Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (22 page)

In the dim upstairs hallway were three doors. He opened the first, to find a master bedroom with an attached sitting room. Tristan stepped inside, eyes wide. It would have been a simple room except someone had turned it into a romantic escape. Candles glowed along the mantel, on every spare inch of every tabletop, even in the windowsills, while a roaring fire warmed it and a sinfully silky coverlet graced the bed.

“Are you tired? I can—” Meredith’s voice came
behind him. She cut herself off abruptly when she entered the room.

“It seems someone went to a lot of trouble for us,” he said as he turned. Meredith’s face was soft in the firelight. The candles made her skin luminescent and her eyes dance. He longed to touch her. To make good use of the bed.

“Ana,” Meredith muttered, with a secret smile that made blood rush hot in his veins. “She is ever the romantic.”

“So she believes in my innocence?” he asked, finally allowing himself to move toward her.

She caught her breath as he reached for her. “Ana believes in my intuition. My heart.”

Tristan trailed his fingertips down her arms before he caught her elbows and drew her closer. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” she repeated, eyes glazing with hot desire. He had no doubt if he took her to bed, she wouldn’t resist. But he wanted more.

“You said you fell in love with me,” he whispered. “Do you love me still?”

Her breath hitched, but she answered immediately. “Yes. I love you still.”

He shut his eyes and let the pleasure of her confession fill him body and soul. Then he met her gaze a second time. “You also said you
want
to believe in my innocence. But do you? Do you think I’m a traitor?”

Slowly, she slid her hand up his chest, leaving
fire in her wake. She cupped his cheek. “If I did, we wouldn’t be here. I would have left you in Isley’s prison cell, even if it broke my heart. I believe in your innocence, Tristan.”

The joy Tristan felt nearly took him to his knees, but instead he drew her closer. There was her answer, her leap of faith. He drew a long, deep breath and gave her his own.

“I love you, Meredith Sinclair. I have loved you since that night so long ago when I rescued you from the inn. I tried to deny it, to avoid you so I wouldn’t feel it. But I couldn’t. I can’t now and I don’t want to. I love you, and tonight I’m going to prove that to you.”

T
ristan dropped his mouth to Meredith’s and a thousand starbursts of pleasure exploded before her eyes. His kiss was like coming home, filling a void she hadn’t been aware existed. She clung to him, his declaration of love still ringing in her ears as her body molded to his.

It was as if the bud of a rose in Ana’s garden had finally opened to the sunlight. Everything was revealed. There were no more lies, no more walls, just the feeling of his arms around her. Only now did a lifetime like this seem possible.

She opened to him and their kiss deepened, slowed. It turned from the passionate expression of love to a deeper, more sensual promise of what
was to come. From experience, she knew that was a night of overwhelming passion. But this time it wouldn’t be just one stolen night together. It would be the first of many nights to come. Once they brought Devlin to justice and cleared Tristan’s name, they could face that future. Together.

Tristan drew back, looking into her eyes. “I missed touching you so much.”

She smiled through fresh tears, this time joyful. “I missed you too. I dreamed of you every night and I worried about you.”

He pulled her back toward the bed. “You may have to examine me to ensure I wasn’t harmed.”

She laughed as she found his buttons with seeking fingers. “With pleasure, my lord.”

She pulled his shirt free until it hung loose around him. He was just as beautiful as she remembered, and her body reacted as it always had. Hot blood warmed every sensitive part of her. Her nipples tingled in anticipation, and beneath her underskirts humid desire warmed her thighs.

She released an anticipatory sigh before she let her fingers caress his bare chest. His eyes fluttered shut and he let out a low, hungry groan that set her knees to trembling. She stroked his collarbone in long swishes, gliding her fingertips lower with each graze.

Tristan’s grip on her arms tightened and the evidence of his desire stroked her belly as his steely erection rose to attention. She arched her
hips, shivering at the touch of his length and knowing what he would do with it once they were free of these troublesome clothes.

The feel of Meredith writhing against him was almost more than Tristan could take. His fingers shaking, he reached around and yanked at the buttons on her dress. They popped loose, one flying across the room, but he didn’t care. Once he had her naked, he would use finesse. He would take his time.

If she was troubled by the loss of her button, she didn’t show it. Arching her back, she granted him greater access. Finally, he slipped his hands beneath her gown. Her chemise was fine silk, but not as soft as her skin. With a tug, her dress fell forward.

He let it bunch around her elbows, imprisoning her in the fabric as he bent his head to press his lips against her skin. Her pulse pounded hard, quickening when he darted out his tongue to caress the hollow of her throat. Her breath came ragged as she struggled against her gown, but he held steady, moving his lips on a slow, easy trail toward the edging of her chemise.

Meredith let out a low sigh as he caught one flimsy strap and let it join her dress at her elbow. Carefully, he peeled the silk lower until he revealed her breast. He reveled in her perfection for a moment: how beautifully her nipple puckered in anticipation, how perfectly she filled his hands,
but then he couldn’t resist any longer. He captured the little bud between his lips.

Her cry was primal, echoing as she clawed his shoulders and her hips bucked. He took his time, stroking her with his tongue, swirling around the nipple until it was rosy from his attentions.

He switched sides, drawing Meredith’s chemise down but still leaving her gown at her elbows, where it limited her movement. She shivered, attempting to lift herself for his lips, but unable to do so when she was hindered by her dress.

He dipped his head and gave her the relief she was silently demanding, laving her nipple as her moan turned to a scream of pleasure. But it wasn’t enough. He hadn’t yet made her shiver in release or beg for more.

With a tug, her clothing pooled at her feet. Without breaking contact from her pebble-hard nipple, he grasped her hips and lifted her onto the bed. Immediately, she wrapped long, lithe legs around his back. Her wet heat pressed against his chest, telling him how much she wanted him inside her, how ready she was.

He leaned up to capture her lips, gently sucking her tongue as he palmed her thighs and spread her wide. She let out a cry into his mouth as he brought his hand up to cup her sex, brushing the weeping entrance to the core of her desire gently, letting his thumb play across the little bud of her pleasure.

Pressure blossomed at the point where Tristan’s fingers touched. Spreading, arcing, it built in a crescendo. But every time Meredith started to slip over the edge of pleasure, Tristan withdrew, keeping her close to completion without ever giving her release.

She leaned on her elbows, letting her head dip back over her shoulders and shutting her eyes as he continued to tease her, toy with her. Then his mouth moved. He slid down her body, sucking, pleasuring, until his mouth and fingers met.

The moment his tongue swept across her, Meredith exploded. Her hips jolted, pressing against his steadying hands as he tongued her mercilessly, bringing her through her tremors and even after the last shakes of her release were over.

Trembling from the force of her climax, she met his eyes. “Please.”

He nodded wordlessly as he slipped from his trousers. Her body ached in response to seeing him exposed, to seeing his erection at full and complete attention. Soon she would have him inside her.

She scooted back to let him climb onto the bed. He knelt between her legs, draping her knees over his elbows. The tip of his manhood nudged her, jolting her awareness up a notch as he surged forward to fill her to the hilt.

Her fingernails dug into the satin sheets for purchase as sensation assailed her. She reached
for him as he withdrew, only to fill her with another sure thrust. Her hands clutched his arms, clinging to him as he took her.

His thrusts began as long, sure, controlled strokes meant to drive her mad. Meant to claim. She met them in kind, lifting her hips to his, massaging his muscles in encouragement. The pressure of her impending release built in her lower belly, spreading and expanding each time he stroked within her.

But as he continued to thrust, his eyes glazed and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. Meredith watched him struggle to maintain control. Just seeing the veins in his neck strain with pleasure, the focus in his eyes as he held her gaze and took her again and again, drove her over the edge.

Her pleasure peaked, and she was falling a second time, pressing hot kisses against his skin as she rode out the waves of completion.

“Now, Tristan,” she moaned. “Now!”

He roared out his pleasure, his arms straightening and his back arching as he poured into her. His cries merged with hers as she let out her own final scream of completion and went limp with satisfaction against the pillows.

Tristan’s elbows buckled as he collapsed on top of her. Her arms came around him, feeling every part of him she could reach, reveling in the fact that he was finally hers.

Until tomorrow, when their lives would be in danger again.

Tristan shut his eyes. The light outside was starting to dim as the sun dipped in the west. Already, streetlamp lighters were doing their jobs.

Which meant he had to do his.

He had waited nearly two long years for this moment. The time when he would meet face-to-face with the man responsible for cutting his brother down. He had lived and breathed his quest to discover who killed Edmund. It had driven him to dance along the edge of madness and ruin. It had nearly cost him everything…and still could. But avenging his brother was the one thing that mattered. He had pictured the meeting so many times. Imagined every detail. Anticipated it.

But now, on the cusp of getting what he desired most, reluctance filled him.

Rolling over, he looked at Meredith. She was tangled in the sheets, the satin just barely draped over the tantalizing slope of her breasts. One shapely leg hooked over the covers, crooked in a way that made him want to trace the curve with his lips.

She
was the reason for his reluctance. They had spent the previous night and most of this day making love, except when Meredith was making arrangements for their meeting. The meeting she insisted on attending with him, despite his
protests. But he knew her too well. If he refused her, she would only follow.

She looked at him. “You seem very serious. Much like that troubled man I encountered at the ball before we left for Carmichael.”

He nodded. There was no use hiding his emotions. “It’s growing late. We’ll be meeting with Devlin soon.”

Her expression tightened and the lines of worry creased her forehead in the firelight. “Yes.”

“Tonight will be very dangerous,” he continued. “I don’t want you to go.”

Her face grew even more tense as she shook her head. “I told you the first ten times we had this discussion, my attendance is not up for debate.”

“Are you certain you aren’t coming along because you don’t trust me?”

She leaned up, cupping his chin before she kissed him. Her lips clung to his for a moment, then she pulled away. “I trust you completely, but Devlin is dangerous. I can only imagine the man in charge of his group is even worse. You’ll need the assistance of someone trained. And we won’t be alone. Emily and Ana are our reinforcements. Everything is in place. All we need to do is find a viable explanation for my presence.”

He sighed at her insistence. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about that, and I’ve come up with a plan.”

She drew back in surprise. “Really? Do tell me.”

“It will require more faith,” he said, his gaze flitting over her face.

She didn’t hesitate. “You have it.”

Warmth flooded him. “You will appear to be my prisoner. I’ll tell Devlin that’s why I came to London so suddenly. That you were delving into secrets best left kept hidden in your fervor to marry a marquis.”

She laughed. “Ah, yes. Everyone knows what a mercenary I am when it comes to marriage.”

“I’m known as a catch, my love,” he answered with a brief kiss on her nose. “That a woman would push her way into my business in an attempt to sketch my worth might not be so unbelievable.”

“I believe it utterly,” she teased.

His smile fell as he thought again of the danger she would be in, especially in the guise of his hostage.

“Devlin will see my bringing you to him as another test passed. A matter of trust that I would ferret out a danger to his organization.”

Meredith looked at his face evenly, comforting him with her understanding expression. She didn’t look afraid. If she were an ordinary lady, he wouldn’t be able to accept her help. But Meredith Sinclair was no ordinary lady. She was a spy. And her skills would protect her even as he did everything in his power to do the same.

“You know,” she said, her smile soft and loving,
“
that
is a wonderful plan. I think we may make a spy of you yet.”

“If we survive the night, we can talk about my becoming a spy,” he said as he rose to ready himself.

She caught his hand, drawing it to her cheek. “Don’t worry, Tristan. Everything will be fine.”

He nodded for her benefit, but in his heart he remained unsure. Tonight would be the most dangerous of his life. He could only pray he would survive, and be able to protect Meredith. Only then could he dare to hope for a future in her arms.