An Indecent Invitation: Spies and Lovers, Book 1

by Laura Trentham

  With a purposeful gait, he swept by her to the curtained corridor. The heavy velvet draperies swished and then settled closed. Her instinct clamored. Whether the man was part of Gilmore and Whitmire’s conspiracy or not, she had to follow him.

  Tiptoeing closer, she peeled back the curtain an inch. The hem of the man’s dark greatcoat slipped through the alley door before it closed with a soft click. She should stay behind the curtain and wait for Gray. She really should. But, the man would be gone if she hesitated much longer. His carriage crest would identify him, and he needn’t be the wiser someone followed him.

  A sense of urgency thrummed. She skimmed down the hallway, her slippers whisper quiet, and cracked the door open. Dim light from the street outlined the figure of the man in the alley opening. A glimpse of his carriage was all she would require.

  Leaving the door ajar, she lifted her skirts and ran toward the street. She made it no more than a half dozen steps before she was jerked backwards by a hank of her wig. Pins dug deep into her scalp at the abrupt shift. Stinging tears of pain blurred her vision.

  The hand wrapped in her hair and pulled her deeper into the alley, shoving her against rough bricks. She blinked, and the man’s face came into swirling focus.

  The hulk.

  His body squashed her against the wall. She dangled, her toes scrambling on loose stone. An attempt to gouge his eyes resulted in deep, mocking laughter. Her mask sat askew, blinding her, and she ripped it off, jabbing the sharp nose of the mask toward the man’s face. He pinned both her hands in one of his above her head. She bucked against him with shoulders and hips, her mask trampled under their warring feet.

  He was almost as big as Rafe, perhaps not as well muscled, but infinitely stronger than her. Black stubble dotted his jaw, and his brow hung like a cliff over dark eyes. Intimidating at a distance, he was downright sinister up close. And his breath…if he didn’t kill her outright, she might very well suffocate on the gaseous fumes.

  Everything about the situation turned her stomach.

  “I was hopin’ I might be seeing you tonight, you cheap bit o’ muslin. Ye was looking at me earlier. Got tired of your dandies in there and wanted to try out a real man?”

  “Unhand me, you dirty blighter.”

  The man pursed his lips as if he was considering her request and then smiled, showing brown rotting teeth. “I think not, my little ladybird. I caught ye. The man said I could do whatever I wanted, ’cept kill ye.” His gaze roved down to her bosom. She could see—and feel—his lust flare. “I’ve naught seen such a fine pair as what ye’ve got displayed. Christ Almighty, I can’t wait to stick my cock in ye.”

  His words infiltrated her mounting terror. “What man told you to have your way with me?”

  “The toff ye followed. Told me to enjoy and to invite some friends. I was to nab ye later, but ye made it so damn easy.” His laughter bellowed great gusts of stale, rancid air in her face, sending her stomach scurrying for cover. “Told me ye might follow him. Something about curiosity and a cat. I’m even gettin’ paid. I would’ve done it for free, a beaut like ye.” He squeezed her breast painfully with a meaty hand.

  She was to be raped. But not killed. Best to look at the positives. Outright fighting would gain her nothing. No doubt, he underestimated her. She would exploit that fact. If she acted weak then he might drop his guard. She would jam her knee right between his legs, lift her skirts and run as if the devil chased her. Which felt ridiculously accurate.

  Her head spun around the fact the man she’d followed had orchestrated her ambush. The matter needed logical reflection, but she wasn’t capable. Pushing the useless fact aside, her mind concentrated only on escape—unscathed, if possible.

  Her muscles had tensed like hardened clay. Starting with her hands, she forced pliability back into her body. The man needed to believe he dominated her. She needed only a few inches between them. His grip loosened, and her feet gained traction. A bit more…

  Coarse laughter echoed through the alley, and both she and the hulk turned their heads toward the sound. With satisfaction, the man said, “Here’s me lads.”

  Two men sauntered closer, one tall and lean, the other round like a ball of jelly.

  “Lud, Kurt, you got yourself a feisty one tonight.” The lean man was pockmarked, with a nearly bald head and large overlapping front teeth.

  “Ye can take her after I’m done, Albert. No killin’ her, but ye can do whatever else ye want,” Kurt said.

  Kurt’s erection pressed against her hipbone, and his hand roamed her breasts. He’d peeled his torso away from her, tilting his pelvis firmly into hers, making it impossible to raise her leg.

  The fat man tittered a laugh, almost drooling in anticipation. “I don’t mind havin’ thirds. Not a’tall.”

  Kurt dropped his face for a kiss and lashed the corner of her mouth with his tongue. She retched, turning her face to the side, the rough bricks biting into her cheek. The alley door was still ajar and only a few steps away. An impossible distance. Had Gray missed her?

  Although the odds didn’t favor an escape, she could still inflict damage, and if she got close enough to the alley exit, she might summon help. If she allowed herself to succumb to the panic that hammered the blood through her body, she might end up wishing for death.

  Gray trailed out a few seconds after Whitmire, seeing the older man brush by the curtains. Their list of possible suspects had dwindled to nothing.

  He pulled the curtains back, ruffling them wildly as if he could summon Lily like a magician. Of course, the hellion was gone. Why had he assumed she could keep herself out of trouble? But how much trouble and where?

  Tendrils of danger permeated the sexually charged scene, and his stomach turned.

  He scanned the increasingly debauched crowd with a practiced eye. No sign of her. Would she have gone back upstairs? No, not without him.

  Her footman. His name was…Richard, no…Rogers. A young man stood at the entrance, alternatively staring and then looking away from the depravity. Gray pushed through the idling crowd and grabbed the footman’s arm.

  “You’re Rogers,” Gray stated.

  “That’s me,” the young man replied hesitantly. “I ain’t done nothing wrong, have I?”

  “No, nothing like that. I’m looking for the lady who acquired your help earlier this evening—long black hair, blue dress? We got separated. Have you seen her?”

  A beatific smile crested Roger’s face. “Lud, she’s a beauty, and ever so nice. Not like most o’ these lightskirts. She headed through those curtains after a gentleman.” He pointed back the way he came.

  “It wasn’t me?”

  “No, sir. A smaller man. All in black. She might’ve gone out to the alley. You can catch her, it wasn’t long ago.”

  Gray flipped the footman a coin and burst through the front doors. Terror clawed through his body. At the entrance to the alley, he stopped and leaned against the wall. The cool rasp of the plaster façade through his clothes and against his hands grounded him, although his senses remained heightened.

  He’d nearly rushed into the dark alley like a green recruit. He would be no good to Lily incapacitated or dead. Instead, he waited and listened. At least three men’s rough laughter drifted out. Lily was there, her fear palpable. He paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness even though every primal instinct begged him to attack.

  Moving on soft feet and dodging the refuse lining the brick wall, he assessed the situation. A huge, nasty-looking brute pinned her hands, cupped her breast and ground his pelvis into her hip.

  A pure red rage flooded his senses. The instinctive, emotional response was exactly what he preached to young recruits to ignore. Mistakes would be made. Lives would be lost. Ripping off his wig and mask, he dropped them and crept onward.

  Two henchmen crudely encouraged the brute holding Lily, the obvious l
eader. The other men were less of a threat but could still pull a knife from a boot or belt. His blood thrummed, and his gaze narrowed on his first target, a tall, bald man with slumping shoulders.

  “Pardon me.” Gray tapped the bald man on the shoulder. The man spun, and Gray planted one fist into his jaw, a second to his stomach.

  “Kurt,” the bald man moaned in warning, crumpling to his knees.

  “You found me.” Lily sounded close to tears, which only enraged him further.

  He ignored her. He had to or the red, debilitating haze would return.

  Kurt pushed Lily to the third man, whose muscles had long ago turned to fat. The fat man held her upper arms, her back to his front so they could both witness the fight. Either she would incapacitate the man, or he would end up running off once Gray took care of his leader. Gray swept him from his worries.

  Kurt circled toward Gray. Here was the real threat, although Gray took his measure with ease. A man who was rarely crossed on the streets. His size alone would send most adversaries running. His strutting approach reflected a misguided confidence in his abilities, and his open stance made for a wide target. Apparently, Kurt had taken Gray’s measure as well and found him lacking.

  “The slut is mine, I was paid to take care o’ her.” Kurt’s voice was full of bravado, and he opened and closed his hands, announcing his imminent punch.

  “Paid?” Taken aback for a moment, Gray tucked the information away for later. “Sorry to disappoint, but you can’t have her.”

  “You’ll have to take her from us. She’s a pretty piece, and I want to sample her. Then, me friends want a turn.”

  Gray took deep breaths, tamping the black mire back into his chest. The bald man stirred to sitting. Never taking his eyes off Kurt, he sent a boot into the bald man’s chest. Kurt’s nostrils flared and his smile fell.

  Kurt dropped in his knees to a more defensive posture and lumbered forward. Gray dodged the man’s fists and darted behind him. Planting a boot on the big man’s arse, Gray shoved him to the ground to land hard on his hands and knees.

  Kurt regained his feet with a roar. Instead of reassessing Gray’s skill, he launched himself again, faster than Gray anticipated, and a fist glanced off his jaw. Stars floated on the edges of his vision. Crouching low and blinking to clear his vision, Gray swept his leg out and tripped Kurt. The big man went down with a bellow. Maintaining his advantage, Gray stood over him and kicked his belly.

  Movement in his periphery alerted him to another threat. The bald man leapt on Gray’s back and wrapped an arm around his neck. Forced away from Kurt, Gray was briefly on the defensive. Grabbing at the man’s forearm, which pressed hard on his windpipe, Gray doubled himself over. Momentum carried the bald man over Gray’s back to land on the stones. He lay spread-eagle and wheezed.

  The fat man’s encouragements morphed into a litany of epitaphs. “You little bitch! You broke me nose and me bollocks.”

  The man tasked with holding Lily had fallen to his knees and clutched his groin and face. She kicked him in the stomach, prompting another grunt of pain. Gray’s attention returned to Kurt.

  Kurt pushed to sitting and slammed a fist into Gray’s stomach. The burst of pain sprang rage free of its confines. A small sane part of his brain recognized the line he crossed. He pounded his fists into Kurt’s face and stomach. This man had been prepared to rape Lily and then hand her off for further torture. The other two men stumbled past him out of the alley, readily deserting Kurt to his fate.

  A hand on his biceps pulled insistently. “Don’t kill him, Gray. Please, we need to leave in case they come back with more men.”

  The murderous haze dissipated at her touch. He needed to question the man, find out who hired him. Gray fisted the man’s coarse woolen jacket and shook. Kurt’s head lolled, unconscious. Blood streamed from his nose and a cut above his eye. He dropped the man to the stones with a curse. Because of his loss of control, he would be left with more questions than answers.

  Lily pulled him forward. Nearing the exit of the alley, he stopped and turned her, both hands on her shoulders. Vacant eyes in a blanched face met his. He’d seen the expression on countless soldiers’ faces after their first life-and-death experience.

  Her bodice had ripped at the sleeve. It sagged open and revealed the side of her breast. The image of Kurt’s hands on them nearly had him returning to disembowel the bastard with his bare hands. He shrugged off his jacket and settled it around her shoulders.

  “Are you physically injured?” He pulled the lapels of his jacket closed over her chest.

  Her answer was a tight shake of her head. Home. She needed to be safe at home. Under guard, under lock and key…banishment to a nunnery was sounding more and more appealing. The game had changed.

  With an arm around her waist, he led her out of the alley. She matched his quick stride. The bustle of activity on the street would offer safety while he commandeered transportation.

  “Let me find us a hack.” He stepped off toward the congregation of footmen and hacks in front of Fieldstones, but she clutched the sleeve of his shirt.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Her mask gone and her wig awry, there was a chance she’d be recognized. An even greater chance he would be. It was a chance he’d take. Their fingers entwined, they walked side by side to the front steps.

  Rogers stood on the landing, opening doors and handing the debauched back into their carriages. Gray whistled and caught his eye.

  “You found ’er, sir.”

  “I did, and I’m afraid she isn’t feeling well. Could you summon us a hack?”

  “Yes, sir, right away.” Rogers trotted away, and in no time, a hack pulled to a stop. After handing her in, he offered Rogers thanks in the form of another sovereign, earning a happy smile and a doff of an olive-leaf circlet.

  Gray gave the driver instructions, swung into the cab and settled in the seat across from her. She’d uttered only a handful of words. Had the evening permanently traumatized her? It was his fault. He’d sent her the invitation. Christ Almighty, he should have known better, been smarter. His love had obscured any semblance of common sense he possessed. Would she ever forgive him?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lily stared at Gray sitting so grimly across the carriage. A multitude of emotions bombarded her, each vying for domination. Terror, certainly. The outcome in the alley could have been vastly different. Pride too. She’d incapacitated a man three times her size. Excitement. There was an undeniable thrill in watching Gray demolish the two men. And she could hardly dismiss the simmering sexual frustration that colored it all.

  He’d handled her like a delicate eggshell. His voice had been gentle, overly solicitous. She appreciated his concern, she did. But she needed a different sort of consideration at the moment. Her breathing ticked up and she grew hot under his heavy jacket. Was this a normal reaction to danger? She didn’t know and didn’t care.

  “I know the cretin touched you, but are you hurt in any other way?” His hands stayed flatly planted on the squab as if he were afraid to touch her.

  She wasn’t afraid. Instead of answering him, she scrambled to his lap and straddled him as she had in her bed. Impatient, she jerked her skirts up to her thighs. A sigh gusted out as she opened her legs wide and settled herself against him.

  “What are you doing?” His brittle voice cracked.

  “I’m alive and unharmed, thanks to you.” Grinding her hips, she added in a throaty tone, “Let me thank you.”

  His hands found their way to her hips, lifting her skirts even higher. Wishing all the clothing between them would disintegrate, she wove gloved fingers in his hair and pulled his head back.

  He huffed at her rough treatment but didn’t complain. In fact, his ardor grew, pressing between them. She kissed him, winding her tongue with his. Still on the edge of desire from their earlier encounter, h
er arousal rose fast and frantic.

  He moved his hands from her hips to her bodice. Already ripped, he exacerbated the damage, rending the fabric in half. Her breasts rode high in the stays. She arched her back, and he tugged the stays lower, exposing her jutting nipples. He took the offering between his lips and pulled hard at the peaks. Back and forth, he tormented with tongue and mouth.

  She pulled at his breeches. Taking pity, he slipped the buttons free and tore the fabric back. She slid along his erection. His head lolled back on the squab, and he closed his eyes, his hands on her breasts.

  “Teach me what to do,” she whispered.

  “We can’t—”

  “Teach me,” she said more forcefully.

  He lifted her with firm hands on her hips and guided the tip of his cock to her opening. “Lower yourself.”

  Clutching his shoulders, she did as commanded, inch by slow inch. Agonizing pleasure ripped through her entire body. “Now what?”

  “Ride me. As fast or slow as you wish.”

  Her body paced the perfect rhythm, rising and falling on his cock to match the rock of the carriage. He snaked one of his hands to where they joined and stroked. His magical fingertips seemed to know the exact pressure she craved. Her climax descended like an avalanche, burying her in a white fog, only dimly aware that she cried out his name.

  Gray took control, lifting her up and down until he shuddered. She fell bonelessly against him even as her hips continued to grind against him ever so slightly.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “I should be the one thanking you. That was spectacular.”

  The hack slowed and the whinny of the horse galvanized them into action. Her dress was ruined, and she slipped her arms into his jacket, buttoning it closed while he adjusted his breeches.

  After Gray handed her down, the cabbie sent them a sidelong glance, a pipe clenched between his teeth, smoke curling from the end. “Took you the long way, sir. Sounded as if you had some business to attend to.”