Midnight Without a Moon

by Emma Wildes

  “There’s never an odd time for pleasure,” Trenton informed his lovely wife with a dark smile as he lifted her easily, liking the shapely weight of her against his chest, a lock of her silken hair brushing his cheek in a seductive slide. “And besides, this is technically our honeymoon. We’ve only been married for a few days, so no one will be surprised at our sudden disappearance.”

  “I suppose not.” Her laugh was light, her shimmering hair spilling over the bed coverlet as he deposited her in a tumble of dark silk and bare limbs. She slipped out of the robe as he took off his clothes, his gaze never leaving her prone body, his breathing slightly erratic as he examined every delectable inch with lustful interest. “Spread your legs,” Trenton instructed, unfastening his breeches.

  That very blunt request was met with a vivid blush, but very slowly, Jessica obediently parted her thighs, giving him a clear view of the sleek dampness of her cleft. Her labia already looked pink and inviting, her pale thatch glistening in invitation. When he moved over her, kissing her breasts with almost wild ardor, so ready to be inside her that he felt consumed, she lifted her hips at the prod of his swollen cock, opening in carnal acceptance of his need.

  She sighed when he pushed in, stretching her passage to take his pulsing length. Deliciously tight, her vaginal walls felt like hot satin around his shaft, and though he normally thought sex should be a leisurely and pleasurable activity, Trenton found himself once again uncharacteristically impatient.

  Perhaps it was his wife’s innocent provocative beauty, though all the women he bedded were lovely. Maybe it was the fact that she was such an eager pupil, and he’d been the only man to ever touch her, that set him on fire. Though, if he had predicted that even a week ago, he would have said that untutored, young maidens bored him. Whatever the case, Trenton thought hazily as he sank deep and rapture spiked through his body, he needed to reign in his rash hunger and set the kind of slow, subtle pace required to make sure she came to climax.

  Her thighs were smooth against his hips, her eyes languorously half-closed and her lips parted. Jessica made a small sound as he withdrew almost completely, which turned into a moan as he thrust back in slowly, her hands tightening on his shoulders. “Oh, yes.”

  The last thing he needed was that breathy indication of her gratified pleasure. He set a fluid pace of in and out, doing his best to keep it controlled, not aided in the least by the protesting pressure of her hands on the small of his back when he slid backwards, indicating how much his undeniably passionate wife liked it when he was fully inside her. In an amazingly short amount of time, she moved restlessly beneath him, lifting her hips in almost frantic need, her breathing choppy, her rising arousal evident in the flush infusing her cheeks and the low sexy sounds escaping her throat with each thrust.

  She climaxed when he reached between their melded bodies at the crucial moment, finding the sensitive swollen nub at the apex of her sex. Her scream of release was as if she gave his unruly body permission, and as Jessica shuddered and tightened helplessly around his throbbing cock, his own orgasm rushed in like the blast of a summer storm. Trenton could feel himself go rigid, ejaculating hard and deep against her womb, each ripple of her contracting vagina giving aftershocks of incredible blissful carnal pleasure.

  When he could finally breathe again, his heart still hammering in his chest, he stared down into his wife’s bewitching dark blue eyes and felt a tremor of pure male trepidation.

  He’d married her because he’d had to, because he’d compromised her in order to save her reputation, and perhaps her life. Certainly, he expected to want her and enjoy conjugal relations, after all, he had a healthy sexual appetite, and Jessica was a gorgeously desirable woman.

  That was as far as he wanted it to go.

  * * * *

  It was getting dark and the room slowly filling with shadows. Surely they should get out of bed soon, but she had to admit it felt wonderfully decadent to be there.

  With lazy appreciation, Jessica ran her fingers very lightly down the muscled contours of her husband’s bare chest, exploring the smooth ridges of bone and sinew, drifting across the taut plane of his stomach. He was hard everywhere, she decided, though that formidable male part of him that brought her such pleasure was at this moment relaxed in the nest of dark curls between his lean thighs. On his back, Trenton held her in the circle of one arm, his dark gaze amused as he followed the tentative passage of her fingers over his body. “We’re so different,” she murmured.

  “Wonderfully so,” he commented with a low laugh. “In fact, I celebrate those differences, especially at moments like this.”

  That statement, said so easily, brought a flash of unwanted irritation into Jessica’s blissful sated state. Before she could stop herself, she said tartly, “As I understand it, you have celebrated quite often.”

  With his hair rakishly tousled, his rangy body nude and impressively large, he did, in fact, look every bit the handsome seductive rogue he was reputed to be. Lifting his ebony brows in an infuriatingly nonchalant gesture, he said mildly, “I am not going to apologize, Jess, for my life before I married you, so don’t expect it. Besides, I have a feeling some of the rumors are just that, exaggerated rumors. I have never understood why anyone besides myself should care about what I do, whom I see—in or out of the bedroom—and where I go. Gossip is simply the idle occupation of a small mind.”

  Lifting up on one elbow and slightly moving away, Jessica countered, “It seems to me gossip is what brought you haring over to the cliff the other evening, isn’t it? You apparently listened readily enough to the whispers about my… possible activities, my lord.”

  His expression darkened a fraction. “So I did, but let’s keep in mind that I haven’t been engaging in anything illegal or potentially life threatening, which brings up an interesting question, my dear. What the devil were you doing in my study?”

  Oh, Lord. This was the very discussion she wanted to avoid. She should never have let that telltale remark slip, but unfortunately, for as long as she could remember, she’d felt exactly that way: jealous, resentful of his casual affairs, miserable in the shadow of his indifferent friendship.

  Well, he wasn’t indifferent to her any longer. Slightly lowering her lashes, Jessica sat up fully, tucking her knees under her body, her breasts taut and thrust forward. Leaning toward him provocatively, she said, “I was getting paper for a letter, just as I said. I apologize if it is off-limits in some way. Can I perhaps do this,” she moved forward a few more inches and licked his lower lip, “to make it up to you?”

  Their kiss was slow, soft, seductive, and when she sat back, Jessica saw with satisfaction that his erection had stiffened impressively on cue, rising high from between his legs and lengthening as she watched. His hands came to her waist, pulling her back so she sprawled across his chest. Trenton said huskily, “You’re changing the subject, dammit.”

  “Am I?” Her arms twined around his neck and she kissed him again, relishing the feel of his tongue as it possessed her mouth and the urgent glide of his hands over her skin. Moments later, when he lifted her so she straddled his torso, she closed her eyes as he lowered her inch by inch on to his stiff cock, the penetration deliciously stretching and filling her pulsing cleft. She was still slick with semen from their previous intercourse, and his hard length slid in easily, making her gasp slightly at the sensation of being so impaled.

  “Ride me,” he instructed, helping her learn the motion with his strong hands on her hips. “Like that exactly. Jesus, that’s good, Jess.”

  It was better than good, she thought deliriously as she moved, her hands braced on his wide shoulders, her body going up and down on his hard shaft. His subtle upward pushes matched her downward slide with expert rhythm. As her orgasmic peak started to build, his hands went to her breasts, fondling and caressing.

  Jessica climaxed first, easily, wonderfully, with a small cry, her nails digging in as she held on for dear life, drowning in a maelstrom of pleasure. He
followed with a low groan, arching his back as his eyes drifted shut, releasing a warm flood she could feel even in her dazed world of sexual wonder. Limp, she lay across his damp body, her heart pounding, all thoughts of messages, subterfuge, and the past forgotten. When his fingers trailed through her hair, she wondered with painful inward honesty how long she could maintain the pretense of emotional indifference.

  He only wanted a lover who could legally give him children with the same kind of uncomplicated logic that made him feel over a decade of sexual license was nothing to apologize for, even to his wife.

  Remembering that should help.

  Damn him to hell.

  * * * *

  The ticking of the clock sounded very loud in the silence. Toying with a glass of claret, Gage Reichert waited, watching the man across the table with hooded eyes, wondering if he’d done the right thing. After all, pitting friendship against his loyalty to his country was a difficult decision.

  Eventually, Lord Farin set aside the piece of paper. “So, he has no idea?”

  “That his new wife has been in our employ for quite some time? Other than he found that damnable piece of paper, no, I would guess not. Trenton was obviously quite worried enough to marry her immediately and bring her to London, but if she had told him the truth, I am sure he would have confronted me about it. Imagine my shock my when he handed over the message and asked what it was.”

  “That’s an excellent sign that she has said nothing.” Black eyes gleamed in a sallow face, punctuated by gray eyebrows and an aristocratic nose. “Not many women are capable of such determined silence.”

  Trying to picture exactly how he would feel if he discovered Dorothy neck-deep in espionage and the subsequent dangers, made him break out in a gentle sweat. Gage murmured, “He won’t be fooled for long, though. Whatever the circumstances of their hasty marriage, Trenton will not allow his wife to be put in danger.”

  “If we didn’t need her so badly, I would agree. Alas, that is not the case.”

  The room smelled slightly musty, the heavy velvet drapes pulled against the damp night. Unable to help it, Gage got convulsively to his feet and paced across the thick carpeting. “I am not sure I countenance continuing to use Lady Declan, my lord. We know the French operatives have her identity, for there is little chance the captured men didn’t talk. The only way to keep her safe is to let them know she no longer works for the British government in any capacity.”

  Sitting back, the other man looked blandly unmoved. “May I remind you, Reichert, that the lady in question was suggested by her own brother and was well-paid for her participation? For my part, if I were swimming in agents who could decipher codes one tenth as fast as she can, I would happily agree with you and leave her to embroidery or whatever genteel pursuits she chooses as the new Countess of Declan.” Taking a deliberate sip from his glass of wine, Farin added unemotionally, “But this is war, and I am entrusted with the task of making sure we know what our enemies are up to, sir. Jessica Wyatt is conveniently here in London, so let’s see, shall we, if when she isn’t doing her wifely duty and pleasing her husband, she will consent to continue to aid us.”

  “Declan will have my head,” Gage said stiffly. “I cannot say I blame him.”

  “If he finds out.” Lord Farin was unmoved, lifting a hand in a languid reach for the claret bottle. “Which he should not if his lovely and useful wife continues her practice of silence, and our men do the job properly. Look at it this way, Reichert. She is far safer here, under our watchful eye than she was back in Kent, when the messages had to be delivered to her in person by some very questionable characters. All she has to do is read a few slips of paper for us now and then.”

  Giving his superior a quelling look, Gage argued, “Sir, we both know it isn’t that simple at all. If the French can eliminate anyone helping us in such an important capacity, they will. Not to mention that by sheer necessity, she reads the messages themselves. If she were unobtrusive, a middle-aged butcher’s wife, or a quiet widow living in a flat in Camden Town, that would be different. But she is beautiful, titled, and her husband is a wealthy, powerful man. Society, at the very least, will be watching her every move.”

  “Then it is a good thing you are such close friends with her husband, I say.”

  Feeling trapped, but knowing to a certain extent Farin was right, Gage inclined his head. “I suppose that means I am going to be the one to courier the messages back and forth. That suits me well, for I am more likely than anyone to make sure that there isn’t a slip. However, I must insist that if I sense any danger to Lady Declan, she is no longer an option.”

  Farin typically did not agree, nor did he comment. He simply proffered the wrinkled piece of vellum that Gage had brought to him in the first place. “You may start by returning this to her. I am eager to know what it says.”

  Chapter 7

  One sight of the mansion made Jessica say a little prayer of gratitude that Trenton had long ago eschewed grandeur for privacy. It was opulent—even for Mayfair—with a massive stone façade and a grand pillared entrance. Their carriage could have easily driven, horses and all, through the huge, ornately carved front door, and the Declan coat of arms was displayed in regal splendor over the lintel. As Trenton grasped her waist and lifted her from the carriage, she said under her breath, “What a nice cozy cottage, my lord.”

  He laughed, looking down into her eyes as his hands lingered for a moment, splayed just slightly over the curve of her hips. “My thoughts exactly. Though I still have a set of apartments here, I prefer the townhouse for both convenience and the lack of overpowering ostentation. I am not certain precisely which of my revered ancestors thought we needed such a display, but my mother prefers as much pomp as possible, so it suits her.”

  “She is not going to be happy with your choice in a wife.” Jessica tried her best to look composed as he offered his arm and turned toward the steps.

  “If I wished to marry to make her happy,” Trenton said with unruffled calm, “I would have done so a long time ago. Besides, I can’t imagine what her objection could be. You are lovely and educated, and your family is perfectly acceptable. Come now, don’t tell me that the same young woman who would scale cliffs, consort with scalawag smugglers, and cart around secret messages, is daunted by the simple act of seeing my mother?”

  “I didn’t consort with smugglers,” Jessica argued in a hiss, allowing him to escort her up to where a footman opened the impressive front door for them. “For heaven sakes, you make me sound like some sort of criminal, Trenton.”

  “You are reticent enough about your exact activities that one does wonder.”

  Giving him a quick sidelong glance, Jessica saw her husband’s face was impassive. It was hard to tell if he was still teasing her, and since they were in earshot of several servants, it seemed best to drop the subject. Summoning as serene an expression as possible, she found that the main hall was predictably imposing, huge and crowned by frescoed ceilings, with twin curving staircases at the end.

  A very proper-looking butler informed them that the dowager countess waited for them in one of the formal parlors, information that made Trenton lift a brow. He said pleasantly, “I know where it is, Marsden, I’ll see my wife there myself.”

  “Very good, your lordship.” The man bowed away.

  “I am uncertain why this has to be such a production,” Trenton muttered, taking Jessica’s arm, “but let’s get it over with. Come on, my dear. Chin up and don’t worry. She doesn’t bite. Well, maybe nip here and there, but one recovers without too much blood loss.”

  A rabid dog she could handle, Jessica thought as her stomach twisted, but a hostile mother-in-law was another matter entirely.

  The mansion’s formal parlor was designed to intimidate, she couldn’t help but think when Trenton ushered her inside. Everything done in cool tones of cream, amber, and white, the glitter of gilt and gold punctuated by the richness of expensive fabrics and beautiful paintings; the furniture w
as all intricately carved and almost delicate-looking. Trenton, with his dark coloring, height, and masculine muscled form, looked actually out of place, the starkness of his hair and tailored clothes a studied contrast.

  The woman who rose from one of the settees reflected very much the taste of the room itself. Of medium height, her dark hair was done beautifully and secured with a clip that glittered with diamonds in the muted sunshine coming through the tall windows. Her fine-boned face was a little lined but lovely, her form perhaps not as slender as it once had been, but still graceful in a gorgeous cream-colored gown. She said coolly to her tall son, “Hello, darling. I am glad you could finally take a moment and make it over to see me. Word has you’ve been in London for several days.”

  Trenton crossed the room and gallantly bent over his mother’s hand, his voice neutral when he said, “You look wonderful, as always. You’ll have to forgive me for not rushing right over. I’ve been occupied. Please, I am sure you remember Jessica from one of your brief visits to Kent, though she has changed delightfully, has she not?”

  Though it wasn’t unexpected, the way her new mother-in-law inspected her person from head to toe after her polite curtsey made Jessica flush slightly. Olivia Wyatt murmured, “Yes, indeed.” Her eyes were very dark and unreadable. “Please, shall we all sit down and discuss this interesting development. Tell me, my dear, when is the child due to arrive?”

  In the very act of sinking into the chair Trenton held for her, Jessica stammered, “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ve thought about it, and that is only reasonable explanation for my son suddenly taking it into his head to marry someone so, uhm, perhaps young is the word I am looking for.”

  Doubting quite sincerely young was the word at all, Jessica felt her blush deepen. “As far as I know, my lady, there is not yet a child.”

  Very mildly, Trenton said, “Behave yourself, Mother, or we’re leaving.”