Guy did not know what had possessed him to reach down and remove his boot tassels. When he had handed them to Cora to place on the grave, she had given him a grateful, watery smile before securing them with a small stone at the head of the mound. He still felt foolish about the gesture, especially after recalling Bingham’s wide-eyed stare. But Cora seemed to take comfort from the pathetic little headstone, which, in turn, brought him contentment.
He kept his voice gentle. “Did you have a particular purpose for coming to see me?”
She leaned her head back against the chair. “Not really. I just needed not to be alone anymore.”
Guy’s muscles lost some of their tension. “So you came to see me.” Perhaps redirecting her thoughts into more comfortable territory—at least for him—would remove the sadness from her blue-green eyes. “Why not Dinks?”
“She loved Scrapper as much as I.” Her lips twitched the slightest bit. “One hopes she is similarly engaged.”
Guy raised a brow. “With whom?”
“Is it not obvious?”
“Apparently not,” he mused, not really liking the images circulating around his mind. There were some areas one simply did not tread. “Bingham seems the only prospect, but it can’t be him.”
“And why is that?” Her mouth definitely quirked then.
“Come now,” he said, all amusement gone. “You can’t be serious. The two can barely tolerate breathing the same air. I’ve never even heard of half the names Dinks flings at Bingham’s head.”
“Guy, you astonish me.” She tugged her rose-colored shawl more securely around her shoulders. “I would have thought a worldly man such as yourself would recognize love play.”
Love play? “Evidently, I’m not that worldly.”
The low chuckle she emitted strummed across his heart like a well-tuned harp. Affable silence followed while they shared a conspiratorial smile, a silent communication they had conferred on one another many times over the years while dealing with Ethan’s high-strung antics. However, this time, their amusement faded into pulsing awareness.
“Do you ever wonder what our lives would be like had we not joined the Nexus?” Cora asked softly.
Guy reclined back in his chair, matching Cora’s restful pose, though his body was anything but relaxed. A peculiar feeling of anticipation reverberated beneath his skin, heightening all of his senses. The Nexus was the conduit for her life’s ambition. The secret unit had given her the means to locate the man who had murdered her parents. For nearly a decade, she had trained for this one purpose. Somerton, and his band of anonymous spies, represented the last hope of a grieving girl’s desire for justice.
For her to now question that choice was staggering.
And it also reminded him of a situation he very much wished to forget, but he knew he could not until Cora understood the full story behind her captivity. The thought soured his stomach. Her pensive mood did not seem conducive to such confessions, though. At least that is what he told himself. He would find the right moment. Soon.
Returning to her question, he settled on a rather blurry version of the truth. “No, not really.” His involvement in the Nexus had been a natural transition from pupil to active status. Once he became an agent, he had enjoyed the rush of unraveling the enemy’s secrets and the intense gratification of thwarting Napoleon’s various dreams of conquest. He had felt necessary to the cause, vital even. Yet something had kept him from fully relishing the moment. The same something that had plagued him for most of his life—the absence of a family. Staying with the deBeaus over the years had periodically filled the void. But the craving to come home to the joyous smiles of a wife he loved and children he adored lingered in his heart like the faint memory of a beloved pet.
So the answer to her query of what his life would be like without the Nexus was carved into the very marrow of his dreams. And once Valère was no longer a threat, Guy had every intention of pursuing his long-deferred wish.
For him, the real question had always been with whom he would share his life after the Nexus. His gaze dropped to her plump lower lip, and he felt an immediate punch of desire. It was not until the masked ball that the answer had come to him in a vision of shimmering red and catlike blue-green eyes.
“Do you regret your decision to join the Nexus?” he asked, intensely curious about her answer.
She considered him for a long moment, as if she were on the verge of sharing a great confidence but undecided about how it would be received. When her expression shuttered, Guy experienced a stabbing disappointment.
But his disappointment turned to surprise when she said, “Since my imprisonment, I have given thought to many things I have done and many decisions I have made.”
“Any you care to share?”
Shaking her head, she said, “No. You might feel compelled to discuss such things with Somerton. I do not wish to disconcert him, for I am committed to my present course.”
Irritation sharpened his tone. “Did I betray you to the chief when I learned of your fear of guns?”
Her gaze jerked to his. “I don’t believe so.”
His eyes narrowed. “No, I did not. One word from me, and he would have removed you. The Nexus cannot have an agent who is afraid to defend herself with whatever means are available. Instead, I worked with you until the gun you dreaded so much became an extension of your arm.”
She flinched at the reminder. “Yes, of course. I did not mean to offend you with my caution. Your bond with Somerton and my brother is strong. I simply did not want to put you in an awkward position.”
“So you thought I would choose Somerton over you.”
She frowned. “As you should, Guy. Protecting the Nexus’s interests is far more important than the silly reflections of one woman.”
“I don’t consider your dreams as silly, Cora.” He waved his hand around the chamber. “You deserve something better than this”—he stumbled for the appropriate word—“this constant intrigue.”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners in a self-deprecating manner. “Do I.” Not a question. It was a simple, noncommittal response. She continued, “The success of the Nexus depends upon the unwavering dedication of its members, Guy, and that includes me.”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Forget the Nexus. I’m interested in hearing about those ‘silly reflections’ you mentioned.” Guy clasped his hands together to keep from rolling them into fists. A thundering expectation took up residence inside his chest. All of his senses were focused on her next revelation. Would her vision of a Nexus-free future equal his? He swallowed back a sudden lump of thick dread. Would he have a place in her future at all?
She gave him a cross look. “I do not regret my decision of becoming an agent. The role has filled my life in immeasurable ways.” A hiss sounded from the crackling fire, drawing her thoughtful gaze. “However, I do confess to longing for a bit of boredom. I would love to wake up in the morning with nothing worse to worry about than the day’s menu and what frippery I’m going to wear.”
The first pang of unease tapped Guy’s stomach. “Why don’t you? Resign from your position, I mean. Somerton would not fault such a decision.”
She turned and searched his face. His words had emerged harsher, more insistent than he had intended, but the stoic quality of her voice had struck a nerve.
“While Valère is still wreaking havoc, I have no intention of setting aside the Nexus, especially not until I find the murderer and see to Ethan’s and Grace’s safe return. Even then, my notion of what is normal will be vastly different from other ladies of the ton.”
The pang twisted into a knot. “In what way?” he heard himself ask, already knowing the answer.
“In all the ways that matter, Guy.”
He shot to his feet and strode to the window. Outside, the waxing moon glinted off a thousand leaves in a nearby elm tree, bestowing upon them a silvery sheen. Her quietly stated words could not have been clearer. She still believed
that her past and the scars on her body would be an obstruction to any man’s desire. Little fool.
“Cora, I don’t know how to make you understand—”
“I was not completely honest with you earlier,” she said.
He glanced over his shoulder, arching a brow. “Indeed? I take it you wish to change the subject.”
She didn’t look away, but he noticed the flush darkening her cheeks, even in the low firelight.
A gust of wind slammed against the windowpane, testing the glass’s strength. The moonlit leaves no longer hung lazily from their arboreal perches; they now clung with tenacity. With so much force working against them, it was inevitable for a few to lose their grip and fall soundlessly to the ground.
Guy closed his eyes and drew in an exhausted breath. He didn’t want to let go of the subject of her suitability. He wanted her to fight for her place in society, despite the ton’s wagging tongues and contemptuous looks. He wanted her to fight for a place at his side like those leaves fought to retain their spot within the arms of the enormous elm tree.
He opened his eyes once more, realizing she had gone through too much and forecasted her future for too long to see anything but a singular existence. It was up to him to show her how perfectly she would fit in his future. Their future.
“You win this round, Cora-bell,” He used the old endearment with a familiar threat of retribution. “But I have no intention of setting this subject aside.”
“Do not try to use your old bullying tactics with me, Guy Trevelyan. I’m not Ethan’s runt anymore.”
Indeed not, he thought. Circling back toward the fireplace, he allowed his gaze to skim over her body, taking profound pleasure when she burrowed her exposed toes in the crease between the chair’s arm and seat cushion. “Why do you persist in this need to challenge my manhood?”
“I’m doing no such thing.”
He grasped the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head.
Her eyes rounded. “What are you doing?”
“Reminding you of what you are up against should you be entertaining thoughts of victory in a scuffle between us.” He tossed his shirt onto his abandoned chair.
“I have no desire to scuffle with you, Guy,” she said to his chest.
He flexed his pectorals.
The look of startled wonder on her face made him want to do it again for good measure, but he resisted the urge. Unfortunately, his cock was not so circumspect.
Her attention dipped lower for a fraction of a second. “Nor do I desire to be ordered about.”
Stepping forward, he unfastened the top button on his waistband. “You mentioned something about dishonesty, I believe.”
“W-what?”
Another button popped free. “When you were trying to distract me from telling you how much my body burns for yours, you suggested some deceit on your part.”
“Not deceit exactly.” She unfolded her long legs and slid her feet to the ground, her pretty shawl slithering off her shoulders. “More like withholding unnecessary information, or so it seemed at the time.”
His fingers moved to one of the three horizontal buttons securing the narrow fall of his breeches. “And now?”
She swallowed, riveted on his progress. “Crucially important.”
He stopped a foot away. “Perhaps we should discuss it, then.”
“Yes.” Cora lost the thread of their conversation. Everything but the opening to Guy’s breeches faded into the background. The left side of his fall drooped toward the center, giving her a glimpse of… nothing. She stared at the center button with something akin to hatred until his fingers blocked her view.
“What is it you’re withholding from me, Cora?” His voice, low and dangerous, slid down her spine with tingling warmth.
“Are you going to free that button, my lord,” she breathed, catching his eye, “or toy with it all evening?”
His hand fell to his side, making her heart lurch and her mouth go dry.
He moved closer, his pulsing erection within her reach. “Perhaps you could do better.”
The compulsion to do just that was strong. Incredibly strong. She dug her nails into the seat cushion, where she hung on with a strange mixture of trepidation and passion.
“No?” He made to close his open fall. “Ah, I see you are more interested in discussing your misdeed.”
“Wait.” She placed her hand over his to halt his action. Her heart hammered against her chest like a relentless battering ram. Each thump seemed to shake her whole body, as if to say “Wake up!” Her fingers tightened their hold. “Wait.”
Frozen with indecision, she sat immobile for long seconds, staring at their hands. For a brief spell, her thoughts had centered around a basic driving need to feel the scorching heat of Guy’s staff in her hands. She wanted to toy with it. She wanted to grasp his length, feel the glide of his hardness beneath her palm, and glory in his response to her touch.
She wanted to know him in the most intimate way. Her mouth watered with the inexplicable desire to close her lips over the soft head of his erection and to run her tongue along the pearling slit.
In that moment, she had not thought of danger or failure or what was best for others. She had thought only of herself and, God forgive her, it felt good.
Guy eased his hand from beneath hers and switched their positions, placing gentle pressure on top of her hand while at the same time flexing his hips. “What are you withholding from me, Cora?” he asked again in a low, guttural voice.
She molded her fingers around his length. Guy’s harsh breaths above her increased her own excitement, but a nagging voice inside her head warned her of how such intimacies complicated matters between them. How they made her yearn for a life he could not deliver. With the vengeance of a jilted bride, the voice persisted until it dampened her desire.
His finger smoothed over the middle button. “Change your mind, Cora?”
Heat spread into her loins, fiery and wet. She stared at the beguiling button. Sweat gathered beneath her arms and beaded at her temples. She was melting in a pool of lust, and the only thing stopping her was a damned button. Was it a gateway to heaven? Or hell?
The buckskin-covered fastening sprang free easier than she would have believed, what with the material below being stretched so tight. As the front fall gave way, inches of pure masculinity was revealed. Before her eyes, he elongated and throbbed. His stomach muscles clenched into deep valleys and hard ridges. Emboldened, she released the final barrier.
The narrow front fall dropped from sight, leaving behind an indecent amount of flesh and curly black hair. An anticipatory silence beat through the chamber. It was as if all life suspended in those seconds of admiration. “Guy, may I?” Her gazed remained locked on that part of him that would bring her so much pleasure.
“If you don’t,” he said with gritted teeth, “I might have to finish it myself.”
A very feminine gratification stirred between her legs, prickling her insides and infusing determination into her veins.
His thumb caressed one corner of her mouth, which unbeknownst to her had turned up into a knowing smile. “Why am I all of a sudden afraid?” he asked.
She cradled the base of his staff in the palm of one hand, as one would hold a pistol, while her other hand enveloped the girth of his erection. Using the pad of her thumb, she applied enough pressure against the smooth skin of his erection to create an exquisite friction beneath. Then she began to move her hand, slowly, methodically, sensuously. His hips picked up the pace.
She chanced a glance up at Guy and found his impassioned gaze fastened on her face. His long black hair was loose, flowing around his chiseled jaw. He looked like a mythical Greek god—powerful, handsome, and more than a bit dangerous to human females. She saw him swallow hard and then close his eyes. He looked to be caught in a terrible struggle for control.
His big hands clasped her head. For stability or encouragement, she didn’t know. Didn’t care. She knew what she
wanted. Had known it from the moment she tapped on his door, escaping memories and vicious nightmares that would not allow her rest. She needed him in the most selfish of ways, and she couldn’t bring herself to feel shame. That would come later.
Right now, her passions guided her. They lured her down a forbidden path that not even Valère, at his most insistent, could force her down. No one was compelling her in that moment, only her own curiosity and unshakable need.
Her mouth closed around Guy’s satiny tip, and her tongue removed the salty moisture weeping from the small slit. Pleasure drenched her body as she tasted him and explored his length. When she hit on a particularly special spot, Guy would let her know with a low groan or a tighter grip. His response fueled her desire to please him, because somewhere along the way her focus shifted to satisfying his cravings rather than hers.
And that’s when everything exploded out of control.
“Cora… sweetheart,” he panted, his fingers grasping her head more strongly, “remove your mouth. I’m about to spend.”
She ignored his plea. Instead, she tightened her hold and slid her hand almost to the apex, and with her mouth, she drew from him what he tried to deny her.
“Bloody—” His head tipped back, and he cried out her name while his body bucked with release.
Soon, Cora eased away, her muscles trembling. She bent her head and used the back of her forefinger to wipe away the moisture. Although her body still vibrated with unspent desire, she felt an unbearable shyness overcome her.
Guy did not give her long to dwell on the matter. He dropped his breeches and scooped her up into his arms and then carried her to his massive, curtained bed. She slipped her arms around his neck and felt the dampness coating his skin. When he released her legs, she turned into his embrace and stretched her body along his to reach the hollow of his neck, his throat, his ear.
He found her greedy lips and delivered a bone-melting, all-consuming kiss. Her mind blanked, and she was engulfed in sweet darkness. Tonight, his unique musky scent was stronger, more pronounced, allowing only a trace of sandalwood to break through.
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