Her face turned cherry-pink. “No, I…” She bit her lower lip and turned her gaze away. “It doesn’t matter. Please leave. You shouldn’t be here.”
He shouldn’t. Doubly so if she didn’t want him here. But…did she?
He resisted the urge to look toward her notebook again. “What were you about to say?”
“It doesn’t signify.”
“I think it does.” He raised his voice marginally.
Alarmed, Lucy lifted her chin to meet his gaze again. They held eye contact as the silence stretched between them again.
Eventually, in a voice so small it barely carried to his ears, Lucy murmured, “You said you cared for me.”
“I do.”
She frowned. “You haven’t…”
He took a step closer. “I haven’t done what?”
“You haven’t shown it. Not since we found that last message.”
He balled his fists to keep from throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. “You didn’t reciprocate. I didn’t think you wanted the reminder.”
“Oh.” She looked down. “I was taken aback.”
That was always the response one hoped to get from a woman upon confessing one’s feelings. Not that Alex would know firsthand, having only done it once, but he had to admit to some disappointment upon hearing her say as much.
She still didn’t appear to know what to say. He would make it easy on her and leave. She wouldn’t allow him access to her notebook, in any case, and it was laid out in the open—he couldn’t take it without her noticing the theft promptly. It had been madness for him to come here, in any case.
He took a step back, toward the door.
“I do,” she said, her voice small.
He halted. “You do?” What was she talking about?
She lifted her gaze, her jaw set in determination. “I care for you, too.”
Was this just another tactic to distract him from the clue she was keeping from him? If so…he was afraid it might work. Over the past week, he’d fallen asleep imagining how it might be to hear these words. For a moment, he wondered if he was dreaming.
Lucy lifted her chin. “I kissed you because I wanted to. In fact, I’d like you to do it again.”
She didn’t need to ask twice. He crossed to her, cupping her cheeks as he melded his mouth to hers. The way she felt and tasted…it couldn’t be a dream. It felt too real. Which meant she truly did care about him.
Suddenly, he understood why she hadn’t been able to answer him. The notion that she felt the same stole his voice. He couldn’t find the words to express himself so he funneled his emotions into his kiss.
Lucy surrendered to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. Her kiss was a bit wild, yet decisive. Like her. He held her close, drinking in the sensation and trying not to take the moment too far. They weren’t married and she was of a very different caliber than the sort of women with whom he had dallied in the past. She deserved to be respected and cherished and—
Bloody hell, was she trying to undo the laces on his shirt?
Upon reaching his room tonight, he’d made himself more comfortable by divesting himself of his jacket, waistcoat, and cravat. Until this moment, he hadn’t recalled that he was only half-dressed. And she was no better. She was temptation incarnate, and he didn’t know whether he would be able to resist her for long.
He caught her hands, holding them between their bodies as he broke the kiss. “Lucy, please. This isn’t something you can treat as research. Not this.”
He wanted to surrender to the passion between them. He wanted to give her the kind of pleasure no one ever had. But he had to control himself, for both their sakes. She was an innocent. She couldn’t know how close to the edge of reason she could bring him with nothing more than her kiss.
If he bided his time, he would be able to indulge in the future with a clear conscience, after she was married to him. But he had to earn her brother’s trust first, and that would take time. Still, with Monsieur V so near that he could practically taste his revenge, Alex found himself free to consider a future.
And he wanted that future to include Lucy.
She licked her lips, but didn’t try to draw her hands away. “I’m not going to put this in a book. This is between you and me.” She slipped out of his grasp and tugged his shirt from the waist of his breeches. When she was done, she looked up at him, hesitant.
“We shouldn’t. We should wait.” This wasn’t why he had come to her room.
Lucy pursed her lips. “Why? You’re here now. Take advantage of the moment before it slips away. There’s no time like right now.”
She stood on tiptoe, capturing his lips as she slid her hand around to his back and beneath his shirt. Her hands on his bare skin proved his undoing. He kissed her back, voracious, as he ran his hands over her, learning her shape. She had the body of a Greek goddess and tasted of ambrosia, too.
He’d been without a woman for too long, but if it had been any other woman, he would have been able to resist. Not Lucy. He craved her touch too much. Before he knew it, he was pressing her into the mattress. He gathered the skirts of her nightgown around her knees, slipping his hand beneath to caress her leg. He kissed her as though she were air and he’d been underwater too long. When she drew his shirt up to his shoulder blades, he reluctantly released her long enough to remove it.
He worked her nightgown up her hips and abdomen, kissing the flesh he exposed. Lucy bit her lip to muffle her whimper. He smiled against her skin, enjoying her response. By the time he reached her mouth and tossed her nightgown to the floor, he ached for her. He took her mouth in a long, hard kiss.
They worked the buttons on his breeches free in tandem. He groaned at the feather-light feel of the backs of her knuckles caressing his pelvis. When the last button was free, he left her only long enough to remove his clothes. He left them in a heap next to the bed.
The mattress shifted on its ropes as he rejoined her. He pressed himself against her heat, taking her mouth in a kiss that spoke the words that he couldn’t find. That he cherished her and this moment. That he didn’t want to be here with anyone else.
His hands wandered, finding her every sensitive spot. He gasped into her mouth when she gave him the same treatment. When they were both trembling, hungrily kissing every inch of skin they could reach, he sheathed himself in her. They moved in tandem, claiming each other and imprinting each other on their bodies and souls. When they reached their pinnacle, they did it together, as he yearned to do everything else in life.
21
Alex watched the play of candlelight on the ceiling. Lucy’s breathing fanned against his bare shoulder as her body pressed against his side. Her arm was looped across his middle, holding him loosely in place. Given the rhythm of her breathing, he thought she’d fallen asleep. He savored the feel of her for a moment longer, using her warmth as a salve against the pain to come.
This was like a dream. Her heart beat against his arm, a steady beat that lured him toward sleep. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself awake. As peaceful as this moment was, it wouldn’t last. Come morning, she would loathe him.
That knowledge cut him, but he had no choice except to leave. On that writing desk rested a pivotal piece of evidence. The last thing he needed in order to catch the fiend who had murdered his family. He was certain of it.
Steeling himself to leave her, he gently slipped out from beneath her. He moved slowly to keep from rocking the bed and waking her. Once he attained freedom, he swiftly donned his clothes. He paused to draw the sheets up to her shoulders before he turned away.
Her notebook rested atop the sheet of paper, but he read the paper first. He frowned as he squinted to read it by the flickering light of the candle. At first, he thought he was looking at some kind of unrecognizable code, but then he recognized three key letters. CNG. This was written in Lucy’s shorthand. Armed with that knowledge, he puzzled out the contents of the page.
> It was filled with what appeared to be notes for her book. Wild imaginings involving the redemption of a scoundrel—or was the scoundrel supposed to redeem the heroine and in so doing invoke a change in himself? Alex didn’t read far enough to interpret her plans for her book. Given the conflicting ideas on the page, she was cataloguing her ideas as she untangled the path through the plot point.
The faint snores coming from the neighboring chamber covered the small sigh he released. He glanced over his shoulder toward Lucy’s peacefully-sleeping form. Had she been telling the truth? Guilt churned his stomach at the fact that he’d been so suspicious of her.
But she had been acting strangely. She hadn’t wanted him to look through her notes. Perhaps because her ideas were still in the raw form…or perhaps because she was hiding something in her notebook. He had to know for certain which it was. Even though it was another violation of her privacy, he told himself that it was for the good of the nation. A man like Monsieur V destroyed lives. Such a man mesmerized the people around him; how did Lucy hope to get information from him? More likely, he would extract information from his interrogators. Alex had to get to him first. He had to kill Monsieur V, to satisfy his own conscience and to save Britain. But perhaps mostly, now it was to save Lucy. He had no idea what Monsieur V intended for her or why he seemed so keen to meet with her, but if Alex had his way, Monsieur V would never get a chance to harm her.
He flipped to the back of her notebook to find the last thing she’d written. The last handful of pages was jammed with notes. As he deciphered them, he realized that she had written about a kiss in excruciating detail. A kiss with him? If so, it was a heady realization to know exactly how he affected her. It made him want to turn around, rejoin her in bed, and wake her with a kiss every bit as passionate.
At the bottom of the last page, something else was scrawled in the corner. An address. His heartbeat quickened. An address for Monsieur V? How had she found it? She was more ingenious than anyone gave her credit for.
However, he couldn’t let her follow it, for her own safety. This was between him and Monsieur V and he wasn’t about to let the woman he cared about be drawn into the same dangers as his brother had been. He ripped out the page and stuffed it into his pocket.
“Forgive me,” he whispered, barely loud enough to hear his own words. He knew that, when she woke up, their time together would be over. She might never forgive him. In her place, he wouldn’t, either.
This was goodbye.
Lucy woke alone, well-rested and a bit cold. She stretched in bed and listened to the birds chirping. It was morning.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have expected Alex to stay all night, but after the intimacy they’d shared, she would have liked to wake up in his arms. She supposed that’s what marriage was for.
Marriage. Babies. A spike of alarm swept through Lucy and she bolted upright. She laid her hand over her abdomen, wondering. Could she be enceinte? It wasn’t instantaneous, given her brothers’ marriages, but there was still a chance. What had she been thinking last night?
She knew perfectly well what she’d been thinking. She’d focused on Alex’s arms, his hands, his body surrounding her. She’d lost herself in the passion he awoke in her and soaked in his nearness. She’d never been so close with another person. Never. It had been magical. Although it had started as a tactic to distract him from the fact that she’d hidden a clue from him had turned into something she wanted to experience for herself. Not as a distraction, not even for research. She’d wanted to be that close to him. Even if it resulted in the pain of childbirth, she still couldn’t regret it.
She supposed she now knew why her sisters-in-law submitted to their husbands’ attentions. And why Phil had seemed so happy, holding her newborn baby in her arms, despite the fact that he had caused her such agony during the birth. They loved their husbands and wanted to share whatever closeness with them that they could.
With a sigh, Lucy slipped out from beneath the sheets. Consumed by thoughts, she found and donned her nightgown again. She didn’t know what last night had meant to Alex. In her dreams, she’d half-hoped for a hopelessly romantic proposal, wherein he would confess that he could never live without her in his life and ask her to end the suffering of being apart. In the light of day, if Alex had tried such a melodramatic proposal, she might have laughed at him. Instead, she’d gotten none and he’d snuck away during the night. It was far from romantic…but he was a renowned rake.
Maybe it hadn’t meant anything to him, after all. She’d believed him when he’d told her that he cared for her, but…what if she was wrong?
She would just have to find Alex and ask him. That was all there was to it. However, judging by the light slanting in through the window, he probably wasn’t yet awake. Did she mean something to him? The question burned at her, demanding an answer. She flipped through her notebook to the back, determined to read through her description of their first kiss while trying to detect any sign that she meant more to him than another woman. That had happened only days ago, before he confessed his feelings, but she hadn’t described any of their other kisses, so it was the only material she had to resource.
As she skipped to the end, her heart skipped a beat. The very last page was ripped out. The last page, where she had written Monsieur V’s address.
Alex had taken it.
She stared at the ragged edges of the page. It blurred as tears gathered. She hadn’t meant anything to him after all. Just like she’d started kissing him as a distraction, he had used passion to distract her. Except he had taken it much farther than kissing. He’d torn out the page so she wouldn’t be able to follow him.
She had memorized the address, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he was going to do this without her. He might get himself killed. At the very least, he would deprive Britain of the opportunity to interrogate and learn the secrets of a French spymaster. She had to stop him somehow.
She turned, but couldn’t see clearly through the haze of her tears. Her shin knocked against the chair. It teetered. Although she lunged for it, it toppled from her grasp and crashed against the ground. She righted it quickly and dashed the tears from her eyes. She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter that Alex had tricked her—the only thing that mattered was that she stopped him from confronting Monsieur V alone.
As she turned toward the wardrobe to find the sole dress that hadn’t yet been packed for travel, a knock rapped at the door. She froze with her hand on the wardrobe door. “Who is it?” Her voice was even, if a bit higher than usual.
“Charlie. I heard a crash. Are you all right?”
Some of the tension melted from Lucy’s shoulders, along with a flood of disappointment. For a moment, she’d hoped that Alex had had a change of heart and returned.
“May I come in? I’m out here in my wrapper.”
“Yes, of course.” Lucy wiped her eyes one more time, hoping that her friend wouldn’t be able to tell that she’d been crying.
The young woman slipped into the room and shut the door, leaning back against it. Strands of her hair escaped her braid and clung to the sides of her mouth. She narrowed her eyes. “Are you certain you’re all right?”
Blast! She’d noticed anyway. Lucy forced a smile and attempted to distract her. “Just a bit clumsy this morning. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. Mama had just come back from fetching a cup of tea for us both. She warned me not to go down. It seems the hostess is in a tiff.”
“Oh?” Lucy perched on the edge of the bed. She didn’t recall that she was still holding her notebook until she squeezed so tight that the edges dug into her palm. “Did she say why?”
“It seems Lord Brackley left in the middle of the night with nary a word except to the servants. Lady Leighton is spitting mad, trying to convince everyone she comes across to give him the cut direct and rescind their invitations.”
Lucy felt the blood drain from her face. He was already go
ne? If he’d left in the middle of the night, he might be halfway to London by now. She’d never catch him.
Charlie frowned. “Lucy? Did I say something to upset you?”
“Brackley left?” Lucy didn’t know why she needed the confirmation. She’d just heard her friend say those very words. She wanted Charlie to tell her that it was a rumor, that it hadn’t yet been confirmed. That he might still be in his room.
“Mama confirmed it with the servants. Good riddance, I say. He should have left sooner.”
Tears pricked Lucy’s eyes and she looked down quickly.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t quick enough. “Lucy?” Charlie stepped forward. She tentatively sat next to Lucy on the bed. “Are you okay? That devil Brackley got to you, didn’t he?”
In the end, she supposed that he had. Sniffling, Lucy squeezed her eyes closed and leaned into Charlie’s embrace. “I think I was starting to fall for him,” she confessed in a teary voice.
Clearly, Alex hadn’t felt the same. He’d made his priorities perfectly clear. He’d chosen his revenge over her.
Lucy hadn’t thought it would hurt this much.
22
Alex pulled his collar closer to his neck. The intermittent rain had long since soaked his hair and trickled down his spine. If he maintained his position, in the shadows of a ramshackle house with eaves that seemed riddled with holes, he would likely catch a chill.
Across from him stood a non-descript house. If he’d strolled down the street, he never would have paid any more attention to it than any of the others on this street. It was in slight disrepair, not enough to draw undue attention and yet not in as pristine a state as houses in a richer quarter of London. The men and women who strode along this street did so with their heads bowed, pinched expressions on their faces. They kept their hands in their pockets, likely on weapons in case something untoward should happen. They kept their gazes trained on their paths and didn’t meet his eye nor anyone else’s. They didn’t so much as glance at the house he watched.
Pursuing The Traitor (Scandals and Spies Book 5) Page 16
