An Indecent Invitation: Spies and Lovers, Book 1

by Laura Trentham

  “Please,” she begged. “Take me.”

  He braced his elbows alongside her head, his cock poised to satisfy her. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

  She obeyed. Even in the near darkness, the potency of his green eyes was undiluted. He entered her, slowly and with complete command. But it cost him. His arms trembled and sweat broke over his forehead. Still, his eyes burned into hers, singeing her from the inside out. Finally buried to the hilt, he took a long slow breath, his chest rubbing against her nipples. At the first grind of his hips, she climaxed, her soul on display for his examination.

  From a long way away, she heard his muttered curse and his demand for her to keep her eyes open. His hips hammered, all pretense of control gone. Pleasure bloomed over his face.

  A few tears escaped and trickled down her temples into her hair. Not from fear or pain or even happiness. Their coupling had not been about joy. Love had been present but also a profound understanding of the darkness in life. He kissed them away and pulled her into a tight embrace, his face in her hair, stroking his hands over her back.

  Eventually, the air around them ceased to crackle, the ferocity of their joining abated. Questions of his evening’s work peppered her consciousness.

  She propped herself on an elbow. “What did you learn?”

  His mouth tightened. “Penhaven is behind it all. He’s escaped to his country estate.”

  “Penhaven.” She flopped to her back to stare at the canopy. The pieces of the puzzle fit themselves together, the picture finally clear. “I saw flashes of an odd sort of frenzy in him, but then it would be gone, and I wondered if I imagined it. Do you think Father…”

  “Most likely he’s alive. Penhaven’s pursuit of you was to hurt the earl. If he could marry you, all the better, but ruination would have suited his plans.”

  “For what purpose? What have I ever done to him except be kind?”

  “Too kind. I warned you from the beginning. Your mother was the lightning rod for this entire undertaking.”

  “Does she still live?” A lump grew in her throat.

  “I’m not sure, but…it’s doubtful.” His hand found hers, and he twined their fingers.

  The last of her hope slipped away, leaving a painful lash. “We can still save Father though. You and Rafe have a plan?” Silence met her question. She tried again. “When do we leave?”

  Finally, he said, “At dawn.”

  “That’s only a few hours off.” She scrambled up and dropped a chemise over her head. She laid a dark green riding habit over the bed. Anything else she might need would be available at Wintermarsh. While she rolled on thick woolen stockings, Gray pulled on his breeches and shirt. Standing at the window, he fingered the silk cord that tied the cascading cloth of the curtains.

  “I think Rafe would understand if you snuck out the front door instead of climbing out the window. We are to be married, after all.” Her teasing smile garnered no response from him, his expression solemn.

  After tying her garters, she hugged him around the waist, trying to dissipate the unexplained, rising tension permeating the room.

  “You know I love you.” His tone was intense, almost grim.

  “As I love you.”

  He backed her to the bed, his strength overwhelming her but excitement rushed through her like a shot of brandy. She trusted him and allowed him to take control. Her lips sought his, but he turned his head so her mouth skimmed his clenched jaw. He captured her hands in his and forced them above her head. The back of her legs hit the bed and silk brushed against her wrist.

  The cord tightened. Realization rained down. She bucked and kicked as he secured her tied wrists to the near bedpost. He immobilized her in an instant. Fighting only succeeded in drawing the cord even snugger.

  “Stop. You’ll hurt yourself,” he said in a gruff, slightly apologetic voice.

  “Come closer, and we’ll see who gets hurt.” She aimed a foot at his groin. He jumped back so her toes only skimmed across the front of his breeches. “Why are you doing this?”

  “You can’t accompany us. You must stay here. Safe under Penny’s watch.” He pulled on his boots, his eyes downcast.

  “Did you consider asking me to stay instead of resorting to binding me?”

  “I did, but you wouldn’t have agreed, would you?”

  They both knew she wouldn’t have agreed. “I’ll never forgive you for this, Gray Masterson.”

  “I know.” Regret, sadness and acceptance wove the simple words together with a strange finality.

  “I’ll scream the bloody house down and follow you.”

  He regarded her from his seat, and she blazed her antagonism across the space between them. Both hands on his knees, he pushed himself slowly to standing and unwound his black neckerchief. Relief warred with anger. He would release her. Incredulity silenced her as the makeshift gag was knotted over her mouth.

  This time, before he could retreat to a safe distance, she caught him in the belly with a well-aimed heel. Air whooshed from his lungs and he crumpled. Her next kick glanced across his chin, and he reeled backward.

  He rubbed and rotated his jaw. “I deserved that, I suppose.”

  “You deserve to get your bollocks cut off,” she said—except it came out as a series of agitated, muffled grunts. The tone seemed clear enough.

  Slipping on his jacket, he stopped at the door. His hand rested on the handle, but he didn’t look back. “I hope you’ll forgive me one day.”

  “Ne-ver,” she bit out. The two syllables, as unintelligible as they sounded, jerked him like a bullet. His face in profile, he nodded and was out the door.

  Eventually, she slept—a fitful, nightmare-ridden sleep. A maid woke her, and the look of utter astonishment to find her mistress tied and gagged almost made Lily laugh. Almost.

  Her grunting and wiggling brought the maid running, and she tugged the neckerchief out of Lily’s mouth. Lily worked her sore jaw before trying to speak. “Untie me, please. My hands have gone numb.”

  It took long moments for the maid to pick out the tight knots. Finally, the cord loosened enough for Lily to pull her hands free. Blood flowed and transmitted its displeasure by shooting needles in her shoulders, arms and hands. She rolled on the bed and rubbed feeling back into her arms.

  “I’ll kill him. With my bare hands, I’ll kill him.”

  “Should I fetch Mrs. Winslow, miss?”

  Lily clenched and unclenched her hands. The spiking pain diminished to a few annoying tingles. Between finding her bound and her odd behavior, this incident would add fuel to the gossip below stairs. Was the truth any less scandalous than what her maid could conjure? Best not to address it at all.

  “Could you help me dress, please?”

  “Of course, miss. Your habit?” The maid picked up the dress still lying across the bed.

  For a mad moment, she considered riding for Wintermarsh, but it was already mid-morning. Rafe and Gray had been on the road for hours. “No, the green-striped muslin, if you please.”

  The maid buttoned her in the frock and pinned her hair in a loose knot at her neck.

  “Has my aunt risen?” Lily led the way out of her chamber.

  “Yes, miss. She’s with a caller in the drawing room.” After dropping a small curtsy, the maid disappeared like a wraith down the servant stairs.

  Who else but Minerva would call before noon? The two of them often enjoyed a morning ride through Hyde Park. If she’d known, she would have worn her habit after all. A vent to her good friend sounded like the perfect salve for her anger.

  Hearing the murmur of voices, she stepped inside the drawing room with a welcoming smile. Her mind skewed to process the unexpected scene. It wasn’t Minerva having a completely civilized cup of tea with Aunt Edie, but…

  Lord Penhaven.

  Her lips trembled, but she ke
pt the smile pasted on her face. What was he doing here? Penhaven should be in the country with Rafe and Gray.

  But the man was here, in her drawing room, looking feral about the eyes and with a smile full of foreboding. She’d never noticed the gleaming madness before. Was it her newly acquired knowledge of his deceit or had he become less careful about masking it?

  He couldn’t suspect she knew about his evil machinations. On feet that seemed weighed by anvils, she made her way to the armchair and sank down, linking her hands over her quaking knees.

  “Lord Penhaven, how delightful. Were we expecting you this morning?” A slight tremor affected her speech.

  “You promised me a ride in my carriage, if you’ll recall.”

  “Did I?” She lifted a shaky hand to tuck a piece of hair away.

  “At Lord Gilmore’s. I’ve been counting the days.”

  Lord Gilmore’s soirée seemed a lifetime ago. “I suppose I did at that, but I’m not sure if I’m up for a ride this morning. Tomorrow instead?”

  “It’s a lovely day, Lily,” Aunt Edie said. “A ride around the park would be invigorating, especially before all the beau monde crowds it this afternoon. Why don’t you run along with Lord Penhaven?”

  Her aunt had no idea Penhaven had been her employer for the past several months. Now was hardly the time to drop that explosive on-dit. Lily’s gaze darted to the door. Where the devil was Penny?

  “No matter how lovely the day, I haven’t had time to break my fast. It’s terribly gauche to admit, but I’m quite famished.” Lily popped up, forcing Penhaven to rise.

  He strolled to the door. Had they escaped so easily? The snick of the lock made her flinch. Penhaven had called her bluff.

  “I hoped you’d make this easy, but I enjoy a challenge.” He stalked her, and she shuffled backward to keep the chair between them.

  “Lord Penhaven, perhaps you can return tomorrow as my charge has no interest in a ride today.” Aunt Edie’s voice trembled with a sudden uncertainty.

  They ignored her. Lily and Penhaven circled each other like boxers in a ring. His lips twisted into a snarl, reflecting his contempt. “You’ve come from Masterson’s bed, haven’t you? I can smell his seed. He’s ruined you like the earl ruined your mother.”

  “What do you know of my mother?”

  Aunt Edie garbled in shock, but Lily couldn’t look away from the danger and madness that was Penhaven.

  “I know everything. While you look nothing like her, you share her passion and ferocity. Masterson has certainly chased your skirts like an animal in rut. Bedding you would have been no hardship on my part, even if you do look like your fiend of a father. The earl was so cavalier with Victoria’s feelings. She deserved more…better than him.” His voice dripped venom and he clutched the back of the settee, his knuckles white.

  “Did you send me the note at Napier’s? And send ruffians to attack the carriage? And set those men on me at Fieldstones?” She already knew the answers but needed to buy time to think. Except her brain was operating in a fog of shock, no viable plan within reach.

  “Certainly. How fitting to debauch you in a garden to force an alliance. I had planned to snatch you on the road and take you to my estate. A shame your coachman hired guards. Fieldstones was just a bit of fun.” His face was a picture of privileged insouciance as if planning a debutante’s rape was something one did before breakfast.

  “Fun. You consider my debasement a bit of fun?” The anger was like sunlight to the fog, clearing her mind. “Lord Penhaven, it’s time for you to depart. I’ll call for Penny if I must, but I would hate to cause you further embarrassment.”

  “Your coachman is otherwise occupied.” He tugged at his gloves, his voice deceptively casual.

  “Did you kill him?”

  “All I can say is he’ll be unavailable for a rescue.”

  Fear spiraled through her body, overwhelming her steadying anger and setting her knees to trembling once again. She’d caught Penhaven off-guard once already, but he was stronger than he looked. Underestimating him would get her killed.

  In a burst of movement, he leapt over the settee, and Lily braced for impact. She bent her knees and raised her hands defensively. Only the impact never came. Instead, he pulled Aunt Edie to his side, a knife glinting.

  Lily’s breathing quickened as if she’d run a flight of stairs. “No! Mrs. Winslow has done nothing. I beg you to leave her be.” She crept closer, her hands held out in entreaty. A quick glance at her aunt revealed a terror-stricken pale face, her lips rounding and flattening. Aunt Edie tried to form coherent words but only managed sounds of distress.

  “I’ve come to understand you quite well, and you would rather die than leave with me today. Isn’t that true? You would fight me until your last breath. Scream the house down around our ears.” His smile was full of smug triumph. “However, you will choose to docilely leave with me rather than let your dotty little chaperone here bleed to death on your lovely rug. If you call my bluff, I have killed before and wouldn’t hesitate to again. In fact, I might enjoy it.” He shifted his attention back to her aunt, his knife slicing through layers of fabric until white skin gleamed.

  “I’ll cooperate. Please, let her go.”

  “When you’re safely in my carriage. Consider her a bit of security, and as I’m paying your dear aunt, we’ll call this her final task for me.” Aunt Edie’s eyes went wide. Penhaven dragged her toward the drawing room door, her legs scrambling.

  “Lady Lily, if you would do the honors of leading us quietly and sedately to your front door. Once I have you in my carriage, I will release Mrs. Winslow…relatively unharmed.”

  Lily could escape. She could run to her chamber or the morning room or the study and lock herself inside. Penhaven waited in tense expectancy for her decision.

  “Let him do his worst. I deserve it. Save yourself. Run.” Aunt Edie’s voice was full of the same tears welling in her eyes.

  Lily could escape, but her aunt would die. No matter Aunt Edie had unwittingly betrayed her to a man gone completely queer in the attic. Lily loved the daft, bawdy woman.

  Ignoring her aunt’s plea, she unlocked the drawing room door. The catch reverberated with a sense of doom. The entry hall was deserted, luck not falling her way. The front door loomed, too close, yet she took an eternity to reach it on her numb legs. Her aunt’s whines echoed off the marble.

  Lily reached for the door handle, feeling as if she watched someone else open it. A black, unmarked closed carriage stood at the ready. A coachman in a dark cloak and hat didn’t spare them a glance.

  “Where’s your fancy new barouche, my lord?” Her last niggling hope had been the possibility of throwing herself from the open carriage.

  “I had a suspicion you might prove troublesome.” An exuberant amusement lit him.

  Damn and damn again. Was there another choice? She stood at the bottom of the steps. Indecision froze her between the two fates. The street was empty. The point of Penhaven’s knife made an indention in the tender flesh of her aunt’s waist.

  “In.” Penhaven’s lips curled in a smile, but his eyes narrowed in a threat.

  At her hesitation, the knife sliced and a thin line of red welled, spreading quickly to stain her aunt’s blue muslin morning gown. Aunt Edie swooned, and Penhaven let her fall to the steps. Crouching, he grabbed the old woman’s chin, roughly bending her head back to expose her neck. Sawing the knife blade back and forth an inch above tender skin, he regarded Lily with raised eyebrows.

  The moment she’d walked into the drawing room, her path had been set. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she hauled herself inside the carriage. Blinded in the sudden darkness, she found her seat by feel. Penhaven agilely hopped inside to sit across from her. Before the door was even fully closed, the carriage bounded forward. Thrown to the side, she scrabbled for balance.

  A warm thigh
covered in loosely woven wool was her anchor. Muscle flexed and the accompanying chuckle had her scurrying for a corner. Swaying curtains allowed a rhythm of slivered light to illuminate the interior as her eyes adjusted.

  The lean, bald man from the alleyway attack grinned. “If you wanted to cop a feel, you only had to ask. Albert Worth, at your service. Seems the tables have turned. Where’s your protector now?” A variety of shades still colored his face.

  “Tie her.” Penhaven twitched the closest set of curtains open.

  “With pleasure.” Instead of silken ties, Albert bound her wrists and ankles with coarse low-quality rope. Her attempts to test the strength of her bonds only resulted in abrading the delicate skin of her already sore wrists.

  She had two choices. Curl into a ball and collapse in a fit of tears, which is what she truly wanted to do. Or act as if Penhaven didn’t terrify her, which would require a performance worthy of Drury Lane.

  Penhaven would delight in her fear. Several deep breaths settled her stomach and cleared the clog of tears from her throat. “Where are you taking me?”

  “What spirit you possess. No wonder Masterson has had his cock up all spring. Do you show such spirit in bed?”

  “You’ll never know, you evil whoreson,” she replied hotly.

  Penhaven tutted. “Don’t make me gag you, Lady Lily. We’re travelling to my estate. There’s someone I want to introduce you to.” He rubbed his hands together, a smile laced with lunacy curling his lips.

  Hope flared. Gray would be so close, but how would he know Penhaven had kidnapped her? Penny…wondering about his condition brought stinging tears back to her eyes. How long until someone found Aunt Edie? Could her aunt coherently relate the tale?

  As if he could read her mind, Penhaven said, “Don’t bother getting your hopes up, my dear. I’ve planned quite the welcome for your brother and Masterson. Indeed, I’m quite looking forward to degrading you in front of your lover and then killing him in front of you, or perhaps killing you in front of him. I haven’t decided yet. It’s going to be so entertaining.”