Whirlwind Wedding (25 page)

He fixed his gaze on her. "I suppose we could try—"

"Of course we can."

"You will remain by my side—"

"Every moment. I swear."

"I don't believe you've allowed me to finish a sentence in the last five minutes."

"limmm. You may be right. Of course, look at all the time I've saved us."

Slipping his hands from between hers, he cupped her face. "I won't allow any harm to come to you. I swear it."

A tender smile pulled at her lips. "I know, Austin. I feel perfectly safe with you."

Warmth spread through him at her simple statement. Her obvious faith and trust in him humbled him. And filled him with guilt. Damn it, he was using her, her abilities, to his own end, but he had to find Gaspard. And William. Dear God, William . . .

"What time do you want to leave this evening?" she asked jerking his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

"My family and Miles are joining us for dinner, although I'm not certain how that came about, and then they are all going to the theater. We'll depart on our mission after they leave."

"Won't they wonder why we're not going to the theater?"

"I doubt it. We're newly married. I'm sure they'll assume we'd rather spend time here by ourselves."

Her cheeks flushed. "You mean they'll think we're . . ." Her voice trailed off into embarrassed silence.

Stepping closer, he drew her into his arms and pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just below her ear. "Yes, they'll think we're making love."

"How utterly . . . scandalous. What on earth will your mother think of me?"

"She'll be thrilled that we're getting on so well." He studied her flushed face. "Are you certain you're up to joining me this evening?"

"Of course. You know how robust I am."

"Indeed I do." He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and stepped back. "Now I must go to Bow Street to report what I know about James Kinney. I'll see you in the drawing room at seven."

*

How the hell had the military authorities mistaken the matter of his death? Where was he? Was he still engaging in traitorous activities?
Ah,
William . . . how did I fail you?

But it was impossible to properly collect his thoughts with his family present. His normally self-contained mother was all but bouncing in her seat at the opposite end of the table, enthusiastically chatting with Elizabeth.

Caroline and Robert were engaged in a lively dis-agreement punctuated by lots of eye rolling and when their mother wasn't looking, stuck-out tongues, a favorite childish gesture neither had outgrown. Austin noticed that Miles was the only silent member of the group, no doubt because the man couldn't wedge a word in anywhere.

The moment the meal ended Austin stood and walked to the foot of the table where Elizabeth sat. "If you'll excuse us, I believe Elizabeth and I shall retire. Enjoy your evening." Holding out his hand he assisted her to her feet, his fingers wrapping around her gloved hand.

Caroline's eyes widened.
"Retire?
At this hour?"

"Yes," Austin said calmly, purposely ignoring the smirks Miles and Robert weren't even attempting to hide.

"But it's so early! Don't you want—" Caroline's words snapped off and she glared across the table at Robert. "Did you just
kick
me?"

"Yes. But only because I can't reach you to stuff my napkin in your mouth." He waggled his fingers at Austin, then winked at Elizabeth. "Good night, Austin. Sweet dreams, Elizabeth."

Without further ado, Austin led Elizabeth from the dining room and up the stairs. He didn't pause until he'd closed his bedchamber door behind them. Leaning against it, he surveyed his wife's flaming face.

"Heavens above, I'll never be able to face them again," she said pacing across the rug. "They all think we're doing
that?

An overwhelming desire to do
that
slammed into him like a fist to his gut. He was restless and edgy and the mere thought of touching her ignited him. Pushing away from the door, he walked toward her. As she paced by him, he reached out, snagged her arm, and pulled her against him. Looking into her startled eyes, he murmured "Well, as long as they all think so, we shouldn't disappoint them."

"I thought you wanted to leave as soon as they depart for the theater."

He reached behind her and began unbuttoning her bodice. "I do, but it will take them half an hour to ready themselves. Besides, you need to get into your costume, and as long as you'll be out of this gown, I suggest we make the most of the opportunity." Slipping the last button free, he eased the gown down her arms, then let go. It puddled at her feet.

"Heavens. No doubt I should develop the vapors at such a scandalous suggestion."

He trailed his fingertips over her breasts. "Vapors? Shall I ring for the hartshorn?"

"That won't be necessary. Fortunately I possess a most—"

"Robust constitution. Yes, that is indeed . . . fortunate."

"Oh, my. Your tone indicates a need for stamina. What did you have in mind? A race?"

"Well, I do want to leave in half an hour." Her chemise joined her gown at her ankles. The sight of her, naked and impossibly beautiful, a half shy, half devilish smile lighting her face, tightened his throat. Bloody hell, she moved him like no other woman ever had.

This
feeling
she inspired in him confused and confounded him. It was more than wanting. It was a
need.
A soul-wrenching need to touch her, feel her.

He drew her into his arms and kissed her deeply, endlessly, his muscles straining with the effort of bringing her closer, holding her tighter. Turning them, he backed her against the wall, pinning her in place while his mouth devoured hers and his hands skimmed down her sides.

She responded to his every touch, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him until he could feel her heart slamming against his own.

"Austin . . . please . . ."

Her plea snapped something inside him.
Please.
God yes, please. He was about to burst. He needed her. Now.
Now.

Reaching between them, he all but tore his breeches open, then hauled her upward. "Wrap your legs around me," he ground out in a voice he didn't recognize.

With wide eyes, she obeyed and he slipped inside her. Her heat engulfed him, squeezing him in a velvety fist. Gripping her hips, he moved within her, his thrusts rough and fast. His brow beaded with sweat and his choppy breathing burned his lungs. With one final thrust, his climax battered him. Burying his head against her shoulder, he clenched his fingers into her hips, and for an endless moment, he pulsed inside her, spilling his seed and part of his soul into her.

It took a moment for sanity to return. When it did he lifted his head and looked at her. Her eyes were closed her face pale. Guilt hit him like a rock.

What the hell was wrong with him? He'd just taken his wife
against the
wall.
As if she were some dockside whore. Without a thought to her feelings or pleasure. He'd probably hurt her. He looked down and saw the red marks his fingers had branded on her hips. She must think him a monster.

As gently as he could he eased himself from her. Her legs unclasped from his waist and slid down. She would have sagged onto the floor if he hadn't grabbed her.
Damn
it! She couldn't even stand! How badly had he hurt her?

Holding her with one arm around her waist, he brushed a tangled auburn lock from her forehead. "Elizabeth. God. I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

Her eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. He braced himself for the condemnation he knew he'd see in her eyes, the angry words he deserved.

Her golden brown eyes focused on his. "I'm utterly marvelous. Who won?"

"Won?"

A small smiled played around her lips. "The race. I believe I won, but I'm willing to concede."

"I. . . didn't hurt you?"

"Certainly not. Of course, my knees feel like porridge, but that is an affliction that happens every time you touch me." Concern clouded her eyes. "Did I hurt
you?"

Relief hit him so hard his own knees nearly sagged. A lump lodged in his throat and he had to force the word around it. "No."

He needed to explain, to apologize, but how could he explain what he didn't understand himself? He
never
lost control like that. He didn't know the words, but he certainly owed it to her to try.

Before he could speak, however, she brushed her lips over his. "I believe we still have ten minutes left," she whispered against his mouth. "Do you really want to spend them talking?"

A half laugh, half groan escaped him. He should have known to expect the unexpected from her. Bending, he scooped her up into his arms and headed toward the bed.

As long as she was willing, there were at least half a dozen things he wanted to do in the next ten minutes.

And talking was most definitely not one of them.

Thirty minutes later, Elizabeth stood in front of the cheval glass and stared at her reflection. Even her own parents would not recognize her.

Snug black breeches hugged her legs. Scuffed boots, slightly too large, covered her feet. A billowing white man's shirt and cravat hid her wrapped bosom. With her hair firmly tucked under a sailor's cap pulled low over her eyes, she could easily pass for a tall, slim young man. Once she donned the black coat hanging on the bedpost, no one would ever realize she was a woman, let alone a duchess.

The bedchamber door opened and Austin walked in. "All right. Everyone has departed for the theater. Are you"—he caught sight of her and his footsteps faltered— "ready?"

She turned to face him. "Yes. What do you think?"

His gaze traveled from her head to her toes, then back again. Then he approached her, his expression downright grim.

Halting directly in front of her, he said between clearly clenched teeth, "You are not leaving the house dressed like that."

She planted her hands on her hips. "May I ask why not? This is a perfect disguise. No one will guess I'm not a man."

"The hell they won't. The way those breeches fit you . . ." He waved his hand around his lips clamped into a flat line. "It's indecent."

"Indecent!
You
gave them to me!"

"I didn't know you'd look like
that
in them."

She tapped her booted foot. "Like what?"

"Like . . ." Again he waved his hand about, as if trying to conjure the word he was seeking from thin air. "Like
that,"
he finally said.

A sigh escaped her. Clearly he was going to allow a misplaced sense of propriety to ruin their plan. Pulling the black coat from the bedpost, she slipped it on and buttoned it.

"Look," she said turning in a slow circle before him. "I'm covered from chin to knee."

He continued to glower. After she'd turned before him twice, he all but growled "That coat stays on every minute. On and buttoned. This pub we're going to where Gaspard was seen caters to a very rough crowd. The results could be disastrous should anyone there suspect you're a woman."

"I understand."

His gaze riveted on her cap. "How secure is that?"

"Like it was nailed to my head."

His expression didn't relax one iota and for a moment she feared he would truly refuse to bring her along. Arranging her features into what she hoped was studied calm, she simply stood and waited.

He finally spoke. "Let's go."

She followed him from the room, careful to hide her relief. And apprehension. She certainly didn't want to be left at home.

For she knew something important would happen tonight.

A half hour later, when the hired hack drew to a stop in front of a dilapidated building, Elizabeth drew the curtain aside several inches and peered into the darkness. Although she didn't know exactly where they were, the stench of rotting fish indicated their proximity to the riverfront.

Her nostrils twitched in protest. "Are you ready, Elizabeth?"

She jerked her attention away from the window and looked across at Austin. Even in the dim light she could see his frown. Tension was all but emanating from him in dark waves. Hoping to dispel his obvious disquiet, she forced a smile. "Yes, I'm ready."

He did not return her smile. "Do you understand exactly what I want you to do?"

"Of course. If I sense anything, I'll inform you immediately."

Although she would have thought it impossible, his frown grew grimmer. "Thank you, but that is not what I meant."

A frown pinched her own brow. "I don't understand. I thought you wanted me to tell you if I felt anything."

"I do. But you must not leave my side."

"I won't. I—"

He reached out and grabbed both her hands in his, cutting off her words.

His intense stare sent shivers tingling across her skin. "Promise me," he said in an urgent whisper.

"I promise, but—"

"No buts. This is an exceedingly dangerous place. I cannot protect you if you wander away from me. Is my meaning clear?"

"Perfectly. Consider me sewn to your sleeve."

He blew out a breath. "Damn it, this a not a good idea. A thousand things could go wrong."

"A thousand things could go right."

"I'm placing you in danger."

"I'm in no more danger than you."

He released her and shoved his hands through his hair. "The more I think on this whole matter, the more I'm convinced this is not a wise idea. I'm instructing the driver to take you home." He made a move to open the door.

She slapped his wrist. "No."

He quirked an ebony brow at her.

"If you make me go home, I'll simply hire another hack and return here."