Rocky smiled. “Please, call me…” ‘Rocky’ didn’t exactly inspire the most feminine of images. She usually insisted on being called that simply because it was a more neutral name. In this case, she wanted to draw attention to her femininity. “Joy.” She fought not to make a face. She hated being called by her given name. Even her sister called her by her nickname.
Hollander paused beside the tall bay and laid his hand on the horse’s bridle. He glanced at Rocky, lingering a bit though he didn’t say a word.
It appeared that she was going to have to do all the talking. Why hadn’t she rehearsed this with Catt?
She put on her warmest smile. “You took a very long time tonight to return.” She stepped closer, keeping her shoulders thrust back to draw attention to her chest. It was cold enough in the stables for her nipples to pucker.
Hollander’s movements slowed as he simultaneously undid the buckles on the harness hitching the horse to the carriage and ogled Rocky’s chest. Was the perfume working, after all?
Bolstered by the thought, she stepped a bit closer. When the horse snorted and stamped, she thought better of it, keeping her distance. Hopefully she could flirt with just as much effectiveness from a pace away.
He led the horse away from her to the center aisle of the stables and slid his gloved hand into the curry comb. As he rubbed circles over the horse’s back, flanks, and neck, he cast sidelong glances at Rocky.
She stepped closer. The horse no longer seemed in as irritable a mood. At the very least, the beast didn’t protest this time. She tried batting her eyelashes at Hollander.
“I waited ages for you to return.”
He paused in his task to turn to her, a small smile tugging at his lips. His gaze dropped to her mouth. That was a good sign, right?
“You waited for me, did you, Joy?”
She held her position, trying not to flinch at the sound of her name. “I did. Why were you gone so long?”
He stiffened and moved to the other side of the horse. Blast! She would never get him to spill his secrets if he refused to remain in the same vicinity as her.
“I had to work,” he said, non-committal. When she rounded the horse’s rump, giving it a wide berth in case it decided to kick, he added, “I nearly have enough blunt saved to become independent.” His gaze lingered on her in a meaningful way as he ogled the way her dress clung to her figure.
Rocky frowned. “How? I know how much I’m paid as a botanist and, no offense meant, but I can’t imagine that you would be paid a large sum of money more than me.”
He darted his gaze across the stables as if searching the area for occupants. Stepping closer, he lowered his voice and bent his head to narrow the distance between them. “I work a second job.”
Although she tried to keep the dubious expression from her face, she didn’t think she succeeded. Even with a second job, he couldn’t make more than one hundred pounds a year at best. That was far from enough to maintain an independent lifestyle.
As she opened her mouth to contest his claim, she wondered if he was about to reveal that he worked for the French. A chill crawled down her spine and she glanced toward the door. Still ajar. If she ran, she might be able to make it before he caught her.
But she had to know, first…
“What sort of job?” Her voice was a bit squeaky. She swallowed and tried again. “I can think of nothing that might afford you that level of luxury.”
Her heart beat a rapid tempo in the base of her throat. She swallowed against it and forced herself to relax and maintain her flirtatious demeanor. How was she supposed to flirt with a French spymaster?
That is precisely why you came to Belhaven manor. She was the one who had decided that Hollander would be most willing to part with his secrets if she seduced them out of him. At the moment, that seemed like a very poor idea indeed. Why hadn’t she demanded that Catt accompany her?
She couldn’t rely on him or anyone else. She didn’t need a man to fix her problems. No matter what happened, she could handle it herself.
Even so, it would have made her feel better to know that Catt was nearby, watching in case her plan went awry.
Lowering his voice, Hollander confessed, “I take the carriages out at night for an…extracurricular jaunt.”
Rocky frowned. That wasn’t the sort of confession she had been expecting. Did he ferry messages to and from French spies?
Cautiously, she asked, “What kind of excursions?”
“Romantic ones.”
She frowned. What?
“Not for me, of course,” he babbled. He caught her gaze, holding it for a moment as if to convince her of that.
She didn’t say a word.
He continued, “I offer private, romantic rides to courting couples. I have quite the vast clientele, mostly those on the fringes of High Society who can’t afford carriages of their own, though I have some wealthier clients who prefer that no one knows of their association or who are trying to thwart parents who disapprove.”
“That is…” She didn’t know what to say. It was almost sweet, save for the fact that he was accepting money for it. A great deal of money, it seemed, if he was near to financial independence. Though perhaps that was an exaggeration.
When she glanced up again to meet his gaze, she found him even closer. Her heartbeat quickened and she took a small step back. She didn’t want to provoke him to action, nor did she want to discourage him from making a full confession.
She narrowed her eyes. “Lady Belhaven doesn’t know of these carriage rides.”
He ogled her again, lingering on the swell of her breasts and the line of her dress across her hips. “Indeed she does not. The money I make is mine to keep, save for a small cut I give David to ensure his silence.”
In other words, if Lady Belhaven knew, she would not approve. Was that Hollander’s secret, the reason he was so standoffish? He came into the hothouse quite frequently for bouquets…but, during the day, he also delivered them, so there was nothing suspicious in that.
He added, “I crack the window in the coach so I can eavesdrop. The occupants seem to forget that I’m around. I’m on good terms with several of the scandal rags in London, and they’re always willing to pay a good price for salacious gossip.”
When he stepped closer, Rocky took a step back to find herself pinned against a stall door. Hollander took one more small step. Not pinning her against the door, but close enough for her to feel the heat of his body as he loomed around her.
He offered her a smile, though his attention wasn’t focused on her eyes. This time, it was focused on her mouth. “So, you see, I find myself soon able to purchase my own carriage and work independently. When I do, I’m sure I’ll find that the only thing lacking in my life is…”
Lud, don’t say a wife!
He leaned closer, seeming enthralled by her. Perhaps the perfume was doing a bit too well. Was he going to kiss her? When she’d been cornered like this in the past, it had been easy for her to refuse the man in question with a strong, firm tone. She was an independent, working woman. She didn’t want or need any man’s attention. But was she at liberty to deny him now? After the way she’d been flirting with him—or certainly attempting to—it would look suspicious if she turned him away, wouldn’t it?
Paralyzed with indecision, Rocky struggled to breathe, to think her options through as Hollander leaned even closer. Was she going to have to kiss him?
No. She didn’t want to kiss him. She didn’t have that sizzle and wave of awareness she’d felt when she’d thought Catt was about to do the same thing. She couldn’t have Catt and she didn’t want Hollander…
The door to the stable banged open. Hollander, interrupted in mid-sentence, straightened and took a hasty step back as Catt entered the premises.
Although Catt wore an easy smile, the kind he donned when he was teasing Gideon and his wife, there was some kind of an edge beneath the expression. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, which were cold and flat a
s he pinned them on Hollander.
“Is David around? I thought we might play a game of cards.”
Hollander didn’t glance at Rocky. In fact, he took up the curry comb again and started to apply it to the horse’s flank while he answered. “He didn’t tell you? He’s out for the evening.”
Catt gave Rocky a pointed glance. He flicked his gaze toward the door. He couldn’t have said it any plainer. He was giving her the opportunity to escape.
Without looking at Hollander, she murmured, “I’m afraid I must be going. Excuse me, gentlemen.” She forced her watery legs to work as she made a beeline for the door by which Catt had entered.
As she nearly came abreast of her friend, Hollander called, “Goodnight, Joy.”
She suppressed a shudder at the name as she escaped into the cold, frigid air. If Catt hadn’t been there and come to her rescue…
I would have handled it myself.
Perhaps, but it had been an impossible situation. Although she would have seen it through, she didn’t think she would have found such a neat solution.
She owed Catt a debt. And, given their history, she doubted she would be happy when he decided to collect on it.
Catt silently counted to five once Rocky had made her escape from the stables before he curtly excused his intrusion and followed her. The swarm of jealousy in him stung as he turned away from the man who had almost kissed her. The man Rocky had almost accepted a kiss from.
Hell and damnation, Catt wanted to be that man!
The blast of icy outdoor air did little to quell his frustrations, though it tempered him somewhat with the return of his common sense. Perhaps Rocky hadn’t been inviting Hollander to kiss her. Perhaps she simply hadn’t refused him because she’d wanted more information.
He slammed the door to the manor shut with a touch more vigor than was necessary. The warmth of the house slowly seeped through his thin tailcoat and shirtsleeves to warm his cold bones. His anger warmed the rest of him. How could she for a second have believed that it would be necessary for her to…
Morgan wouldn’t ask her to seduce potential spies for information, would he? No, that would be asking too high a cost. Rocky shouldn’t be required to offer her body to suspects. Even the safety of Britain wasn’t worth it if she had to live with something she didn’t want to do.
Or had she wanted to kiss Hollander? Catt’s head throbbed. He didn’t know what to think.
The hothouse resided mere paces from the door by which he’d entered. He strode to the premises with clipped steps, hoping that Rocky hadn’t hidden in her room instead. But she wasn’t the type to hide, and they’d agreed to exchange information after her mad venture that she’d insisted on embarking upon alone. He’d lingered by the door to the stables and heard every word, but she didn’t have to know that.
He entered the hothouse. A half-shuttered lantern burned on the corner of the empty bench where they usually laid the prepared bouquets. It cast wan light and shadows across the jungle of flowering plants. Rocky turned away from him, her arms hugged around her middle as she stared at her reflection in the glass wall. When he shut the door behind him—gently, this time—she turned.
The light reflected off the lenses of her spectacles. He couldn’t glimpse her eyes behind, nor read their expression. The way she clasped her arms around her middle pulled her dress tight around her torso, leaving precious little to the imagination. And, at the same time, too much. He forced himself to keep his eyes on her face rather than succumb to temptation and dip lower.
“What in bloody hell was that about?”
Perhaps not the most tactful way to phrase what he wanted to say. Rocky’s expression smoldered with indignation.
“I beg your pardon?”
He ran his hands through his hair and tried to rephrase. “Please tell me you know that you aren’t required to…to…”
She raised her eyebrows as she pursed her lips. “To kiss other men?” She faced him, arms akimbo.
Other men? That implied that he considered her to owe those kisses to him. He felt his cheeks heat and shifted to put his back to the lantern. Hopefully, without the light spilling across his face, she wouldn’t be able to see his blush.
“To kiss any man at all. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
She advanced a step toward him. He jostled the table as he retreated. He fumbled to keep the lantern from falling. If it shattered, the effects could prove disastrous. When he turned around again, she was too close. He stood between her and the light, so there was nothing to reflect off her spectacles. The thin light of the lantern illuminated the area and even though his shadow fell across her face he was able to discern the look in her eyes.
He wished he hadn’t, because he didn’t want to confront the ramifications. She seemed riled, yes, belligerent and accusatory, but also somehow vulnerable. Perhaps it was the set of her mouth.
“And if I wanted to kiss him? Am I not feminine enough to do that?”
He didn’t know how to answer that. Lawks! He didn’t think there was a correct answer. She spent most of her time trying to appear less feminine through everything from her name to her clothing. Did she want him to agree with her? Her words and tone spoke otherwise.
“Did you want to kiss him?” Every muscle in Catt’s body tensed as he waited for an answer. He didn’t know what he’d do if she said yes.
For a long moment, she didn’t say anything at all. The silence stretched on between them. He dropped his gaze to her mouth, willing her to speak the words. He didn’t know which answer he wanted more to hear.
If she said no, she didn’t want to kiss Hollander, then maybe he… No. It would have nothing to do with him.
But if she said yes, he would know once and for all that she wasn’t interested in him. That he wasn’t good enough for her, as he suspected. He was in between two worlds, not of Gideon’s sphere and yet not a member of the working class, either. Aside from the projects he and Gideon embarked upon, the stipend Catt received from his uncle, and now, his ventures as a spy, Catt didn’t have anything that might be considered a job. He didn’t own property, didn’t have a title, and his own parents had disowned him for refusing to go into the army and contribute to the war.
He wondered what they would think of him if they knew he’d become a spy. They’d probably never know, and it was better that way. He had a clean break from everyone in his family save for his uncle, who had sponsored his education.
He was a mess. Zeus, he didn’t deserve a woman like Rocky. Why was he even taunting himself with the possibility?
Maybe because he couldn’t help himself.
Quietly, she admitted, “No. I didn’t want to kiss Hollander.”
Relief rushed through him. He tried to ignore it, to ignore his feelings for her. He nodded curtly.
She narrowed her eyes. Her thick eyelashes, coupled with the shadows, veiled her expression. “You don’t have to act so jealous. It’s not as though you wanted to kiss me.” There was a high edge to her words, as if she was asking rather than stating.
He dropped his gaze her mouth. “Actually, I do.”
Her breasts lifted with the swift intake of her breath. He didn’t trust himself to move. He forced himself to look her in the eye. Her eyes were wide. He couldn’t read her expression, maybe because he was too busy trying to decipher is own emotions.
His chest ached. Had he really just confessed that? Why wasn’t she sharpening her tongue on him for the transgression?
Her lips thinned as she pressed them together. “That’s due to the perfume.” Her voice was a bit hoarse. She didn’t move away.
He nodded, leaning closer. “Yes, it is.”
No, it wasn’t. His desire to kiss her long predated her application of a bit of perfume. Not to mention, he didn’t believe that the perfume had any effect at all. None, that was to say, except for making her believe it had an effect, and therefore boosting her confidence. Rocky’s allure was all her own.
He bent, sliding his hand to cup her jaw. She didn’t recoil from his touch. If anything, she swayed into him. Zeus, this was madness.
But he had to know. He’d been consumed with curiosity. If he kissed her, would he banish that acute, almost painful awareness he felt every time she walked into the room? Kissing her might make it worse.
He lowered his mouth to hers, anyway.
The first brush of his lips against hers was tentative and fleeting. It ignited a tingle across his lips. He pulled back to look into her eyes, but she made no protest. If anything, she leaned closer.
He kissed her again, firmer. Her lips were warm and soft. With her height, he had to bend down a little to kiss her, but as she raised on tiptoe to shorten that distance, her body fitted against his and he forgot to breathe.
She felt incredible. He slipped one arm around her waist, holding her close as he deepened their kiss. She met his demand with one of her own, battling for supremacy in this just as she did everything else. She twined her fingers in his hair, holding his head steady as she took what she wanted.
She wanted him. The thought consumed him, the last coherent thought in his head as he surrendered to the feel and intoxicating taste of her. He ran his hand up and down her back and sides, learning her shape, learning the way she fit against him. She felt as though she’d been meant to press against him. He didn’t want to let go.
He had to. He ended this kiss, his mouth and body burning from her touch. The moment he dropped his hand from her back, she sank back onto her heels and stumbled back. Her spectacles caught the light again, obscuring the look in her eyes. She raised her hand to her lips.
Blast, what had he done?
“Forgive me.” His voice sounded overly loud in the otherwise unbroken silence.
He left before she came to her senses enough to chastise him for his lapse in judgment.
No, he shouldn’t lie to himself. He left because he feared that if he didn’t, he would kiss her again and she would realize that it wasn’t due to the perfume she wore. He wanted her.
And, damn it all, there was no way in Heaven or Earth that she could possibly want him in the same way.
Charming the Spy (Scandals and Spies Book 4) Page 11
