AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As if she thought the same, Elizabeth lifted the goblet to her lips and took a large swallow. Normally, he’d chastise such an abuse of excellent vintage, but in this case he was pleased. A small droplet clung to the corner of her lips and he leaned forward and licked it away, closing his eyes briefly in contentment. He was startled when she turned her head and pressed her lips more fully to his.
Eyes wide, she pulled back and drank the rest of the wine down. She thrust the empty glass at him. “More, please.”
Marcus smiled. “Your wish is my command.” He studied her furtively as he poured, noting the way her fingers brushed restlessly over her thighs. “Why are you so nervous, love?”
“You are accustomed to this sort of . . . arrangement. For me, however, sitting here with you half-dressed and knowing the entire purpose of being here is for . . . for . . .”
“Sex?”
“Yes.” She opened her mouth and then closed it, shrugging delicate shoulders. “It makes me nervous.”
“That’s not the only reason we are here.”
Elizabeth frowned, and took another large drink. “It’s not?”
“No. I’d like to talk with you as well.”
“Is that how these things are normally done?”
He chuckled ruefully. “Nothing about this is like anything in my experience.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders sagged just a little.
Catching her free hand, he laced his fingers with hers. Her cheeks were already flushed, betraying the effects of the wine. “Could you grant me one small favor?” he asked, even though he had promised himself he wouldn’t.
She waited expectantly.
Tamping down the sudden apprehension he felt, he rushed ahead. “Could you find it in your heart to tell me what happened the night you left me?”
Her gaze lowered to stare into the contents of her glass. “Must I?”
“If you would be so kind, love.”
“I’d really rather not.”
“Is it so dreadful?” he coaxed softly. “The deed is done and cannot be undone. I ask only to be relieved of my confusion.”
Elizabeth released a deep breath. “I suppose I owe you that much.”
When her silence stretched out he prodded, “Go on.” “The tale starts with William. One night, about a month before the start of my first Season, I couldn’t sleep. I often had that trouble over the years after my mother died. Whenever I was restless I would visit my father’s study and sit in the dark. It smells like old books and my father’s tobacco—I find the combination soothing.
“William entered shortly after, but he failed to see me lying on the settee. I was curious so I remained quiet. It was very late and he was dressed in dark clothing, he’d even covered his golden hair. It was obvious he was going somewhere where he didn’t wish to be seen or recognized. He carried himself so strangely, all chained up-ferocity and energy. He left and did not return until dawn. That was when I first suspected he was involved in something dangerous.”
Elizabeth paused to take another drink. “I began to watch him when we were out. I studied his activities. I noticed he sought out Lord Hawthorne with regularity. The two of them would detach themselves from the gathering and have heated discussions in quiet corners, sometimes trading papers or other items.”
Marcus sprawled across the counterpane and rested his head on his hand. “I never noticed. Eldridge’s expertise at subterfuge never ceases to amaze me. I certainly never suspected William was an agent.”
“Why would you?” she asked simply. “Had I not been watching them so closely, I would never have suspected anything either. But eventually William began to look exhausted, drawn. I was worried about him. When I asked him outright to tell me what he was doing, he refused. I knew I needed help.” She glanced at him then, her violet gaze tortured.
“That is why you came to me that night.” The bitter irony was not lost on him. He took the glass of wine from her fingers and washed the taste of it from his mouth. “Eldridge keeps the identities of his agents a closely guarded secret. In the event one of us is captured or compromised we have little information to share. I personally know very few.”
The tight line of her normally lush mouth betrayed her distaste for the agency. Right now he was not feeling too charitable toward Eldridge himself. William’s assignment, as well as his own, had contrived to bring his engagement to such a tragic end.
Elizabeth breathed a forlorn sigh. “When I returned from your home I was too upset to retire, so I went to my father’s study. Nigel called for William later that morning and he was shown into the room, unaware I was there. I vented my rage on him. I accused him of leading William on a path to destruction. I threatened to tell my father.”
Marcus smiled, imagining the scene. “I have learned to respect your temper, sweet. You become a veritable termagant when angered.”
She returned a weak smile, devoid of life or humor. “I had assumed their activities were degenerate. I was shocked when Nigel explained that he and William were agents for the Crown.” Her eyes shone with withheld tears. “And it was all suddenly too much . . . what I thought you had done, the danger William was in. I told Hawthorne about your infidelity in a moment of weakness. He said marriages of high passion were not the stuff of longevity or true happiness. I would have been discontented eventually, he said. Best I learned your true nature when I did, rather than after it was too late. He was so kind, so gentle in my distress. He provided an anchor at a time when I was adrift.”
Marcus rolled onto his back and stared at the red velvet canopy above him. After her mother’s death and her father’s decline into emotional apathy, Hawthorne’s words must have sounded like the veriest wisdom to Elizabeth. Tense and frustrated, his anger toward a dead man had no outlet. It should have been he who was her anchor, not Hawthorne. “Damn you,” he swore vehemently.
“When I returned from Scotland I inquired about you.”
“I had left the country by then.” His voice was distant, lost in the past. “I called on you that morning, once I’d settled the widow. I wanted to explain, and make things right between us. Instead, William met me at the door and threw your note in my face. He blamed me for your rashness. I blamed him for not going after you.”
“You could have come after me.”
Marcus turned his head to meet her gaze. “Is that what you wanted?”
When Elizabeth shrank back into the pillows, he knew his rage and pain must be evident on his face.
“I . . .” Her voice choked off.
“Part of me held on to the hope that you would fail to go through with it, but somehow I knew.” His eyes narrowed. “I knew you had done it—married someone else. And I couldn’t help but wonder how it was that he was there for you, when the events of that night could not have been predicted. Perhaps, as you said, he was always an option. I could not remain in England after that. I would have stayed away longer if my father had not passed on. When I returned, I discovered you were widowed. I sent you my condolences so you would know I was home. I waited for you to come to me.”
“I heard about your liaisons, your endless string of women.” Her spine stiffened and she swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“Where in hell do you think you’re going?” he growled.
He set the empty glass on the nightstand and yanked her into a sprawl across his chest. Holding her instantly soothed the restlessness that was his constant companion. Despite everything, she was his now.
“I thought the mood was ruined,” she said with a pout.
He arched his hips upward, pressing his erection into her thigh. Her gaze darkened, the irises fading as desire quickened her breathing.
“Don’t think,” he said gruffly. “Forget the past.”
“How?”
“Kiss me. We’ll forget everything together.”
She hesitated only a moment before lowering her head and pressing her moist lips to his. Frozen, he lay aching beneath her, the soft pressure
of her curves burning his skin, her vanilla scent intoxicating him. He tightened his grip on her hips to hide the trembling of his hands. Why she affected him like this, he couldn’t guess, though he’d spent endless hours trying.
She lifted her head, and he groaned at the loss.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, color washing across her cheeks. “I’m not good at this.”
“You were doing beautifully.”
“You’re not moving,” she complained.
He gave a rueful laugh. “I’m afraid to, love. I want you too badly.”
“Then we are at an impasse.” Her smile was sweet. “I don’t know what to do.”
Capturing her hand, he placed it on his chest. “Touch me.”
She sat up, straddling his hips. Several curls framed the beauty of her face. “Where?”
Marcus doubted he could survive it, but he would expire a contented man. “Everywhere.”
Smiling, her finger drifted tentatively through the hair on his chest leaving tingling paths in their wake. Her fingertips swirled around the scar that marred his shoulder and then brushed across his nipples. He shivered.
“You like that?”
“Yes.”
