He brought her hands to his lips, and kissed the scars along the back of her palms, as if they were not there. It was astonishing to think, but Luke seemed to simply not care about them one way or another.
“They truly don’t bother you?” she dared to ask, but she needed to know for certain.
Luke shrugged. “They are a part of you. No avoiding that. But they do not disgust me. That would say you disgust me, and that is far from the truth.”
His eyes glittered with something intense, something that made her breath catch.
“You needn’t put on the act in here. There is no one to convince of our affections.”
“Who said I was putting on an act?” he asked and lowered his lips to hers. His kiss was enchanting, dizzying, and soon her gloves were forgotten. They fell to the floor as his arms came around her back and pulled her close. Her hands snaked into his hair and threaded through the soft curls. For a moment her unease with her scars was forgotten, her embarrassment a thing of the past.
She didn’t need a man to confirm her worth, but remaining strong and unaffected on her own was growing tiresome. Sometimes, it was just nice to have someone else reaffirm what she already knew.
Luke pulled away, and rested his forehead against hers. “After what you’ve just told me, would you be upset with me if I still wanted to do rather naughty things to you?”
A smile crept across her lips. “I’m going to insist upon it, actually. It’s likely I wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection.”
“It wouldn’t be a rejection. It would be out of respect to your sensibilities. I don’t want you to think me a barbarian, uncaring of your feelings.”
“Luke,” she said, taking his head in her hands. “Sometimes I don’t mind when you are a barbarian. Your passions won’t frighten me away.”
The wicked grin returned to his face. His lavender-blue gaze sparkled with excitement.
“Well, if that is the case,” he said and scooped her up over his shoulder. Her slippers slipped off her feet and fell to the floor.
“Luke!” she cried in protest, but a strange sizzling sensation raced up her spine. He tossed her ungently onto the bed, but the mattress was soft and well-stuffed so all she did was bounce innocently. She loved this side of him, this teasing silly side when he was at ease and free from his worries. When he wasn’t acting for someone else’s benefit; when the guilt of his past didn’t govern his present.
He made fast work of the buttons down her front, loosening her gown enough to tug her arms out, and pull it over her head. Next, he plucked at the laces of her stays, widening them enough to push them down her hips. He lifted her hands over her head and held her there.
“I want your moans, and I want your sighs,” he said and she kissed him again, his mouth opened beneath hers, soft and warm as he accepted her intrusion. She eagerly moaned into him and his kiss stole away the sound as his own. “I want all of you, for you have nothing to be ashamed of, love.”
His lips nipped down her neck as his words sunk in. Hotly, his mouth tormented her nipple and breast through the muslin of her chemise, her hands curled into his hair and held him there.
Love. He’d called her it again, and it did curious things to her thoughts. It sent her in directions she thought off limits in their arrangement, and yet she was there, blazing the path, ignoring what might be left in its wake.
“Tell me what you want,” he said huskily against her breast. “I know you know.”
Her mind went blank. True, she’d been bold the night before, but she’d been so crazed out of her mind she’d hardly thought about what she’d been doing. Thinking of it now sent a blush up her skin.
“Don’t scare away from me now.”
Her muscles inside were sore as they clenched together, but it was a welcome, good sensation. “Whatever that was last night, Vivian, it was erotic. Would you admonish me for thinking about it all day long?”
“You have?”
“Traipsing through the woods…. Taking tea with my sisters… it’s no wonder they found us in such a position in the library. I haven’t been able to get the feeling of you from my mind.” His hand slipped down between her legs and pressed against her through the fabric of her chemise.
Her breath caught on a moan as it escaped before she could stop herself.
“And I’ve been wondering, if you could possibly taste as good as you feel?”
“Taste?” she asked, though she was barely aware of her words, focused on Luke’s mouth as he kissed along the inside of her thigh. As quickly as she realized what he was about to do, his mouth was on her, and all resistance shot out her mind.
Through his kisses and the way he looked at her as if she were the most magnificent thing in the world, with his words of affirmation and trust in her from the onset, Vivian was beginning to feel like herself again. Through his faith in her, she’d rediscovered that in herself. Her confidence had surged these past days. She’d taken on highwaymen, battled a fire. Taken tea with two duchesses. She’d learned more about herself in the past seven days than she had in seven years. And this remarkable man, doing remarkable things to the sensitive parts at the apex of her thighs, was to blame. He didn’t make her bold; she’d just remembered she was.
The spark had grown into a flame that now ignited inside her, waves of heat ricocheted through her, on and on again until she wasn’t sure where she ended, and the universe began.
“Tell me what you want,” he said again.
“Your clothes… you’re still wearing them.”
He leaned away from her and moved off the bed. His hands spread out before him, like an invitation. “Then by all means.”
Vivian regarded him for a long moment before maneuvering herself before him, resting on her knees. His waistcoat was opened, and easy enough to remove. She tugged the ends of his shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers, and pulled it over his head.
He was strong, but he wasn’t bulky. The muscles rippling under his skin were from the strenuous activities of his profession, not from hours spent fencing or boxing for fitness.
She trailed the tips of her fingers over the scattering of dark curls across his chest. He was firm beneath her, lean without being too skinny. There was a scar along his collarbone, and she traced it with her finger. She leaned closer to kiss along the edges of the scar, and along the dips in his collarbone, her fingers exploring down his sides. She slipped her fingertips beneath the waistband of his trousers, teasing him as she moved her hands till they met in the middle. Her fingers brushed across the top of him as he strained against the fabric.
It only took a few pulls on the laces to free him. She held him in her hand, pushing up and down his length, watching as his eyelids drooped. Touching him like this, seeing the reaction from him, caused the torment within herself to tighten in pleasure. She was meant to be tormenting him, but the strings pulling inside her were almost too much to bear.
“Your boots, you’ll have to do them yourself,” she said, but did not release him.
Luke looked down, almost surprised to see he was still wearing boots.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, and stepped away from her to yank one boot, with mild difficulty, from one foot, and then the other. He shed his trousers in one swift motion and climbed onto the bed, stretching out beside her.
He kissed her long and hard, nipping at her tongue with his teeth. The brief sensation of pain mixed with the pleasure and she moaned into him. She wove her fingers into his hair, pulling herself closer to him. He kissed her, his hand roaming over her throat, down to her breasts before leaning down to take one nipple in his mouth.
The strings inside pulled tighter and tighter, and she moaned, begging for the hum of pleasure that felt close to cresting. She just needed something, something more.
“Luke,” she panted. “Please.” She gripped his length in her hand, position him at her entrance. She moved him back and forth, teasing him with her warmth before he’d had enough. He pulled h
er knee up to wrap around him, pushing her onto her back and thrust inside her. She welcomed him with a moan and clung to him. His sounds mixed with hers, and with each thrust, she pulsed with arousal, with a desire to make him feel the same as she did.
Was someone knocking on their door? Or were the bedposts knocking against the wall?
His tempo increased. Each thrust sent her nerves close to shattering. She moved the angle of her hips and took him deeper. He groaned with satisfaction. It was thrilling to have this power over him, to give him this pleasure. And she wanted it for him, wanted him to have the same release of fears and expectations and guilt as she did when he was near. She wanted to be that comfort for him. For everything he’d done for her, if she could give him that tiny moment of peace, that tiny bit of herself, that would be enough.
Her name wrenched from his lips as he shuddered, thrusting hard into her and her pleasure crashed around her, humming its erotic tune through her senses. He collapsed against her as a shiver of pleasure washed across his skin, his hairs raising as his release rocked through his soul.
Moments later she was wrapped again in his arms, against his bare chest, his arms tightly around her as if he could not bear any separation between them.
Vivian didn’t mind. She fell asleep relaxed, sated, and encased in Luke’s warmth and it was her favorite place to be.
Chapter Eighteen
They left Bradstone Park the following morning.
Luke gave excuses about a need to return to London for work, and reminded them he was an earl and had estate business to see to. No one seemed to realize that as he’d already neglected the estate management for months, another day or two would hardly matter.
Their plan was to travel long days, change horses only when necessary, and take as few breaks as possible along their journey to expedite their arrival at Salisbury. Whether Redley was there or they would find simply more clues and mystery, Luke was unable to say.
It was torture returning to the carriage, as it seemed they’d spent the better part of a week closed up together. Vivian did acknowledge the sooner they found the next piece of the puzzle, the better.
It felt different, being in the carriage with him this time. Whether it was the intimate times they’d spent together, or simply knowing the truth about his profession, Vivian felt as though their relationship might be something more than just a way to acquire a house.
Her mouth twitched up to a smirk. “We could name the London house Hideaway House?”
Luke grimaced. “That seems rather on the nose. Might just call it Secret Agent House and be done with it.”
Vivian laughed. “Please, tell me how you really feel?”
“True and False are attributes of speech, not of things,” Luke quoted. “And where speech is not, there is neither Truth nor Falsehood.”
Vivian grinned. “Thomas Hobbes.”
“I had a mentor who would quote things to me incessantly,” Luke said with a chuckle. “Infuriating man.”
“My uncle did the same. It’s irritating after a while,” Vivian admitted. “As though he had no original thought of his own.”
“Exactly!”
Since he seemed to be in an amicable, sharing mood, she took advantage.
“How did you convince the duke to lend us this carriage?” It was a black carriage, very nondescript, and one that did not bear a coat of arms.
“I told him ours was burned in the fire in Canterbury, to explain why we walked, and why Quan used a wagon.”
“He believed you?”
Luke shrugged. “If he didn’t, he didn’t say, nor did he seem to mind of us borrowing this one.”
“Why are carriages your least favorite way to travel?”
“Did you keep track of every random comment I made over the past week?”
“At the time I dismissed most of what you said as absurd. But now I want answers to all of those seemingly ridiculous statements.”
“Fair enough. I detest carriages because when I was nearly fifteen years old, our carriages were set upon by highwaymen. My father and eldest brother were killed. The rest of us escaped with our lives, but the memories still haunt us.”
“That is awful. Norah said the family had endured losses, but I hadn’t thought this much.”
Luke looked out the window. “When our mother died six months later, Sarah stepped into the role of mother to the younger siblings. We were young, and unaware at the time how our lives would be shaped by those deaths. Andrew more than others.”
“Because he became the duke.”
Luke nodded. “And became a cold and distant shell of what he was before. There wasn’t much that brought him joy until Clara came back into his life. Ben has been away at sea for years. His guilt pulled him away from his family. Susanna wanted to save everything she came across, Norah wanted to understand why that had happened to us. Nick’s anger led him to pugilism. Charlie buried himself under a microscope. Mara grew up not knowing either of her parents. She just wants us all to love her.”
“And you?”
“I found that I had the ability to make my siblings laugh, to alleviate their suffering, if only for a moment. That was who I became, the family jester, the charmer; the one who was good for a laugh, but not to be taken seriously.”
“I take it those skills proved useful in your chosen line of work?”
“Extremely.”
“Tell me about your wife.” It was a daring request, but she wanted to know. She had no business and it felt like an awfully prying question, but the unknowns about a relationship he hadn’t even told his family about were too much for her curiosity to handle. Besides, she’d told him about Catford.
His gaze focused on the horizon out the carriage window, so Vivian could not see his reaction.
“I speak flawless French. My French tutor as a child was from Normandy; as a result, my French reflected his accent and I sounded more French than most Englishmen.” He paused again. He turned to regard her, his lavender-blue gaze piercing and honest. “Espionage is not all horse chases and code cracking. It’s mostly meeting people, making contacts, gaining entrance to meet more people. I was… a natural. I could charm my way into anything, and my convincing French accent removed all doubt. At first Colette was a contact and asset. But… she soon became more. I ignored the warnings of my superiors; I ignored the doubts Redley had of the situation. I ignored Quan’s hesitations about her. It lasted for six months. I thought I was in love, but she turned out to have been using me, to get to my information, to get to my contacts.”
Luke sighed again and paused for a long moment, so long Vivian thought he might have decided not to continue. What he had said before, about the tumultuous relationship he’d had with her, it made more sense now. His work with the government would have certainly influenced his relationship with her.
It was a wonder sometimes that he wanted to return to being a spy.
Finally, he spoke again. “Espionage is one big game. Players around the board, seeing what they can learn, who they can meet, but you never get close to an asset. You never let personal feelings get in the way of the job. The mission comes first. And for those brief moments in Paris, I ignored that. Once I realized Colette was in danger, despite knowing she’d betrayed me, I went in to save her.”
“What happened?”
“Colette was French. Her own government discovered her duplicity. They thought she’d given me all her secrets and she was captured.”
“Did she think you were French?”
He turned sharply towards her and searched her face, but she didn’t know what he wanted from her. To stop asking questions? To ask the right ones?
“She thought I was a Frenchman who could gain information about the British government through my cover profession as a banker in the bank where England was rumored to keep funds overseas. I married her under my French alias. And it was the ultimate betrayal when she realized what my lies meant for her.”
“How long ago was this?�
��
“This all ended in April 1813. Just before Andrew and Clara married.”
The guilt was clear as day, painted across his face. Vivian had never seen this level of raw emotion from him, never seen him look so vulnerable and broken.
She reached forward and cupped his hand with her own. Despite his emotion over his dead wife, she wanted to offer him some amount of reassuring support.
His gaze fell to their entwined hands and rose back to her eyes for a long, hard moment, before he looked pointedly out the window.
Vivian didn’t offer any condolences, as she knew he didn’t want to hear them.
His time as a spy had led him to the great love of his life, but it had also taken it away.
Slowly she removed her hand from his, but didn’t bother him with any further questions. What more could she learn about him that she didn’t already know? His love for his dead wife was still there, as was his grief over her passing. Vivian could not compete, not that she intended to. She may be fond of Luke, but she was determined that would be where her attachment ended. She could not love him, could not fall head over heels for him as she almost wished she were free to do. Doing so would only break her heart, for he was never going to love her the way he still loved Colette.
* * *
An entire day passed encased in the carriage, and Luke watched as night settled across the landscape. They’d stopped for a brief luncheon and stretched their legs what felt like days ago, but was merely a smattering of hours. They would stop again for the night, soon, if Luke’s stomach had anything to say about it. The breads and cheeses packed into a basket had long ago been finished off.
The coach stopped suddenly with a jolt, shaking Luke from the doldrums of his thoughts. Instantly he was alert. The carriage rocked in its place as Quan yelled in Cantonese. Luke held a finger to his lips to keep Vivian quiet.
The Spy’s Convenient Bride: The Macalisters, Book Five Page 22
