To Catch A Fallen Spy (Brethren of the Coast Book 8)

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To Catch A Fallen Spy (Brethren of the Coast Book 8) Page 13

by Barbara Devlin


  With a plan in place, he strolled to his wife, crawled onto the mattress, hovered above her, and kissed her. In a slow dance, he visited with his mouth every aspect of her lush landscape, stopping to dart his tongue in the cute little indentation of her belly. Anticipating resistance, he parted her legs to rest between them and was surprised when she complied with nary a blink of her eyes. With his hands at the back of her knees he spread wide her thighs, exposing her most intimate flesh.

  Lowering his head, he exhaled against her sweet little curls, and she shuddered. “Are you afraid?”

  “No.” She sniffed and dried her cheeks on the sheet, but the unfailing directness of her stare posed a challenge.

  Cradling her hips, Ross savored his first taste of her virgin sweetness and drank her in, drank in the promise of redemption to be found in her waiting embrace. Setting his mouth to her pliant confection, he suckled and laved, pushing her further into the passionate arena, as he reached down and pleasured himself.

  He ached to claim his bride, to take her, to possess her as she begged to be possessed, but he feared his dark past might never free him, and he would not stain her goodness with his shame. But he longed to lose himself in the lure of her heat, as she was pleasure incarnate.

  Just when he feared he might lose the battle waging within him, she stretched long her limbs and screamed, as completion enfolded her, and he lifted his head to admire the sight. All breathy sighs and sultry sashays, she wriggled atop the blanket, and it took every ounce of strength to resist her fire.

  As he scooted to the side, Elaine came alert, wrapped her arms about his shoulders, and pulled him down. “Please, do not leave me.”

  Covering her with his frame, he tried to be gentle, but he could not manage gentleness, as his starved body craved desire and satiation, fire and conflagration, seduction and splendor. Hot, wet, and slick for the taking, she dug her nails into his back as he plumbed her most tender flesh.

  “Lift your ankles and wrap your legs about my hips, sweetheart.” When she did as he bade, he thrust and plunged into her decadent depths, and somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he thought he heard himself groan.

  Holding stock-still, Ross gritted his teeth, as his seed threatened to burst forth, and only when he gained sufficient control of his instincts did he move. But when he initiated the dance, the world tilted on end, the walls of his chamber melted away, and the nightmarish recollections of his past yielded to the enticement his wife presented.

  Again and again, he drove into her divine suppleness, immersing himself in the purity of her inherent virtue, as if he could claim a part of that for himself. And Elaine lauded his efforts with a voluptuous chorus of sighs and sobs that spurred him harder and faster, until his rose on his arms and left fly his seed with reckless abandon.

  But their corporeal communion did not end with that initial fiery coupling. Rather, it was just a beginning, as Ross could not stop himself, and Elaine did not refuse him. And while there was much to say, they spoke naught, preferring instead to expend their energies on the lengthy consummation of their vows.

  In the wee hours of the morning, after another gut wrenching, soul-shattering round of coitus, Ross, sated to his toes, stared at the ceiling and smiled. “Do you still think me indifferent?”

  to catch a fallen spy

  chapter twelve

  Four days later, basking in the glow of the consummation, as well as countless glorious couplings, thereafter, Elaine accompanied Cara to Sabrina’s home for a quiet luncheon in the back parlor. The only thing that tempered her excitement was the nagging fact that Ross refused to venture to her bed. Instead, she donned her nightgown, unpinned her coif, and dashed down the hall to his apartment, but that would remain her secret, as she celebrated an intimate milestone.

  “You look different.” Cara reclined on the chaise. “And you blush without verbal prompt. How do you feel?”

  “It is hard to describe.” Salacious visions flashed before her, bodies bumping and grinding, mouths meeting, lips sashaying, and tongues twining. Wiping her brow, Elaine feared she might explode if she did not share the details with someone. “I still cannot believe I am a married lady, in every way.”

  “Then why the dour expression?” Sabrina poured three cups of tea and passed a plate of scones. “I know you are gratified that Ross finally did the deed, but you do not seem yourself, my dear.”

  “Brie is right.” Cara doffed her slippers and wiggled her toes. “What is wrong?”

  “Am I truly that transparent?” In frustration, she folded her arms. “Sisters, I am unaccustomed to the glare of public scrutiny, and I never sought to be the center of attention, but marriage to Ross has thrust me into a new and foreign arena, and I am lost.”

  “Of course, it has.” With a napkin, Brie draped her lap and snickered. “Do you not recall the unwanted advances I received when my engagement to Everett was announced?”

  “You broke Lord Fell’s toes during a waltz.” Elaine glanced at Cara and then Sabrina, and together they burst into laughter.

  “Silly, ridiculous fool.” Brie wrinkled her nose. “He got what he deserved, as he never partnered me before that night.”

  “And I wager he has not, since,” Cara chimed, with a giggle. “Be that as it may, there are certain unsavory elements that prey on attached ladies, and you must be gracious as you rebuff their propositions.”

  “I would prefer to hide in the shadows with Ross.” And that suited Elaine just fine, as her husband was the only man she had any interest in touching or having touch her. “But he wants nothing to do with me outside the bedchamber.”

  Cara gasped. “Upon my word.”

  Painful silence weighed heavy in the room, and Elaine counted each tick of the mantel clock, as it ruthlessly chipped away at her confidence. “Is that normal?”

  A knock at the door interrupted their discussion, and Everett popped in with a wave. “Sorry to intrude, but I am going out, and I need a kiss from my most unlikely lady.”

  “Then it is fortunate she is happy to indulge you, my shameless lord.” Scooting to the edge of her seat, Sabrina flicked her fingers. “And where are you going?”

  “I need to meet with out solicitor concerning the timber deal with Teversham, and I must consult with our contractor about the improvements to Beaumaris.” Everett bent and pressed his lips to Sabrina’s. “Then I am joining Trevor at White’s for a brandy, unless you prefer I stay home tonight.”

  “Will you return in time for dinner?” Like a doting wife, Sabrina tidied his hair, adjusted his cravat, and caressed his cheek. “I had cook prepare lemon tarts, and I do so love it when you feed them to me. Plus, I had a delivery from Simone’s, and I would model something new for you, to express my appreciation for our visit to the opera.”

  Given the intimate exchange, Elaine shifted, as Simone’s was an exclusive purveyor of French undergarments known more for their sense of fashion, as opposed to substance or utility.

  “Now that is a pleasure not to be missed.” Everett claimed another kiss. “But the night out benefitted us both, as I adore spending time with my beautiful bride outside our bedchamber.”

  “Oh, just wait till I get you alone, tonight.” The fire that sparked in Sabrina’s gaze had Elaine fanning herself, and Cara rolled her eyes. “Hurry back, and do not be late.”

  “Well done, little sister.” Cara lifted her cup in toast. “So Ross has shown no interest in joining you at the theatre or the Promenade?”

  “We noticed you had not attended since your wedding.” Brie frowned. “But he seeks your company, every night?”

  It would be so easy to lie. To maintain the falsehood that defined her marital existence, but that would only compound her suffering. And Elaine needed advice. Perhaps she was mistaken, and the circumstances were not so grave as she imagined. “I go to him.”

  “What?” Brie’s mouth fell agape. “Are you serious?”

  All right, the situation was terrible.

&nbs
p; “Yes.” Pondering the confusing predicament, she studied the pattern on the carpet and tried not to cry. “If I do not go to Ross, he will not come to me, and before you pose the question, yes, I have tried to wait him out, but he has not budged.”

  “You know, just when I think men have reached the limits of their stupidity, they do something worse and completely disavow me of the notion.” Sabrina snorted. “This time, you have baffled me.”

  “That is a dubious honor.” Elaine’s spirits plummeted to new depths, as she hoped for answers or, at the very least, an explanation for Ross’s odd behavior. “I do not fathom how he can stay away. After the consummation, I struggled to keep my hands off him. I find myself wanting him at all hours of the day and night, and I am compelled by a power I do not understand.”

  “It is passion, dear friend, and you have it in droves.” As if ordering her thoughts, Sabrina averted her gaze. Then she snapped to attention. “You love Ross, though I am not surprised, and the emotional bond intensifies the physical connection. That is why you crave him.”

  “Is it the same for you?” Elaine inquired of her sisters.

  “Yes,” Sabrina replied without hesitation.

  “Oh, yes,” Cara added. “And do not feel bad, because if Lance and I did not share a room, and he neglected to visit my bed, I would go to him, and there is no shame in that.”

  For the remains of the afternoon, they traded recipes, gossip, and the occasional position to increase coital pleasure, some of which exercised Elaine’s mind to the point that she blushed. Soon, Elaine departed with Cara, so Sabrina could prepare herself for Everett’s return.

  “You really do not have to walk me home.” Elaine chuckled. “I know my way.”

  “But I promised Ross I would not leave you unescorted, and Lance is picking me up at your house.” Cara shrugged. “So it is no inconvenience.”

  As thy turned onto Farm Street, a man in quite a hurry, and apparently distracted, set a collision course with Elaine, so she let go of Cara and stepped to the right. Despite Elaine’s efforts, he crashed into her, and she toppled over a railing.

  To her good fortune, her skirts snagged the pointed wrought iron railheads, and she dangled precariously. Otherwise, she would have plunged, head first, down the area stairs.

  “Help.” Elaine fought to steady herself but could not locate any means of support. “Someone, help me.”

  “Hold on, and do not move.” Cara navigated the tiny stairwell and clutched Elaine’s wrists from the bottom. “Hello, is anyone there?”

  A footman opened the door. “Good heavens.” Over his shoulder, he shouted, “Oy, we need assistance.”

  Two additional servants worked to free her from her perilous position, and she dusted off her gown. “Thank you, so much. Some clumsy oaf did not watch where he was going, and he toppled me.”

  “Are you all right, Miss?” A butler inquired.

  “It is Mrs. Logan, and I am fine.” She righted her bonnet. “Just a little shaken, and nothing a hot bath will not cure.”

  After profuse thanks to generous Samaritans, Elaine and Cara walked the two blocks, limped up the entrance stairs, and strolled into the foyer.

  “Ah, there they are now.” Ross took one glance at Elaine and paled. “What happened? You are bleeding.”

  “It was nothing.” Elaine recounted the minor mishap and monitored the change in her husband’s demeanor, and she could have guessed his reaction. But first she bade farewell to Lance and Cara, as she would prefer not to argue with Ross in front of her relations.

  “That does it,” he replied calmly—too calmly. “You are to remain in this house until Waddlington is tried, convicted, and imprisoned or hanged.”

  “You cannot mean that.” His comment did nothing to improve her mood. “It was an accident.”

  “When will you accept that Waddlington is trying to have you killed?” He hesitated and then stared down his nose at her. “When you are in your grave?”

  “Pray, explain why you are so certain there are nefarious games afoot?” Leashing her temper, she seethed in silence. “Because everything you claim is an attack can be explained with simple logic.”

  “There is nothing simple about protecting your life.” Strong and oh so imposing, he pointed. “Go to your room.”

  Countless rapier retorts danced on the tip of her tongue, but she said nothing. Why should anything change? Despondent, she ascended the steps, turned right at the landing, and dragged her heels as she entered her chamber.

  Sitting on the bed, she yanked off her bonnet, kicked her slippers to the floor, and assessed a scrape on her knuckles. In the long mirror, she studied her reflection, and blood seeped from the corner of her forehead.

  Regardless of what he believed, she was positive no nefarious villain sought to remove her head from her neck, but the frightening experience left her shaking and vulnerable, just the same.

  A telltale creak announced that Ross occupied his suite, and she leaped from the mattress. In seconds, she ran the length of the hall, flung open the door to his apartment, and found him bent over the washstand. She slammed shut the oak panel, and he turned and faced her.

  Without a sound, he dropped the towel, splayed his arms, and flicked his fingers, and she charged him. As always, they erupted as soon as they touched, and there were no more arguments that night.

  #

  “Would not have expected to see you here, Ross.” Everett cast an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Trouble in connubial paradise?”

  Everett could say that a hundred times, and it would not encompass the depth of despair Ross suffered, as he knew not how to repair the rift in his relationship with Elaine.

  “Do you think you could venture to White’s, just once, without instigating trouble?” Trevor rolled his eyes. “As you genuinely scare me, on occasion.”

  “Good evening, gentlemen.” Inasmuch as Ross preferred to savor his brandy in peace and quiet, after two hours of intense lovemaking with Elaine, he suspected he was out of luck. “Would you care to join me?”

  “He is brave, inviting us to impinge on his solitude.” Everett plopped into a high back chair and signaled a servant.

  “Why do I do this to myself?” Trevor asked Ross. “I know what he is, I know what he does, and still I indulge him.”

  “Oh, come now.” Everett snorted and peered at Trevor. “Look at him. That is the face of marital misery. And if history is any indication, another husband has attempted to avoid that at times painful, on other occasions pure, unadulterated insanity, yet oh so arresting trap called love.”

  “I knew it.” With an elbow propped on the armrest, Trevor cupped his chin in his palm and sighed. “I just knew it. We cannot enjoy a visit to our exclusive club without some form of harassment on your part. It is a sickness, I tell you. A sickness.”

  “Give over.” Slapping his thighs, Everett guffawed. “I live in the hope that one of our brothers—just one—will learn from our surfeit of past mistakes and avoid the excruciating torment of conflict with his bride, yet I am continually disappointed.”

  “Well you could use a little tact.” Trevor pinned Ross with a steely stare. “So tell us what you did.”

  “You call that subtle?” Everett frowned.

  “My friends, while I appreciate your concern, my marriage is just fine.” Of course, that was a lie, but Ross would not admit it, aloud. “Elaine and I are quite satisfied with the amiable companionship of our union.”

  “Amiable companionship?” Trevor blinked. “Are you serious?”

  Everett whistled in monotone. “Someone is in dire straits, and it is amusing to watch you squirm.”

  “Your worry is misplaced,” Ross insisted, as he shuffled in his seat and then stilled.

  “Oh, you are definitely in peril.” Shaking his head, Trevor snickered. “Everett is right, in that you cannot avoid a declaration, no matter how hard you try, and Elaine will need that.”

  “But how does one know if he is in love?�
�� It was too late when Ross realized he voiced that query. “I mean…that is to say…what if I am not in love?”

  Trevor glanced at Everett, and they collapsed in a fit of mirth.

  And Ross sighed. After ensuring his wife had nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises from her tumble down some area stairs, he instructed the staff to lock down the house, posted four agents in and around the residence, and sought refuge for reflection.

  As he revisited her passionate invasion of his chamber that afternoon, soothing warmth eased his fretful soul, and he took solace in mere thoughts of Elaine. He could taste the sweetness of her honey lips, savor the repetitive rush of her breath to his skin as he thrust, and revel in the achingly soft cries of her release. How he longed to—

  “Bloody hell, the mighty have fallen.” And Everett engaged in another round of boisterous hilarity.

  Logic and reason, hallmarks of his character, offered no explanation and provided no avenue of escape from the obvious question.

  Did Ross love Elaine?

  “That you ask is rather telling.” Everett wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “And as I am loathe to lecture you—”

  “Since when?” Trevor arched a brow.

  “Will you be quiet?” Everett huffed a breath and stretched his booted feet. “In the instance of brevity, I shall simply say that you can fight, you can deny, and you can lie, but you cannot avoid Cupid’s arrow. And the sooner you surrender and accept that singular fact, the better for you and your bride.”

  “As Caroline once told me, love it a gift, not an obligation.” Trevor’s expression softened. “It bears no strings, no expectations, and no requirements. Whatever the faults of your past, they are best left to history. Take what Elaine offers and be grateful she honors you with her heart.”

  For several minutes, Ross assessed their advice, in light of his shame. But Elaine believed him innocent, in that respect. She accepted him, faults and all, and that counted for something, did it not?

 

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