disgust you?” she asked.

  He bit her earlobe and exhaled in her ear. “Not in the least. If we had all the time in the world, I’d strip you naked and make you touch yourself as I watched.”

  An inarticulate garble was her answer, but she wiggled against him. She would quickly learn how to torment him. But for now, he held the upper hand.

  The woman through the window had placed her foot on the chais
e lounge, exposing herself fully to her lover. The man grasped the woman’s hips as she undulated against his mouth.

  “Is this making you hot for me? Do you want me to pleasure you with my mouth?” He pressed a kiss on her neck.

  “Gray,” she said on an exhale.

  “Answer me.”

  “Yes, yes, yes.”

  She turned her head seeking his mouth, but he commanded, “Watch them.”

  The woman cried out as the man slid two fingers into her folds. While thrusting his fingers, he continued to tease her with his mouth. The woman keened, jerking and bucking into her lover’s mouth. Finally, she lay sated and pulled the man up for a deep kiss. Then she took his fingers and sucked them into her mouth, their eyes never straying from each other.

  Like an animal in heat, Lily turned in his arm. “Please, I want…I need…for God’s sake, do something.”

  Rumbling a laugh, Gray pressed her against the back wall of the gallery, jerking her skirts up to her waist and pulling one leg up to wrap around his hip. He would take her against the wall. Rocking his erection against her, he captured her mouth in a deep, carnal kiss.

  A woman’s giggling broke through the blood rushing through his body at a frenetic pace. “Tommy, look, two shows for the price of one.”

  Shielding Lily, Gray glanced over his shoulder to see a young man with an older demirep watching them from inside the doorway. A vat of cold water injected through his veins, cooling his ardor. He dropped Lily’s leg and her skirts fell back to her ankles.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “We need to return downstairs.”

  She nodded curtly, but the hand he took trembled.

  “Tommy and me didn’t mean to run you off. Stay and play,” the woman said in a poorly concealed Cockney accent.

  “Your interruption was timely, madam. Please enjoy.” Gray tipped his chin and pulled Lily through the door into the hallway, the cool blue of the walls calming. There was more activity in the corridor now. Couples entered and exited various doors.

  “Should we check the viewing rooms again, do you think?” Lily whispered.

  “No,” he responded more forcefully than necessary. “We would never make it out again.” He led them to the stairs and down. She went in search of her footman while he checked the various alcoves.

  Breathless, she returned to his side. “Gilmore arrived less than ten minutes ago. Rogers said he headed to the back of the first floor. I assume to the bank of rooms you located earlier.”

  “They were all locked when I made my earlier reconnaissance.” He pulled her toward the corridor he’d found concealed by dark heavy curtains.

  Lily pulled him to a jolting stop. Two men and one woman twined together on a wide settee. With parted lips, her questing gaze shot to his and then back to the trio.

  A thread of humor wove through the charged situation. He looked forward to her delicate blushes as curiosity trumped embarrassment. “Ask me about it later. I’ll be happy to explain everything.”

  The hallway was empty. Gilmore and Whitmire were in one of the rooms. He could sense them. “Stay here. I don’t want to chance Gilmore recognizing you. Don’t move, Lily, not an inch. Promise me.”

  She harrumphed. “Gray, really.”

  “I want you to say it.”

  “I promise not to move an inch.” She mocked him, but even grudgingly given, her promise made him feel better. With a glance over his shoulder, he disappeared down the hall, and she was lost in the folds of the curtain.

  He pressed his ear against the first door and tried the handle. Locked. Moving to the next door, he reached for the handle. The door jerked open. Both Gray and the man he confronted startled before settling into nearly identical defensive stances—back on their heels with bent knees and hands up. The room appeared otherwise unoccupied.

  “I didn’t realize you enjoyed the seedier side of London, Whitmire,” Gray said.

  “How would you know what I enjoy? Are we acquainted?” Whitmire’s silver eyes squinted in the dim hallway light.

  Experienced, distinguished and intelligent were accurate descriptions of the baron. Although Gray also found him calculating, cold and evasive. Gray stayed silent. His recognition was only a matter of time considering he hadn’t taken pains to alter his features.

  “Masterson? What the devil are you doing here?”

  “I could ask the same of you, my lord.” Neither of them were willing to divulge more. Gray debated in the lengthening silence. “Could I beg a few minutes of your time? You may be able to help me, as a matter of fact.”

  With obvious reluctance, Whitmire stepped back and gestured him in with a flick of his wrist. “Certainly. My business is concluded. I assume this has to do with work and not pleasure.”

  A quick glance at the curtains revealed nothing, not even the slightest of rustling. He would have to trust Lily to keep her promise. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  “Could I offer you a drink?” Whitmire asked.

  The room was comfortable and tastefully done, much like the rest of the house. Chairs surrounded a round table. A settee stood across one wall and a side table with several decanters and glasses along another. The perfect spot for a game of high stakes whist or a clandestine meeting. Gray waved off the drink and sat. Whitmire took the seat directly across from Gray after pouring himself a glass of port.

  Whitmire fired first. “Quite a shock to see you standing outside the door. You, however, didn’t seem surprised to see me. Why is that?” Whitmire’s hand was stiff around the glass stem.

  How far should he trust Whitmire? A colleague, true, but that didn’t guarantee he was trustworthy. Men fell to bribes. However, not a single breath of doubt attached itself to the older man, and Gray had not turned up anything in Whitmire’s background that attached him to the earl in any way.

  “I seek information about Earl Windor. He’s gone missing. I had tenuously linked the earl to Lord Gilmore and Gilmore to you.”

  Whitmire didn’t look away or chatter out of nerves, merely tapped the rim of his glass. Gray waited.

  “And how did you know I would be here tonight?” the man asked.

  “A source indicated you and Gilmore were meeting.”

  “You do have a reputation of obtaining information without the quarry realizing you’ve even done it. I applaud you. Sometime you must share your techniques with me.”

  The man would be mortified to know a woman had infiltrated and discovered Gilmore’s hidden agenda. Gray couldn’t stop his smile. “My techniques are nontransferable.”

  “I’ve heard growing whispers about Windor. He hasn’t checked in with Hawkins for months now. True?”

  “Unfortunately, true,” Gray responded. Once the whispers became widespread, things would complicate rapidly.

  “Rest assured the matter between me and Gilmore has nothing to do with Lord Windor. I can’t go into details without compromising the situation. I’m sure you understand.” Whitmire downed his drink and flattened his palms on the table, prepared to take his leave.

  “I understand Gilmore received a large cash payment corresponding to the time that the earl is thought to have disappeared. I understand he’s still receiving payments. I understand you’re Gilmore’s contact. I must clear my suspicions before I can let the matter go, I’m afraid.” Gray held up his hands as if he had no choice. Better for Whitmire to believe his investigation was a directive from Hawkins and not a personal endeavor.

  Whitmire settled back onto the edge of the chair. “Gilmore got himself into some financial straits, and he has some rather unsavory connections across the channel that I’ve found particularly useful. I uncovered a plot to sell tampered gun powder to Wellington through one of the Regent’s bootlickers.”

  Gray’s eyes widened. “You managed to thwart it?”

  Whitmire bestowed a den
igrating smile. “Of course, Masterson.” He rose, and this time swung on a great coat and pulled a hat low over his face. “Now, have I satisfied your concerns?”

  “For the moment. Thank you for your time.”

  Whitmire stopped with the door cracked. “You’d best be careful. The earl was a hard man and if something sinister has happened, it’s bound to be dangerous.” The man was gone with the flutter of his cloak.

  “Yes. Dangerous indeed,” Gray murmured.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Movement near the darkened servant hall caught Lily’s attention. Two men came into focus, both in profile. The shorter of the two was dressed completely in black, including a greatcoat and hat. The forcefulness of the conversation reflected in the man’s body language and air of antagonism. He poked a large, brutish man in the chest, pushing the hulk back a step or two. No matter their difference in size, it was obvious who was in control.

  She sidled out of the curtains and huddled behind a plaster pillar a few steps closer. Surely Gray hadn’t literally meant an inch. The blunt, rough-hewn features of the bigger man suggested he was lower-class. Oily dark hair brushed a black broadcloth jacket stretched over massive shoulders. He hadn’t uttered a word as far as she could tell. The two men exchanged papers for a purse of coins. Focused on acts of love and not business, no one else paid the two men any attention whatsoever.

  The hulk checked the purse by weight. He slipped it into his jacket and smiled a smile of malevolence. As if he was aware someone watched, he swiveled his head, and they locked gazes for an instant.

  She wanted to run, but her feet were mired in tar. All she could do was hide herself behind the pillar, hoping he would dismiss her as a harmless eavesdropper. No hand reached around to grab her. She chanced another look. The hulk was gone. The smaller man surveyed the crowd while he pulled on buckskin gloves.

  Wealth and power oozed from his quality clothes, his stance, even the tilt of his head. A sense of familiarity niggled her. She knew him, perhaps had danced with him over the course of the Season. Darkness and his hat denied identification.