Emma pressed her fingertips to his chest, sweeping lower over the firm muscles of his abdomen. Lingering over his heart, she savored the steady thrum. He was strong and vigorous, and he was hers.
She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him. The long, leisurely press of her lips against his left her breathless and weak in the knees. Yet, she felt powerful. Vibrant and alive.
“Is it always like this?” she whispered.
“Only with you.” Cole brushed a tender kiss over the bridge of her nose. “I’ll never let you go.”
Her fingers splayed against his hand. He was so much larger, so much stronger, and yet, he trembled beneath her touch. Emboldened by her newfound power, Emma unfastened the top button of his trousers, then knelt to press her lips against his flat, hard belly. She blazed a path of teasing little kisses over his lean muscled flesh, savoring the salty taste of his skin.
With a hungry groan, he kicked his trousers and drawers aside, scooped her into his arms, and carried her to the bed. Sleek as a panther, he prowled over her, resuming his sensuous attentions.
With a smile, she shook her head and pressed her hands to his shoulders, gently easing him onto his back. “Now, it’s my turn.”
She swept her fingertips over his skin, from those powerful shoulders to the tantalizing line of sable hair that trailed from his flat belly to his arousal. Delicious awareness set her heart pounding. Cole was hers. Hers to love. Hers to pleasure.
Capturing the rigid shaft in her hand, she intensified her exploration. Dipping her head to taste him, the tip of her tongue brushed his length, her lips closing over his arousal in the most intimate of caresses.
He arched greedily against her touch. Groaning, he clenched fistfuls of the bed sheet in his hands, each low moan an urgent plea.
His fingers circled her wrist, stilling her. “This will be over before we even start if you keep that up,” he said with a grin. Tipping her onto her back, he kissed her until her need for him filled her with a sweet, warm hunger.
“I need you, Emma.” He took one sensitive nipple into his mouth, teasing the responsive nub to life, then moved to the other, stirring the bud to exquisite awareness. She closed her eyes as each tender swirl of his tongue roused her to aching need. How had she ever lived without his touch?
“You’re so ready for me.” His arousal pressed to her cleft, heavy and demanding against her welcoming softness. “Feel what you do to me.”
Her arms coiled around his muscular back and brought him even closer. “I want you, Cole. Heaven knows I do.”
He let out a throaty growl of pleasure and buried his face against her neck. His lips resumed their tempting path, teasing her senses to full awareness. “Let me in, sweetheart.”
His jaw clenching with the strain of control, his shaft parted her warmth. Emma canted her hips, craving his possession, bringing him deeper and deeper into her softness.
His body went rigid, his fingers digging into the mattress, the sleek muscles of his back tensing beneath her fingertips. He gritted his teeth, and a low growl escaped him. “Oh God, how you please me.”
A rush of sensation took control, and she shuddered beneath him, engulfed in a cascade of pleasure and a hunger transcending physical desire. His kiss muffled her soft, panting cries.
Sliding his hands under her bottom, he reversed their positions with one swift motion. His eyes as ravenous as a starving man gifted with a feast, he lay on his back. Emma straddled his hips, gasping as Cole pulsed within the sheath of her body, fueling a need she’d never dreamed existed.
He watched her with heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re beautiful, Emma. And you’re mine.”
The desire in his husky voice nearly drove her wild. She smiled and threw her head back, reveling in her power over this strong, vital man.
“Move for me, sweetheart,” he urged, taking hold of her hips, meeting each small shimmy with a possessive thrust. “Give me your pleasure, Emma,” he commanded. “Give yourself to me.”
“I want you deep…deep inside me.” Her words were breathy little gasps. Lids fluttering shut, her body tensed and she bit back a moan.
“Take all of me,” he murmured. “Come apart for me, darlin’.”
His words melted the last shreds of her restraint. With a shudder, she cried out, and he held her against him, each skilled pulse of his hips bringing her to another shattering peak.
And then, he stilled, his entire body taut. His head fell back in primal triumph, and he drove deeper and deeper, compelled by the force of his release. “Oh God, Emma.” The ragged murmur sounded torn from deep within. “You belong to me.”
* * *
Cole propped his back against the headboard and cradled Emma’s sweet body against him. Lying with Emma this way, sprawled over a four-poster bed within a stone’s throw of her meddlesome aunt, might well be considered another damn fool thing, but Cole wasn’t about to move a muscle. He drank in her fragrance, lavender and lemon and Emma. She was beautiful and courageous, and when she opened her heart to him, he found a home he’d never known to seek.
She was his.
And he’d love her until his last breath on this earth. And beyond.
He’d never feared any mission, never shied away from danger, and nothing would change that.
But he wanted to return to Emma.
If fate cut his days short…if he ended up on the wrong end of a gun…he wanted Emma to know he loved her. Their passion and tenderness might have created a little rascal of a boy who looked like him or a girl with her mother’s spirit and sparkling green eyes. He stroked Emma’s silky hair, praying he’d be blessed to see his child’s face and hear the baby’s soft laughter. He’d cuddle the precious infant against his chest, drinking in every precious sight and smell and sound.
Emma drifted to sleep in his arms, but he wanted no part of slumber. He wanted to savor these moments. He’d meant what he said. They would speak their vows before he left for Grant’s headquarters in Virginia and plunged himself into whatever scheme the general had in mind.
But for now, he wanted her. He’d surround himself with her heat and her fragrance and the gentle rhythm of her breaths.
A grandfather clock in the hall chimed in the midnight hour. He was late for his scheduled briefing with Dunham, but leaving Emma behind in a warm bed was hard. Harder than he ever would have imagined.
He eased himself from the bed so as not to awaken her, pulled on his clothing, and shrugged his coat over his shoulders. He’d shed the cumbersome garment soon after he passed the guards patrolling the grounds. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to his rank in the cavernous saloon where he’d meet up with his partner. Without the formal frock coat and insignia, he’d blend in with the regulars, while the civilian slouch hat he’d left tethered to Rotgut’s saddle would effectively conceal his features.
Despite his quiet movements, Emma stirred. Blinking away sleep, she watched him with heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re leaving?”
“I have to go,” he said, making no attempt to hide his regret. “I’m late for a meeting.”
Her brow furrowed and she rubbed her eyes. “At this time of night?”
“Since when do I keep bankers’ hours, darlin’?”
“I wish you could stay.” Her voice was soft and raspy, sweeter to his ears than the most honeyed seduction.
He ducked his head to brush a kiss over her mouth, then headed to the door. If he didn’t get out of there, he’d be damned tempted to shuck his clothing and join her under the quilt again.
“You’ll be back in the morning.” The hint of a question in her tone pierced his gut.
“At first light. You don’t think I’d let those green soldiers have a minute to rest, do you?”
“Of course not.” Her mouth settled into a solemn line, as though something nagged at her. “Please, promise me you’ll be careful.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. There’s nothing I want more than to come back to you.”
A whisper of a noise tore Emma from her sleep, the soft scuffling at her window as jarring as crystal crashing against marble. She wriggled onto her elbows, staring through the darkness.
“Cole?” she murmured, suspecting even before she uttered his name there would be no answer. But still, she had to be sure.
She pushed herself up and lit the oil lamp on her night table. Sparing the bedside clock a glance, she let out a little sigh before she rose to investigate the peculiar sound that had roused her from a pleasant dream. Four in the morning. Even the birds wouldn’t be up and about at this hour.
Scanning the room, relief settled over her. Nothing seemed amiss. Nothing other than the curtain’s gentle flutter against the pane.
Had Cole opened the window before he left? Although her room was on the second floor, he’d insisted on installing wrought iron bars to block an intruder. She couldn’t imagine he’d leave the window unsecured.
Her palms went icy and damp. Another shiver raced through her, but she ignored it and pulled on her dressing gown. The curtain fluttered again. Raising the lamp, she spotted a sliver-thin crack in the glass. No, not a crack. A strip of glass no larger than her index finger had been extracted from the pane.
Oh, dear God.
Her gaze dropped to the neatly folded leaf of paper lying beneath the sill.
Her legs froze in place, but she forced herself past the fear. Each weighted step over the chilly planks brought her closer to the object of her fear.
Reaching the sheet, she snatched it up . Her heart catapulted into her throat. She wanted to scream, to cry out to someone—anyone—and free the terror that filled her lungs and squeezed her heart.
For the span of several beats, she stared at the bold writing. The words assaulted her with the force of a brawler’s blow to the belly.
I have Caroline.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Emma stared down at the note. Her hand quivered, and she doubled over in shock as the impact of Frederick’s ornate scrawl slammed into her like a runaway train.
I have Caroline.
You have something that belongs to me. Bring the locket. My carriage awaits. Come alone, or the child will pay the price for your betrayal.
FS
Horror slithered up Emma’s throat. God above, was he such a monster that he’d harm an innocent child? Surely she suffered the throes of a nightmare. The paper drifted from her hand to the floor and she stared down at it, willing herself to awaken from this horrid dream.
Gripping the edge of her dresser to steady herself, she pulled in a lungful of air, then another. This was no dream. This was all too real.
She tore off her dressing gown, then donned a chemise, skirt, and blouse. Her fingers trembled, but she managed to fasten each button in turn. Her hands continued to quiver as she removed her derringer from the dresser and slipped the pistol into her pocket.
She tiptoed from her room and down the stairs. As she quietly stole to the rear entrance, Mrs. McGinty nearly collided with her.
“My girl’s gone.” Mrs. McGinty’s complexion had gone ashen, her thin cheeks sunken into her face. Though her voice was scarcely louder than a whisper, it seemed a scream of anguish to Emma’s ears. “Caroline’s gone missing. I can’t find her. When I went looking for her…oh, dear God, this can’t be happening.”
Emma clasped the housekeeper’s trembling hands. “I know how to find her.”
“You don’t…you don’t understand. When I saw she wasn’t in her bed, I stumbled upon one of the guards, the young private who seemed so pleasant. Oh, my heavens, Miss Emma…he’s on the front steps. There’s blood everywhere.”
Bile flooded Emma’s throat, but she choked it back. She had to remain calm, and she had to quiet Mrs. McGinty. If her father or Aunt Elizabeth were roused, she’d have no chance of saving Caroline.
“I’ll get her back. I know…I know who’s taken her.”
Mrs. McGinty’s eyes went wide, not with relief, but with accusation. “You know? Where is she? Where is my girl?”
“I’m going after her. I promise you she’ll be safe.”
Mrs. McGinty shook her head, a violent motion that sent her pale brown curls bobbing about her head. “No, this can’t be.”
“Frederick won’t harm her. But I must bring her home.”
Jerking her hands from Emma’s hold, Mrs. McGinty eyed her with undisguised scorn. “How do you know this?”
“He contacted me during the night. There was a note—I must go to her. Now.”
Digging her fingers into Emma’s flesh, Mrs. McGinty seized her in a desperate grip. “You can’t go alone. We have to get help. Major Travis—”
Jagged talons dug into Emma’s heart. “Major Travis is not to know. No one can know where I’m going. They’d try to stop me, and then—” She couldn’t speak the final words, couldn’t face the thought that an innocent child might suffer in her place.
Desperation gleamed in Mrs. McGinty’s eyes. “I’m going with you.”
“Very well. Caroline will need you. But you’ll have to trust me to reason with Frederick. Alone.”
Mrs. McGinty nodded. Her violent grip on Emma’s forearm eased, and her hand fell away. “But how will you find him?”
“He’s provided a carriage. The only element left to complete the scene he’s staged is me.”
* * *
The regal old church on M Street loomed in the distance. Dawn’s first rays lit the horizon, gleaming off the steeple like a new star as the closed carriage rambled over the cobblestone streets.
Emma peered through the slit in the drawn curtains. Her heart throbbed as though a dagger had been thrust in her chest. The young sentry had not deserved to die. And his partner—the older soldier who’d met them at the door—she’d seen no sign of him as she left the house. Had he also met a brutal fate, or had he betrayed them in the name of greed?
The carriage came to a halt before the sanctuary. The driver, a silent hulk of a man, opened the door and motioned for Emma to leave the coach. Swallowing against the jagged lump in her throat, Emma gave Mrs. McGinty’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Caroline will come back to you. If I have not returned within thirty minutes, go for help.”
Emma exited the carriage and hurried up the path. Her skirts caught beneath her heel, but she righted herself before she took a tumble, dashed up the steps, and shoved the massive oak door until it slowly opened.
The heavy panel creaked loudly, the noise permeating the silence as if in protest of her entry. A shudder of apprehension sliced through her resolve as she scanned the deserted sanctuary.
She was alone. Could this have been a cruel deception?
Breath flooded her lungs in short gasps as she sought to calm herself. A part of her wanted to dash through the building, to scream Caroline’s name, to seek some sign the girl occupied the massive structure. But she forced herself to move slowly, deliberately. Any sign of fear would weaken her in Frederick’s eyes. And weakness would not be met with charity, but with vicious retribution.
Sweeping her gaze over each room, she made her way through the corridors. Was this no more than a malicious game?
She rounded a corner far from the sanctuary.
“I’m so glad you could join us.” Frederick’s smooth drawl stopped her in her tracks. “Come up the stairs, Emma. Join us in the bell tower.”
Her heart thudded a rebellious protest and her palms went slick. Even as a child, she’d hated heights. Had she confided this aversion to Frederick? Had the bastard she’d once thought she loved chosen to use her fear against her?
Determined to conceal her uneasiness, Emma uttered a silent prayer for strength, drew in a breath, then another, and gritted her teeth against the thunder of her pulse in her ears.
Her fingers gripped the derringer hidden in the folds of her skirt, but she thought better of the impulse and released the weapon. Better to let the bastard believe her defenseless. If he thought she
was helpless, he might be less inclined to use Caroline as a pawn.
Knees trembling, she began her ascent. Clinging to the railing, her knuckles whitening with each step, she slowly navigated the staircase. Tension roiled her insides like a dinghy tossed about during a storm.
Don’t look down. Don’t give in.
Finally, she made it to the landing. Frederick sat on a plain wooden chair, the child at his side. Emma’s gaze lit on his face, on the once perfect features now marred with a precise brutality that could only have come from human hands.
The jagged wound bisected his left cheek, a vicious, red-rimmed slash carved into his flesh. Revulsion snaked through her belly. He met her eyes, the twist of his mouth telling her he’d read the horror in her gaze.
“Miss Emma,” Caroline cried, breaking the wall of silence. She bucked against the restraining hand on her wrist, but Frederick only chuckled and tightened his grip.
“Hush, little one,” he crooned. “You’ve no need to be frightened.”
Tears streamed down the girl’s cheeks. “Have you come to bring me home, Miss Emma?”
Emma closed the distance between them. Kneeling before Caroline, she raised her gaze to Frederick. “She’s terrified. Please, let her go.”
He dropped his hold. Emma drew Caroline into her arms. “You’ll be home soon. I promise.”
“That depends on you.” Frederick wove his long, elegant fingers through Emma’s hair with a possessive touch. Tendrils of fear coiled around her spine, chilling her to the bone.
“She’s only a child.”
He bared even white teeth in a travesty of a smile. “Fear brings out your beauty, Emma. If I’d known—”
She pressed Caroline behind her. “Let the girl go, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”
He steepled his fingers, staring over the tips. “You’ve brought the locket.”
“Yes,” she lied.
“Give it to me.”
“Not until Caroline is released.”
He slowly shook his head. “Do you see what they’ve done to me? I don’t have time for games. Where is the necklace?”
Secrets, Spies & Sweet Little Lies (Secrets & Spies) Page 30
