Regency Spymasters 01 - Spy Fall (10 page)

Blazes. At the moment, he wasn’t certain who was playing whom in this game of theirs. However, until he understood the full extent of her secrets, he’d have to take care not to fly too close to the sun.

Mari came down the stairs just as Aldridge bade farewell to Dr. Hodges, a small, gregarious man with a few strands of thinning hair brushed over his shiny pate. Marcel’s investigation of the man had turned up nothing to suggest the country doctor might be Aldridge’s accomplice. Still, the possibility remained that the doctor might be called upon to deliver a package whose contents he was ignorant of.

Aldridge turned to her with a smile. “Good morning, Miss Lamarre.” He glanced at her breeches. “I gather you have another busy day ahead.”

“I do indeed. The exhibition is not so far away now.” She glanced after the doctor. “I trust you are not unwell, my lord.”

“Oh, not to worry,” Aldridge said. “The primary purpose of Hodges’s visits is to divert me from boredom. It can be much too quiet here. Although you and your brothers have certainly brought excitement to our quiet little part of Dorset.”

Mari felt a twinge of guilt. She liked the man, and found it hard to imagine him acting duplicitously.

“Interrogating Aldridge, Miss Lamarre?” Cosmo called down from the top of the steps.

Aldridge muffled a cough with his fist. “You’re up early.”

“Yes.” Cosmo trotted down the steps, the muscles in his well-turned thighs sliding up and down under the buff breeches. “I have an appointment.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Aldridge said, heading toward his study. “Good day, Miss Lamarre. I look forward to seeing you both at luncheon.”

“I don’t know if I will be back by luncheon,” Cosmo said to Mari after Aldridge had gone. “Since I have no idea what this appointment is about. Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me?”

“You could certainly use enlightenment.”

He followed her outside. “Dare I hope this surprise is of the carnal kind?”

Mari bit back a smile, finding it difficult to muffle her excitement. “
Viens
. You shall find out soon enough.”

He matched her long, purposeful strides toward the tethered balloon. “Where are the
M
s?” he asked, looking around. “Marcel especially likes to be underfoot whenever I am within a horse’s length of you. He’s like a guard dog, that one.”

“And of course he has nothing to worry about,” she said dryly.

“To the contrary, he has excellent reason to be uneasy where my intentions toward you are concerned.”

“Maxim and Marcel have gone into the village.”

“On business?”

She shrugged. “Or
pour le plaisir
. Sometimes it is best for a sister not to ask.”

“Excellent thinking on your part. And on theirs. I’m all for the pursuit of pleasure.”

They reached the balloon, where a stable groom stood waiting to assist her. She stooped to untie one of the thick cables tethering it to the ground. “What I have in mind will give you great pleasure,” she said quietly.

His inky eyes went alert. “Is that so?”

“Release that cable, if you please,” she called to the groom.

He tipped his cap. “Yes, miss.” And proceeded to do just that.

Gesturing toward the other cable, she said to Cosmo. “Untie that, will you?”

“Whatever for?” He glanced at it before frowning back in her direction. “If you completely untether it, the balloon will fly away, as you well know.”

“Exactly.” She leapt into the wicker boat. “
Allons
. Let us go.”

“Go where? You want me to go up in that?” He took a step back. “I most certainly will not.”

She leaned over the edge of the gondola. “
Pour le plaisir,
remember?”

Shaking his head, he backed away. Switching to French so the groom wouldn’t understand, he said, “This is most assuredly not the sort of pleasure I meant.”

“You can show me what you do have in mind,” she said in the same language, as she bent over to retrieve and throw sand-filled ballasts out of the gondola.

“Come away from there and I gladly will.”

“I prefer that you come in here.” She offered him the most wickedly sensual smile in her feminine arsenal.

He blinked. Then swallowed. “Angel, you will be the death of me.”

“Perhaps just a little death.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.
La petite mort
was the French term for the peak of sensual pleasure. “Is that a naughty French reference? Or are you teasing me?”

She laughed aloud, exhilarated at the thought of soaring into the clouds with him. “You shall have to fly with me to find out.”

He cast a skeptical eye upward, his gaze roaming up to the apex of the balloon and then down again. The groom loosened the last cable and the balloon jolted upward.

She threw her hand out to him. “Do you want to come with me?”

He sprinted toward the gondola and vaulted over the edge. “Yes, I suppose I do,” he said, landing in the wicker basket with a heavy thump. “Perhaps you mean to push me overboard to get me out of the way.”

She laughed. “I can think of far easier ways to kill you.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

An unaccountable satisfaction swept over her at having him in the boat with her. “Now you will understand what it is that draws me to aerostation.”

He grabbed hold of one of the ropes to steady himself. “I presume you know how to pilot this contraption.”

Her hand perched on the hydrogen-release valve, she grinned. “It is perhaps too late to ask this question of me.”

He stared at her for a moment with a pronounced crinkle of concern between his dark brows. “Your future husband will certainly have his hands full with you.”

She snorted. “That won’t be a problem, since I do not intend to marry.”

His brows drew together. “Why ever not?”

“I am six-and-twenty,” she said with a shrug. “Well past the marriageable age.”

“With your considerable charms, you could easily catch a man.”

After Pascal, she’d been unable to fathom entrusting her heart to another man. “Few husbands would consent to me continuing my work.” Aerostation had saved her during her darkest hours, and she’d never willingly relinquish it. She swept a hand outward. “Look at that. I will never give it up.”

Following the direction of her gesture, he surveyed the view. “Good God, we’re already above the trees.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes riveted by the scene below, as though the wonder of it began to crystallize for him. He stared down at how the fields, trees, and hills became textured patches of landscape—nature’s quilt draped over the earth. It was a view she never tired of seeing.

She inhaled, enjoying the feel of the air brushing against her cheeks and the absolute silence, save the occasional creaking of the ropes.

“How can we be certain we won’t end up over the water?” he asked.

“The wind is in our favor,” she answered. “That is why we fly on this day.”

“Is this it?” he asked. “I anticipated more rocking or swaying. Something a bit more jolting. Instead, it’s rather like being in a boat rocking gently on the sea.”

“Exactly. There’s nothing else in the world like it. You will see that the higher we go, the stiller it is.”

He peered down below. “It’s like the ground is moving away from us.”

She moved next to him, grasping the side of the wicker basket. “Nervous?”

“Not at all. I’m well past that. Beyond terrified actually.” He arched a look at her. “You didn’t happen to bring a bottle of brandy along with you?”

She suppressed a smile. “I am afraid not.”

“I rather thought that was the case.” The breeze rippled his ruffled mane away from his face, highlighting his strong brow and angled jaw. “How long do we keep going up?”

“We go wherever the wind takes us. However, the hydrogen-release valve allows me to control how high we go.”

“Not that I would mind being stranded in the countryside with you, but what happens when we land? Maxim and Marcel are not around to give chase.”

“I arranged for the groom to follow our progress on horseback, and another is bringing a cart. They should be on hand to attend us when we return to the ground.”

He turned his head from one side to the other, taking in the view. “I’ve been coming to Langtry since boyhood. I thought I knew every bit of it, but I see now I had no idea what was around us. It’s breathtaking, the trees and the water.”

When the balloon punctured the cottony clouds, a rush of chilled air wrapped around them. Within moments, they’d escaped the snowy mist, climbing higher into the comfort of warmer air. Beneath them, masses of silvery-gray clouds unfurled, forming an ethereal sea of rolling, velvet waves.

“Fantastic.” Inhaling, his lungs took in air which Mari always found to be crisper and more refined high up off the ground. “I begin to comprehend what draws you to this perilous enterprise. All earthly sensations pale in comparison.”

“
Exactement.
” Elation bubbled up inside of her. For some reason, she’d badly needed for him to understand her passion for flight. Grasping the solid curves of his arm, she said, “Now you see why I contrived to bring you up here. To show you what draws me to aerostation. There is nothing more beautiful.”

Glittering sable eyes regarded her. “No, indeed.” Keeping one hand gripping the side of the basket, he wrapped the other around the back of her neck, and tilted his face down to hers. His lips were soft and firm as they covered hers in a lazily sensual kiss that was slow and unhurried but very thorough. She wrapped her arm around his waist and pushed her body up against his, savoring the contrast between his solid strength and the floating buoyancy beneath them.

He thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth with a knowing sensual slide that left her lightheaded. His hand roamed to her backside where his hands kneaded the soft flesh of her bottom and pulled her tighter against him. Her legs quivered at the hard imprint of his arousal against her belly.

He broke the kiss on a ragged breath. “I want to see you as God made you.”

Putting her fingertips to her tingling lips, she came to a decision—one they’d been destined for since the moment she’d landed on him. “This evening, when everyone is abed. Come to me.” She pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “I will await you. As God made me.”

“No.” He nuzzled her neck. “Now.”

“Impossible.” Yet her tingling body seemed to disagree.

“I thought you enjoy taking risks,” he murmured against her neck, “to sample a taste of the unknown.”

“You want to join here?” She tasted the tender flesh of his earlobe, her tongue following the sensitive curve. The shiver that coursed through him in response made her rejoice inside. “Now? Up in the air?”

He made a sound in his chest, something between a growl and a purr. “Absolutely.” He pulled her blouse from her breeches, his warm hands sliding up underneath to caress her breasts. Reaching the fabric that bound them, he froze. “Blast it all! What’s this?”

“Binding. It keeps them in place and out of my way. They are too large.”

“Let me assure you that is not possible.” Laughing softly, his hands slid to the knot in the binding. “You are not going to make this easy.”

Wrong. Urgency overtook her. Her hands moved to the placket of his breeches. He groaned when she ran a firm finger over the hard bulge. She began to undo him, working fast, eager to release him. “I want you now.”

His fingers shot down to help her. “I thought you’d never ask.” The words were raw, husky.

She finally had his breeches open, and impatiently tugged down them down along with his smallclothes. His exaggerated erection shot out, revealing an asset Cosmo had every right to be boastful of. Arousal burning through her, she wrapped her hand around the bold strength.

He hissed and undulated into her hand. “Devil take it, Angel.” His hands tugged at her breeches. “We’ve got to get these off you before I embarrass myself.”

Her fingers explored his erection. Closing her eyes, she licked her lips, wondering how it would feel to have something of its breadth and width rocking inside of her. Her sex pulsed at the thought. Pascal had not been so generously endowed.

Cosmo pulled her breeches open, and then paused in surprise. “Are those men’s smallclothes you’re wearing?”

She nodded. “It is necessary to wear them with men’s breeches.”

Shoving her breeches down to her knees in a swift motion, he released a shuddering breath at the sight of her in the small pants. “I do believe that is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. Promise me one day you will walk around in nothing but these drawers.”

Looking down at the plain linen drawers, she couldn’t discern what the fuss was about. The smallclothes were baggy in the crotch and seat, yet tight down her thighs to just above her knees. “Yes. I promise.” Desire shook her. “Must you talk so much?”

“No indeed.” He dropped to his knees, and the sudden movement jolted the basket, which quickly regained its tranquil equilibrium. “Let’s get you out of these.”

She gripped the side of the wicker basket for leverage while he pulled off her boots, one after the other. He tugged her breeches down to her ankles, a rough slide of fabric against tender skin, and then helped her step out of each leg. His fingers moving to the two buttons at the shaped waistband which kept her drawers in place, he looked up at her, his midnight eyes glittering with something more than desire.

She raked her free hand through the rumpled waves of his surprisingly soft hair, deep emotion surging within her. Before she had a chance to explore the feeling, he made quick work of the buttons, loosening her drawers. Using both hands, he pushed them down and carefully helped her step out of them. Her billowing shirt fell to her thighs, shielding her from complete exposure to his gaze.

He sat on his rump, his back against a bench at one end of the basket, and pulled off one leg of his own breeches and smallclothes. He gazed at her with legs splayed apart, his brawny frame crowding the six-foot length of the boat-shaped gondola, his prodigious arousal jutting up in an overt show of masculinity. Heat flushed through her at the primal display.

His gaze intense, he said, “Lift up your shirt so I can see you.”

She pulled the shirt up and over her head, unveiling the tuft of black curls shielding her feminine parts. The breeze floated over her bare skin, prompting gooseflesh to shiver across it.

His breathing was uneven. “Come here.”

Nude, except for the cloth that bound her breasts, she did as he asked. When she stepped between his legs, he ran a hand down the back of her thigh, stroking it while urging her closer. She inched forward, despite a moment’s discomfort, shyness perhaps, at the idea of her femininity so near his face. His fingers feathered up the back of her thigh and around to the front, reaching up to the place between her thighs. His touch skated over the triangle of fur there. “Come closer.”

A shot of excitement blasted through her. She did as he asked. He slid a finger into the moist folds between her thighs, rubbing back and forth deep along the length of them, his charcoal eyes intent on her face. A sensation somewhere between pleasure and pain whipped away the strength in her legs. She grasped the edges of the wicker basket behind and above Cosmo to steady herself.

His fingers passed over the knot of sensitized nerves at the top of her sex. “I’ve a mind to tip the velvet. Has any man ever done that to you?”

She gulped the air, which had never seemed so thin before. “I do not know what that means.” Almost mindless from the taut need gripping her body, she pushed herself against his fingers, aching for him to press harder.

His voice roughened. “It is when I thrust my tongue deep inside your muff,” he increased the pressure on the button of nerves, “as though you were the sweetest dessert.”

“Oh.” Moisture surged between her legs.

He chuckled. “I appear to have my answer.” Lifting one leg over his shoulder, he buried his mouth between her thighs.

She cried out when his tongue found her most sensitive spot. He lapped at it in languid movements, the cool-hot strokes making her belly tighten. Just as she got into the slow rhythm, he changed course, flicking his tongue over the knot of nerves in purposeful little movements, a merciless sensual assault unlike anything she’d experienced before. Frenzy quaked through her; her legs trembled. Pausing, he asked, “Is it good?”

Good
did not even begin to describe it. “
Oui,
” she sighed.

He kissed her. There. “How good?”

She pushed herself against his lips, her need for him making her desperate. “
Tu es le meilleur
.”

“The best? Quite the compliment coming from you, Mademoiselle Lamarre.” His voice was like rough silk. “Would you like me to continue?”

“
Zut.
You really are the devil
.
Finish it
.
”

“With pleasure.” His lips vibrated against her sex as he spoke. “You really are most delicious.”

He sucked at her, the pulling sensation tugging deep into her belly, making her body tremble with yearning. Then he scraped her gently with his teeth. The shock rocketed through her, causing Mari to lose all control of her legs, bringing her tumbling down on top of him.

Catching her around the waist with a sure grip, he slowed her fall. The cedar scent of his shaving soap swept into her nostrils as he positioned her just above his lap, where she could feel him at her entrance. He thrust his hips upward, impaling her with his rigid flesh. She sank down eagerly, relishing the masculine energy swelling within her.

Wrapping one hand around the back of her head, Cosmo pulled her mouth to his lips, his tongue moving in long, demanding strokes. “Delicious. Such a tempting morsel.”

Cupping his smoothly shaven face with her hands, she kissed him back, her tongue insistent, devouring. Unrestrained sexual excitement coiled into a tight band within her. Relishing the delicious up-and-down slide, going deeper each time, she set a quick rhythm to satisfy her cravings.

“You are a goddess.” He ground out the words. Grasping her hips with long fingers, he pumped into her with hard, quick strokes. Nothing else existed but the press of his flesh on hers and the ratcheting excitement of racing toward her climax. Throwing his head back, Cosmo bared the strong cords of his neck. She leaned forward and ran her tongue along his throat, tasting the salty, male tang of him.

They moved with urgency. His lips and tongue roamed over the mounds of her breasts, which were still bound in the cloth, as he thrust forcefully into her. Slipping his fingers to where they were joined, he brought her to the edge. Tension gripped her before it snapped, careening her body out of control. Her climax hit her in waves of almost-violent pleasure. He drove into her one final time, a low roar shaking his body. Buried within her, he expelled his seed deep into her womb.

They collapsed against each other, their breaths coming in short spurts. Her heart thumped against her chest while a feeling of relaxed euphoria settled heavy in her limbs.

“That was—” he shook his head in a daze “—beyond anything.”

“
Vraiment.
” Smiling lazily, her body hummed with the residual sensations of extreme sexual pleasure. She peered up at the billowing clouds. “I have never had a flight quite like this.”

He touched a loose strand of her hair, twirling it around his finger. “You’re incredible.”

“As are you.” She pressed a languid kiss against the warmth of his temple. “It relieves me that not all of your boasts are empty ones.”

He nipped the swell of her breast. “Sexual congress is one skill at which I excel.”

Dark thoughts intruded at his words, reminding her that he coupled often, and with many women. She told herself that that was just as well. Joining with him had been nothing more than the mutual satisfying of a primordial urge. When her business at Langtry concluded, they would part ways. He might well hate her by then anyway.

He sensed the change in her. Pulling back, his rapt gaze traced the lines of her face and a crease formed between his heavy brows. “What is it, Angel?”

She scowled, taking in her state of undress, looking down to where they were still joined. “Hardly an angel.”

“Definitely an angel.” He ran his large hands down her arms, settling on the rounds of her bottom. “Who else could take a wicked scoundrel such as I this close to heaven?”

The following day, they went to Poole, a town about an hour’s ride from Langtry, to pick up supplies Mari needed for her parachute.

“You really should learn to ride,” Cosmo said as they rode in his phaeton. It continually surprised him that a woman as capable as the parachutist couldn’t mount a horse.

“A female who works for her bread hasn’t time to engage in frivolous activities,” Mari said, the blue ribbons of her straw bonnet streaming behind her in the wind. She’d dressed with a certain flair he hadn’t noted in her before. White braiding trimmed the neck and sleeves of her striped soft blue and white muslin dress, which was topped with a fitted robin’s-egg blue spencer. “Riding is for aristocrats. I am not a lady.”

“Thank God for that. Ladies are such a bore.” He gave her a warm look. “Perhaps if I pull over, you’ll show me again just how unladylike you can be.”

He noted the flash of interest on her face before she smoothed it away. “Are you of a mind to copulate in all modes of transportation?”

He barked a laugh. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but the idea does intrigue. Now that we’ve gotten the hot air balloon out of the way, we should try out the phaeton. Then, perhaps, a boat. It really is a pity you don’t ride. I’ve a fancy to make love to you on a horse.”

He watched her turn over the suggestion in her mind. “Is that possible?”

“I’ve no idea,” he said truthfully. “But it might be enjoyable to find out.”

“Perhaps you should keep your eyes on the road so that we do not run into a tree.”

Turning his attention back to the horses, he concentrated on the road ahead, wondering how to broach the subject that had weighed on his mind since the previous afternoon. He cleared his throat. “Mari, about yesterday.”

He watched the starch fill her spine. “You do not owe me anything. I am hardly one of your noble maidens.”

“Yes, well.” He fumbled over his words, uncertain how to handle the delicate topic. As he’d deduced, she hadn’t been a virgin. But while she might not be a lady, as she constantly reminded him, Mari was no strumpet and he didn’t care to offend her. “I’m afraid I did not, ah, pull out as I should have. There could be a child.”

“I don’t expect that to be a problem.”

“Why is that? Do you know for certain that you cannot beget a child?” When she didn’t reply, he forged ahead. “What I mean to say is, have your previous lovers taken precautions to prevent such an occurrence?”

She stiffened. “We used French letters to prevent it.”

“I see.”
We
. How many had there been? Uneasiness snaked through his gut. Did she take lovers often? Once she tired of him, would she dispatch him as she’d discarded the others? For all he knew, she bedded men often as part of her spy work.

Bugger.

Why did he even care? They’d indulged in a bit of good bed sport. Well, extraordinary bed sport, truth be told. And hopefully there’d be plenty more of it, but in the meantime, he would also keep an eye on her, because he still couldn’t trust anything she said or did. There could be nothing between them beyond the considerable physical enjoyment they took in each other. Sex for pleasure, the way it always was for him. To his logical mind, this made perfect sense. Yet somehow that bit of excellent reasoning sat in his stomach like spoilt food.

“So,” he said, casting her a sidelong glance, “an accident is possible.”

“It is nothing to concern yourself over.” She looked straight ahead, that cursed bonnet shielding her face from his gaze. “It is most unlikely I’ll get with child after one interlude.”

“It can happen.”

“I suppose you know this from experience.” Finally tilting her face upward, she cut a sharp look at him. “Are the fruits of your loins sprinkled all over Dorset?”

“No, not a one,” he said seriously. “Any child of mine will be born within the bounds of marriage.”

He couldn’t interpret the expression that settled over the high, smooth curves of her cheeks. “Why don’t we concern ourselves with it when, and if, it becomes an issue?” she said.