"No," she breathed.
Aidan decided to convince the treacherous woman that any documents she found were vital to the success of the British war effort. And, to be truthful, he was rather keen on seeing those lace drawers.
"You will forgive me if I doubt that you have come away empty-handed." He stopped a yard from the desk and looked down at the captivating lady. "Take off your gown." But when she held his eyes and made no move to comply, Aidan said evenly, "You may remove your gown." He raised a brow "or I will do it for you."
Lady Rivenhall glanced at the locked door, and he could see her quick mind working through her alternatives. And when she came to the inevitable conclusion that there was no means of escape, her pale eyes returned to his and he felt a grim triumph pulse through him.
Her hands fell to the laces of her luxurious gown, and Aidan could feel his anticipation building as each golden tie gave. He searched for a distraction and an explanation for his unconscionable desire for this woman.
"Very nicely done with the pistol, by the way. Got Elkin out in a hurry, and yet you say you found nothing to interest France? I must confess, I’m disappointed."
Her fair head snapped up and she glared at him. But the lady said nothing and continued unlacing her gown, stepping out of it and tossing it at him when she had finished.
Her nipples hardened against her abbreviated chemise, and he tried desperately not to notice as he searched the silk gown. He shoved his hand in the hip pockets, and just when he thought she had not found the documents he had hidden, his hand grasped the stiff brocade panel of her bodice.
Clever.
He feigned ignorance and tossed the gown across the desk. He could now prove her treachery, but Aidan also realized that there would be someone waiting to receive the counterfeit documents. Someone, who if he exposed her, would go undetected.
He stared at her, his decision made.
"Now your petticoats," he whispered.
The lady untied the layers of silk, resentment burning in her eyes. She stepped out of them and lifted the yards of fabric in his direction. He swallowed before taking them, and on a shaky breath said, "Your chemise."
Lady Rivenhall faltered but complied, and Aidan stood in awe as he stared at the most magnificent body he had ever seen. She was perfect, and stood within reach in nothing more than lace drawers and matching garters that held stockings to long, shapely legs.
Aidan reached out and cupped her breast, unable to stop himself. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw in a futile attempt to restrain his desire. She fit perfectly in his hand, and he seized her in a gentle caress.
His other hand slid around her waist and pulled her flush against his body. He could feel the heat of her through his shirt and his hands fell to her flawless backside. He grabbed her, enjoying the feel of the lace drawers that provided provocative glimpses of creamy, white skin.
"These drawers are French I presume?" he asked, the lace sliding as he moved it over her silky curves. However, when she did not answer he leaned back and made the mistake of looking into her pale eyes. He saw in them a vulnerability that belied her bravado.
He should have felt nothing, no compassion, no need to ease her distress, but he did. He felt an overwhelming desire to kiss her fear away and make love to her on the study floor.
I must be going mad.
"Get dressed," he said, disgusted with himself.
Aidan turned his back on the woman and ran both hands through his dark hair, thinking that if the little traitor cracked his skull open it would serve him bloody right.
***
The Earl of Wessex was feeling far less charitable the following morning.
He watched as Lady Rivenhall took a turn with Lord Elkin while he himself was stuck strolling the garden with two eligible young ladies on either arm. Unfortunately, returning from Albuera a war hero had incited every matchmaking mama to push her daughter in his direction. Aidan sighed to himself when the young chit to his left pressed her plump breast firmly against forearm.
"The gardens are quite extensive, are they not, my lord?"
"Quite," he said with a polite nod.
The brunette found it necessary to add to the conversation. "What of your gardens in Wessex, my lord?"
But he hesitated in answering when Lord Elkin’s butler spoke with his employer then led the man out of the gardens and toward the house. Lady Rivenhall smiled radiantly as she accepted the man’s apologies for leaving her, and then sat down on the nearest bench apparently intending to await his return.
"My mother was rather fond of roses," Aidan offered absently. "If you will excuse me." He bowed and left the two girls to their chatter. The gravel crunched beneath his black Hessians as he made his way to Lady Rivenhall’s side.
"Lady Rivenhall, would you care to stroll?" he asked loud enough for other guests to hear, making it impossible for the woman to deny him.
She rose from the stone bench on which she had been seated, her smile contradicting the anger in her eyes. "I would be delighted, my lord."
He offered her his support, and she curled her elegant hand around his forearm. Images of those hands roaming over his body flashed before him, and Aidan forced himself to remember who, and what, she was.
They walked a while longer before he finally said, "I’m surprised that you enjoy English gardens."
She stiffened. "I am quite found of the English countryside, Lord Wessex. My father and I spent our summers with my uncle at his estate in Suffolk."
"And what of your mother?"
"She died when I was but three."
"Pray tell, my lady, is your father a traitor as well, or are you the only member of your family led to betray your uncle and your country?"
"My father…" she began with such ferocity that he was taken aback. She closed her mouth, finding her composure. "My motivations are my own, my lord."
For some inexplicable reason her acerbic answer infuriated him.
"I beg to differ, Lady Rivenhall. When Englishmen die by your hand, your motives concern us all." He took a steadying breath and forced his jaw to relax before continuing. "Which brings me to the point of the charming promenade."
The enigmatic woman stared at some spot on the horizon as they continued toward the larger fountain. Her hair sparkled in the afternoon sun, and he could scarcely turn away from her extraordinary features.
"Lord Elkin is a close friend of mine, and I will not allow him to me used. When he asks you to his bed, and we both know that he will, you will refuse him."
Lady Rivenhall’s eyes burned with anger when she halted on the gravel path and turned to look up at him. "I shall bed whom I wish, when I wish, Lord Wessex. And rest assured that you will not be consulted on the matter."
"Lord Elkin--"
"Lord Elkin has no information that is of interest to me, as you well know. So if I choose to bed him, it will be entirely based upon my attraction to the man himself."
"And I thought you were attracted to short men with aspirations of conquering the world."
Lady Rivenhall took his arm, and they turned back toward the house. "Well, I do admire a man that sets goals for himself. However," she added with a bright smile. "As of late, I find myself attracted to tall men with muscular bodies and piercing blue eyes."
Aidan glanced in the direction she had now focused and cursed as Lord Elkin walked back to the garden with a determined stride.
"John is not to be toyed with," he warned.
"Let us allow John to determine if he wishes to become my plaything." Lady Rivenhall’s eyes slid to his. "And if you have proof that I am a traitor, then by all means turn me over to Whitehall. Otherwise, leave me to my amusements."
"You forget, I do have proof, Lady Rivenhall," he whispered as he bit into her arm with his fingers. "You interrogated me at Albuera, if you will recall."
The lady batted her eyelashes and said with feigned innocence, "The Earl of Wessex was injured at Albuera, which is no doubt the cause of
his confusion. I can assure you, my lord, that I have never left England. I can’t imagine why he would be saying such things, except perhaps that I refused his advances." She looked away. "I can be very convincing, Lord Wessex, particularly, if men are conducting my interrogation."
Aidan rocked back on his heels, unbalanced by shock. He watched her adjust her sky blue day gown and then look up to greet John Elkin.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting, Lady Rivenhall."
"Do not concern yourself, my lord. Lord Wessex has been quite amusing in your absence." She held Aidan’s eyes before turning them on their host as if she adored him.
"Has he?" John asked with hostility dancing in his ‘piercing blue eyes’. "Well if you will excuse us, Wessex. I believe I shall show Lady Rivenhall the river."
"Not at all," Aidan mumbled, unable to conger a reason that would prevent his friend from leaving with the lethal Lady Rivenhall.
***
Celeste’s heart was thundering in her ears as they started for the water. She could feel the Earl of Wessex staring after her as surely as she felt the sun warming her face.
She glanced back over her left shoulder and saw him standing in the middle of the gravel path. His green eyes blazing beneath black brows and his alluring lips had all but disappeared beneath his anger. His fists were clenched to the sides of his graceful legs, and she could see his chest rising and falling beneath his cerulean jacket.
Celeste shuddered, drawing Lord Elkin’s attention. "Are you cold, my dear? Shall I retrieve your cloak?"
"No," she said, turning her gaze and her attention toward her escort. "I just had a bit of a chill."
Lord Elkin glanced over his shoulder. "Has Wessex said something to upset you, Celeste?"
She laughed a bit too brightly. "No, of course not."
"It just seems as though you have a…history with Lord Wessex?"
It was a question.
He was asking if they had been lovers. If she had spread her thighs while the Earl of Wessex lay naked atop her, pressing her into the bed. No, he was not her lover. He had merely kissed her and caressed her breast, branding her with his hands and his lips.
Celeste flushed and told the truth. "Yes, John. Lord Wessex and I have a history, but not the sort you imagine. Our encounters have been brief and somewhat hostile in nature, as I am sure you have noted."
They reached the river, and Lord Elkin pulled her against a tree and out of sight of his other guests. His forehead furrowed and his cobalt eyes locked with hers.
"He has not made advances toward you?"
Images of the previous night flashed in her mind; the earl’s capable hands grasping her backside, her breast, his masculine scent filling her mind as he leaned over her.
"No," she said, but she had hesitated too long. She could see Lord Elkin’s jaw pulsing with jealousy, and she hastened to appease him. "The earl’s attentions are by no means romantic, my lord." Her smile was seductive when she added, "You are the only man here that holds the slightest bit of interest for me."
His eyes drifted from hers to her breasts and then to her lips.
"Good," he said, kissing her and pulling her into a possessive embrace. Lord Elkin kissed her long and hard and then his lips settled just below her ear. "I spent half the night aching for you, Celeste, and when I finally succumbed to sleep, I dreamt of making love to you."
His mouth descended to the exposed portion of her breasts. He moaned and Celeste could feel his arousal pressing against her hip. He captured her mouth, his tongue intertwined with hers as his hand closing around her breast.
"John, your guests."
The man’s frustration was palpable. He released her with reluctance and smiled down at her. "I would relinquish my title to be rid of the bloody lot, so that I might spend hours making love to you on this very spot."
Celeste laughed then blushed at the compliment. "But your guests are here."
"Yes they are. Damn them," he said with an amused smile and Celeste decided that if she were an ordinary woman she like this handsome Lord Elkin very much. "I don’t suppose that you could wear those lace drawers tonight, Lady Rivenhall."
"No, I’m afraid not." Celeste’s arms drifted around his neck, and she laughed at the disappointment scrawled in his features. "I’m wearing a different pair of lace drawers, as that is all that I possess."
His blue eyes flared bright and he muttered, "Bloody hell," before slanting his mouth over hers. He kissed her one last time and then, with great reluctance, escorted her back to the manor house.
Chapter Fifteen
That evening at dinner, Celeste was seated to the right of her host. Fortunately, Lord Elkin had the foresight to seat the Earl of Wessex at the far end of the table. The young earl appeared engaged by the throngs of females that seemed to follow the man’s every move, so Celeste turned her attention to Lord Elkin and the task at hand.
She sat dutifully by while Lord Humphrey droned on about fishing, and on a whim Celeste ran her foot up Lord Elkin’s calf. He tensed, but did not turn to look at her. Irritated, she removed her right slipper with her left foot then placed her stocking clad toes on the inner portion of his knee.
Lord Elkin turned his head with a comment about trout and met her eyes, his thoughts unreadable. He lifted his wine glass and returned to his discussion. Her foot inched higher, and she noted that his breath was becoming short. He lowered his glass and reached for the napkin in his lap. He dabbed his lips and then returned the napkin, seizing her foot under the table with his left hand.
Celeste tried to pull her foot away, but his grip firmed and his thumb began stroking the bottom of her foot in sensuous circles.
Damn! What had she been thinking? It was one thing to tempt the man, but she was waving a red flag in the face of one of the ton’s most notorious bulls. Lord Elkin released her foot and his hand returned to his wine glass, but something in the way he moved his lips along its crystal rim told her that he was not thinking of his claret. True, she needed him alone, but perhaps she had gone a bit too far.
Marie had learned that Lord Elkin kept a strongbox in the library and she needed to gain access. The difficulty, of course, was not seducing the man, but acquiring the key. She had searched John’s bedchamber last night after leaving the Earl of Wessex in the study, and had found nothing to implicate the man.
The strongbox was the only other possibility before he could be cleared of suspicion. She needed that key and, unfortunately, Lord Elkin was the only person that possessed it.
***
Celeste arrived at the boathouse at midnight as agreed and was not surprise to find Lord Elkin already there with lit candles and chilled champagne. The setting was very romantic and should have been deeply moving.
Celeste rarely respected the men she seduced. However, with John she felt guilt digging into her side as she walked toward lush cushions carefully arranged on thick Aubusson rugs. But Celeste reminded herself, as she always did, that she had a duty to perform.
Lord Elkin made no pretense about the reason for their meeting and kissed her soundly the moment she was within reach.
"I promised myself that I would take my time enjoying you. But now that you are here, I’m afraid my need has overcome my sense." John brushed her hair away from her face as he smiled down at her. "You are so beautiful, Celeste," he whispered and then kissed her again.
Celeste settled into his powerful arms and let the slow, sensuous kiss come to its natural conclusion. Lord Elkin pulled away from her and took a step toward the elaborate bedding. He lifted his arm, holding his hand out to her in open invitation.
Her heart began pounding and she swallowed for courage. Celeste placed her hand in his, but when she stepped toward him, she stumbled, landing hard against him.
"Are you all right, my dear?"
"Oh," Celeste hissed, limping on her left foot. "No, I’m afraid not, John. I believe I have just injured my ankle."
Lord Elkin dropped gallantly on one knee. "Is it
broken?"
Celeste hissed in pain as he probed her ankle.
"No, just a sprain, I should imagine. However, I do think it would be prudent to return to the house for some laudanum." She looked into his blue eyes and was taken aback by the amount of disappointment she read in them. "I’m so sorry, John."
"Nothing to be done, my dear," he said, his smile weak. I’ll just take you back and leave you in the care of Madame Arnott."
Lord Elkin bent to lift her, but stopped when Celeste gave an adamant, "No." His slashing brows furrowed with concern. "It would not do for us to be seen coming from the boathouse together at this time of the evening, John. The house is not far, I shall manage."
The chivalrous man nodded, clearly not happy about having her walk to his home unassisted. "If you’re sure you will be all right. . ."
Celeste’s smile reflected her genuine affection for John Elkin as she pulled him toward her for a kiss. "I shall survive, my lord, just so I might have the pleasure of seeing you in London."
He chuckled and patted her on the backside. "Well, go on, then, or I shall ravage you, injured or not."
Celeste limped to the door and glanced over her shoulder to look one last time at the fetching Lord Elkin. He smiled in farewell, but the disappointment had crept back into his masculine features.
As she walked to the house, guilt overcame her. Celeste shook off the weight of it with the toss of her head, reminding herself that she was eliminating John as a suspect and that the emotional distress he suffered was nothing compared to the damage Lion could inflict.
She reached into the pocket of her gown, pulling out Lord Elkin’s keys. They clanked together as she spun them around the brass ring, looking for one that might fit a strongbox. She found it. And as Celeste continued toward the library, she wondered if she would ever forgive herself for the cruel acts she had committed on behalf of the Crown.
***
John Elkin stood staring out the boathouse windows with one hand in his pocket and a champagne flute in the other hand. He exhaled, utterly disillusioned and admonishing himself for having hoped that Lady Rivenhall would be the woman to heal his wounded heart.
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