Regency 01 - The Schoolmistress and the Spy

by Julia Byrne

  “Emily,” was all he said, but there was an aching note in his low, raspy voice that echoed the longing in her heart and brought her nerves back to quivering life in an instant.

  “Did everything go as planned?” she whispered, and winced at the prosaic question. But what else was she to say? I’ve missed you so. Did you come back merely to have an affair with me?

  He loosened his hold a little so he could tip her face up to his. A smile touched the corners of his mouth, and in the dark gold depths of his eyes she thought she saw tenderness; and something deeper, something darker and more determined.

  “Charlotte is on her way to America,” he said. “And I informed Gibbs that I’m now retired and he can forget about recruiting me for any more jobs because I’m planning to get married.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  “Did you really think I would have made love to you if my intentions weren’t honorable?” he asked gruffly.

  “I hoped,” she admitted. “I wondered. But, Lucas…”

  “I know. We met less than a fortnight ago. But it’s been a very intense few days, Emily. We know more of each other than do many couples who marry.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Don’t give me an answer yet,” he murmured, bending to kiss her parted lips.

  Emily suddenly realized she’d been giving an excellent imitation of a startled rabbit, but it was too late to close her mouth. Lucas was already taking possession of it with such overwhelming hunger that excitement shot straight to the center of her being. She simply melted into his embrace, clinging with what little strength she had left, as his arms tightened about her with almost crushing force.

  But this wasn’t going to solve anything, she thought dimly, trying to fight free of the swirling heat. He hadn’t given her time to catch her breath, time to ask why he wished to marry her. He hadn’t given her time to think.

  “Lucas,” she gasped as he broke the kiss. “Wait…”

  “I’m going too fast for you,” he groaned. He took a deep breath and smiled wryly. “I didn’t intend to kiss you like that. At least, not yet. You must have a few questions for me.”

  “You could say that,” she managed weakly.

  “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” he promised, releasing her and taking her hand. “We can talk while I have something to eat. And I need to shave.”

  Emily blinked at him. “You need to shave? Now?”

  He smiled straight into her eyes. “Oh, yes.”

  Oh, my. She couldn’t possibly mistake that look or his tone. Lucas was going to start an affair with her. Tonight. Whether she married him or not. A delicious shiver of anticipation rippled through her.

  “Can you walk?” he asked, still in that low, caressing tone. “How’s your knee?”

  “Much better. I have to go slowly on the stairs, but it’s not painful.”

  “Good. Come, sweetheart.” He tugged her closer, picked up the lamp on her desk, and led her out of the study and down the hall to the kitchen stairs.

  Emily followed in bemusement. It wasn’t until they were halfway down the staircase that she realized Lucas was taking charge again. The knowledge snapped her back to reality. She needed to retrieve control of the situation, which she’d lost the minute he had swept into her study.

  “How did you get into the house?” she demanded. “I’m sure I locked all the doors.”

  “Ah, there’s my adorable Miss Proudfoot.” He grinned at her over his shoulder. “I picked the lock on the kitchen door.”

  She tried to glare at him, but it was a pitiful attempt. “Go and put your greatcoat in your room,” she muttered as they reached the kitchen. “I’ll find you something to eat.”

  “Why are you still up?” he asked, disappearing down the short passage that led to his room. “It must be close to midnight.”

  “I was waiting for you,” she said softly.

  There was a moment of utter stillness, of complete silence, as if her answer had stopped him in his tracks, then he turned and came back. Without taking his eyes off her, he tossed his coat over a chair and closed the distance between them. His hands came up to frame her face.

  “Emily,” he murmured. “How can someone who’s lived as you have, still be so open, so vulnerable?” He traced her cheekbones with his thumbs. “Do you know how sweet you are, how rare? You don’t play missish games, you don’t employ artifice.”

  “I suppose I’ve never had to,” she whispered.

  “No,” he said with absolute certainty. “It’s not in you to be false in any way. That’s how I knew you were innocent of blackmail. You would be incapable of writing those notes, or even thinking of blackmail in the first place.” He studied her for a moment, then let his hands fall. “That’s also one of the reasons I didn’t tell you the truth immediately.”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “If I’d told you why I was here and you’d believed me without proof, which is doubtful, I wasn’t sure you could behave as if nothing was wrong. Playing a part over several days isn’t easy, especially when your natural reaction would be to confront any suspect in an attempt to uncover the truth.”

  “I’m not that sweet and innocent,” Emily muttered, turning and stalking over to the stove. She picked up the kettle to gauge how much water was in it, and plunked it down again with considerable force. “You make it sound as if I’m too wide-eyed and witless to be trusted with anything important.”

  “You know I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that you have no experience in being anything other than yourself.” Lucas grinned suddenly. “Hell, if you were wide-eyed and witless, you’d be gracing Almack’s by now with the rest of this Season’s wide-eyed, witless widgeons, instead of running your own school.”

  “Hmm.” Emily opened the oven and threw some wood chips onto the glowing embers. “You said that was one of the reasons you didn’t tell me the truth. What were the others?”

  Lucas walked over to her, pushed the oven door closed, and took her hands in his. “I knew you were going to be hurt if Charlotte or Miss Tibberton turned out to be the blackmailer. And at that stage I had no proof. If I was wrong, you would be hurt to no purpose. As for the final reason—” His fingers flexed around hers. “I didn’t want you to slam the door in my face when the job was done. All I’ve been able to think about during the past few days was getting back to you before you decided to do just that.”

  “You want me that much?” she asked wonderingly.

  “Want you?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “Want you?” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with barely restrained fierceness. “Emily, don’t you know it’s more than that? Don’t you know I’d walk through hell to have you, to keep you safe, to cherish you for the rest of my life.”

  “Ohh…” She lifted a hand to his face, the raw emotion in his eyes almost bringing tears to her own.

  “I love you!” he said huskily. “God—” A quick, ragged laugh broke from him. “I didn’t know how hideously vulnerable I’d feel when I said that. I can’t even find the words I want to give you. I only know I can’t bear to lose you. Emily…Emily… I love you more than anyone or anything on this earth.”

  “Those are the perfect words,” she said, clinging to him. “Oh, Lucas, I love you, too, but—”

  He touched his fingers to her lips, then bent and lifted her into his arms. “We’ll sort everything out later. I need you so much now I can’t even think straight. Let me show you, sweetheart. Let me show you how much I need you, how much I love you.”

  Trembling with the force of the emotions swirling inside her, Emily put her head down on Lucas’s shoulder as he carried her out of the kitchen.

  “I’d take you upstairs to your own bed,” he murmured. “But we’ll have more privacy down here.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, as he entered his room and stood her beside the bed.

  The small chamber was shrouded in darkness. She sat on the bed as Lucas walk
ed out to the kitchen. He returned a few seconds later, his greatcoat over his arm and the lamp in his hand. He placed the lamp on the small table near the bed and tossed the coat over his portmanteau. Then he closed the door and locked it. When he turned back to her, Emily was glad she was sitting down. In the golden glow of the lamp his eyes glittered with an utterly focused intensity that took her breath away.

  She swallowed. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat first?”

  “I’d rather have you,” he growled, stripping off his coat. He undid the cravat at his throat and tossed it aside.

  Emily followed its flight to the floor. “You were going to shave.”

  A tender smile touched his mouth. He reached down and drew her to her feet. “It’s all right, my darling Emily. I’ll be very, very careful with you.” He undid the sash of her dressing-robe and slipped it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor to pool around her bare feet. His breath shuddered out when he looked down at the prim white nightgown that covered her from neck to toes. “It had to be the one with the buttons down the front, didn’t it,” he said huskily.

  She blinked in confusion.“You don’t like my nightgown?”

  His soft laugh had her toes curling against the floor. He ran one finger lightly down the row of buttons and her insides tightened. “I like the nightgown. Even if it is going to incite me to madness.” He urged her closer to the bed as he spoke. “Get under the covers, sweetheart. You’re cold.”

  Emily realized she was shivering slightly, although whether from excitement or nerves she couldn’t tell. She definitely wasn’t cold. The heat in Lucas’s eyes was enough to warm the entire room, but she climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up to her shoulders.

  Lucas sat beside her and drew them down again as far as her waist. “That’s better,” he said. “I have a fantasy to fulfill about you in that nightgown.”

  “But you’ve never seen— Oh,” she said, remembering that he’d searched through her clothes. “Hmm.”

  “You know why I did it,” he said swifly, kissing her. “Don’t think about that now. Just remember that I love you.”

  But Emily wasn’t worrying about the past. “What possible fantasy can you have about a plain white nightgown?” she wondered aloud.

  His slow smile held pure male wickedness. “Give me a minute and I’ll show you.” He yanked off his boots and tossed them aside, then pulled his shirt over his head.

  Emily forgot about fantasies. No fantasy could come close to the reality of Lucas stripped to his breeches and sitting close enough for her to touch. She reached out and cupped her hand around the smooth muscle of his shoulder. Her fingers pressed gently, savoring the strength there, before she stroked them down his arm.

  Lucas had stilled at her first touch, but now he turned more fully toward her. Emily was immediately aware of the long scar that curved around his ribs, but one quick glance at the intent look on his face told her this wasn’t the time for a conversation on the subject.

  Putting her questions aside, she flattened her palms against the triangle of dark hair covering his chest. The feel of it, soft but crinkly beneath her fingers, fascinated her. The rock-hard muscles beneath sent a frisson of excitement shimmering through her. He was all heat and hardness and sheer male strength. Compared to her own softer, smaller frame, he was formidable, but when her fingers found two tight male nipples and stroked them, he shuddered like a powerful animal kept under fierce restraint.

  Her eyes widened in feminine wonder. He could have stopped her exploration and tossed her on her back in a second, but he was holding his power in check. Controlling it. For her sake. And while he did so, that power was hers to command.

  The knowledge made her dizzy with delight. The temptation to test the boundaries of his control was irresistible.

  “Do you like that?” she whispered, stroking him again.

  “Too much,” he said in a low growl. He covered her hands with his and drew them away. “Any more of that and I’ll be so far ahead of you, you won’t catch up. Lie down, sweetheart.”

  Emily obeyed, gazing happily up at him as he rose to unfasten his breeches. An instant later happy anticipation turned to shock and profound disbelief in her ability to control anything, especially Lucas. “Good heavens! Lucas!”

  Wry amusement flashed across his face as he climbed into bed beside her. “That, my darling Emily, is why you have to catch up with me.” He propped himself on one forearm and tipped her face up to his. Amusement vanished. “And I think, given our current situation, it’s about time you called me Luke. It’s the name used by those closest to me.”

  Emily’s heart gave a quick leap. Calling him Luke was going to change everything. He was no longer the man-of-all-work over whom she’d had some control. Instead, he wanted her to acknowledge the real man, to remove the small barrier she’d unconsciously kept between them by continuing to use his formal name. He must have sensed that barrier, she thought, and his instinct now was to tear it down.

  But that didn’t mean ceding all control to him. Lucas, or Luke—it didn’t matter, he was one and the same—said he loved her. That made them equal, and in a partnership of equals neither needed to dominate.

  Emily gazed up at him, seeing the maelstrom of love and barely leashed desire in his eyes, and felt her last barriers fall. Winding her arms around his neck, she reached up until their lips touched. “Lucas,” she breathed against his mouth. “Luke, I do love you so.”

  “Emily,” he groaned. And took her mouth with a slow sensuality that was shattering in its intimacy. She’d thought she knew his kisses, but this was different. This was deeper, hotter. This was the kiss of a man who knew he wasn’t going to stop at a few caresses.

  Shivers rippled through her as he stroked his tongue over hers. He was gentle, but she felt the unstoppable purpose in him. She knew immediately that this was a prelude to the deeper possession to come and trembled at the thought of Luke pushing himself into her with the same sensual power he was now wielding. But not even nervousness could stop the response he drew from her. She felt as if the melding of lips, of tongues, of the very air they breathed, could go on forever and she would need nothing more.

  But as she sank deeper and deeper into the kiss, pleasure unfurled, sending streamers of heat to every part of her body. She felt restless, needy, desperate to feel Luke against her. With an urgent little sound, she tried to draw him closer.

  “Hush,” he murmured, gradually easing the kiss to look down at her. “Tonight we have all the time we need, my darling girl.” He began to thread his fingers through her hair, fanning her curls out across the pillow.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  He smiled. “Inciting myself to madness.”

  He bent to kiss her again, a tender, fleeting caress, and she felt him open the first button of her nightgown. He pressed the same tender kisses along the line of her jaw—and another button slipped free. Her head tipped back and she made a humming sound of pleasure when he lowered his mouth to her throat. The third button succumbed to his fingers and she felt the warmth of his hand against her skin.

  He raised his head as he opened the next button and parted the edges of her nightgown. The opening he’d made reached the gentle swell of her breasts; anticipation held her motionless. The way Luke was watching each button slip free, his eyes dark and intent, had her breath seizing. Her nipples were already beading, pressing against the soft cotton, aching for his touch.

  “Luke,” she said longingly.

  “Is this what you want?” he whispered, and pushing her nightgown fully open he closed his mouth around her nipple and drew it firmly into his mouth.

  Emily cried out as a tidal wave of excitement crashed over her. He didn’t ease her into passion, he hurled her into a whirlwind of heat and indescribable pleasure. He held her down and feasted. In less than a minute she was whimpering and writhing with unbearable need. She wanted all of his weight over her; she wanted him inside her. She didn�
�t know how it was possible, given what she’d seen of him, but she didn’t care. He knew what to do.

  “I love you,” she cried. “Luke…Luke…I love you.”

  She was going to drive him out of his mind.

  Luke gritted his teeth and hung on desperately to the control he’d always taken for granted. He wanted her ready, he wanted her wet and open and as frantic for him as he was for her, but he hadn’t anticipated the wildness of her response. His little sprite had turned into an irresistible siren who was tempting him to unleash the savage in him and plunge into the soft depths of her body. But, siren or not, she was still small and delicate. He couldn’t take her like that, with barely restrained violence. Not this first time.

  “Emily—” Luke lifted his head to gaze down at her and nearly succumbed then and there. She was moving restlessly beneath him, her curls wildly tousled, her lips parted, sapphire eyes misty with desire. She was temptation incarnate, held captive in his arms, and he ached to possess her. “Sweetheart, I’m going too fast for you. Or you’re going too fast for yourself,” he said with a rough sound that was more groan than ragged laugh.

  She gazed up at him, her breath as uneven as his. “Luke, I want you.”

  “I know. And if we’re not careful, you’ll have me a lot sooner than I intended. I want to touch you first.” As he spoke, he lifted himself off her to open her nightgown further and tug it down and off. Emily wriggled to free her arms from the long sleeves and even that was enough to fog his brain. “God! Emily. Be still, darling, be still. I want to taste you, I want to touch you. I want to love you until you can’t think of anything but the two of us together. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” she said breathlessly. “After all, the human race hasn’t died out, so people must manage somehow.”

  Luke let his brow rest against hers. “That’s one way of looking at it,” he muttered. He tried to think of something more in the way of reassurance, but Emily didn’t seem to need it. She was too busy taking advantage of the small space between them to stroke her hands over his back, his shoulders, his chest—oh, God—his stomach. He felt every muscle in his body turn to steel when she moved her hands lower.