She sighed, reexamining the night’s events.
Christopher’s laughter had caught her off guard. How wonderful the sound how been, how delicious it had felt vibrating against her. It had transformed his features, making her heart stop altogether. On the whole, the entire encounter had been . . .
intense
, as she had known sex with him would be. His dangerous edge excited her, made her reckless, urged her to goad him into a fine temper. It was thrilling to push such a controlled man beyond his limits, to make him lose control. He fucked with such passion, such strength, his body a finely honed instrument of pleasure.
She shivered with renewed desire and turned her head to find him watching her. He canted an eyebrow and then yanked her closer, tugging her body to drape over his side.
It was nice to be held so tightly to him, his long legs tangled with her much shorter ones, his powerful arms wrapped around her torso. Remnants of perspiration made their skin cling together. Maria closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, now intensified by his exertions. It was obvious such tenderness was unknown to him. His hands moved over her hesitantly, as if he were unsure of what to do.
“Are you sore?” he rasped softly.
“We can have sex again, if you wish. Or I can retire, if you would lend me a robe.”
His grip tightened. “Stay.”
It was nearly dawn. She would have to leave soon, regardless—both his room and this manse. Dover and the possibility of finding Amelia was a strong lure. Optimism was a luxury, but if she had no hope at all she could not go on.
Christopher’s hand stroked down the length of her spine, arching her into him, an action which revealed the hard length of his renewed erection against her thigh. Arousal, more languorous than the fever they had experienced earlier, moved through her veins. It made her breasts swell into his chest and her nipples harden next to his skin.
“Hmm . . .” he purred, drawing her completely on top of him.
She stared down at her fallen-angel lover, gifted with the beauty of the heavens on his exterior but the conscience of a predator on the interior. Her hands shifted through his golden hair, making his eyelids lower with pleasure and his pupils dilate with desire.
“I do not find blond men all that attractive,” she said, mostly to herself.
In response, he laughed that rich deep laugh that made her belly warm. “I am grateful other parts of you disagree.”
Snorting, she rose up to a seated position.
“I do not like shrewish women.” The curve of his mouth deepened. “But I do like you. God only knows why.”
His praise, offhand as it was, pleased her. In the distance, she heard a timepiece sounding out the hour.
Christopher’s smile faded. “A pity we are not at home,” he said, his sapphire gaze intense. “I dislike being rushed.”
Maria shrugged, refusing to acknowledge that she felt the same. Neither of them knew how to deal with the other, but the level of awareness between them was so high, she knew she would feel its lack.
Arching her hips, she found the hot length of him with the lips of her sex and glided along his cock, the movement aided by the slickness of their mingled release. His large hands gripped her thighs and urged her to repeat her actions. She did, then paused.
His eyes never left her. The intensity of his perusal was unique, and she could not decide if she liked it or if she did not. So she reached between them, aiming him skyward, and gloved him with her body, effectively scattering her thoughts.
A harsh inhale and the tightening of his frame was his reply. Maria felt the same brutal rush of sensation. It had been a long time since her last sexual encounter, too long. But Christopher was a well-endowed man in addition to that, and his possession of the tight space inside her stretched her deliciously. She quivered around him, starting from deep inside where she hugged him and then spreading outward.
“Damnation,” he hissed, throbbing and growing in girth within her. “How could I ever think you were cold?”
Intrigued by his possible meaning, she stilled just shy of engulfing the root of him.
A muscle in his jaw ticked violently. “Your cunt is burning hot and greedy. It sucks at my cock. The sensation is incredible.”
She smiled and lowered, taking him completely inside her. She knew in that moment that she had his attention. He would desire her while she was gone, and that impatience would serve her well. Pleased, Maria leaned over him, pausing with her mouth hovering just above his. “May I kiss you?” she asked.
His head lifted, his mouth taking hers, his tongue plunging deep and then thrusting rhythmically, licking, stroking. Making her shiver.
“Yes,” he whispered darkly, breathing hard, his hands cupping her spine. “Do everything to me.”
She rose for leverage and gasped at the feel of his mouth latching onto her nipple. As he began to suck, her eyes slid closed. She grew wetter, more aroused, the weight of her torso balanced on the hands she had rested next to his shoulders. He drew on her with long, deep pulls that were echoed in the tremors her body made around his cock. He flexed inside her and she moaned a low, plaintive sound.
“This is how we will start the day.” Christopher’s raspy voice was a tactile caress across her fevered skin. “Don’t move. I will suck you to orgasm, and your cunt will do the same for me.”
If she could have spoken, she would have told him that was impossible, but then he would have proven her wrong. His mouth was enchanted, tugging firmly in a timed rhythm, his tongue stroking back and forth across the underside of her nipple. First one, and then the other. His large hands with their tantalizing calluses soothed her as she became more agitated, her body writhing over his in its quest for orgasm.
When she climaxed, he followed her, her cunt grasping at his cock, luring his seed, spasming as he flooded her with a guttural cry. Maria was held taut, suspended, caught in a grip of brutally fierce pleasure.
He caught her close, engulfing her in warm arms, his lips pressed tightly to her forehead. He fell asleep that way.
But even in slumber, he did not let her go.
Maria entered her rooms with a sigh of relief. She had not been seen by anyone, a miracle made possible by pressing herself into recessed doorways to avoid detection by industrious maids.
In another part of the manse, Christopher slept on. He had frowned when she pulled away from him, but he did not wake.
Shutting the gallery door, Maria moved through the sitting room toward her bedchamber and stopped midstep, startled by the large form that filled the doorway.
“Mhuirnín.”
Simon leaned against the doorjamb, his body fully clothed and beautifully attired in rose-colored breeches with matching coat. One heeled foot crossed over the other, but the artless pose was unable to hide the tension of his frame.
“You gave me a fright,” she admonished, her hand pressed over her racing heart.
His gaze started at the top of her head and dropped all the way to her bare feet. She was drowning in Christopher’s robe, so there was not much of her to see, but she knew the night’s lascivious activities could not be disguised.
“You slept with him,” he noted. Straightening, Simon came to her with his leisurely, seductive stride and cupped her face in his hands. “I do not trust him. Because of that, I do not trust you with him.”
“Do not think about it.”
“Easier said than done. Women often find their feelings tangled with sex. That concerns me.”
“Aside from you, I have never had that problem.”
His mouth twitched. “I’m flattered.”
“No,” she said wryly, “you’re arrogant.”
“That, too.” His half smile widened into a grin.
Maria shook her head, yawning. “I need sleep. After I bathe, we will be departing. I think I will nap in the carriage.”
“Dover. Sarah informed me.” He pressed a quick, hard kiss to her forehead. “She has nearly finished packing. My trunks are already on the coach in the drive.”
“I will not take long.” The scent of Christopher clung to her skin and made her stomach quiver. He had killed for her, then made passionate love to her, and then held her with such tenderness . . . The multiple sides to him took her by surprise, rocking the very foundations of the image of the pirate she had once entertained.
Simon stepped back and then moved to the sideboard to pour a glass of water. “I urge you to haste,
mhuirnín
. We do not want any unpleasant scenes.”
Maria hurried to the bedroom door, then paused on the threshold. “Simon?”
He looked at her with brows raised in silent query.
“Do I tell you often enough how much I appreciate you?”
“You love me,” he replied with a wicked grin. “There is no need to say it, I know you do.” He tossed back his drink and poured another. “But feel free to tell me as often as you like. My ego can bear it.”
Laughing, Maria shut the door.
Chapter 6
“Y
ou knew she would be departing this morn,” Thompson said, his face impassive.
“Yes, yes.” Christopher sat on a wooden chair, his body canted to allow his arm to drape along the top. He was bereft of waistcoat and coat, and yet he was still overly warm. His body longed to be in motion, to chase after the woman who left him without so much as a fare-thee-well, and the effort he exerted to remain seated was not insignificant.
His valet moved with quiet purpose, preparing the items needed to shave his master’s morning whiskers. “The knowledge of the men you set to follow her coach does not alleviate your concern?”
Christopher snorted. Concern. Was that what this feeling was? Why did he feel it, when he knew Maria was capable of caring for herself?
Perhaps it was because Quinn was with her.
His teeth clenched.
Quinn.
“Angelica, love.” His voice was low and direct, his head turning to find her finishing her morning tea by the window. “You learned nothing?”
She shook her head, her mouth curved downward. “I did try, but he has a way with . . . distractions.”
He arched a brow. “How much did you tell him?” He knew little of Quinn, but he recognized the man as one who lived by his wits.
The blush that spread across her cheekbones made Christopher curse under his breath. “Not so much,” she said hastily. “He was mostly curious as to your interest in Lady Winter.”
“And how did you answer?”
“I said you kept your business to yourself, but if you had your eye on her, you would have her.” She blew out her breath and leaned backward, the dark circles under her eyes betraying a night spent much like his.
The memory of Maria, soft and open to his desire, made his blood heat. Scratches marred his back and arms, teeth marks decorated the tops of his shoulders. He had shared his bed with a delectable hellion and he was marked by the encounter. In more ways than one.
“Quinn’s reply?” he asked softly.
Angelica winced. “He said possession is nine points of the law.”
Christopher showed no outward sign of the effect of that statement, but it prodded him with the same intensity as a blow from a horsewhip. Quinn was correct. It was he who shared Maria’s home, her life, her confidence, and Christopher had nothing of her but a few hours of pleasure.
“Go pack,” he said, watching as the former light o’ love rose and did as he bid.
“Will you seek her out?” Thompson asked, straightening from his task and stepping back so that Christopher could take his seat in the appropriate chair.
“No. The men I assigned to watch her will handle the matter. What I need to learn of her will be found in London, and the sooner I return, the swifter that is accomplished.”
Blowing out his breath, Christopher inwardly acknowledged that he wanted her again. He liked the woman in all the ways men liked most women, but then he also liked her in ways he rarely liked anyone—he admired her, respected her, and saw her as a kindred spirit. Because of this, he could not trust her. Survival was his goal and he knew it must be hers as well.
Then there was the small matter of his need to sacrifice her for his freedom. Wanting her was damned inconvenient and in direct opposition to the agency’s aim.
But there were other considerations beyond his lust and the agency. Quinn was not taking care of Maria properly. Sending her alone to meet with Templeton and leaving her available for Christopher’s use were perilous risks.
As he contemplated what manner of mischief she was set upon now, his fingers curled around the arms of his chair.
He remained seated by dint of will alone, the urge to take off after her nearly too much to resist. Maria lived a dangerous life, a fact that bothered him like a sore tooth.
His eyes slid closed as Thompson plied the blade against his cheek. Sadly, despite his desire to keep her safe, the truth was that the greatest danger to her at the moment was him.
Maria leaned against the slatted back of her wooden chair and glanced around the intimate private dining room she occupied. Across from her, Simon watched the flirtatious serving wench with a lascivious gaze. The inn they chose to spend the previous few nights in was comfortable and warm for a variety of reasons beyond the merry fire and worn English rugs.
“She returns your interest,” Maria noted with a smile as the servant departed.
“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “Under the circumstances, however, I cannot indulge. We are close,
mhuirnín
. I can feel it.”
After four days of searching and querying, he had located a merchant who knew of a governess recently come to town. Just that afternoon they had discovered her place of employment. No one knew anything about the young girl the woman had been hired to instruct, but Maria hoped desperately that it was Amelia. Information gathered over the last few weeks suggested it was.
“You have worked tirelessly these last days, Simon love. You deserve a respite.”
“And when will you rest?” he asked. “When will you have a respite?”
She sighed. “You have given enough—your time, your energy, your support. You do not need to deny yourself what pleasure you can find for my sake. That will not give me comfort. That will distress me further. I am happy knowing you are happy.”
“My happiness is inextricably bound to yours.”
“Then you must be miserable. Cease. Enjoy yourself.”
Simon laughed and reached across the table to set his hand atop hers. “You asked me the other day if you tell me often enough how much you appreciate me. I must ask the same of you. Do you know how desperately I welcome your affection? In all of my life, you are the only person—female or otherwise—who wishes unselfishly for my happiness. I do the things I do for you out of gratitude and a reciprocal desire to see you happy.”
“Thank you.” Simon was fiercely loyal and direct, two traits she admired and needed desperately. She understood how he felt. Simon fulfilled a similar role in her life. He was the only person who cared for her at all.
He patted her hand and settled back in his chair. “The men who arrived from London this afternoon are watching the house now. Tomorrow, we will utilize the daylight and go ourselves.”
“I agree, the morning is soon enough.” She smiled wide. “Which means the night is yours to do with as you will.”
At that moment, the serving girl returned bearing a fresh pitcher. Maria winked at Simon, who then tossed his head back and laughed.
Affecting an exaggerated yawn, she said, “Forgive me. I believe I should retire. I am overly fatigued.”
Simon stood and rounded the table, pulling the chair out for her and lifting her hand to his lips. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he wished her good night. Content in the knowledge that he would enjoy the rest of his evening, Maria departed to her room, where Sarah waited to assist her disrobing.
Pleased as she was for Simon, there was an unfortunate aspect to being without his company: she no longer had a distraction from memories of a raspy voice and hard body that had wrested pleasure from her against her will.
And made her love it.
It was becoming ridiculous how often she thought of St. John. She told herself it was simply due to her prior long abstinence. She was thinking of the sexual act itself, not her partner.
“Thank you, Sarah,” Maria murmured as the maid finished brushing out her hair.
After a quick curtsy, the abigail prepared to depart, but a sudden knock on the chamber door arrested her egress. Maria dissuaded her from answering with a raised hand and collected her dagger from the table by the bed. Then she took a position to the side of the door and nodded her permission for Sarah to proceed.
“Yes?” Sarah called out.
When the visitor spoke, Maria recognized the voice as belonging to one of her outriders. Instantly relaxing, she dropped her arm to her side. “See what he wants.”
Sarah stepped out into the hall and a few moments later returned.
“That was John, my lady. He says you and Mr. Quinn might wish to go with him now. There is activity at the house, and he fears they are readying to flee.”
“Dear God.” Her heartbeat faltered. “Go below and see if you can find Mr. Quinn. I doubt it, but try.”
After Sarah left, Maria moved to her trunk at the foot of the bed and began to change garments again. Her thoughts raced ahead of her, considering various scenarios and how best to manage them should they arise. She had only a dozen men with her and she would need to assign the majority of them to guarding the perimeter. At most, she could keep two outriders with her to see to her safety.
A soft knock was immediately followed by the opening of the door. Sarah entered shaking her head. “Mr. Quinn is no longer downstairs. Should I go to his room?”
“No.” Maria belted her scabbard to her hips. “But after I depart, you may inform his valet.”
Once again dressed in breeches and boots with her hair hidden beneath both scarf and hat, she was passable as a young boy at far distance, a ruse that would waylay any talk of suspicious women riding at night.
With a reassuring smile at the clearly worried abigail, Maria stepped out into the hall where John waited. Together they descended the rear steps to the waiting horses outside.
The delivery door of Maria’s London townhouse opened, and Christopher stepped silently into the kitchen. His man stood there waiting, having established residence inside the Winter household a few days before in the guise of a footman. If Maria were home, he would not have been selected, but she had been gone for nearly a fortnight. Christopher lured away three of her previous footmen with better-paying positions elsewhere, and desperation had forced her housekeeper to act without guidance.
With a slight nod, Christopher acknowledged a job well done. He collected the single taper his man held aloft, and then took the winding servants’ staircase to the upper floors. The gallery was well appointed, the runners thick and beautifully colored, the alcoves decorated with presently unlit gilded sconces.
Wealth. The home reeked of it. Two noble husbands dead, leaving behind settlements that afforded Maria the means to maintain an affluent existence.
He’d investigated her marriages because the men she had chosen were a source of great interest to him. The elderly Lord Dayton had retired with her to the country, where they stayed the entirety of their short marriage. The younger Lord Winter had kept her in Town and flaunted her shamelessly. It was Winter’s demise that first fueled speculation of Dayton’s. Winter had been a man in his prime, a burly sportsman with hearty appetites all around. Death by malady had been inconceivable for so bold a man.
Christopher’s teeth clenched tightly at the thought of Maria as the possession of another, and he furiously shoved the notion aside.
Nearly a sennight had passed since the night he’d spent with Maria, and he had yet to go more than a few hours without being plagued by thoughts of her. One report had arrived, detailing a thorough inquiry into the location of the governess. Why Maria wished to find this woman, he still did not know. Who was she that the likes of Templeton would be engaged to find her?
Opening the first door he came to and then continuing on, Christopher memorized the interior of the house and the positioning of the rooms. He wasn’t pleased to find that Quinn occupied the suite adjoining Maria’s. It revealed the depth of Maria’s attachment to the man that she gave him so important a place in her household.
Christopher
knew
they were no longer sharing a bed. She had admitted it had been a year since her last sexual encounter, and the tightness of her body gave proof to the claim. Still, he was irritated by Quinn, and worse than that, he did not understand why.
As he rifled through the other man’s drawers and armoire, Christopher found his mood worsening. The proliferation of weapons, letters of a cryptic nature, and a drawer of garments one would wear in disguise hinted at a man who was not the simple paramour he appeared to be.
Christopher exited Quinn’s room through the connecting door, crossed the shared sitting area, and entered Maria’s boudoir. Immediately he was struck by the scent of her, which permeated the air with its gentle fruit undertones. His cock twitched and then swelled slightly.
He cursed under his breath. He had not been afflicted with an unwanted erection since his youth. Then again, as fate would have it, it had been that length of time since he found his sexual affiliations lacking, as had been the case this past week.
None of the women in his household had been sufficient to take him to the level of satisfaction he had achieved with Maria. A level he now hungered for. Two visits to Stewart’s, run by the delectable Emaline Stewart, had proved to be of little help. Three of the madam’s most popular girls had worked him until morning two nights in a row. He’d ended up exhausted, spent, and still craving. He wanted a woman who made him fight for her attentions, and in all of his life, he had crossed paths with only one who could.