A Clandestine Affair (Currents of Love Book 5)

by Emilee Harris

  When he turned to look at her, his features were pale and his mouth hung open in disbelief.

  “I suppose,” she shrugged, “Eventually I might find someone else to answer those questions for me.” She attempted to push away from the wall and shove past Thomas, but he caught her by the waist and bent to pick her up, sweeping her feet out from under her and tossing her to the center of the mattress on the bed almost before she registered the movement and his quick strides toward the bed.

  Surprised at the swiftness of his reaction, she watched with wide eyes as he Paused beside the bed to remove his vest and toss aside his cravat.

  “Don’t think for a moment I don’t comprehend what you just did,” he accused, before joining her and pinning her beneath him. “Even so, I’ll be damned if I let any other man come near you while I yet breathe.”

  His gaze raked hers an instant before his mouth claimed hers with a greedy hunger born of desperation. A desperation they shared, both unwilling to voice with certainty the possibility of him not returning from this mission he’d taken up.

  Sarah’s heart swelled, but she refused to give in to her rising despair, choosing instead to focus on every new sensation Thomas gifted her. He shifted his weight as he kissed her, aligning their bodies perfectly from head to toe. She delighted in the weight of him, his hard, heated body cushioned by her softness, cradled in the arms she brought up to wrap around him and urge him closer, unsure if she were drawing him in or pulling herself nearer to him.

  His lips traversed her cheek and jaw, letting out a soft sigh as he sank more heavily atop her. Her hands splayed at his back, craving the warmth of his skin, searching out muscular contours beneath his shirt. He pressed his hips against hers, and she whimpered at the sudden jolt of pleasure erupting between them. He brought one arm up to act as a pillow beneath her neck, effectively exposing that curve to his lips as the fingers of his other hand raked up along her side from hip to ribs, pausing to tease the underside of her breast.

  Weight shifting yet again, Sarah took in a breath as he propped his weight on his forearm and found her mouth for another kiss. Consumed by the insistence of his kiss, she almost didn’t notice his hand straying to the fastenings of her bodice until he spread the edges wide and ran his hot palm over the breast now only thinly veiled by her chemise.

  A moan escaped her, and she arched into his palm, her arms attempting to collect him to her again. He appeased her, increasing the pressure between them and pressing a teasing pinch to her hardened nipple, shooting a distinct awareness straight through to the most intimate part of her.

  “I’ll show you everything you want to know,” his deep, rasping whisper sounded at her ear, sending a shiver through her from head to toe. “But it would be wise to restrict the volume of vocal responses at present.” He lifted his head to cast a dark and intensely meaningful glance down at her, brightened by the mere hint of teasing.

  She nodded her assent, and he shot her a small smile before pushing away from her and sitting back on his heels. The sudden deprivation of his warmth left her shivering and her arms came up to cover her chest, but he stalled them before they made their mark.

  “No need, love,” he assured her. I’ll be back to you in a blink and I quite like the view.”

  Sarah flushed deep scarlet as he flashed a devilish and dazzling grin, but her shyness faded the instant he began to tug his shirt from his waistband, giving way to instant and all-consuming interest.

  Slipping the garment over his head and tossing it aside, he showed no signs of concern, but Sarah’s eyes widened at this new landscape, so smooth and hard, with cleanly defined planes and edges. Her fingers itched to explore him, but her ingrained sense of modesty decried it. Instead, she let her eyes traverse the sight of that bronzed skin wrapped so pristinely about the taut, sculpture-worthy musculature.

  She followed the lines of his chest down to the ridges of his abdomen until they met the waistband of his trousers, pausing at the blatant proof of his desire for her, the same hard ridge she’d felt pressed against the softness of her belly, now on display resisting the confines of his garments. Her tongue darted over parched lips as she noted a feverish heat spreading through her, and it was then she realized Thomas hadn’t moved.

  Returning her gaze to his face, she could have died of mortification as she realized he’d been watching her, watching the drift of her eyes and the flush creeping across her skin.

  “I’ll wager,” he noted, his unusually deep voice rolling and reverberating through every inch of her, “Sweet Miss Langdon may have an idea of how to make me voice my pleasures. Am I right?”

  It wasn’t a question, but a challenge, as he crept his way over her again, holding himself aloft and straddling her hips. His eyes caught hers, revealing the tiniest hint of uncertainty. That wouldn’t do, if he were bound for the lion’s den, she would make certain he went with confidence.

  Fingertips straying up to his sides, she willed them not to tremble as she reversed the course her eyes had taken. She allowed her hands to wander and warm as they drifted across his heated flesh, taking encouragement in the droop of his eyelids and the increasing length and frequency of his sighs. She lifted her head to nip at his throat in imitation of the movements he made earlier, and which had turned her insides molten. A soft groan vibrating against her lips rewarded her.

  Emboldened, she shifted to capture his mouth, using one hand at the nape of his neck to pull him closer while the other strayed to his thigh, smoothing up along his pant leg until her palm found his hardness. Thanking heaven for the nearness which provided her false anonymity, she stroked with deliberation, wanting both to satisfy her curiosity and succeed in providing this man some small measure of the pleasure his nearness incited in her.

  He muffled a moan in the pillow beside her, his breath hitching and hips jolting forward to press him into her exploring hand. Then, just as quickly, his hand closed around her wrist and pulled her hand away.

  “Have I done something wrong?” She hazarded.

  “On the contrary,” he panted at her ear. “You’ve done everything right, which will lead to a highly dissatisfying experience for you if I let you continue.”

  She tried to send a questioning glance up to him, but he dove in to kiss her, his movements fierce and determined. What patience he’d shown to this point evaporated and she felt herself consumed with an exhilarating hunger she couldn’t have imagined. His touch spoke of restrained strength and forced gentleness as his fingers nimbly tugged at her bodice, then her chemise, his arms encircling her and his movements rolling her with him until he somehow managed to bare her from neck to waist.

  Pausing to take in his handiwork, Sarah’s entire body warmed under his appreciative scrutiny. He leaned in to kiss the exposed skin of her shoulders and chest. He lingered at her breasts, suckling at one firm nipple, then the other until she forgot her uneasiness and buried her fingers in his hair to keep him close.

  Through her increasingly frenzied squirming, he completed the process of disrobing her, shoving her dress and undergarments down past her hips and off the bed, moving to cover her body with his and warm her through. His knee pressed between her thighs, teasing them apart and allowing access to one of his hands.

  “Darling,” he murmured at her ear as his fingers parted the silken folds and encountered the proof of her desire.

  Some deep-rooted fragment of Sarah’s modesty demanded embarrassment at this newest outrage, but she couldn’t manage it. She was too aware of a tightening inside of her, a winding demanding release before her heart failed from the extent of its exertion. Something even more primal in her insisted that those fingers, winding her tighter by the second with their rhythmic movements, and the hardened shaft pressing into her thigh were the only answer to her current discomfiture.

  “Thomas, please, I—” she hardly knew what she was asking for, but somehow, he understood.

  “Shhh, I’ll take care of you.”

  His hand disapp
eared from her, prompting a small whimper of disappointment, but in the next instant he knelt between her thighs, tugging at the closures of his trousers with far less dexterity than he’d shown with her bodice. He accomplished his task despite the difficulty and moved to join his body with hers.

  She expected some discomfort, perhaps even pain, her mother and sisters had advised her on these points, but whatever discomfort she initially experienced fled in the face of Thomas’ gentleness. He moved slowly at first, using a hand between them to apply pressure just where her body wanted it and confuse her senses. He held her as their bond deepened, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him in a way that brought her comfort, and when she gave in to the depth of fulfillment, her body relaxing around and beneath him, he took in her moans and sighs with a kiss she could swear dove to her very soul.

  The shattering took place almost before she recognized its approach. A glorious release into a new world. He followed a moment later, muscles clenching as hers had, his embrace tightening until his warmth consumed her inside and out. Her heart broke into pieces and she clung to him.

  Whatever else these next days might bring, she knew she’d found her home and despaired of ever knowing a peace as all-consuming as this again.

  Chapter 14

  Every nerve ending shouted a warning as Thomas hurried down the hall, his knees quaking violently enough to cause him difficulty and lightheadedness threatening. He’d snuck into countless places before, but the quality of danger involved never felt quite so serious. Lord Addington’s home proved a veritable fortress. It had taken him a full day to determine how best to get by all the sentries. Even once inside, the man kept guards at every corner. That Thomas had made it this far into the house surprised him, and he attributed the fact either to blind luck or a trap.

  The house was an odd combination of empty and sterile topped by modern and extravagant. The rooms contained extraordinarily little furniture and decor, likely due in part to the fact the man was unmarried and partially to provide fewer hiding places for intruders like himself. Not generally a concern most homeowners would have, but Addington had gained a name for himself in his work, and it wasn’t unheard of for someone to attempt breaking into his home. The man apparently received death threats so often he didn’t even bother to look into them anymore. That was one aspect of the job Thomas didn’t envy him.

  For how desolate and secretive the place was, it boasted an unnatural amount of staff. Not only were the normal staff members employed, to include a butler, a housekeeper, and a small army of maids and footmen, Addington kept a retinue of guards. Knowing this ensured Thomas had exhausted every possible other venue for searching before considering the route he was currently on, but all his sources pointed here.

  He’d spent hours poring over Graham’s journal and the additional documents after leaving Sarah two nights before, but to no avail. The paperwork indicated a great deal as far as Addington providing information and warnings to the French, but none of it amounted to anything more than conjecture. He searched again at his friend’s home but found no further hidden documents or information. Desperation finally took hold of him, convincing him if there were anything concrete to be had he’d have to go straight to the source.

  Flattening himself against the wall as he neared an intersection of hallways, he peeked around the corner, spying a maid dusting a console and looking about as bleak as her sterile surroundings required. He remained still against every urging of his limbs, giving the maid sufficient time to complete her task before checking the hall again.

  Turning the corner a moment later, he hurried across to the study. He took hold of the doorknob and cursed. Of course, the man would lock the door. Taking out a few implements from his pocket, Thomas knelt in front of the door and inserted them into the keyhole, hoping and praying he had enough time to unlatch the door before the next person came around the corner. To his immense relief, a short moment later the latch clicked and allowed him entry. At least Addington hadn’t gone so far as to install some sort of vault-worthy lock.

  Ducking inside, he closed and re-locked the door behind him before making his way to the desk. Graham’s journal had made multiple mentions of correspondence between Addington and a maternal uncle. In and of itself, this still didn’t indicate much, but the number of repetitions led Thomas to believe there was some substantial connection there which might tie everything else together. At the very least it provided some tangible evidence for a physical connection between Addington and the French. Or would, if he could find any of that correspondence. If he could lay hands on those letters, he would at least have something to work with. With any luck, they would contain incriminating information.

  Unfortunately, Thomas held out no great hope that Addington would keep such information. Taking a breath, he decided to start at the beginning. Approaching the desk, he maneuvered his way behind it to place himself within reach of the drawers. He moved systematically and meticulously over the desk, inspecting every blotter and inkwell, opening every drawer, checking for hidden panels, and smoothing his hands over every piece of decorative molding in the hopes of finding something useful. He came to the last drawer and ran into trouble again. The drawer was locked. Taking out his tools again, he set to work unlatching it. This lock caused him considerably more trouble than the last, not giving way until he was about to give up for lack of time. With a sigh, and wiping the sweat from his brow, he eased open the drawer and went through the same routine as he had for the others. He rifled through the contents, every page and implement, careful to keep everything in order and remember how it looked when he opened the drawer.

  Coming up empty-handed at the end of it, he resisted the urge to fling the drawer’s contents across the room, instead carefully returning all the items to the drawer and re-latching it, then allowing himself an aggravated moment in which he fell back onto his heel and fisted his hands in frustration. He’d worried the desk was a far too obvious place to hide anything, but he’d held out hope, as it was also the easiest place to search. Bringing his eyes up to scan around the room, he took note of all the nooks and crannies, the decorative furniture pieces, and the long rows of shelving stacked full of books. Any of these pieces could house letters and other folded pieces of paper.

  Rubbing his eyes, he took a breath and tried to think. What did he know of Addington? There had to be some clue in the man’s personality which might give away his preferences. About now, he wished he could hand the matter over to Sarah’s keen observation.

  He blinked as visions of her tucked into bed, golden hair draped over her pillow and face relaxed in sleep as he left her room flooded through his memory. He shouldn’t have given in to her goading. He had no right to compromise her in any case, even less knowing he might not be able to repair matters in the end. Yet he’d had no defense against such a waking dream.

  Eyes wandering the room, he thought if Sarah were here, she would likely marvel at the sheer number and scope of books on the shelves. A smile warmed him briefly. How he’d enjoy spending a lifetime building a library for her. A library filled in equal parts with romantic literature and fanciful mysteries. What a perfectly gaudy assortment it would be!

  Tilting his head, he took in the rows of books again. He doubted Addington kept a single non-reference book in his collection. The man never undertook any activity for mere entertainment purposes. Getting to his feet, Thomas approached the tomes, running an index finger across the spines. True to his assumption, every last volume boasted either legal or scientific significance. About to give up on the endeavor and ponder the room again, Thomas paused on a volume which struck his curiosity. Among the books of law and philosophy and all manner of higher education, one stood out, with a more intricate binding than the rest. Housed in the far corner, practically hidden by a decorative blue and white faux Chinese vase, was a book of children’s stories.

  Addington had no children and, as far as Thomas could recall, any and all mention of them in his prese
nce brought up a sneer or other similar reaction. He also didn’t seem the type to be sentimental and hold on to a book from his own childhood. Reaching for the book, Thomas stopped short at the sound of a key turning in the lock.

  Diving under the desk, Thomas held his breath and hoped he wouldn’t be discovered.

  He heard the latch release, but no indication of anyone entering the room before a maid’s voice rang out from down the hall.

  “Mr. Baxter, we could use your help for a moment, there’s a delivery out back.”

  “Get Jones to do it, I’m on my rounds,” came the surly reply.

  “Jones is already out there helping, but it’s a larger delivery. Your rounds will keep. It won’t take but five minutes.”

  The male voice at the door grumbled, but he closed the door again and his voice moved off down the hall.

  Releasing his breath, Thomas ran a hand over his face and steadied himself before returning to the bookshelf. He reached again for the book, surprised once he took it from its place that it seemed to be far too light for its size. Opening the cover, he found a false front, and a small latch drawer. Unhooking the latch, he opened the false cover to reveal a stack of folded papers.

  Down the hall, the guard’s voice sounded again, angrily. “You see, there wasn’t enough work to drag me away for!”

  Knowing his time was up, Thomas snatched the papers out of the false book, stuffing them into his pocket as he hastily returned the volume to its place and made for the door. Taking up a place along the wall beside the door, he waited for the knob to turn and prepared for the door to swing open, hiding him from view. As he’d hoped, the guard didn’t bother shutting the door behind him, but continued into the study, heading for the desk. Thomas wasted no time in rounding the door back into the hall, retracing his steps to leave the house.