I Spy a Duke (24 page)

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Authors: Erica Monroe

BOOK: I Spy a Duke
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“James,” she began, edging closer to him, the corner of her traveling habit brushing against his buff breeches. “I know I may not have given you the best impression of me, given that I ended up on your doorstep under...let’s say nefarious purposes, but I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

“Never against a foe like this.” His jaw clenched, and his eyes found hers again, pain and sadness and longing, too. For her.

She nodded, hoping it conveyed as much as his mannerisms usually did. “That’s why I have you. Together, we’re a force to be reckoned with.”

James swallowed. “I can’t lose you. Not you too.”
 

Of course. How could she not have seen it? He’d already been through so much loss.
 

She came even closer, until she was almost sharing the same space with him, her leg so near to his. “Nothing is going to happen to me. I’m not going to die. Not with you here and certainly not with that brute of a coachman you seem to have dragged from a traveling act.”
 

That brought a small smile to his lips. “Nixon is a good man.”

“Good man or not, one look at him and Sauveterre will run for cover.”
 

“That was the idea.”

“I think you’ve accomplished that goal quite well, then.” Her hand drifted to his arm, her fingers running up and down his coat sleeve. “But we’re still alone in this carriage for a while.”

James watched her fingers track, his eyes darkening. He ran his tongue across his lips, those lips she wanted so badly on her own, stripping away her apprehension and leaving pleasure in their wake. “You make it very hard to say no to you.”

Vivian trailed her hand up further, tracing the curve of his ear. “So you’ve said. I believe you also called me impossible.”

“And aggressive,” he reminded her, leaning into her touch. “When we are together the first time—and we
will
be together, Vivian—I want it to be right. It should be you and me, no worries, no doubts.”

She dropped her hand, her meager attempts at seduction now seeming tawdry compared to the real connection he described. But he caught her fingers, intertwining them with his own, and he brought her hand to his lips to lay a sweet kiss upon her skin.

“I want that too,” she murmured. “A proper wedding night, if one can still call it that when it isn’t the night you marry.”

“So much about us is already unconventional. Who says we cannot defy the calendar too? Our wedding night can be whenever we please.”

“How rebellious,” she said. “I like it very much.”

When he released her hand, she went to make her way back to her side of the carriage, but he stopped her. In one quick movement, he’d dropped down to the floor of the carriage and knelt in front of her at eye level. “I’ll make you a promise.”

“Another one?”

He’d already promised to save her life, to cherish her, and to call her his wife forever. How much more could he give her?

He leaned in until they were almost nose-and-nose. “If you’re willing to follow my instructions exactly as I’m showing you how to fight, as well as teaching you other certain skills you might need to learn—”

She bristled at his demand for obedience, but she was intrigued enough to let him continue.
 

His expression became grave. “I’m serious. Complete focus. I can’t take the chance that something will happen to you.”
 

“Fine, I agree,” she said because he refused to continue until she did.

“Then I think we can explore whatever...this is.” He waved to the tiny space in between them. “Within reason, of course.”

“Kisses, then,” she put forth helpfully. “And some touching.”

His eyes settled on her breasts, covered by the thick fabric of her traveling habit. “A lot of touching. Because when I see you all I want to do is run my hands down every inch of your body.”

Her mouth suddenly felt quite dry indeed, but he seemed to be waiting for her to say something. For her to grant him permission. Damn his chivalry, for now she had to think of a suitably hoydenish remark. “I would not be opposed to a lot of touching.”
 

“Good.” Another nod, so quick this time she almost missed it, for then his lips were on hers, and the world was spinning.

He kissed her deliberately, thoroughly, as if he’d made it his objective to tear out any thought in her mind that wasn’t related to him. His lips crushed hers, demanding her obedience, but she gave it all back to him in a kiss that was neither gentle nor refined but was in itself an unstoppable act. She’d lacked control over almost every aspect of her life in these six months, and she lacked control in this kiss.
 

But his hands gripped her shoulders, anchored her, and suddenly the loss of control wasn’t a problem. She gave herself in to this, into the unruliness, swaying as the carriage moved.
 

She darted her tongue out, tasting the smooth plane of his lips. He opened to her, his own tongue thrusting forward to toy with hers. They tangled like this, an intricate dance she did not know the steps to beforehand, yet seemed to follow intrinsically. And through it all, the heat in her body rose, rose, rose in the tips of her breasts, in that private juncture between her thighs, but it was a welcome, wonderful warmth that made her feel safe. She was not alone. She had him.
 

He drew back from her, kissing her neck. His tongue dipped into the hollow of her ear, then behind her lobe. Tingles shot through her, first in her hands, then traveling through the rest of her body as he nipped at the bottom of her ear. She had never imagined such pleasure could be found in this. He kept at her, alternating between licking and nibbling, until she was panting with desire. Her head lolled back against him, exposing more of her neck.

“God, you are so beautiful,” he murmured against her throat, his nimble fingers undoing the top buttons of her dress to give him more access. Her collarbone was now bared to him, and he ran his fingers swiftly against her skin, leaving trails of fire wherever his fingers lingered.
 

“What next?” She barely managed the question before his hand slid forward, cupping her bosom.
 

Once, she’d seen him when he was bare-knuckle boxing with Lord Haley, and she’d watched as his fists inflicted pain. But now all they did was cause her bliss. He kneaded her breast, holding her and then caressing her in turn. Her nipples hardened to peaks under his touch, straining against the confines of her stays. The traveling habit that had seemed so loose this morning now felt too tight and far too hot. He switched to her other breast, giving her the same attention until her belly tightened with want and she thought of nothing else but his hands gripping her. His tanned skin against her traveling habit. The scars on the backs of his hand from too many fights.
 

“More,” she whispered, though she could not breathe without the smell of him, the feel of his presence. Still it was not enough.

“You are a flippant minx.” She felt his grin against her neck, heard the approval in his voice, though she could not see his face. Climbing up on the bench next to her, he leaned her forward. His fingers made hasty work of her buttons, despite the rollicking of the carriage.
 

She should have cared that her bosom was on display for him. She should have felt revealed. Yet when she glanced up at him, the heady desire streaked across his face made her feel...empowered. Delightfully wanton. She leaned back against him, helping him to shove the fabric down to her waist.
 

Somehow, he managed to turn her around, so that she now faced him. It was the quickest of movements, his deft precision reminding her of how smooth he’d been executing his defense maneuvers. He was a man who could keep her safe at all costs, a man who knew exactly how to go after what he wanted.

And what he wanted was her.

She wouldn’t question it. Wouldn’t breathe a word of denial that she was too plain, too wallflower, too anything but interesting enough for his attentions. Today she would pretend she had the confidence of a woman who could catch his eye. Today she would pretend she deserved everything he’d done for her so far, because God she wanted to believe she did. He saw a better version of her, and she wanted to be that person.

She wanted
him.

“You’re killing me, woman,” he ground out, at the sight of the pink ribbon tied underneath her breasts, in the same shade as her garters. Judging from his reaction, Vivian no longer considered extravagant undergarments as a needless expense.

“It will be a wonderful death,” she found herself saying, as his fingers worked deftly at the knot.
 

“If I can but die with you naked before me, I’ll reconsider my stance on living long.” He plucked at the last knot, unfastening her stays. She sat before him now with her chemise and her stays spread wide, her gown pooled around her waist. He helped her remove the stays, tossing them aside.

Before she had time to protest, his hands were on her again, molding her breasts against his palms. If she had thought the contact before had been good, she’d not expected this. He teased and played with her, exerting pressure where she needed him most, until she was crying out from how
good
it all made her feel. He dived down, taking her breast into his hot mouth. As he tongued her, circling her nipple until the dusky peaks of her nipples were almost painfully stiff, she reevaluated her previous ideas on just how much bliss the human body could take. Because she was soaring, her mind hazy, all her senses overloaded with pleasure, and he didn’t seem intent on stopping.
 

Until the carriage hit a bump in the road, jostling them forward. Then the postchaise halted entirely. Nixon’s shouts echoed from outside.

A second later, there was a knock upon the door, and Arden’s voice echoed. “James, the wheel is stuck in a rut. You’re going to want to come and help Nixon push it out.”

“Damnation. Damnable, damned, damningly damnation.” The black look he sent the door alleviated some of her disappointment—for he was just as upset by this interruption as she was.
 

“James?” Arden called again.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” James cursed under his breath, fetching her stays. “This is not the way this is supposed to work, you know. Once these stays come off, they’re supposed to bloody remain off for
at least
a half hour, do you understand me? We should make this a rule from now on.”

She turned so he could lace her back up. “At least a half hour. Duly noted in the marriage charter.”

He chuckled, even as he scowled at having to do up the back of her dress again. “So we have a charter now?”

She leaned into his touch, unable to help herself. “Absolutely. I believe in order above all things.”

He brushed a kiss on her neck, then moved away, going to the carriage door. “Stay inside. This isn’t over.”

For once, she was only too happy to obey his command.
 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Guildford, Surrey

The journey from Maidstone to Guildford took approximately eight hours by postchaise. Two stops at inns along the way to eat, stretch their legs, and select fresh horses. In the past, he’d always completed this trip with little delay, unable to risk more than a ten-minute stop to change his steed.
 

In the past, he’d always been running from enemy agents, not taking his new wife for training. In the past, he’d never spent part of the ride pleasuring the most intriguing woman he’d ever known.

This trip, though it took all day and the better part of the evening, was infinitely better than the rest.
 

Blackness swathed the sky, the thick forest blocking out the moonlight. They’d stopped half a mile back from the hunting lodge, for the carriage could not easily travel through the densely wooded drive. Nixon unstrapped the matched pair from the carriage, running his hand down each horse’s body to make sure that there were no injuries. Satisfied with what he felt, he took the reins of both of the horses. While the postchaise would remain in the forest, James preferred to have the team kept closer to the lodge in case of emergency. He’d learned the hard way that a good agent always needed a plan of escape.

Nixon started forward, holding his torch high to guide their way. He knew the lay of the land almost as well as James did, for he was the Clocktower’s usual whip for the safe houses within driving distance of London.
 

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