London Calling

by Sorcha Mowbray

  A few moments later he was back between her legs and his rather generous cock pushed into her pussy. With a sigh of contentment, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around him as he sank deeper within her body. Then she tangled her fingers in the hair at his nape and let him have full access to her body. He trembled where he hovered over her for a moment, but then he gritted his teeth and slid out of her heat. She threw her head back and moaned as he scraped over every raw nerve inside her quim, savoring the way he filled her and stretched her. He huffed, pistoning in and out of her body in earnest. He pumped his hips, driving her across the bed as he filled her up with each stroke. Her heart raced and her body quivered with pleasure and excitement as he dragged her back up to the edge of bliss once more. As she hovered there on the precipice, she looked at the face of the man who was supposed to be just another customer, and realized she was doomed. Just as she suspected.

  And then her world exploded in a burst of pleasure that pushed all other thoughts aside and made her limbs quiver like jelly as she cried out his name over and over again. A few more pounding strokes, and he shouted her name as he pumped his hips, driving into her as deep as he could possibly go. At the end, he strained over her and then collapsed, blanketing her with his body.

  The post-orgasmic wave of bliss wrapped her in an unusual cocoon of euphoria. Normally she was quick to disengage from her clients, separate herself physically and emotionally. But as Griff rolled to the side a chill swept in, replacing his body heat and stealing her moment of contentment.

  “That was incredible. I can’t even remember sex ever being so good.” He looked over at her and grinned. “You were right. We have amazing chemistry.”

  Jo smiled back, but deep inside she worried what their chemistry would cost her in the end, because in her experience everything came at a cost.

  Griff lay next to the woman who had tried to kill him, first with a knife, and then with pleasure. He much preferred the latter method. He promised himself that despite giving in to the physical desire simmering between them, it didn’t mean there was something more. Certainly he liked her, but he had far too much on his plate and one too many secrets to allow himself to feel anything for any woman, let alone Jo. He leaned up on one arm and looked down at her face as she appeared to be resting.

  One dark eye popped open and focused on him with a penetrating stare. “Why are you staring at me?”

  He laughed. “Just considering our next move.”

  “Well, my next move is to track down my handler.” She sat up, completely at ease with her nudity.

  Dazzled by her delectable curves, it took him a moment to catch up with her words. “Your next move? Don’t you mean our?”

  “No, I don’t. Any meeting with my handler is a strictly one-on-one scenario.” She swept her silky long hair up into a twist and jabbed two lethal looking sticks into the mass.

  His gut rejected the idea instantly, but his head had questions. He decided to ask those questions before starting an argument, and any objection on his part would result in an argument, he was sure. “Why one-on-one?”

  “Because I always meet with him alone.” She frowned.

  “What is his name?” Griff was feeling a little lost in the wake of her fast moving thought process.

  “I cannot tell you that.” She sighed. “It’s enough you know he’s my handler. The one I usually get my assignments from. He is an upstanding government agent, but I trust him implicitly. If you are supposed to be dead by my hand and we show up together, he will ask questions. It will already be bad enough that you are still alive, particularly if he’s heard you are a new client. I need to talk with him alone to get the answers I need.”

  Griff hated the idea, but he could see the logic behind her plan. Of course, if he could stay in the loop, then he could follow her and be there in case she needed help. “What if I stayed back in the shadows? Kept out of sight as a precaution. In case something goes wrong, like your handler doesn’t show up but someone else does?”

  She considered it a moment. Then gave him a sidelong look. “I’m used to working alone. I’ve always managed whatever scrape I’ve gotten into. I can manage this one as well.”

  He climbed off the bed, feeling at a disadvantage lying about like a harem boy. “I thought we were working together?”

  She turned to face him after pulling on a silk robe. “We are, but some jobs are single person tasks. My handler can be a bit…territorial. I think any meeting with him will go smoother alone. I promise to fill you in on what happens.”

  “I don’t like it.” Griff paused, he wasn’t prepared to give in entirely. He’d simply have to follow her to the meeting. “When will you meet him?”

  “Tomorrow night. I’ll need to let him know I wish to see him, and then he’ll arrange a location. Once it’s done I will send you a note to join me here.” She offered him a pleasant smile, but he was sure she was keeping something from him. “Now, it’s late. Are you hungry? I can have Miriam fetch a tray for us from the kitchen.”

  Griff glanced at the clockwork on the wall and shook his head. “It is nearly dawn. I shall find my own bed or else Higgins will be distressed. I rarely go out, let alone stay out all night.”

  Jo offered him an oddly wistful smile, could she have wanted him to stay? “I understand. It’s probably best that you are seen leaving here anyway. I will be by your house tomorrow evening to fill you in once I’ve made contact. I’ll slip in through the study, so do a girl a favor and leave your window open again.” Then she winked and went about helping him get dressed.

  All the while he wanted to renege on his intent to leave. Would it be so bad if he stayed? But before he knew it he was dressed and heading down stairs with a robed Jo by his side. At the front door she kissed him again, long and lingering as though she too hated sending him away. But then she let him slip out into the pre-dawn dark to head home.

  The next day, Jo rode out in her high perch phaeton with her two blacks pulling her through the streets of London. She had the horses adorned with the red plumes to let Holt know they needed to meet, and of course it pleased her that they matched her red driving dress. Normally after she went driving with the red plumes on the horses, she would meet Holt early the next morning in Hampstead Heath, near The Elms. To her surprise, an errand boy approached her at Gunter’s when she stopped for an ice, and presented her a note. Holt told her they needed to meet immediately, he would wait for her in their usual place.

  She gathered herself and collected her vehicle before setting out for Hampstead Heath, the famous dueling grounds. Though this time of day the area would be quite deserted. In short order, she pulled her cattle to a stop and found a low hanging branch to tether the horses. She walked a short distance into the trees before the high whistle of a bullfinch could be heard. A moment later, Holt stepped from the shadows of the trees and joined her on the path.

  “It is good to see you alive and well,” she said, allowing an acerbic tone to coat her words.

  He nodded. “I apologize, but when I learned someone had activated our assignment protocol and sent you a coin, I could not interfere. I am still trying to sort out who instigated the communication and how.”

  “So you let me try and kill an innocent man?” Jo couldn’t hide her upset at that shocking bit of news.

  “I hoped you would figure it out before things went too far. I’d say that since he was seen leaving The Market early this morning that you figured out something wasn’t right.” Holt smiled.

  “Holton McPhearson, I damn near killed the man. He managed to convince me to stop before it was too late.” She glared at her friend.

  “Now that sounds like an interesting story for another time.” He took her hand in his and pulled her into a slow stroll. “But for now, you need to know our assignment protocols are compromised. We shouldn’t meet again for a while, not unless it is an urgent need. Until I figure out how deep the issue goes, nobody can be trusted.”

  Jo nodded. “Agree
d. I am still concerned about the men from the warehouse and particularly the man who called himself Mr. Xavier.”

  “As am I. I shall continue to work on sussing out the entire network. Do you or Lord Melton have any clues who might want him dead?”

  “None. I was hoping you might have some ideas.” The dead-end nature of the discussion weighed heavily on her shoulders.

  “I’ll keep poking about and see what I can learn. In the meantime, you two need to be careful.” Holt didn’t bother to mask the concern in his voice.

  “We will. But I doubt I will be able to keep him from his own investigation.” She hated admitting it, but Griff was a determined man. And frankly, she wanted to solve the mystery, too.

  “Do what you can. And please keep him alive.” Holt stopped and faced her. “And whatever you do, don’t get your heart broken.”

  Jo eyed her friend suspiciously. “What do you know?”

  “Just that he was seen leaving The Market this morning as I said. I assumed that you were using your cover as it was designed, since that also allows you to stay close to him.” He half smiled. “And I can see the soft glow in your eyes when you talk about him. I’ve not seen that before.”

  “He’s a former mark who I’ve agreed to help. I am not falling for anyone, not when I’ve only known him for forty-eight hours.” Jo pushed the niggling voice of dissent aside.

  “You know him far better than you think if you’ve studied his dossier. Just be careful, I’m not sure even in these modern times that a Lord can look beyond your history to see the woman worth claiming.”

  She hated when Holt flustered her like that, he sometimes did it simply because he knew it bothered her. But this time held a ring of truth, of concern that rankled far more than his playful reminders that she was more than her job. “You know I have a plan. One plan. Survive and then retire by the shore somewhere in a small cottage where I don’t have to be bothered by anyone.”

  “I know what you think you want.” Holt reached up and traced the curve of her cheek. “I just hope you find what you need before it is too late.”

  Then he turned and faded into the elm trees, leaving her alone on the secluded path wondering if she had missed something about her longtime friend. Could he have a tendre for her? Holt was an attractive man who, had they met under different circumstances, she might have considered a love interest, but here and now? It could never be. She hoped for his sake, she was mistaking the signals.

  With that thought chilling her, she hurried back to her phaeton and headed for The Market. She needed to change and visit Griff with her news. Though, if they had been seen at The Market, there was no reason she couldn’t visit him during the day. After all, mistresses were common visitors to their single patrons’ homes in the New Victorian era. With that notion set in her mind, she headed toward his home on Curzon Street. What harm could come from an afternoon visit of his known mistress?

  7

  Griff had retreated to his laboratory in an attempt to recalibrate himself, having sex with Jo had proven unexpected and dangerous. Granted he was no monk, he tumbled a willing woman when the desire moved him and he’d even kept a mistress or two along the way. But never had he experienced such pleasure between the sheets. A pleasure that rivaled the thrill of a new idea or having solved a design problem in one of his inventions. And he found the similarity deeply disturbing. So, he had grabbed a few hours of sleep and then slipped into his sanctuary to ground himself in his one true love—tinkering.

  He’d just tightened a bolt on the steam-loom he’d been working with off and on for months and was about to fire the thing up for the first time when Higgin’s signal that his presence was required clanged through the room. With a frustrated sigh, Griff slipped off his leather apron and donned his suitcoat as he made his way back up to his study. The fireplace slid back into place as Higgins knocked and then announced his visitor. “Madame La Roux to see you, my lord.”

  Great Trevithick! What was she doing at his home in broad daylight?

  “Lord Melton, I do apologize for dropping in unannounced.” Jo swept into his study looking every inch the elegant lady. From her dazzling red silk driving dress trimmed with leather and brass toggles down the front and a matching red top hat set at a jaunty angle. She was simply stunning, and to his great shock respectably clothed.

  “Madame, what an unexpected pleasure. Higgins, please send tea in for my lovely guest.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  Alone with Jo, Griff asked the question burning his tongue. “What the devil are you doing here in the middle of the day?”

  “I am aware we discussed the need to be more circumspect regarding our acquaintance; however, it was brought to my attention this afternoon that the powers on high are already aware of our association.” She lifted both brows to emphasize her point, which struck him as odd that she wouldn’t simply say the words.

  “Please, don’t be delicate on my account. What precisely do they know?”

  She huffed in annoyance. “They are aware that you have engaged me as your mistress. There is little point in hiding our association. As it is not uncommon for known mistresses to visit their patrons in this day and age, I saw no reason not to come and share with you some information.”

  Information? Now she had his utter attention. “Do go on.”

  “As you know, I was to send word that I require a meeting. Well, once I established contact, I was directed to meet immediately. A very risky proposition, but one my handler felt was necessary it seems.”

  “And what did he tell you?” Griff’s frustration grew by the second as he waited for her to reveal something important.

  “First, that he did not order your death—which we had already surmised—and then he requested that we lay low while he sorts out what happened.” She shared the request very calmly, which was in absolute opposition to the anger he felt surging through his system.

  “Lay low? He can’t be serious!” Griff turned and stalked across the room, leaving Jo where she stood. Carding his hand through one side of his hair, he spun around and stalked back toward her. “How could he reasonably expect me to do nothing?”

  “Well, I dare say I understand his request even if I have no intention of fulfilling it.” She shrugged one shoulder and then walked over to take a seat on the settee near the fire. “He was also the one to point out that word was already traveling of our relationship.”

  “I see. Well, I suppose it matters little if everyone knows I am alive and engaging in an affair with you.” He waved a hand to indicate that was of little concern. He was still upset over the request to stay out of the search for his would-be killer. “However, as you have indicated, I shall do no such thing. Lie low indeed.” He paced about again, trying to sort through the little they did know.

  Fabulous. What else could go wrong?

  The door to the study flew open as his mother sailed through the entrance in a bronze day dress with white ribbon trailing from her sleeves, and Higgins floating in her wake. “Griffin darling, we must speak. I’m afraid Higgins must be getting a bit dodgy. He tried to bar me from the house as though I were some ordinary visitor. Nonetheless, I need to speak to you about the Garden Association’s Charity Auction.” She stopped halfway across the room as Jo shifted on the settee in an attempt to be less noticeable.

  “Mother.” Griff pinched the bridge of his nose and begged Trevithick for patience.

  “Oh, I see you have a guest.” She turned to take in the sight of Jo on the settee looking a bit pale. “Well, Griffin, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  Jo leapt up and curtsied. “Excuse me, my lady. I was just on my way out.”

  The door to the study opened again and in walked his brother, apparently reading the latest gossip rag. “Bloody hell, Griff, why must I read in the papers about your new bit o’—”

  Griff cleared his throat loudly to stop his brother from saying too much. Luckily the fool looked up before he ran into their mother.


  “Oh, hello mother. Did you see the bit about Griff as well?” Piers kissed their mother’s cheek and plodded across the room to where Griff stood in shock.

  “Bit about what?” she asked and then glanced at Jo and then back to Griff. “Oh my! Could it be true?” She clapped her hands and rushed to where Jo stood looking like a deer about to bolt. “You are a darling girl! Of course it must be true. You’ve caught my Griffin’s eye, haven’t you?”

  Jo might possibly have turned even paler at that point, but Griff was too focused on shutting his brother up to notice. “Piers, for the love of Tesla, shut your trap.”

  His brother complied, but by then it was too late. His mother had Jo wrapped in a hug. “You young modern couples. Did he even bother to ask your father for your hand? I should be furious that I am just meeting you, but I had given up hope of his marrying so I shall simply resolve to be thrilled by this turn of events and not furious for you two hiding it from me.”

  His mother let Jo go and stood back, beaming from ear to ear. Jo looked as if she’d just been run down by a steam locomotive, which the Dowager Countess of Melton had oft been compared to.

  Jo blinked, her face a rictus of confusion. “Beg pardon?”

  “No need, dearest. Oh.” His mother stopped for a moment. “I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know your name.”

  Griff wanted to curse a blue streak, but there was little he could do, short of telling his mother this was his mistress. “Mother, please meet Miss Josephine—” His gaze lashed the room for inspiration, which he found by the fireplace. “Bellows.”

  His mother smiled through her confusion. “Miss Bellows?”

  He moved across the room and took up residence by Jo’s side. “Yes. She snuck in and stole my heart as we worked on legislation to help better the plight of women everywhere. She’s a true Wollstonecraft disciple, though I am pleased she still agreed to marry me.” The weight of Jo’s startled gaze had him reaching to tug at his collar and cravat.

  His mother looked a bit flustered as she absorbed the news that his fiancée was not of their social set. But, being the gracious woman he’d always loved, she pushed past the news quickly. “Well, I dare say my Griffin has always been unconventional.” She clapped her hands and grinned. “You both simply must come to dinner tonight. We can discuss the auction and I shall have a chance to become better acquainted with your betrothed. We must correct that oversight immediately.”