Tristan stiffened in response to her question, but quickly forced himself to appear relaxed. He would answer, but not truthfully. The next few hours passed as Morgan tried to reach him, but she knew he was not really participating. The only time she believed what he was sharing was when he talked about his love for the Highlands and his brother. Morgan realized his family was just as important to him as her brother was to her. Surely he could understand her concerns and reasons for taking on this journey.
Time seemed to pass quickly. It was with some surprise when she realized that she recognized the area. Forgetting that she had not disclosed her knowledge of some things, the relief at possibly being close to finding her brother caused her to speak without thinking. .
“Do you think we should just go straight into town? I had no idea the pub owner was an agent like Jack. I’m not sure how to proceed. Do we just ask him for Jack or is there some kind of signal for this sort of thing?” Morgan frowned as she mulled over the possible avenues of contact. Absorbed in sorting out those possibilities, she missed the change in Tristan’s expression. Morgan pressed on, “Or, do you think we should just go straight to the manor? Maybe Derek was correct; the letters I sent may not have been delivered.” Even though it would rankle a bit if Derek was correct, it would be a relief to find Jack at the manor.
Tristan felt like he was just dowsed in ice water and carefully schooled his features. How could he have let his guard down and been so careless? This whole mission, as well as the lives of others could be in jeopardy. Christ! I even discussed my home with her. Her interactions seemed so genuine, but of course, female spies were often recruited for their skill at manipulating men. That thought didn’t reduce the odd ache in his heart. Tristan was angry with her, but angrier with himself for letting it happen.
When Tristan did not respond, Morgan glanced back along the narrow path. Dappled sunlight coming through the trees caused his features to shift and change with the moving shadows. It was hard to see his expression clearly, but she was shocked at the stranger she now saw. Gone were any traces of the warmth and humor so recently shared; much less any sign of the greater intimacy from the previous evening. His face looked as if set in granite, his eyes cold and unfeeling. All thoughts of being a partner with this stranger fled in an instant, and Morgan felt herself tense. This is a dangerous man. Despite what they shared and the attraction she felt, she realized she did not really know him. For the first time Morgan seriously considered her recklessness, and wondered if she made a mistake. But what should I do now?.
Tristan did not miss the shock or panic that flitted across her face. Good, let her be afraid. She will be easier to manage. But he did not want her too on guard, so he forced himself to relax. “No, I don’t think walking into either place would be advisable until we have a chance to assess the area. We have no way of knowing what has transpired with your brother. We will find someplace to stay and decide how to proceed.”
Morgan didn’t understand the inflection, but she let out a breath as he sounded more relaxed. Maybe it was a trick of the shadows that made it seem there was some dramatic change, and he was working after all.
Tristan continued, “There is an area just outside of here where we will stay. It is another safe house.” Actually, it was an old one, no longer in use, but that made it perfect for his purposes. “We will let the horses rest and make plans to go into town for information.”
Morgan didn’t argue while they rode on, but almost wished she had when she saw the cabin. It was a little ramshackle and did not seem to have been used recently.
“I’ll see to the horses.” Morgan’s breath caught as a frisson of awareness streaked down her body when Tristan helped her dismount. Not trusting her voice, she just nodded her assent and turned to go in the cabin. Morgan hoped for some sign that Jack had been there, but the interior was as dark and unused as the outside.
Tristan walked into the shack and felt his body immediately respond when he saw Morgan bent over to light the fire. As she was again wearing breeches there was little left to the imagination. Of course, after last night, he didn’t need much imagination to see her perfectly rounded bottom offered to him in a position not yet tried. Feeling his cock begin to stiffen, Tristan forced himself to turn away and seek out the bottle of scotch he knew was secreted in the leeway. Tristan poured himself a liberal dose, and tossed it back. Since Morgan did not see that, he poured another while he considered a plan. “We can’t go into town with you dressed like that. I’ll have to find a more suitable gown.”
Morgan turned to argue, but when she saw the heat in his gaze she felt her body respond. She knew he wanted her, but was confused by his aloof manner. Nervously licking her lips Morgan tried to project a confidence she did not feel.
Tristan suppressed a wry smile as he watched her. She was good. If he didn’t know any better he would almost buy her nervous innocence. The earlier anger began to appear. Tossing back the rest of the scotch, he decided then to see just how good she really was. Tristan moved to a chair by the fire. “Come here.”
Morgan hesitated, unsure how to read his demeanor. But the sexual tension was clear. When he quirked an eyebrow, his expression clearly mocking her reticence, Morgan made up her mind. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she crossed the room slowly, stopping almost between his sprawled legs.
“Take off your pants.” Morgan’s initial shock at his bold request was quickly replaced by burning desire. The look in his eyes was unmistakable. After discarding the coat she was wearing, her body now dictating her choices, Morgan undid the breeches and pulled out the tucked shirt. She paused as his gaze heated her body.
Tristan could see her nipples through the fabric. He didn’t think he could get any harder, but he did. If this was the role she wanted to play, who was he to deny her? He took another swig of the scotch. “Well?”
Morgan let the pants drop. The shirt came down almost to her knees. He still had not moved a muscle, but his eyes seemed to touch her everywhere. She could feel the heat pooling in her belly, and knew she was already wet.
“Unbutton your shirt.” Morgan sensed something more dangerous, sharper, in the air, but it just heightened the sexual tension she was feeling. Her legs were almost trembling. She knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. His gaze remained riveted to every inch of skin she exposed while unbuttoning the shirt.
Tristan realized he was holding his breath. This is what Solomon must have felt with Sheba. Morgan was a born temptress. She shrugged slightly and the shirt slipped off her shoulders to puddle around her feet. Her naked body glowed in the firelight. He gazed at her a moment longer before reaching out his hand, “Come here.”
Morgan could have no more refused him than be commanded to cease breathing. Although she noted that breathing recently became more difficult. Disrobing before Tristan was such an erotic experience that she was trembling with need before she reached him. Staying seated, Tristan grasped her waist and guided her forward, forcing her to spread her legs on either side of his. He caught one breast in his mouth and began suckling. Morgan thought her knees would buckle, and they probably would have had he not been kneading her buttocks with his hands and hauling her close. She braced her hands on his shoulders for more support. Tristan switched his attention the the other breast and Morgan moaned in helpless supplication. Her head fell back and her hair streamed down behind her. She wanted to move to the bed, but couldn’t have formed a coherent sentence at that time if her life depended on it. She needed him to touch her; his fingers were tantalizingly close as they continued to knead and stroke her firm bottom.
“Sit down,” Tristan growled. That directive gave her pause. Morgan was confused, but he certainly knew more about this than she did. Raising one leg, she tried bring it over and sit across his lap, but he grabbed her ankle.
“No, like this." Tristan kept her legs straddled across his as he placed his hands on her waist and began to pull her down. Morgan’s eyes widened in shock when she felt the ti
p of his shaft probing her moist entrance. She had no idea when he freed himself, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was for him to fill her. Leaving her hands on his shoulders she began easing herself down inch by inch until he was fully embedded. Tristan swallowed and tried to remember to breathe as her tight sheath encased him with warm heat.
Morgan knew this felt good, but now what? She enjoyed the kissing, but that had not happened yet, and she wanted him to kiss her. But before she could reach his mouth, his hands again shifted to her buttocks, and to her surprise, began lifting her back up. What started as a protest, gave way to a gasp of pleasure as he lowered her back down. Morgan, always a quick study, clenched her thighs to his hips and both began to move. Tristan continued to help guide her and spread her cheeks as she rode him. When he reached between her legs from behind, and used her wetness to run a finger back up the cleft, she nearly collapsed. When he traced the same path back down with increased pressure, she did. She would have toppled off his lap had he not been supporting her. Tristan gave a hoarse shout as he achieved his own powerful release. Head thrown back, arms braced on his shoulders, she was a glorious sight.
The individual outside the window thought so as well. It was with some determination he made himself leave after confirming where his quarry lay. He would wait, as he had been instructed, until the rest of the gentleman’s plan was executed.
FIFTEEN
Tristan left at first light. He was careful not to make any sound to keep Morgan from waking. He needed to concentrate now, but couldn’t stop himself from glancing back as he left the cabin. Curled on her side, Morgan continued to sleep peacefully. After relocating to the bed last night, Tristan introduced her to other positions. He wasn’t surprised she slept so soundly. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders and a soft sigh sent the sheet down her shoulder, providing a tantalizing glimpse of one breast through the thin lawn of her shirt. As tempting as she was, Tristan knew he had work to do. He firmly, but quietly, shut the door behind him.
He resolutely shoved all thoughts of Morgan aside as he reviewed what he knew about the current situation. Arriving at the Labyrinth brought her to the forefront again. How had she known about the meeting place? This would be another change that would need to be made.
Tristan entered the pub. It was early, but there were already people there, some left over from the night before. Giving a curt nod to the barkeeper, a trusted former sergeant, Tristan chose a table in the back and waited.
Shortly, the barkeep approached. “What will ye be havin?"
Although it was meant to be a cover, Tristan found he was ravenous and ordered a rasher of bacon, eggs, and kippers along with coffee. After placing his order, he enquired if the man might recommend an area to hunt grouse. Anyone overhearing the conversation would naturally assume he was gentry on holiday. But the question not only asked for a meeting, the type of bird indicated a particular agent, so the barkeep immediately knew Tristan was looking for Jack.
The barkeep seemed to ponder for a moment, but with a raised brow he said, “Not sure you can go on the land, but the Starling estate has fair hunting, and the owner is usually willing to allow hunters for a fee. Check back with me in a couple of hours and I’ll see what he says.”
Tristan relaxed a little. The message would get to Jack and he was certainly in the area. But why hadn’t Jack checked in? One mystery continued to lead to another. Tristan’s food arrived and he wondered if Morgan was awake yet.
SIXTEEN
Morgan was awake—and furious. How dare he! When she awoke, instead of finding Tristan next to her, she found herself very much alone and tied to the bed. Why didn’t he just tell me to stay? Alright, we both know how that conversation would have gone. But it hurt. After last night, she thought she found someone who trusted and valued her, someone who would be confident in her abilities. But in the end he was no different than the others. Morgan pulled at the bonds once more in frustration before settling down to figure a way out. At least she had the shirt on. She was chilled and put it back on sometime during the night.
After several fruitless attempts, accompanied by a colorful tirade of choice words, Morgan determined she was not going to be able to get out of her bonds. She began composing the blistering set down Tristan would receive when she heard a horse outside. Arrogant bastard! Morgan glared at the door and prepared to give Tristan the full force of her fury, and he was not going to distract her again. She wouldn’t let him get close enough to touch her. The words died on her lips as the door swung open and she realized immediately the figure in the doorway was not Tristan. But fear did not set in until the man came further in the room and his features became clear. She felt her mouth go dry and was too shocked to even form a sentence.
“Well, I see you’ve shown your true self. Thankfully, I discovered this before I made you my wife.” His eyes swept across her in contempt. “Maybe I’ll still use you once we wash that barbarian’s stench off you. He was an unexpected complication. But you will still serve your purpose to find your brother. He’s been very uncooperative you know, and has caused us a great deal of trouble. Bring her”
Morgan’s mind was reeling, trying to make sense of all of the pieces and she had not noticed the other figure in the doorway. She was too overwhelmed to even react. With a gun pointed at her, Derek began to free the ropes binding her to the bed. Morgan searched his face for any sign he was here to save her, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“You better get dressed.” Derek stepped back, the gun still trained on her.
The breeches were all she had, and they still lay discarded by the chair. Morgan pointedly looked at Montrose expecting him to leave.
He chuckled humorlessly, “You have not behaved as a proper lady, nor will you be treated as such. I suggest you get dressed, or I will take you as you are.” Morgan felt her face burn with shame as she was forced to put her breeches on with as much modesty as she could while he watched.
"Tie her hands and bring her. I want to be done with this.” Montrose left the small cottage without looking back; sure his orders would be carried out without question.
Morgan recovered from some of the shock by then. Being furious tended to help that sort of thing. She whirled on Derek, barely able to contain her anger, “How could you do this? Jack has done everything for you!”
Derek snorted in contempt. “Done for me? Like I am some street urchin to be grateful for whatever crumbs are passed my way? I deserved to be the Earl. I picked up the pieces! I kept the house, watched over his brat of a sister, and ran the estate while he played at being a spy! Do I get any recognition? Any respect? No! I am just another servant.”
Morgan’s face registered the surprise she felt at Derek’s vehemence. “I had no idea.”
“Of course not! You were too busy being a hoyden, while your brother imagines he is saving the world! Both of you are a disgrace to the family name.”
Derek’s back was to her as he began to pace. “Jack should have just responded. But I guess it’s no surprise he wouldn’t put estate concerns first. It would have been so much easier. Montrose was going to intercept Jack and take care of him. Nobody would have been the wiser.”
Morgan was chilled at his matter of fact acceptance of the plan.
“If I helped, he agreed to take you off my hands, and I would finally be able to take my place as the rightful Earl!” Derek turned to her with a sneer, “But this will work just as well, if not better. You thought you were so smart, but you are also predictable. I knew you’d try to find Jack. It was easy enough to have you followed. The highlander was a bit of a wrinkle, but we’ll take care of him too. Of course, were you to ever behave properly, you would have already been out of the way and nobody else would have been hurt.”
At the mention of Tristan, Morgan’s eyes flew to Derek’s face. Morgan was speechless, almost. She felt fury rise within her, and not just toward Derek. She was sick of men and their selfishness. All her life men sought to use her for their own purposes
—even her brother. At home, she was expected to show the ton a perfectly proper lady as a balance to Jack’s eccentricities. Montrose wanted to control her, Derek saw her as a commodity to be traded, even Tristan… Morgan’s thoughts were interrupted as she was roughly hauled toward the door. She tried to struggle. “Wait! Where are we going?”
Derek’s eyes were flat and cold. “To bargain you off my dear. We will await your brother and see if his concern for you is worth his loyalty to the Crown.”
SEVENTEEN
Travis considered his options. Morgan was a natural temptress, but he was too good at his job to be fooled by the perfectly-proper lady façade. This wouldn’t be the first time he terminated a relationship because of duty. Only the first time he felt any loss or regret. But those were feelings he was not willing to further explore. She was a talented spy; that was all. His unusually long time without a woman to share his bed made her approach convenient for him to use to his advantage.
Tristan felt rather than heard someone slide into the booth behind him and knew it was Jack. It shook him from the thoughts running through his head. Their conversation was shielded by strategically placed tables. “Well, Jack, it seems rescuing you has become quite a habit. It could become tiresome if this trend continues. Certain people were a bit concerned.”
Jack gave a wry chuckle, “You mean certain people did not trust me.”
“When you didn’t check in after the message about the scrolls, it did set off some alarms. What happened?”
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