Robert pointed to the closet. “Inside. Quick!”
She rushed to obey as he tucked the sheet of paper into his coat pocket, then joined her in the closet. The space was tight with shelves crowded with bins of rags and more reams of paper. They were pressed tightly together, and Sophia was aware of the coiled tension in Robert’s frame. The closet door was cracked open, giving her a limited view of the room. She listened in horror at the sound of the back door handle turning.
A man stepped inside. He was tall, built like an ox, with a bald pate and a short upper lip. He rummaged around, muttering under his breath, as he added torn bits of rag to the vat.
Her heart pounded. The burly man went to the blankets of felt beneath the window. He picked up the top piece, then froze.
Her stomach clenched. He knows one is missing!
His beady eyes scanned the room and settled on the closet. He stalked over just as Robert shoved the door open, hitting him in the forehead and catching him by surprise.
Robert moved fast, with a punch to the stomach and a jab to the chin. The man’s head snapped back. He stumbled, hit his head on the corner of the desk, and went down hard.
Robert’s expression was fierce as he dragged the man by his booted feet into the alley with Sophia following. It had started to rain and her dress soon became damp. He searched the man’s coat and quickly emptied his pockets. Coins, a pound note, and a pocket watch followed.
She stepped close. “What are you doing?”
“It must look like he was set upon by a thief.”
Once again he was quick to react—just like he had aided her when Mr. Brass had been attacked.
Robert stood and grasped her hand. “Let’s go.”
He ushered her down the alley to the closest cross street. Within minutes they were in his carriage. Leaning against the cushioned seat, she brushed tendrils of wet hair from her forehead. “Heavens! Do you do that often?” she asked.
“Only when necessary.”
“Remind me never to anger you.”
He frowned at her. “It’s not me you need to fear.”
“I want to go with you to the factory.”
His lips curved into a smile. “Wasn’t this enough excitement for you?”
She met his blue gaze. “You should know me better by now.”
…
Sophia lay in bed that night and allowed her subconscious thoughts to surface. It was clear by Robert’s actions that he intended to keep physical distance between them and seek out Gareth Ramsey’s services after the mission was completed.
But the problem was that she was unsure. More and more she admired Robert, was drawn to him, and if she was truthful to herself…desired him. And why not?
They were husband and wife.
She stared at the door separating her bedchamber from his, and every fiber in her body hummed for the pleasure of his touch.
For him.
A low thud sounded in the adjacent room. What the devil was that?
She rose and slipped on her wrapper. Perhaps he couldn’t sleep either. Perhaps he was dreaming of her…
She reached for the handle and stepped into his room. Her eyes widened at what she saw.
He was thrashing on the bed and had knocked over a book on an end table. He was dressed only in his trousers, and a sheen of perspiration covered his bare chest. His expression was one of anguish. He was muttering, clearly in the middle of a horrid nightmare.
She rushed to the bed and shook his shoulder. “Robert! Wake up.”
It was more difficult to rouse him than it had been the last time at the Delmonts’ country home. When he finally woke, his eyes were unfocused and his breathing labored.
“Sophia,” he simply said, his brilliant blue eyes staring up at her.
She smoothed his brow. “It was just a bad dream, Robert. Only a dream.”
“Only a dream,” he muttered.
He breathed deeply, the corded muscles of his throat and chest glistening in the candlelight. He was a strong man, capable of cracking safes and taking down large guards, yet he was clearly vulnerable and tormented. Her heart lurched at his distress.
She sat on the bed beside him. Reaching out, she cradled his face with her hand. His eyes were haunted, and she instinctively sucked in a breath.
“Don’t pity me,” he said in a choked voice.
He tried to turn away, but she held him firmly. “Tell me what happened the day Gwendolyn died.”
“I can’t.”
“Tell me.”
“You’ll look at me differently. I can’t bear that.”
“No. I won’t. Trust me.”
“I told you she died during one of my missions.”
“How?”
Silence lengthened between them, and she feared he wouldn’t answer.
“It was a cold December night. I was camped outside the home of the Comte DeForte, a double agent and traitor to England. My mission was to blow open his safe, steal treasonous documents, and assassinate the Comte.”
He hesitated then as if she would cringe at the thought of him killing another. She squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue.
“I waited for hours in the bushes. The explosives were in place. The Comte’s carriage arrived and just as he stepped down I lit the fuse. But then another person descended…Gwendolyn. I couldn’t stop the fuse in time and the explosion tore her apart.”
Her heart ached for him. “Was Gwendolyn an agent for the Crown as well?”
He laughed a bitter sound. “God, no. Gwendolyn disapproved of my occupation. She didn’t believe in war, espionage, or revenge…only peace. She even thought the Napoleonic Wars could have been diplomatically settled. I promised her I would resign after I completed my last mission.”
Sophia’s brow furrowed. Gwendolyn sounded completely different from herself. Sophia wanted Viscount Delmont to pay for his crimes, and if he died, then so be it. But Gwendolyn sounded truly unselfish.
“Why was Gwendolyn with the Comte DeForte that day?”
“She was with the Comte to save me. A traitorous Englishman had sold a list of all English spies and their immediate family members to the enemy. DeForte had somehow tricked Gwendolyn into meeting him in order to save me.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
He shook his head. “I set the explosives. I lit the fuse.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You were carrying out your assignment.”
He looked at her in amazement. “I murdered her.”
“No. You were tricked along with Gwendolyn.”
“It doesn’t matter. I was unworthy of her. Just as I’m unworthy of you.”
“Listen to me,” she said, her tone sharp. “You are not unworthy. You save people’s lives. You saved my life.”
“You don’t understand—”
She kissed him then. Kissed him with all the pent-up emotion she felt. Her heart skipped a beat as she finally acknowledged that she loved him, knew it with every fiber of her being. She loved this strong, tortured man who blamed himself for past deeds in which he was just as much a victim as others.
His hands tightened on her shoulders as if he would push her away, but he moaned low in his throat and held her to him. Her palms flattened against his muscular chest, and she pushed him down on the mattress and lay atop him.
They were both urgent in their need, undressing quickly. The feel of skin against skin was enthralling, sending desire pooling low in her belly and between her legs. He kissed her breasts and stroked the curve of her hips. Then he slid his hand between her legs, and she gasped as he slid a finger deep inside her.
“Take me inside you,” he said, shifting her until her legs straddled his hardness.
She lowered herself, anointing the tip of his manhood with her slick arousal.
“Sweet Jesus.” He moaned.
He thrust forward until he was buried to the hilt in a raw act of possession. They both cried out, the pleasure was so intense.
With
his hands on her hips, he showed her how to ride him. She was quick to learn, and met his thrusts in uncontrolled passion. Her head fell back, her breasts arched forward, and her body blossomed from the pleasure. He cupped her breasts, teased her tightened nipples with his teeth, and a moan of ecstasy slipped through her lips as the sensations built to a heightened pitch.
His hand slid down her belly and between her legs. His thumb caressed her sensitive bud and the hot tide of passion raged through her body. He pulled her head down for a searing kiss, and his tongue slid in and out of her mouth just as he plunged deep inside her.
Her body peaked and exploded. Her inner muscles clenched until he stiffened and spilled his seed inside her.
Exhausted, she fell against him and his arms came around her. She nuzzled his chest and inhaled his masculine scent. His heart beat strongly beneath her cheek. Thoroughly exhausted and satiated, she slept.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Robert held Sophia tenderly as she slept. He gazed in wonder at her face, her kiss-swollen lips, and the chestnut tresses across his pillow. No one had ever taken such care of him. He was amazed that she’d still wanted him after he told her of his sordid deeds. For the first time in years, he felt worthy.
She shifted against him. They were married; he could hold her all night and no one would protest.
Ah. To keep her forever as his wife.
He’d never contemplated the thought after Gwendolyn. But Gwendolyn was far from his mind. They hadn’t shared this blistering passion, this intellectual connection. Gwendolyn had wanted him to change, wanted him to stop spying for the Crown. She had never wanted to acknowledge or hear of his past. She was innocent and naive; he’d never been able to share his deepest secrets with her.
Sophia was different. He might have taken her innocence, but she was far from naive and she possessed an admirable determination and shrewd intelligence. She accepted him for who he was; his faults and his dark past did not repulse or frighten her, and, amazingly, her trust in him hadn’t faltered.
Somehow she had enraptured him. She’d come to him tonight and he’d been lost—all coherent thought had fled in a rush of desire. He hadn’t withdrawn from her silken heat. She could be pregnant. The thought of her carrying his child should strike him with fear.
It should, but shockingly it didn’t.
He trailed a finger down her shoulder and arm, marveling at the satin texture of her skin. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled up at him.
“I want to show you something,” he murmured close to her ear.
“Now?”
“Yes.” He sat up, suddenly feeling like an eager schoolboy.
“But it’s the middle of the night and I’m not dressed,” she protested.
He chuckled. “It doesn’t matter. We’re married now, remember?”
He drew on a dressing gown and helped her with her nightgown and wrapper. Retrieving a candlestick, he opened the door and took her hand in his.
…
Sophia giggled as they descended the grand staircase and wove through a myriad of halls. “This feels like a grand adventure.”
Robert stopped outside a closed door and reached for the handle. The door swung open to reveal an empty room. Moonlight streamed in through four large windows and illuminated the space. She tentatively stepped inside. It wasn’t empty as she’d initially thought—packed trunks and crates were stacked in the far corner.
“What is this place?” she whispered.
“Your new workshop.”
She gasped and stepped farther into the room. She saw it then. Her father’s scarred worktable was set up against the far wall. She hurried to the closest trunk and threw open the lid to find her tools. Nestled in crates lined with straw were dozens of her glass beakers.
She whirled to face him. “You had this room emptied out and my belongings moved here?”
His lips curled into a smile and he nodded.
She still couldn’t believe it. It was a spacious room, larger even than her father’s workshop. The tall windows would allow for plenty of natural sunlight while she worked. “You did this? For me?”
“I want you to be happy here,” he said.
She swallowed a lump in her throat. He had been thoughtful enough to spare a room and designate it as her workshop. She’d never been allowed her own space when her father was alive.
“I realize you may not be here forever, but I promise to have everything moved to wherever—”
She threw herself into his arms, cutting him short. His lips met hers halfway. She didn’t want him to finish his thought, and there was one sure way to distract him. She parted his robe and ran her hands down the slabs of muscle beneath.
…
The following morning, Robert helped Sophia out of the carriage in front of Maxwell and Falk’s factory. A large brick building in the east end of London, the factory was nestled between warehouses along the docks. Tall ships were anchored in the distance, the stench of the river was strong, and the occasional squawking of seagulls could be heard.
The factory’s looming front door was made of solid oak. She would have struggled with the weight if Robert hadn’t held the door open for her to pass. As soon as they stepped inside, the sounds of machinery and men’s voices could be heard from deep in the recesses of the building.
“Stay close to me.” He took her hand.
Factory workers rushed to and fro. A hand-cranked paper-making machine dominated the floor. Its long wire screen moved through a large vat of pulp suspended in water until a thin coating settled onto the screen. Enormous rollers squeezed out the excess water, and the damp paper was rolled up on an end to dry.
A man carrying a heavy sack threw fistfuls of torn bits of rag into the vat. Another stirred the thick soup of pulp.
Nobody paid Sophia and Robert any attention. They watched the paper-making process until they spotted Sir Maxwell’s tall frame beside Sir Falk’s short, portly figure at the far end of the building. By their wild hand gestures and furrowed brows, it appeared as if the partners were in heated debate.
“The animosity remains between the business partners,” Robert drawled.
Just then, Sir Falk turned to motion to a nearby worker when he noticed Sophia and Robert. He said something to Sir Maxwell and the pair started toward them.
“Let me do the talking,” Robert told her.
Sir Maxwell reached them first. “Lord Kirkland. What an unexpected surprise.”
Sir Falk approached and bowed to Sophia. “Lady Kirkland, I understand congratulations are in order for your recent nuptials.”
“Thank you.”
“To what do we owe the honor of your visit?” Maxwell asked.
“We visited your stationery shop for commissioned paper and the clerk informed us that you spent your time here.”
“Ah, yes. We can show you our special stock in my office,” Sir Falk said, steering them away from the machine and into their private office.
She knew the forged plates had to be here. But with Falk and Maxwell present, they would never be able to search the warehouse.
They spent the next hour going over the paper with the business partners. A Kirkland coat of arms was drawn for the watermark and the precise wording of their so-called invitations decided upon.
She shifted restlessly in her seat and glanced at her husband beneath lowered lashes. He appeared relaxed and leisurely, intently concentrating on the stationers’ every word.
Robert leaned back in his chair. “I had inquired about a print shop, but the clerk at your shop told me you had recently acquired a press.”
Falk glanced at Maxwell before answering. “It’s true.”
Robert was right! They have everything they need, Sophia thought. The paper, the engraved plates, the printing press. She wanted to jump up and run to the nearest constable.
Yet Robert merely smiled, appearing greatly pleased at this bit of news. His blue eyes were completely unreadable, the inner workings of hi
s mind indecipherable.
She wasn’t fooled.
Not for the first time, she marveled at his ability to hide his emotions and his private thoughts.
…
Once they were back in their carriage, Robert turned to Sophia.
“I’ll have to return at night,” he said.
She leaned forward in her seat, her pink lips parting. “Do you need to go back? Isn’t what we saw sufficient enough?”
“No. I must connect Viscount Delmont and the secret group to the counterfeiting scheme. And I still need to find the forged plates. I suspect they plan a delivery very soon.”
Her green eyes widened. “How do you know?”
“The preparation of the special paper. And Maxwell and Falk couldn’t get us off the factory floor fast enough. My guess is they are counterfeiting one hundred or fifty pound notes so as not to draw unwanted attention to themselves.”
“You were right then. There is no military espionage. Delmont, the mastermind, and the secret group are nothing more than thieves,” she said.
“Yes.”
“It explains everything. The viscount’s lavish lifestyle. The Inventor Society’s unlimited funds for its members like Henry Heinz. My father and the others must have suspected the truth, and they were murdered for it.”
“It’s a likely scenario.”
She sucked in a breath. “These are dangerous men.”
“All my missions are dangerous.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. Her face paled, and she looked like she was going to protest.
“Robert?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Please be careful. I’ve come to…to care for you.”
He kissed her then; he couldn’t help himself. Her lips trembled beneath his and it took all his will not to press her back against the leather bench and slide his hand beneath her skirts, trail his fingers up her silken legs.
He sat back instead. “Don’t worry, Sophia. This is what I do.”
She nodded bravely and bit her bottom lip.
His gut knotted. “I’ll drop you off at home. I need to inform Wendover.”
A Spy Unmasked (Entangled Scandalous) Page 19
