All Men Are Rogues (14 page)

He studied his fingernails. “Supposedly you knew of the plot against the Crown.” He looked up. “Do you?”

She laughed. She would not have thought it possible just a moment before. “If only you knew how preposterous that sounds. The last thing in the world I want to do is become part of my father’s horrid world.” Staring out the window, she became serious. “I’m running from it just as fast as I can, Justin. Except it seems to hound my every step. Oh, I understand the dirty business is necessary for the health of the nation. But it’s certainly not good for my own health. I’d like to live to see my twenty-third birthday.”

“On that point we can wholeheartedly concur.” Rubbing his hand against his temple, he stated quietly, “This means I’ve been duped into placing Sullivan in Wheaton’s hands—but for what? If not for the French plot, then what were you supposed to know? Or what were you supposed to reach for if all of your resources were seized?”

Her hands clenched the sides of her seat. “I should have known you were behind that as well.”

He grimaced. “Guilty as charged.”

Heavy silence enveloped them. It seems they were both pawns in a deadly game of cat and mouse, in which she had been the cheese. But to what end?

“Who is Wheaton?” she asked.

“He supervises the spy trade at the Foreign Office.”

“Has he turned?”

Justin shook his head. “He would never betray his country.”

“Isn’t murdering an English emissary betraying your country?”

“I don’t understand any of this. It doesn’t make any sense.” Wincing, he raised his hand to his temple again.

Her brow knit, almost feeling the ache herself; his anguish was so evident. Although she had exceedingly mixed feelings about the man, watching him suffer was a pastime she did not relish. “Does it hurt much?”

He replied through clenched teeth, “Only when I think. Or breathe. Or speak…”

Wanting to do something to stop his distress, she offered, “I’ll get you more broth.”

“No, I just need to sleep.” His voice was strained.

Watching him struggle to lower himself in the bed, she stood. “Let me help you.” She gently held his shoulders and eased him down. His nearness and that spicy scent recalled memories she wished to exorcise forever. So instead, she focused on adjusting the pillow under his head and covering his bare chest with the blanket. If she really wanted to make him unappealing, she’d have to raise the cover to the top of his head. And send him to another country. She was just going to have to fight her body’s impulses; they seemed oblivious to danger even when it bussed her on the lips.

Before she could move away, he grasped her hand. “Thank you, Evelyn.”

“For what?”

“You can’t hate me terribly to have nursed me so.”

She swallowed, hard. “You cannot tell me what I need to know if you are dead, can you?”

A small smile lit his smooth lips. “Keep telling yourself that, Evelyn.” And with that disturbing comment, he closed his eyes and released her.

E
velyn could not sleep. She lay on her pallet, staring up at the timbers bracing the roof of the small cabin. Thirty-four posts. She’d counted every one, five times over. She was exhausted, but sleep evaded her like an elusive ghost taunting her with a naughty prank.

“Catch me if you can,” she whispered into the darkness. The moon hung shrouded in clouds, sending little light through the small window. The gloom perfectly matched her black mood. It had been two days of questioning Justin and getting few answers. They’d both surmised that the French plot was likely a cover-up for something else, but what, they did not know. All in all, if it weren’t for Justin’s improving health, Evelyn would have counted the last two days as a resounding failure.

She was feeling tired and irritable, yet restless energy infused her every time she had the opportunity for sleep. So she’d undertaken the lion’s share of Justin’s care, allowing Shah time to rest. Not that the trusty servant put her feet up much, between cooking and cleaning.

Evelyn had to admit—she was better suited to the nursing than she would ever be to cooking and cleaning. Moreover, forcing herself to be around Justin would eventually drive out the memory of his touch. That’s what she kept telling herself, anyway. It was deplorable how skittish she was around him; as if she’d never nursed a virile man she’d been intimate with! She almost giggled to herself at that thought.

What was decidedly not amusing was his response to her discomfiture. He tried to pretend he did not notice, yet somehow he always needed her help whenever he wanted to move. She’d almost caught him smiling a time or two but had yet to nail him. Lord, he was so much easier to deal with when he was unconscious.

She flipped over on the bedding, wishing someone would knock her over the head so she could finally rest. Trying for something uplifting, she tilted her ear toward the window. If she listened really hard, she might just be able to discern the creek bubbling past. But she could not hear much over Shah’s thundering snores emanating from the pallet across the room. Evelyn envied her ability to sleep so deeply that an earthquake wouldn’t wake her.

Evelyn heard a scraping in the room next door. She rose onto her elbow, listening intently. Someone was definitely in the kitchen. But she had not heard the door open, so it was likely their unsettling guest. Did he have no respect for the feelings of others? It was bad enough they were tending him slavishly, could he not at least let them sleep in peace?

She scrambled up, adjusted her skirts, brushed her hand across her braided hair, and tiptoed into the next room, ready to let her patient know who was in charge of this outfit. If he did not sleep, he would not recover. If he did not recuperate, they could never get back to London. Part of her wished she would have the excuse to stay in the beautiful countryside, but she was unwilling to admit that to Justin or anyone else.

A single candle sitting on top of the stove illuminated the small kitchen. Justin sat at the table with a feast of apple and cheese on a plate before him. A black wool blanket tightly draped his waist, but otherwise he wore nothing to cover his naked state. You would think after days of seeing him undressed she would grow immune to his appeal.

He looked up when she entered. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“You should be in bed,” she chided, gently closing the door to her room. At least someone ought to sleep this night.

“I’m hungrier than a bear.”

Eyeing the last shreds of their provisions, she replied, “You certainly eat like one.” Turning her back to him, she tossed some timber into the stove. “If you don’t sleep, you cannot recuperate.”

“I cannot sleep when my body aches like Napoleon’s cavalry used it for target practice.”

“If you’d just take the laudanum—”

“No,” he interrupted briskly. “I told you I want my head clear.”

“No need to be prickly about it.” She slipped into the rickety wooden chair across from him and inched it back a notch. She certainly didn’t need to be on top of him. Her cheeks warmed, and she fiddled with a corkscrew lying on the rough table.

“You try being pleasant with your body screaming at you in agony.”

She harrumphed, mumbling, “I’d like to give you some agony.”

Hurt flickered in his silver-green eyes. Evelyn looked away. She knew she was behaving badly, but she seemed unable to help it. She felt so out of control where
he
was concerned. Her anger simmered below the surface, bubbling up at his every conceived infraction. Here she was, tending him hand and foot, while he should be paying for his crimes. She’d always known there was no justice in this world.

Uncomfortable seeing Justin in his half-naked state, Evelyn let her eyes drop to the table leg. Staring unseeing at the wood, she listened to his every movement, glaringly aware of him. That awareness pricked her indignation and made her want to scream.

The silence stretched long.

“We need to get you some decent clothes,” she finally remarked, turning her attention to her skirts. Could her attire get any shabbier?

“I know it’s horribly indecent, but I kind of like being so free,” he replied, inserting a piece of cheese into his mouth. “I’d never realized how liberating not being slave to so many layers of clothing could be. I never could have imagined surviving without my valet. And here I am, doing quite well, if I do say so.”

“How very un-English of you.” She watched him skin the apple and slide a sliver between his glistening lips. She ripped her gaze back to her hands in her lap. “Shah is uncomfortable around you.”

“And does my bare flesh agitate you, Evelyn?” he teased.

She ignored him and the sudden tingles unfurling in her belly, letting her scowl speak for itself.

“You’ve certainly seen it before,” he added playfully.

Heat warmed her cheeks and stirring memories flashed in her mind. But she pressed her lips together, forcing herself not to react to his baiting.

He leaned forward. “And stroked it.”

She crossed her arms, swallowing, thankful it was anger, not embarrassment, heating her cheeks this time. “If you say one more word—”

“And kissed it—”

“That’s enough!” she cried, trying to keep her voice low, yet desperately wanting to end his maddening dialogue and the desire he stirred within her breast. “How can you be so proud of yourself for duping an innocent miss into flipping her skirts? I’d never have figured you for a debaucher of maidens, but you certainly played the part better than any actor traversing the boards on Drury Lane. Perhaps your true nature finally shines through!”

Leaning forward, his face was a mere hand’s width from hers. The scent of apples warmed his breath. “I’ve tried every conceivable way I can think of to make amends, but you jump down my throat every time I even try to tell you how I feel. I’ve apologized. I’ve answered every bloody question you’ve thrown at me.” He hammered his fist on the tabletop. “Every time you have to touch me you’re more skittish than a newborn colt. As if I were going to maul you—”

“Like you haven’t before!”

“I never laid a hand on you without your express permission. Hell,
invitation
!”

She jumped from her seat, and the chair flipped back to the floor with a crash. “Do you want to know why I jump every time I go near you? Because just the sight of you makes me want to scream!”

Justin tried to hide his satisfaction; he’d finally got a rise out of her after two days of listening to her protestations about feeling naught as far as he was concerned. He’d grown tired of her claims that emotions had nothing to do with their circumstances. As far as he was concerned, they had
everything
to do with their situation and the simmering passion between them.

He smiled wickedly. Her breasts were heaving, her blue eyes were flashing, and her cheeks flushed red. She was dazzling. And his blood was boiling for her. He played his trump card. “You certainly weren’t screaming when you kissed me. And I was half-dead with delirium.”

Her mouth worked, but no sound came. Finally she sputtered, “I, that, I…it was not me!”

“It certainly wasn’t Shah. With the silky tresses and the scent of lavender. One might say you were mauling a helpless invalid.”

“I could kill you,” she growled.

“Find a spot in the queue.” He stepped around the table, edging up against her. She stepped back, stopping at the wall. “I just wish you’d get it over with and stop acting like a cantankerous witch. If I close my eyes I might actually think I was at home with my fractious mother.”

She seemed to be trying hard to show him that he did not intimidate her. She leaned forward, nose to nose with him. He detected her lovely lavender fragrance, as well as a hint of cloves on her breath. “I’m no bloody dragon lady, but perhaps there’s something she and I have in common. We both hate you! I despise you for everything you’ve done to my family and to me. For allowing others to manipulate you into hurting us! You’re pathetic!”

Her words ripped at his most vulnerable core, making him see red. Between his hunger for her and his anger at himself, all sense of decency fled. He pressed his burning heart next to hers, wanting her to stop the pain from tormenting him. He was so much larger than she, pinning her soft, pliant body to the wall.

With one hand, he grabbed her wrists and locked them against the wood above her head. “Look into my eyes, Evelyn. Tell me again how much you despise me, the unknowing instrument of your enemies—”

She writhed against him, attempting to break free. Yet even now, she was obviously trying not to harm his injury.

His free hand slipped to her shoulder, and she froze. “What? No more words of loathing? I find it odd that for all your vicious charges, you have yet to say anything scathing about my performance between the sheets, Evelyn.” His hand dipped lower, gently grazing across her breast. She inhaled sharply, her body frozen, her head leaning back against the wall and her eyes smoldering.

His fingertips glided over her nipple, circling the precious nub. It hardened and, seemingly of its own accord, her warm bosom pressed deep into his palm.

Her body wanted him; warm, soft, and so deliciously feminine. Her excited heartbeat pounded against his hand. She pushed against him, but her attempt at escape lacked force and seemed half-hearted at best. Still, she looked ready to scratch his eyes out.

He dipped his head, pressing his mouth to the soft wool covering her breast. A small groan escaped from her lips as he tenderly bit the nub.

Her breath was coming in short pants. “This means nothing,” she murmured in a throaty voice. If looks could kill, he’d have been tarred and feathered by now.

Her denial of the naked truth made his body fire all the more. Reaching his hand down to her thigh, he nibbled tenderly on her neck. “I know you want me, Evelyn.” He massaged the delicate curve of her derriere, grinding her into him, making her feel how much he wanted her.

She suddenly stopped moving. Turning her head, she whispered, “Let me go before I harm you.”

“You cannot hurt me any more than you already have, my love.” He brushed little kisses on the nape of her neck, teasing, licking, and nibbling up to her ear, all the while kneading her luscious buttocks.

His mouth moved to hers, pressing first one corner of her lips and then the other. “Kiss me, Evelyn.”

“No.”

“You know you want to.”

“No. I don’t.” But her body belied her words. Her flesh was fevered. Her back arched, pressing her hips into his, and her legs slowly spread, welcoming him into her heat.

He pressed his mouth against her velvety soft lips, nibbling tenderly for purchase. He drew her lower lip into his mouth and sucked gently, just like he knew she liked it.

“Make love to me, Evelyn,” he breathed into her honeyed mouth.

Slowly her lips softened. Her body relaxed, and a small sigh escaped from those lovely lips. He dove in, feeling a sense of exultation. She finally acknowledged she wanted him! At least part of her had to care. Her soft, supple body melted into his. Those well-formed legs clutched at his thighs, welcoming him into her innermost sanctum.

He was like a starved man at his first meal. He sucked on her tongue, running his hands up and down her gloriously curvaceous body. The chafe of her woolen gown against his exposed skin teased his senses. He gripped her waist as she writhed against him, her hot, soft flesh hardening his member to iron. He could not recall ever being so aroused.

Her tongue captured his and claimed it in a dance that assaulted his senses. The once tender kisses turned hot, wet, and passionate, sending all thoughts of triumph from his mind. Escaping his locked hand, she grabbed the back of his neck, pressing the kiss tighter. Her fingertips twined in his short hair, teasing the back of his neck. She laved his tongue, ardently pressing her pelvis into his, rubbing against him in wanton pleasure.

Softly biting his earlobe, she whispered, “Lay back onto the table.”

His breath caught. Lord, let this not be some terrible ploy. He eased his body off hers. She pressed him back onto the scratchy tabletop.

With infinite slowness, she lay down the length of him. It was his fantasy come to life in the woman of his dreams. She pressed her lips to his, and he surrendered to her passion. Writhing against him, she moved her wet, open mouth to his neck, sucking, licking, while sliding her hips up and down his engorged staff. She was hotter than Hades.

Panting, she tossed aside his blanket, yanked off his smalls and ripped up her skirts. She was moving so quickly that he barely had time to breathe.

She mounted him with a harsh groan. She was hot, tight, and wetter than he’d ever imagined. Reaching up, he gently squeezed her exquisite breasts, molding them into his hands. Through the thin wool of her gown he caressed her nipples, teasing them to tight buds.

She rode him hard, grinding her hips into his with escalating ferocity. In the flickering glow of the candlelight, he watched her. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, her cheeks red, her breasts heaving, and her lush lips parted in rapture. She was the most magnificent woman he’d ever laid eyes on.