The Black Sheep and the English Rose (33 page)

“I miss you,” she whispered heatedly. “I know we haven't been apart for more than five minutes in the past three days, but I miss you. Terribly.”

“I know, me too.”

“We shouldn't be doing this,” she said, even as she was unbuttoning his shirt.

“I don't know if I can get through the next twenty minutes without an extended taste of you.” He pushed her back so her head rested on the mirror over the sink. “Let me…”

“Finn, I want—” Then she stopped talking all together as he pushed up the full skirt of her dress and slid his hands up her thighs.

“We both need,” he said, then proceeded to take care of just that, and to hell with the damn security agent. He leaned over and kissed her as his fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh and stroked her through the silk of her panties. Their tongues dueled, while his fingers stroked, and he drove her up to the edge, and beautifully over, still kissing her even as she was shuddering through her climax.

“God, I miss you,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “I've just barely gotten you into my life, and into my world here, so I don't know how I can feel so—”

“I know,” she said, and pressed a kiss to his jaw, then the side of his neck. “I absolutely know.”

He lifted his head. “We've had no time, to talk, or…anything, but it's not because I don't want—haven't thought—I have, I just—”

She laughed softly then. “Me, too. And we will. After…” She shuddered again, only this time not with pleasure. He gathered her close, and she slid to her feet and folded herself against him. “What if…What if it goes horribly wrong?”

“It won't,” he said. “It can't. Once we put it out there for the whole world to know, and can back it up with proof, you'll be too public to be a target. And the real targets will be too busy facing down their own interrogations to have any time to do anything else.”

“I miss home,” she said. “I miss London. But I'm not looking forward to going back.” She tucked her head closer as he tightened his hold. “It could take a long time, a lot of questioning, and I don't know what my latitude will be, but—”

Finn tipped her chin and silenced her with a gentle kiss this time. “I do have the luxury of latitude.”

“You're still planning on coming back with me?”

“For as long as you'll have me.”

“But—what about your work here?”

“We'll work it out. I won't let you go through it alone, Felicity Jane.” She started to balk, but he kissed her again. “Let me put it this way, I don't want you to go through it without me. I don't want to sit an ocean away. I want to be with you. As much for myself as to support you.”

“Well,” she said, the humor he loved so much finally coming back into her voice, “when you put it that way, I'd be a shrew not to allow it.”

“Exactly,” he said and, for the first time, allowed himself to believe what Mac and Rafe had been telling him all along. Maybe it would work out. Somehow.

“Come on,” he said. “Showtime.”

“V
ultures,” Felicity said as she passed through the great room.

Finn immediately turned off the television, where he'd been watching the incessant coverage of the fallout still falling out even two weeks later. “I don't know how you stand it,” he said, never more sincere. “England is beautiful, this place is amazing, but it shouldn't be a prison.” And yet it was. Just on the other side of the gated drive was a scene on only a slightly smaller scale than the media chaos at Dalton Downs that had started this whole thing. “I know you explained to me that it was different over here, with you and the press, and…”

She crossed the room and sat in his lap without pausing, uncaring that it creased her designer suit or mussed her perfect, lawyer-approved hair. Which was exactly why he would put up with ten times the insanity if that was what it took.

She put her arms around his neck and smiled, wearily, but truly. “Brits adore gossip. We make what you all do to Britney and Paris look like child's play. It will die down eventually, but, as I told you, as a Trent, and a high profile one at that, due to Foundation business, it's always a bit like that, especially when I'm out and about. And now they learn I'm a secret agent? Or was? It's simply too, too delicious, you know. They really can't help themselves.”

He framed her face. “You're worth it.” He kissed her, then said, “But maybe we can bring Sean over. No offense to Foster, but we could use a better defensive driver getting around town.” Foster was the Trent family driver who Finn was fairly certain had personally been with the family for generations. Four or five, at least.

Felicity smiled at that. “Shh, you'll hurt his feelings.”

“We could be sitting in his lap, and I doubt he'd have heard me.”

She tried to look scolding, but couldn't quite pull it off. Finn was more distracted by the lines of fatigue etched in her forehead and fanning out from around her eyes. “What more did your lawyer—barrister—have to say?”

“Solicitor,” she corrected him. “The barrister is advising the solicitor, but he doesn't—oh, never mind. He's hopeful that we'll have a ruling shortly, but I'll be expected to be available for further questioning, and, eventually, for testimony if necessary. He wasn't sure what kind of travel freedom I'd have, or when I'll have it.”

Finn just hugged her. He knew no one was wearier of the whole thing than she was. “No word from or about Julia and Reese?”

“Nothing.”

“Are they keeping them apart, still?”

“Last I heard. Which is ridiculous, since they've allowed you to be here with me.”

“I'm not a rogue agent like you are, honey,” he said, bussing the tip of her nose when she scowled at him. “But I agree, it's not fair for them. I would—well, I don't want to think about what I would or wouldn't do if I was being kept from you until God knew when.”

“I'd go mad,” she said quietly, then laughed a little at herself. “A far cry from that independent woman I was when I last left here.”

“You haven't lost your independence,” he said. “You've just gained an advocate, that's all.”

The way she looked at him then, as if he was her own personal warrior, made him feel capable of being just that. He would have gladly gone striding from the room to personally slay each and every dragon if he could have. It still struck him every day how deeply he felt about her, how profoundly what she was going through affected him.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

“What about Rafe and Mac?” she asked. “Things okay on the homefront?”

Homefront.
He'd sworn to himself back at Dalton Downs that he'd be here to support her, to defend her, to help her, to do anything she asked of him. But the one thing he'd vowed not to do was pressure her, or even bring up their future beyond the madness they were enduring as everything got sorted out, post-bomb-dropping.

But there were times when it was mighty challenging. It was his nature to see things to their conclusion in the most direct, satisfying, and expeditious manner as possible. Those were the principles he applied to his business life. And he wasn't really equipped with any other way to go about achieving his goals than the ones he used day-to-day.

“What?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “You have that unfocused look again.”

He smiled, and pulled her more tightly against him. “Rafe faxed me some case files to look over.” He felt her tense a little.

“That's…good.”

He laughed. “That was the most unconvincing affirmation ever.”

She lifted her head, and though she tried to look amused, he was stunned to see her eyes grow a bit glassy. “I know, that was horribly selfish. I can't expect you to give up your life for me, and you've done that already for far longer than you should have, which also puts an undue burden on your partners, and—”

He cut off her stream of worry in the most effective and pleasurable way he knew how. But gently, this time. She was so strong, and so tireless, in doing what she knew she had to do, but she was also human, and worn out, both emotionally and physically. Which was where the teary eyes came from, he was sure. When he finally broke the kiss, he said, “He faxed me case files to look over so I could give him feedback and opinions on which ones to consider more seriously. Not cases I need to go home to take on personally.”

“I'd understand if you had to,” she said, but the way she'd relaxed against him when he'd assured he wasn't leaving said otherwise. Not that she wouldn't be understanding, just that she didn't want him to leave.

That made two of them.

“I am sorry, that this makes things harder on you.”

“We're fine. That's the luxury of being your own boss and picking your own cases.” And then it occurred to him that he didn't need to stop considering cases at all.

She lifted her head and looked at him again.

“You read me too well,” he said, but he was really starting to like it. She was very in tune with him, which made him look forward to taking on new work and bouncing ideas off of her like he did with Rafe and Mac.

“The wheels are spinning so fast I'm surprised I don't see smoke,” she said.

“I—I just had an idea, that's all.”

“About?”

“You. And me. But it can wait. Until after this has settled down and we know what is what.”

“You know what would help? Giving me something to think about beyond this madness. It's so all-consuming. I mean, yes, I'm still working on behind-the-scenes Foundation business, but given everything, they are talking about the possibility of hiring someone to run the day-to-day with me remaining a more private advisor.”

Finn's eyes widened. “Why? When did that happen?”

“Conference call right before the solicitor's call.”

“I know the media glare is crazy right now, but, that's your family's trust; they can hardly—”

“They're right,” she said quietly. “And you know what's worse? I think I'm relieved.”

“But—”

“I—this isn't the life I chose for myself, Finn. It was chosen for me. And I've done my best by it, but with my current notoriety, I'm more hindrance to the good we do than a help. Yes, it will die down, but that won't be anytime soon, and the Foundation needs to continue to operate if they're going to benefit anybody.”

“If people want help, they can bloody well get over it. You were one of the good guys, or haven't they bothered to remember that?”

She bussed his nose. “You're very good for me, you know that?”

“I—I just don't want to see you pushed out. You've lost your future with MI-8, and now this. It's not right that you get left with nothing.”

She kissed him and smiled. “Hardly nothing, darling. And the truth is, I think I'll be better served, too. I can still work behind the scenes, and, someday, if it's determined I won't be a gawking, gaping distraction, I'll go back to being the face of the Foundation at certain events. But keeping a low profile and focusing on the work is my best bet.” She stopped herself, and looked at him. “But that's not what I need to focus on right now, either. What idea did you have?”

He hadn't even had the chance to think it out, decide how feasible it might be. Or if she'd even be interested. “I was just thinking that if I'm going to be over here for a while, well, there are people in need everywhere.”

“You mean…take on cases here?”

“Possibly. Maybe your Foundation has people who come for help, but not the kind you can provide. Or I'll put Rafe on it.”

“No…no, I think I could be some help with that. You wouldn't believe the requests that come in to us. Some are downright heartbreaking, but don't fall under the purview of the kind of help we provide.”

Finn grinned. “Well, it's a start.” He slid down in the chair a little and tucked her in with him. “You wanna do some behind-the-scenes work for me?”

She wiggled her eyebrows and traced a finger around his neckline. “Is that what we're calling it now?”

Finn barked a laugh. “Actually, I was serious. With the Foundation pushing you into a new role, and your work with MI-8 clearly at an end, I was thinking maybe you could team up with me.”

She started to laugh, then stopped. “You're serious, aren't you?”

“Very,” he said, the idea rapidly expanding in his mind as he really gave it credence. “We could work here when you want or need to be here, and, if you're willing—” He broke off, realizing he was doing it again.

“Willing to what?” she urged.

“I promised myself I wouldn't push.”

She laughed outright.

“I think I was just insulted,” he said in a mock wounded voice.

“I should think not,” she said, as haughty as she got. “Your drive and determination is one of the main reasons I fell in love with you. If you hadn't pushed, I'd have let myself walk away from the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Wait, back up. What did you just say?”

“That if you hadn't pushed me, I'd have—”

“Before that.”

She had to stop and think. Then the most delightful shade of pink stole into her cheeks. “See, and I promised myself I wouldn't say that.”

“Why on earth would you promise yourself that?”

“Because these are highly emotional times, and when I said it, I wanted you to know that my judgment wasn't clouded by being bombarded and worn out from all the chaos. I know I cling to you lately, but—”

He framed her face and brought it close. “You're the most nonclingy woman in the world. Physically, we fit, emotionally we fit, but it's because we have our own minds, our own ideas. And I'm glad you told me. Because I love you, too, Felicity Jane Trent.”

She broke out, then, in the brightest smile he'd seen from her in, well, maybe ever.

“That felt pretty damn good,” he said, maybe a little more surprised than he'd thought he'd be.

“Yeah, it kind of did.” She leaned in. “Perhaps we should head up to my suite and, you know, discuss the terms of this declaration.”

“There are going to be terms?”

“Oh, yes. Lengthy and quite detailed terms.”

“Am I going to like them?”

She wiggled down in his lap. “Oh, I believe you're going to like them a lot.”

“You know, don't tell Rafe or Mac, but when it comes to being a fully rounded team player, you really have it all over them.”

She laughed. “Ah, now I have leverage.”

He stood, and swung her up in his arms, then slid her directly over his shoulder, clamping her legs to his chest. “Good, you'll need it.”

He grabbed a canvas tote he'd stashed in a corner back when he'd arrived. He'd felt kind of silly then, but it had been an impulse to bring it along. Now he was glad he had.

“What on earth is that?” she asked, craning her neck around to the side.

He stuck his hand in the bag and pulled out a familiar blue plastic bag.

“Is that the same bag? From our plane ride west?”

“It is.” He handed it back to her, then strode from the room and headed to their bedroom.

He heard the plastic rustle; then she giggled. “Good call. I love chocolate sauce, you know. And honey. I didn't know we shared the sweet tooth.”

“I'm not so sure it was teeth I was thinking about, so much as tongue.”

She wriggled a little, and he picked up the pace.

“But…what on earth is the set of children's paint brushes for?”

He grinned. “Arts and crafts.”

She laughed. And suddenly, life was pretty damn perfect.