Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04]

by Never A Lady

  Confusion flitted across her features. “But why would a man like you want to involve yourself in such a dangerous enterprise?”

  “That is the second time you’ve said ‘a man like you.’ What, precisely, do you mean?” He clenched his jaw, irritated at himself for allowing the question to pass his lips. Especially when he knew exactly what she meant. She meant—

  “A titled gentleman, of course,” she said.

  A titled gentleman. Of course. He swallowed the humorless sound that rose in his throat. Well, he certainly couldn’t deny the accuracy of her words—that was indeed the sort of man he was. Unfortunately, to most people, that’s all he was. A title. He’d thought himself long since immune to the hurt that had accompanied that youthful realization, but based on the undeniable sting from her words, clearly he was mistaken on that score. She saw him only as most everyone else did.

  Pushing aside his ridiculous disappointment, he drew a deep breath and cast his mind back, to the unfulfilled young man he’d been eight years ago. “Growing up, my entire existence revolved around my duties to my title and estates, and by my twenty-first birthday, my father had taught me everything I needed to know. I took great pleasure in the work, but Father enjoyed—no, needed—to fill his lonely days with running the estates himself. I didn’t have the heart to ask him to do less so I could do more and thus deny him what he needed. As such, I wasn’t doing anything a steward couldn’t do. I felt…restless. Unnecessary. Empty. And basically useless. Nathan had his medical profession, but I had nothing other than the usual country gentleman pursuits, which, while enjoyable, were of little use or value.”

  He paused, vividly recalling his growing discontent. “I’ll never forget the day when I’d finally had enough of being nothing save, as you so aptly described me, a titled gentleman. Nathan told Father and me about how he’d saved a man’s life that morning. I listened to his words, heard the pride in his voice, and realized I’d never done anything for which I could be that proud. That awed. Certainly nothing as important as saving someone’s life.”

  The memory washed over him, those feelings of dissatisfaction as sharp as if they’d happened yesterday. “I knew then that I wanted, needed to prove to myself that I was more than just a title, but I wasn’t certain how to go about it. I considered purchasing a commission in the army, but then Wexhall came along wanting to use the estate for spying purposes, and I saw an opportunity. He was doubtful at first about my spying, but I convinced him to give me a chance to prove I was up to the task. Turned out I was, and that I possess a talent for picking locks and gaining entry to places where I wasn’t supposed to be. Very handy for a spy.”

  “Yes, I imagine it is. Did you enjoy spying?”

  He considered, then said, “Yes. I enjoyed serving my country. Making a difference. Doing something important. Being useful. I loved the challenge.” He didn’t add that there were a number of assignments, one in particular, he hadn’t enjoyed at all. That had taken deep physical and mental tolls on him. “Looking back, I’d have to say it was the happiest time of my life.”

  “Why did you retire?”

  He pressed his palm against his thigh and decided to tell her the simple version. “I was injured.”

  “How?”

  “I was shot.”

  Her gaze flicked down to his thigh. “Does it hurt?” she asked softly.

  He shrugged and moved his hand, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sometimes.” He offered her a half smile. “More when I’m forced to sprint through London’s back alleys while in pursuit of fortune-tellers.”

  She nodded toward the locked drawer. “You could pick that lock?”

  “Of course. And in far less time than it took you to get caught at it. Which is only understandable, as you would not, naturally, have lock-picking experience.” He inwardly chuckled at the flash of outrage that glittered in her eyes. It clearly galled her and required a great effort on her part not to correct him, for in truth, before he’d made his presence known, he’d noted she’d been about to open the drawer, and it had taken her less than a minute to gain access. Very impressive. It occurred to him once again that she would have made a hell of a spy.

  “Are you willing to provide a demonstration?” she asked.

  For an answer, he handed her the key. “Why don’t you make certain it’s securely locked. I wouldn’t want to have any unfair advantage.”

  “Delighted,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. After she finished, she stood and handed him the key, which he slipped into his waistcoat pocket.

  Instead of kneeling before the desk, however, he stepped closer to her. Alarm flickered in her eyes and she backed up, halting when she bumped into the desk. He moved closer still.

  “Wh…what are you doing?” she asked in a breathless voice that instantly made him want to do something to render her even more breathless.

  With his gaze steady on hers, he reached out and deftly plucked a pin from her hair. Smiling, he held his prize aloft. “I can hardly pick a lock on my passable good looks alone.”

  Her gaze roamed over his face, lingering on his mouth in a way that tensed his every muscle. “I suppose not,” she said in that same breathless voice. “What did you do when there wasn’t a woman nearby from whom you could conveniently pluck a pin?”

  Bloody hell, it required a Herculean effort not to reach out and touch her. Instead, he shot her a jaunty wink. “I always carry my own.”

  Dropping to one knee, he made a show of first cracking his knuckles, then rubbing his hands together. Finally, he looked up at her. “Ready?”

  “I’ve been ready,” came her dust-dry reply.

  Without further ado, he delicately inserted the hairpin into the lock, jiggled the device twice, then withdrew it. “Voilà!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. That drawer isn’t unlocked…”

  Alex’s words trailed off as he slowly slid the drawer open. She had to clench her jaw to keep it from hanging agape in utter amazement at his dexterity and skill. She caught sight of what looked like a shiny black box, but before she could see more, he slid the drawer closed, inserted his key, and locked it. Then in a single fluid motion, he stood and tucked the key away in his pocket.

  Reaching out, he gently slid the pin back in her hair, and said softly, “Not only did I pick locks, I was also an expert pickpocket.”

  His nearness, the gentle touch of his hands in her hair, the barest elusive whiff of his clean scent all conspired to render her speechless. After clearing her throat to find her voice, she said, “Pickpocket? Were you good at it?”

  He lowered his hands from her hair, stepped back and smiled. “I think the fact that you need to ask proves I was. And still am.” He held out his hand. “I believe these belong to you.”

  She gaped at the bronze silk-wrapped bundle resting in his palm, then her hand flew to the deep pocket in her gown where she kept her cards. Her empty pocket. By God, he was good. And by God, she would know. He would have made a hell of a thief.

  “Very impressive,” she said, unable to keep the admiration from her voice. “I’m amazed.”

  “Thank you.” Mischief kindled in his eyes, impossibly making him even more attractive. “It’s merely one of my many talents.”

  Heavens, she didn’t doubt for an instant that he possessed dozens. Certainly kissing a woman until she was breathless and aching, desperate and hot—

  “Impressed and amazed,” he said, yanking back her thoughts which had run horribly amok. “I believe that makes you…imprazed.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “I suppose it does.”

  “Yet I’d wager you say that to all the titled gentleman pickpockets you know.”

  Unable to resist his teasing, she matched his lighthearted demeanor, casting her gaze downward, then looking up at him through her lashes. “Oh, dear. You’ve discovered my deepest secret.”

  “Have I?”

  Before she could toss off a breezy reply, he reached out a
nd brushed his fingertips over her cheek, stealing what little bit of breath he hadn’t already robbed her of. Unmistakable heat flared in his eyes, melting all traces of amusement. “I suspect you have other secrets,” he said softly, his fingers slowly tracing her jaw.

  Her better judgment demanded that she move away from him, from his touch that seemed to ignite fire under her skin. But the woman in her, who knew everything about survival yet little about living and who had remained ruthlessly locked away until he’d opened the door with his kiss, refused to move, unable to restrain her uncontrollable curiosity and desire to know what he would do next.

  Heart pounding, she moistened her lips, then said, “Everyone has secrets, my lord. Even you.”

  Something bleak and haunted flashed in his eyes, disappearing so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined it. “I cannot disagree about that.” His fingers drifted along her jaw to lightly circle the shell of her ear. “Although, I firmly disagree with something you said earlier.”

  “What is that?”

  “That you’ve nothing to be vain about.” The pad of his thumb drifted over her lips, arrowing heat down to her toes. “You’re beautiful.”

  A huff of stunned laughter escaped her. “And you’re daft.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “I’m also much more complimentary than you are.”

  “I own a mirror. Beautiful? I’m nothing of the sort.”

  “You may own a mirror, but you don’t see yourself clearly.” He tilted his head first left then right, as if assessing her and giving the matter great thought. “Actually, you’re right. You’re not beautiful. You’re exquisite.”

  That description was even more ludicrous, but his talented fingers made her feel exquisite as they continued their delicious exploration, meandering down her neck. Dear God, it was nearly impossible not to close her eyes and lean into his caress, much like her cat, Monsieur, when she petted him. She’d never known a man’s touch could be so gentle. So unequivocally delightful yet at the same time so very…stirring.

  “Have you been drinking?” she felt compelled to ask.

  “No.” He cupped her face in one palm and brushed his thumb over her cheek, while his other arm encircled her waist, drawing her closer. “There’s no need. You intoxicate me.”

  His touch, the intensity in his gaze, made her tremble and feel as if she were melting from the inside out. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and in spite of the layers of clothes separating their skin, she caught her breath at the stunning contact. His eyes seemed to darken, and even if her life had depended upon it, she couldn’t have looked away. Kiss me. Please kiss me…

  The words echoed through her mind, demanding to be spoken. Anticipation, so intense it resembled pain, cut through her. Just when she didn’t think she could stand it another instant, he bent his head and pressed his lips to the sensitive skin behind her ear.

  Her eyes drifted closed at the heady, delicious sensation of his body touching hers from chest to knee. Even as her inner voice warned her to stop, to step away, her hands crept up and grasped his broad shoulders.

  “You have no idea how glad I was to discover you weren’t married,” he whispered, his voice velvety, seductive against her neck, his warm breath eliciting heated tingles that skittered down her spine.

  “It was very bad of you to enter my rooms. I…I’m…most angry with you.” Unfortunately, the sigh of pleasure that escaped her in no way matched her words.

  “Then I shall have to endeavor to work my way back into your favor.”

  God help her, he was doing a masterful job. The sensation of his lips leisurely exploring where her neck and shoulder met turned her knees to porridge.

  “Yet even if I hadn’t seen the lack of evidence of a husband in your rooms,” he continued, “I’d still have known you weren’t wed.”

  “How?” The word came out on a breathless sigh as he kissed his way across her throat.

  He straightened, and she mourned the loss of his lips against her skin. She dragged her eyes open, and her heart skipped a beat at the fire burning in his gaze. “Last night, in the carriage,” he said, tracing her lips with a single fingertip. “Your kiss. You were too inexperienced to have been married.”

  All the tingling warmth was extinguished as effectively as if he’d tossed cold water upon her. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d blushed, but there was no mistaking the hellfires of mortification burning her cheeks. She squirmed against him, wanting nothing more than to escape, but he tightened his embrace, holding her with an ease that only added to her humiliation.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, touching her flaming cheek. “I meant it as a compliment.”

  A humorless sound escaped her. “Compliment? First beautiful, then exquisite, and now compliment? How many more lies do you intend to utter this afternoon?”

  “I haven’t lied. Perhaps you don’t think you are exquisite, but I do. Since the first time I saw you, your face has haunted me. As for the way you kissed me…I found it enchanting. Exciting. And incredibly arousing, as I’m certain you could tell.” His gaze turned questioning. “Or couldn’t you?”

  What she lacked by way of personal experience, she more than made up for in what she’d witnessed and heard in London’s back alleys. Lifting her chin a fraction, she said, “I may be inexperienced, but I am not ignorant of the workings of the human body. I could tell.” And God help her, it had thrilled her in a way she’d never anticipated.

  “And you’re a quick learner. I’ve thought of little else but you.” His gaze searched hers. “Have you thought of me?”

  Where, oh where, was the dismissive cold stare she could always call upon at will? The one she’d used to warn off every other man who’d so much as looked at her? Where was her anger? Her resolve to avoid this knee-weakening temptation? They stood no chance under the spell he seemed to cast upon her, evaporating under the blaze of his beautiful green eyes—eyes she’d vowed to blacken if he attempted to kiss her again. Instead, she wanted to experience the magic of his kiss again so badly she trembled.

  Have you thought of me? He only filled every crevice of her mind. A lie hovered on her lips, but in light of his honesty, refused to be spoken. “Yes.”

  “In the same way I’ve thought about you, I hope.”

  With an effort, she pulled herself together and cocked a single brow. “I’m not certain. Had you thought about coshing me with an iron skillet?”

  One corner of his mouth quirked upward, and he shook his head, while his hands skimmed down her back, pressing her closer against him. “No. I thought about touching you.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers. “Kissing you,” he whispered against her mouth. “I thought about how warm and sweet and delicious you taste. How much I want to taste you again.”

  Her heart pounded at his words, spoken in that husky whisper. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, and her lips parted on a sigh. But instead of kissing her, he raised his head. Cupping her face between his hands, he looked into her eyes, studying her as if she were a puzzle to solve.

  “Were your thoughts anything like mine?” he asked softly.

  Since the moment you ignited my imagination and fantasies four years ago in Vauxhall. She couldn’t have denied him the truth if she’d tried. “Yes.”

  “Thank God.” His words whispered past her lips, then he slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her with that same magical perfection as he had last night.

  Only this kiss was…more so. Deeper. Fiercer. More intense and demanding. More passionate and urgent. More exquisite. His tongue swept into her mouth, and she mimicked his every gesture, employed every nuance he’d taught her last night, anxious to learn more and not allow her ignorance to disgrace her.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she explored the silky heat of his mouth with her tongue. A low growl sounded in his throat, and without breaking their kiss, he turned them so he leaned against the desk. He spread his legs and pulled her into the V of his th
ighs, pressing his hardness against her. Heat washed through her, and a pulse throbbed between her legs.

  Wrapped in his strong arms, she felt completely surrounded by him. Safe. Warm. Protected. A thrilling sensation unlike anything she’d ever experienced. A sensation she greedily craved more of. Heat emanated from him, and she breathed in his clean, masculine scent. Aching, she squirmed against him, shooting jolts of pleasure through her.

  With a groan, he widened his stance, then splayed one hand low on her back, urging her tighter against him, while his other hand came forward to cup her breast. She gasped against his mouth, and he broke off their kiss, trailing his mouth down her neck. Her head fell back limply, and she clung to his shoulders, trying to absorb the barrage of delightful sensations, but they bombarded her too quickly. Her nipples tightened, and she arched her back, pressing her aching breast into his palm.

  “Oranges,” he whispered against the base of her throat. “Delicious.” And then he kissed her again, a long, slow, deep kiss that stole her breath, while he palmed her breasts. The secret place between her thighs felt heavy and moist and achy, and it pulsed in tandem to the drugging thrust of his tongue in her mouth. A delicious languor stole over her, and she melted against him. Her hands grew bolder, running up his broad chest, skimming over his strong shoulders, sifting through his thick, silky hair.

  She lost all sense of time of place, allowing herself, for the first time in her life, simply to feel. Everything faded away except the increasingly desperate need to experience more of his strength. Taste more of his delicious flavor. Touch more of his warm, firm skin. She strained closer to him, her insides trembling, wanting, needing more, knowing only he could put out this inferno he’d lit inside her.

  Coolness touched her leg, but before she could fully grasp the implications, his warm hand ran slowly up her thigh, separated from her skin only by the thin layer of her drawers, the sensation shocking her, thrilling her. His hand wandered higher to draw slow circles over her buttocks, and she groaned, craving more of his intoxicating touch. How could such a leisurely caress make her pulse race so?