Relief washed over her features. “Oh, well, if you’re assisting Scotland Yard, I do hope you’ll eventually share all the fascinating and intricate details. As you are well aware, I do so love a good murder.”
“I daresaygoodmurders occur only within the pages of books.”
“I suppose that’s true enough. Will you be staying the night?” A glint in her aunt’s eyes alerted her that the dear woman intended to begin a campaign to get the information from her niece and her strategy would involve an abundance of sherry.
“I’m afraid I can’t. I have an early appointment with Scotland Yard.” Thank goodness, she didn’t have acomplete honestyagreement with her aunt, even if it did mean she suffered through a prick of guilt whenever she strayed from the truth. However, she suspected she’d give Aunt Charlotte the vapors more often than not if she knew the risks Daisy sometimes took. Nonetheless she was very tempted to express her gratitude to her aunt for advising her that she should have a dalliance.It was the most wonderful thing I’ve ever experienced, and tonight I’m going to experience it again.Although she wondered when a dalliance became an affair. How many liaisons were needed totransform the encounters into something else entirely, something that made her more a harlot than simply a curious spinster?
As Bishop’s carriage rolled into the circle of his drive, Daisy saw him standing on the bottom step, and as she hadn’t seen his trek to that position, she wondered how long he’d been waiting for her arrival, if it was impatience to be with her that had driven him there. When the door opened, he was the one extending his hand and helping her out of the vehicle.
“How was the visit with your aunt?” he asked politely, shifting her hand to his arm as he escorted her into the residence.
“Excruciatingly long.”
He flashed her a grin as though pleased by her answer, with the acknowledgment that she’d wanted to be here sooner.
She was surprised Perkins wasn’t in the foyer, but then what need had they for the butler when Bishop was already leading her up the stairs? The residence was so quiet that she wondered if he’d sent all the servants away for the night, to protect her reputation, so she wouldn’t be spotted. She’d arrived not quite as late this evening as she had the night before. The coachman and footman knew of her arrival, but she suspected that he’d sworn them to secrecy regarding her presence. Or any of her destinations.
Smelling the tulips before they reached the top of the stairs, she couldn’t contain her smile. When they turned the corner into the hallway, at least double the number of blossoms that usually graced the vases greeted her. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”
“For you it was no trouble.”
Looking up at him, she held his gaze. “I don’t need flirtation. I need honesty.”
“What makes you think I wasn’t being honest? They’re flowers, for God’s sake. It’s not as though I had to plant them, grow them, and dig them up.”
She nodded.Trust him, trust him, trust him.He was going to compliment and say nice things. She would do the same. They’d enjoy their time together, these few hours when they had no worries about the future. When he wasn’t a client, and she wasn’t an inquiry agent. When he was merely a man, and she merely a woman.
He led her into the bedchamber. While he closed the door, she wandered over to the settee. The low table had already been placed before it and resting on it was a tray with strawberries alongside a small bowl of chocolate. She laughed. “You trust me with the chocolate?”
“Should be you wondering if you can trust me. Because I owe you a pouring.”
Before she could question what the devil that meant, he pulled her into his arms and blanketed his mouth over hers, dispensing with any preliminary softness or teasing, his tongue delving deep to dance with hers in a ritual that was probably as ancient as time itself. She eagerly welcomed him because she saw no need to play coy or be shy. She wanted him. It was the reason she was here. They both knew it.
She didn’t need him filling his hallways with flowers or feeding her strawberries coated with chocolate. She didn’t need compliments. Or politeness. She needed only this, this hunger between them that was brutally honest.
Her hair fell around her. She hadn’t even realized that he’d seen to her hairpins. But with that task done, it was as though a storm washed over them. As though they each realized that the skin available to them to stroke, kiss, and lick wasn’t enough. Buttons were quickly loosened, fastenings undone. Clothing pooled on the floor. Was kicked aside.
When they were completely naked, they came together for a searing kiss and to relish the feel of warm skin pressed close against warm skin. Hands explored and she knew she’d never grow tired of touching him. Even though she’d thought she’d touched all of him last night, now it seemed she had more to learn. He was a combination of silkiness and roughness, of coarse hair and softer strands. She wanted to remember every inch of him.
Suddenly he lifted her into his arms, carried her to the bed, and tossed her onto it. Then he walked away. Quickly she sat up. “Where are you going?”
He didn’t answer, but she watched in horror as he bent over and grabbed the porcelain bowl. She scooted back until she hit the headboard. “What are you going to do with that?”
As he prowled toward her, his smile was devilish and seductive. “You poured chocolate over me. It seems only fair I return the favor. Lie down.”
Stunned, she now understood his earlier comment about wondering and trust. “You can’t be serious, surely.”
“Lie down.”
“Bishop, sweetheart—”
“Lie. Down.” His tone was implacable. She should have ordered him not to use it with her, and yet therewas something else woven through it that caused his voice to growl, that hinted at desire tautly leashed, that caused her belly to quiver and warmth to pool between her legs.
“You’ll make a mess.” Her voice held no conviction, the pitch more invitation than scolding. Perhaps even a bit of a dare.
“I intend to clean it up.” After setting the bowl on the table beside the bed, he took hold of her ankles and dragged her down, until her head landed on the pillow that had always appeared untouched until last night. When she rolled over, intending to make her escape, he said, “Trust me.”
The urgency and need had her stopping. Breathing heavily, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “I don’t want it in my hair.”
