To Wed a Scandalous Spy (10 page)

He heard the rustle of fabric and dared to look once more. She was standing with her back to him, and the coat mercifully covered her to her knees. She turned, and Nathaniel realized that his coat truly wasn't going to do the job.

Although the black frock coat hung shapeless and concealing over most of her body, the shorter front hem stopped high above her knees. In the candlelight, her skin shone whiter than the linen. Plump and smooth, her legs were gleaming curve and mysterious hollow. Nathaniel's mouth watered at the sight.

She bent quickly to gather up the coverlet and cover herself further, but it was too late. The sweet ripeness of Willa's thighs was burned into Nathaniel's memory. His groin pulsed in response, his erection promising to be towering and of dismaying longevity.

She was eyeing him a bit sideways, but there was no denying that she was looking.

Quickly Nathaniel pulled up the packsack to hide behind, before her eyes traveled farther and she saw what she had done to him.

"Turn your back," he ordered.

"Why don't
you
turn
your
back, since I am the one who must search my things for a gown?"

"Fine," he snapped, and thrust another bag at her. He turned around and closed his eyes. The darkness behind his closed lids was soothing. He was exhausted; he'd not bothered to eat properly on this mission, and he had spent two days fighting the nauseating effect of a blow to the head, not to mention fighting the erratic effect of far too much Willa.

He had only known her for a short time, and already she was driving him as mad as she was. Nathaniel never knew if he wanted to strangle her or ravage her, and the strain was beginning to get to him.

Everything would be better in the morning. After a good night's rest, sleeping far across the fire from the she-demon, he could start a new day. Resolving to keep his carnal thoughts in line, he turned. She was sitting up in the bed, tucked into the covers, with her flannel nightdress clearly visible, since it was tied tightly all the way up to her neck.

She still looked entirely delectable.

He could have her body now, that was obvious. She thought he would be her husband, clearly, and only wanted what any bride would expect. The throbbing in his groin urged him to do just that. He could walk over to her right now and satisfy himself, although he doubted once would do it.

He could tangle them within the blankets until sunrise and not get enough. He could ride her every half hour until they reached their destination, and she would freely grant him his "husbandly rights," believing herself bonded to an ordinary man.

For now.

Then they would arrive in London and all would be revealed. And when tales were told, she would leave. Anyone would. He had the proof of that. After all, when his own family had declared him outcast, what should he expect from an accidental bride?

Resolution flooded him once more, driving back the tide of longing triggered by Willa's offer. Gratefully Nathaniel sank into the cold comfort of his duty. So instead of yearning, what came out next had more the tone of lack of interest.

"You test me to no avail, Willa. I have no intention of consummating this marriage now."
Or ever
. Picking up the poker, he strode past her to build up the flames.

Now Willa really did want to push him into the fire. Except that somehow she couldn't. There was something so sad about Nathaniel, something in his eyes that made her think he expected nothing from anyone but pain.

How frustrating. And until Willa figured out the complex clockwork that was her new husband she was, no doubt, in for more mysterious changes of mood. Really, and men claimed women were changeable!

Huffing with impatience, Willa pulled the covers higher, her natural modesty returning tenfold. Still, she was never one to give up once she'd set her mind on something. "I don't know why you refuse me, sir, but I must warn you—"

He didn't look up. "We don't even know one another, Willa. We should make this decision after… after some time has passed."

"If you live that long," she muttered.

"What?" Now he turned his head and frowned at her.

"Moira is of the firm opinion that the jinx won't lift until I'm wedded and bedded—"

He looked back at the coals. "Oh, are you talking that jinx nonsense again?"

"Ask Wesley Moss if it is nonsense! Or Timothy Sealy!"

"Timothy who?"

"Carriage accident. A little matter of a flaming handkerchief and a runaway horse.
Not
my fault."

He bent his head to rub it with one palm. "Ah, of course not."

"At any rate, you should not dismiss this danger."

Nathaniel didn't smile, but his tension relaxed somewhat. "Willa, if I promise that I will be careful, will you promise to stop trying to get me to…"

"Copulate?"

"Let's not use that particular word. Let us say 'make love.' "

His voice when he said the words deepened ever so slightly, although she didn't think it intentional. This time Willa did shiver on the outside. The odd thing was, just hearing it made her want to do it.

With him.

Now.

"Willa? Can you agree to that?"

"What?" She blinked. "Oh well, if you insist. Just let me know when you want me." Absently she turned her back to him and flopped down onto her pillow.

Nathaniel didn't think she saw the effect her choice of words had on him. He hoped not. It would never do for her to realize how very much he did want her.

It was better this way. And maybe if he kept telling himself that, his rebellious body would believe him. Moving to make his own bed before the fire, Nathaniel had to admit that there was something agreeable about having someone else around. For the first time since his disgrace, he didn't feel quite so alone.

Off in London, in a seedy room that cost more than it was worth for no questions to be asked, hid a man with a great deal more to lose than money. Slow-burning panic crawled through the man's belly like worms.

Events were not going as planned. Nothing had gone as planned since that damned political cartoon had come out. His future had once been rosy. Success, public respect, and wealth, more wealth than most men ever saw…

He'd been so close. And now, nothing.

Worse than nothing, for there were people with expectations of him. People who were not inclined to listen to excuses.

He had not acquired the item. Or the girl.

She'd disappeared, according to what he'd heard. Someone else had gotten to her first; he was sure of it. Girls didn't simply disappear from their home villages on a whim.

His collar choked him. He raised a hand to loosen it, only to find it loosened already. His hand shook before his vision. He shut his eyes and reached for control.

There was still time.

Nathaniel ran his hand down Willa's soft naked belly to the brunette curls nestled between her round white thighs. She sighed and writhed against him, begging for more. He caught her hands and held them gently above her head with his other hand. She breathed a soft sob, willing and trembling at his hands.

He teased her until she quivered. Then he stroked his fingers boldly within. She was wet and hot within, her flesh blossoming at his daring invasion. She gasped aloud and he covered her mouth with his in a deep wet kiss, swallowing her cries as he drove her onward with deep strokes and the pressure of his thumb upon her clitoris. She writhed in his arms, helpless against his wicked assault, her will taken by the pleasure he was causing her.

Breathlessly she begged, "Please… oh, Nathaniel oh, please."

He sucked a tight pink nipple deep into his mouth and pressed his thumb more quickly. She arched violently, then came pulsing around his touch.

With a start, Nathaniel realized where he was.

Oh no.

Not again.

By force of will, Nathaniel jerked himself completely awake, ready to leap away from the woman who had invaded his bed once more.

There was no one there.

Nathaniel froze, then looked wildly around the room. It was very late, and the fire had died to embers in the hearth. If she wasn't in his bed, then where was she?

She slept in her own bed across the room, precisely where she belonged. Curled tightly in her blanket with only a few stray locks of hair emerging from where her head was supposed to be.

Relief swept Nathaniel. Then alarm.

He had no business dreaming such dark things about Willa. He'd pinioned her hands; he'd handled her forcefully. That… he wasn't that sort. At least, he hadn't been. Once upon a time, he'd been a lazy, playful lover, with no impulse to
possess
a woman's body that way.

Especially not Willa. He would never touch her that way and shouldn't even want to. And he didn't. He was simply… in need of a good rogering, that was all. He hadn't had a woman in far too long.

Dreams were just dreams, after all. A man at his level of sexual deprivation would naturally begin to dream a bit. After all, he'd not touched a woman since becoming engaged to Daphne last year. Of course, since his engagement ended, there weren't too many woman willing to receive his touch.

Excepting Willa. Nathaniel's imagination grabbed him by the nape of his neck and dragged him back to that moment on the road. Full lips parted in lust. Sweet white flesh that was his for the taking.

Hot, trembling, wanting Willa.

He manfully freed himself from fantasy's grip. Willa was simply the only woman about. And she was attractive, in her ample dairymaid way.

She was no Daphne, of course. There were few women in the world as beautiful as Daphne. Daphne was a goddess. Tiny and elegant, ruthlessly fashionable, with the refined features of an alabaster masterpiece.

There
was a woman to dream about. Of course, he had no business dreaming of Daphne, either. She was as lost to him as the loftiness of his name.

As she should be. He'd broken the engagement himself, although it was publicly assumed she had done it Loyal fiancée that she was, Daphne had at first claimed she didn't wish to be released from their obligation. However, Nathaniel couldn't allow her to be dragged down with him, and eventually she'd seen the merit in his insistence.

Yet, loyal as she'd protested herself to be, she'd believed the rumors. "In time," she'd said gravely, "I believe I might eventually forgive your mistake."

He wondered where Daphne was now. A lady so lovely and well-bred as Miss Daphne Danville likely had suitors galore, if not a new fiancé already.

The curious thing was, though he and Daphne had been intended for each other since childhood, he didn't miss her at all.

Nathaniel rose and shook out his blanket. Stepping quietly to the bed, he draped the blanket over Willa and tucked it in beneath her feet.

Her body began to relax into the added warmth immediately. Within moments, she had shifted her death grip on her blanket and allowed herself to come up for air.

Still, only a pert nose and a stubborn chin showed. Nathaniel silently added more coals to the hearth. It would likely be stifling by morning, but he didn't like the idea of her shivering all night.

Pulling his coat off its peg, Nathaniel draped it around himself and settled back down on his makeshift bed. It had only been a dream.

Nothing more.

The next morning, Willa gathered up the things they'd taken into the inn and packed the bags one last time. Nathaniel had brusquely informed her that they would be reaching his home in London tonight.

She ought to be excited about seeing London, but Nathaniel's cool manner had her preoccupied. He was obviously none too pleased with her after last night. Honestly, one would think most men would be thankful for such an obliging bride!

Willa had always taken pride in her even temper. After all, a jinx was enough to endure, without a reputation as a shrew on top of it. But Mr. Nathaniel Stonewell was fair to driving her mad with his changeable heart. The escalating edginess she was feeling didn't help.

For a moment, she watched the dust motes dance in the morning sunlight streaming in through the windows, until the image of Nathaniel's beautiful body imposed itself on her vision. He didn't have to be anywhere near her for her knees to weaken and her breath to come fast. Heavens, he'd had that effect on her from the first, even while unconscious.

Was she just an animal then, to be so driven by her physical impulses?

Thinking of the warring flashes of desolation and laughter she saw in his eyes and the unutterable loneliness on his face when he thought she wasn't looking, Willa had to admit that there was more to her longing for Nathaniel than the perfection of his form.

He needed her. As desperately as she needed him. He just didn't know it yet.

The question was, how was she to bear her growing desirous feelings until he figured it out?

Wrapping both arms about the baggage, she carried it downstairs and out to the yard where Nathaniel stood with their mounts. He took it with a nod of thanks but didn't meet her eyes.

Irritation flared once more. "You're welcome. Oh, do stop," she gushed. "No need for such a display. It was nothing, nothing at all."

Willa walked away, but her sarcasm stuck with Nathaniel.

It
was
nothing. Just a simple sharing of the load, nothing that he wouldn't expect of any man sharing the journey with him. It occurred to Nathaniel that he knew of no other women who would stand up and shoulder the load of travel as Willa did.

He knew the pace he was setting was hard on her and that she was unused to riding much, but other than a few acid comments on her lack of knees, she had scarcely complained.

True, she had also knocked him unconscious and trapped him into marriage, deafened him with her chatter, and nearly driven him mad with her importuning to "copulate," but in general she was a very satisfactory traveling companion.

Mounting much more easily than she had done the first day, Willa settled into the saddle and turned her mare toward the road. "Shall we be off then?" she asked coolly.