Scarlet Devices (23 page)

Could
she like it, with Matthew? People were always saying things were different when it was with this person or that person, different with your own children, different when you're in love. But in Eliza's experience it all looked the same. Charlotte was happy with Dexter, but their last trip to Europa had been their honeymoon, and now Charlotte seemed to spend most of her time balancing the household accounts and overseeing the installation of the rose gardens. Sometimes she visited the workshop, it was true.

“Charlotte and Dexter would probably still receive us,” Eliza mused. “Charlotte can get away with anything. She makes the fashion.”

“Which is strange, because she spent years as a recluse. At least as far as society knew.”

“Matthew, what
did
Charlotte do before she and Dexter married?”

“Government work,” he said quickly.

“Yes, but what kind of work? It wasn't just decoding messages, was it?”

He smiled. “It's just speculation on my part, I don't
know
anything. And if you ever, for one second, mention a word of this to either Charlotte or Dexter, I'll . . . I don't know, but there will be dire consequences for you.”

“Understood. Now you
must
tell me.”

Matthew sat up and glanced around ostentatiously, as if there were anybody within fifty miles to overhear them. “I'm reasonably certain she was a spy.”

“A
what
?”

“A spy. You know, derring-do, secret capers, intelligence gathering. International espionage.”

Eliza wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it wasn't
that.
The more she considered the possibility, however, the more sense it made. The way Charlotte had spoken of a whole career about which Eliza knew nothing. A career she'd given up entirely, as far as anybody knew, but if she was a spy then perhaps she was still doing it. Who would ever know? Added to that were Charlotte's unique skills, so different from most elegantly bred ladies of their acquaintance. How had the staid Lord Darmont's daughter become an expert pilot of a secret dirigible prototype, after all? Why was Charlotte such a crack shot with any weapon she put her hand to?

And if she truly was retired, perhaps she found it relaxing to tally pillowcases and double-check the housekeeper's arithmetic, after spending all that time at high alert, in constant danger. Even a few days of danger had been almost too much for Eliza to take. She could understand wanting a change. Safety, predictability. Simple fun.

“Matthew, if your wife is haring off to the continent with you and helping design your engines, who will see to the home? Hire the servants, make sure there's furniture in all the rooms? Who keeps the household ledger and handles the correspondence? Who minds the children or sees to it that they have the right nannies and governesses and tutors? That's what wives
do
. They're too busy to play in the workshop and go to France.”

He gave her an amiable, patient smile, the one she used to want to smack off his face. Still did, just a little. “My wife won't be. Except I thought I wouldn't have one, because we were planning to be scandalous instead.”

“It isn't that I
want
to be scandalous.”

She
wanted
him. If only it didn't have to be so complicated.

Still smiling, he leaned over to rest his forehead against hers, pushing strands of hair out of her face so he could cup his palms to her cheeks. He brushed a kiss over her lips, soft as air, then pressed his lips to her hairline.

“You're thinking too hard about this. Let's get started on that patch, then we can make the tent and have a rest before nightfall.”

 • • • 

E
LIZA SLEPT FITFULLY
, dreaming of poison and flowers. Great brass stairwells rose to the clouds, moving on gears as tall as an elephant, powered by a wheel with a hundred opium slaves in rags. She ran over marble and jumped, then found herself flying over a field of poppies. Blood red, beautiful, alluring. If she fell, she would die, because she'd been poisoned and time was running out. Only by moving could she stay alive.

“Eliza.”

Matthew was with her, flying alongside. Then he started to fall, and she tried to scream, to warn him, but he only looked back at her and smiled.

“Eliza! Time to wake up.”

He was shaking her shoulder. Night was falling outside their green silk shelter.

“I'm awake.”

“You should see the last of the sunset. It's spectacular.”

She dutifully peered out of the makeshift structure to view the western sky, and found herself agreeing with him. It was nearly gone, but still lovely, all crimson and violet against the encroaching deep indigo.

There was still enough light to find her way to the creek, and she returned feeling much refreshed.

“The patch has set,” Matthew told her. “Should be safe enough.”

He frowned down at the rigging of her airship, arms folded over his chest, looking miserable.

“Matthew?” Eliza laid a hand on his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat. She'd come to a decision, sometime between drowsiness and sleep, and had awakened still knowing it was the right decision. “I'll wait awhile longer, until well after full dark. Come back inside the tent with me.”

“I
SHOULD STAY
out here and stand watch. Go and rest some more if you need to.”

“No. I'd like you to help me with something,” Eliza insisted.

“With what? All the equipment's out here!”

She tugged his arm, laughing. “
Matthew
. I want you to help me . . . gather rosebuds while I may.”

He was silent for a long moment. Long enough for Eliza to grow nervous. Finally he asked quietly, “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“Probably.” She pulled on him again, loosing one of his arms and gripping his hand. “Come inside the tent and make love to me.”

He stood his ground, resisting her efforts to lead him. “Say you'll marry me.”

“I won't make you any promises.”

“I love you.”

“I love
you
, Matthew. But we can decide for ourselves what that means. And we don't have to decide right now.”

“We might find ourselves faced with a decision fairly soon if we accidentally bring a third party into this. I'm not going to sire any bastards, Eliza.”

Embarrassment flashed in her cheeks, hot and awful. She'd been aiming for a seduction and landed herself in a lecture. The worst part was, he was absolutely right. That didn't change how much she wanted him.

“I could die,” she said, knowing as she said it that she shouldn't. The “don't-let-me-die-a-virgin” ploy was the last resort of seducers everywhere, and it cheapened her to use it.

“That was a very low blow.”

“I know, I'm sorry. This isn't going like I thought it would.”

He relented on his physical opposition and stepped in, pulling her into his arms. She hugged his waist, feeling safe and as though things would be all right, even though she knew it wasn't so.

“How did you think it would go, then? Just curious.”

“I thought it would take less thinking, for one thing. That I would ask and you would agree, and then we wouldn't have to think for a while.”

Matthew stroked her back, and the intimate gesture inflamed as much as it soothed. Eliza held him closer, wishing she weren't quite so susceptible.

“It deserves some thought. I've thought about little else for days, if you must know.”

Giggling, she pushed back enough to see his face. “That's a different kind of thinking, and you know it.”

“Oh, I do know it. Rest assured.” He pressed against her, already hard, which frustrated Eliza even more.

“Please, Matthew?”

“No, you'll ruin me. I mustn't.”

But something in his tone told her he was already halfway to capitulation. His tone, or the way he whimpered when she rose onto her toes, stroking against him.

“I promise if there's a baby, I will marry you. To protect your reputation.”

Matthew groaned and bent his head. Eliza expected a kiss, but he stopped just short. “But we'd have to wait and see, to know for sure, wouldn't we?”

“Perhaps a month or so, I suppose.”

He stroked his hands lower, cupping her buttocks and lifting her gently, squeezing, parting her legs with his thigh. “I don't want to wait and see. Agree to marry me anyway.”

“I'll agree to think about it.”

“Deal.”

“Now? Please?”

He had her shirt half off before they even reached the tent, and she yanked it free impatiently as he started on her breeches.

“Boots,” she reminded him, sitting down on the pad of silk scraps and flight clothes they'd rested on earlier. He helped her tug her boots off, then toed off his own and resumed his work undressing her until the job was done.

Eliza was slower, but then she was distracted. It had been days since they'd touched one another, and Matthew seemed determined to reacquaint himself with every inch of her.

“I've missed this,” he said, kissing the part in question fondly. “And this. Oh, and I've particularly missed
that
. And . . . just roll over, if you would, darling? Oh, sweet gods how I've missed this. I mean it's not exactly hidden in those breeches, but still I much prefer seeing it in its natural state.” He kissed her there too a firm smack of his lips on each cheek, before encouraging her to roll onto her back again.

“Are you quite finished with your reunion?” she asked, smirking.

“Not quite, my love. Here, let me wipe that look off your face.” He cupped her between the legs and pressed a finger inside her, grinding his palm in a circle, and it was Matthew's turn to smirk while Eliza gasped.

“Use your mouth again, like you did in the barn,” she pleaded, astonished at her own boldness. There wasn't time to be coy, though. It was now or never. Matthew, however, had plans of his own.

“I need fingers for this,” he explained, edging a second one into her channel. It pulled, as it had the first time, and he frowned when Eliza winced. “All that time on a velocimobile, and it's still there. Astonishing. To hear the stories the thing's as fragile as a cobweb. One touch, and
bang
, it's gone and you're marrying the girl.”

“
What
?”

“Your hymen. Maidenhead, what-have-you. It's quite terrifyingly intact, and I don't want to hurt you, so I'm stalling by doing this.”

Really? At a time like this, he wanted to stop and have a conversation about the state of her hymen? “I think it's supposed to hurt, the first time. I'm not terrified, why should you be?”

“I'm terrified you'll blame me, regret this and never want to do it again.”

He attempted a third finger, and Eliza grabbed his wrist.

“Ouch.”

“See?”

Look at him all concerned and anxious and trying to be considerate. How could I have ever not loved him
? “Matthew, I think I need to have a little talk with Fred.”

He pulled his hand away and sat back on his heels. “He's entirely at your disposal.”

“I see that.” She sat up and turned herself around, then leaned down and propped herself on her elbows, chin on hands, to face Fred squarely. It was dark, but she could see well enough for this. The trickiest part was not giggling. “Fred, I require your help. Matthew is being awfully reticent. I want him to make mad, passionate love to me, and he wants to have a conversation about anatomy. Do you have any suggestions for me?”

Matthew coughed, and Fred nodded. Eliza bit the inside of her cheek to keep the laughter in as Matthew spoke. “He recommends you try getting in that same position you're in right now, only facing the other way. Fred's very single-minded. I've learned to be wary of his advice.”

“I'll be cautious. Fred, I want you to know that whatever happens tonight, I won't blame you. I'll still be fond of you, and assuming I survive, I'll probably invite you over to play again. After all, the first time I went up in Charlotte's airship I got ten feet up, fell out of the harness and landed on my . . . lawn. That hurt quite a bit, but I gave it another try. And another after that. And look at me now.”

“Oh, he is,” Matthew avowed. “I am.”

“I don't believe you,” Eliza replied. “I don't believe you or Fred are sufficiently motivated.”

She gave in to the impulse she'd had when she first bent down, and leaned forward to slip her lips over the tip of Matthew's penis, sliding her tongue over the tender skin and tasting salt and arousal. He cursed and wrapped his fingers in her hair, and she suspected she had just learned the best way to motivate Fred. She tried taking more into her mouth, but Matthew pulled her away and picked her up, flipping her onto her back and landing on top of her.

“Enough,” he panted, rubbing himself against the crux of her thighs before shifting down again with another curse and planting his mouth against her sex. He drove her high, higher,
so close
, until she was lifting her hips into his face and clawing at the silk beneath them. When he stopped, she shouted her protest, but he had already moved again, and silenced her with a kiss. Rough at first, then tender as his fingers stole inside her body again. Not playing, this time, she realized. Making sure she was ready.

She was. She shifted, trying to get closer and bending her knees, and he moved himself into position, and—

“Ow! Bloody
hell
, that hurts!”

“Warned you.”

She was already laughing, gasping against his shoulder at how ridiculous it all was. He stilled his hips and grinned at her, kissing her a few times. Slowly, sweetly, as if time was a commodity they had in abundance. The sharp, startling pain ebbed to a dull sting, and Eliza made herself relax and assess things.

It hurt, yes. But she could see where it wouldn't always. That part was a nasty shock, but there were pleasant surprises along with it. The heat of Matthew's cock—she couldn't think of it as Fred when it was inside her—soothed the ache, filling and stretching her in a way that felt new but absolutely right.

Where their bodies met she felt the sting, but also a sweeter stimulation when he moved even a fraction of an inch. Inside her, outside her, even higher where his coarse hairs teased her clitoris.

“Is it all right now?” He whispered, feathering kisses over her cheekbone and down toward her ear.

“I think so.”

He surged farther into her, a subtle flow of muscles beneath her hands. She'd thought he was already as deep as possible, but she'd been wrong. When he thrust a second time, then a third, she felt herself move by instinct, countering him. Accommodating him. Her body was reconstructing its awareness around him, turning itself into the perfect vessel for this precise activity, this exact moment.

“
Ohhh . . .”

“Pain?” He asked, all concern again, his hips slowing. She responded by digging her fingernails into his buttocks.

“If you stop I will kill you.”

“Oh. Good.” And after a few seconds, “
So
good.”

She started to complain again when he pushed to one elbow, peeling his sweaty upper body away from hers and leaving a chill behind. Then his hand moved between them, finding her clitoris and increasing the pressure there, and she forgot what she was upset about.

“Matthew?”

“I want you to come first.”

“Isn't it cheating to do it like that?”

His laughing, taut belly shaking against his hand sent a shock wave through it into her. “No. Does it feel good?”

She gave him her reply in the form of an orgasm, tightening around him before she quite knew what was happening. It felt
too
good, like some sacred bliss not meant for mere mortals. Rippling through her, stroking every nerve ending with heat until she couldn't breathe or think or move. As it ebbed, she felt Matthew's tempo increase, his cock lengthen and stiffen even more inside her. He cried out her name as he came, spending himself on a final, shuddering thrust.