His teeth gently abraded her and she hissed a breath.
He lowered himself to her—his tough, male skin rubbing intimately against hers—and she wrapped her arms around him, the feeling of his warmth so deliciously intimate. The sensation was electric, enticing, and dangerously addicting. She slid her hands up his back toward his shoulders, then down again until she cupped his rear, eliciting a rough, quavering gasp from him.
Then she felt it. The tip of his manhood prodding at her opening. She spread her thighs to give him better access, with nary a hint of feminine alarm at her first coupling.
He groaned long and deep as he pushed further, the thickness of him widening her opening nearly unbearably. The dampness of her womanly folds allowed him easy passage as he pressed ever further.
“God, Mary, ye feel so—”
He halted, tensed. His face, first expressionless, suddenly wreathed in horror.
Concern touched her heart. “Gabe?”
He stared, unblinking, at the pillow beneath her head, his face contorted with disgust. “I have made a grievous mistake,” he said, his English accent perfectly in place once more.
He withdrew from her body, but Mary grabbed desperately for his shoulders.
“No! No, Gabe! You must tell me what is the matter. What have I done to displease you?”
He freed himself from her grip, his expression cool and remote. Stepping down from the bed, Gabe retrieved his trousers and jerked them back on.
“You have done nothing wrong. My apologies, Mary, but I…I cannot…” He shook his head then retreated behind the privacy screen.
Mary sat up on the bed, the frigid fingers of painful rejection clawing at her. Her body still ached with need, the painful reminder of his rejection throbbing in her mons.
She could hear Gabe performing his ablutions on the other side of the screen, and shame washed over her. Had she not been enough for him? Had she not lived up to his expectations? Had she done something? Said something? Lord, she didn’t know.
With a glance toward his hiding spot, Mary hurried to the chest of drawers to retrieve another night rail and quickly put it on. As confident as she was in her own skin, Gabe’s reaction to her made her feel not just humiliation and hurt, but distinctly…undesirable.
She ran silently on the pads of her feet back to the bed and wrapped herself beneath the coverlet.
Her stomach knotted sickeningly as his expression flashed through her mind’s eye. How could she have been so foolish as to think that Gabe wanted her?
The sting of embarrassing tears burned behind her eyes and she cursed herself for her weakness. The dim light from the coals now scarcely lit the room, and through Mary’s watering gaze, the entire room wavered.
She had known he would hurt her again, yet she had fallen for his charms regardless of that knowledge.
Fool! She swiped inelegantly at her damp eyes with the back of her hand.
Curse Gabriel Ashley anyway.
Chapter 24
The fire had died out long ago, but Gabe was still too warm. The dim brightness of pre-dawn began to seep between the curtains, lending a low light to the dark room. He lay flat on his back on the floor before the cold hearth, his heart ever pounding and his stomach twisting painfully.
Mary is a virgin! A sullied virgin, but a virgin for God’s sake! How was it even possible? Every night she had a different “assignment” from whom she gleaned information. How else could she get such secrets from men if not from allowing them liberties? Had he gotten it all wrong?
None of it made sense. Both Boxton and Reddington had extoled her virtues and astounding talents. How could she have performed such acts and still retained her maidenhead? But he had undoubtedly felt her maidenhead last night.
He rubbed his hands agitatedly over his face. He had not slept a wink but for thinking of her. She was so bloody alluring, so damned seductive… How could a man resist such charms? Evidently many had. Lord knew he had gotten farther than any man before him, for Gabe knew that without astounding force of will, no other man would have been able to stop where he had. As it was, Gabe’d had to handle his own needs at the chamberpot, for he would never have been able to round the screen and see Mary laying in the bed they had both so recently occupied and not return to finish where he had left off.
Instead, he had satisfied his own needs—albeit not as she could have satisfied him—set his pillow on the rug, and settled himself down for several hours of discomfort. Listening to Mary try not to cry had not helped. Guilt rode him heavily, weighing on his chest with each sigh and sniffle. She had always been such a brave gel. What had happened? Had he hurt her so badly, then?
Mary had given herself freely to him…but why? Damn. He was not a cur. He did not despoil innocents—or as innocent as Mary could be, given her experience with men. But what was that experience?
Discovering her maidenhead had terrified him. Damn him if he knew why, but it did. His reaction did not make sense. Her virginity did not make sense.
The entire thing was a muddle of confusion and self-derision and he hadn’t the faintest idea where to place his thoughts.
Only one thing was certain. He was on assignment. He should never have trifled with Mary during their mission, and now more than ever he needed to focus on his task, get this assignment completed, and return to London to report back to Hydra.
He needed to get out of this room, to do something other than torture himself with the mental image of Mary’s glorious nude body.
An idea struck him, and he felt a moment of swift relief. He would find Stevens and exchange information.
He rose from his position on the floor and returned the pillow to the bed. Keeping his gaze averted from Mary, Gabe went about his ablutions and dressing. He placed the forged documents that Mary had completed into his breast pocket and hid two of her hairpins in his cravat.
Without a glance in Mary’s direction, Gabe strode from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
* * *
Mary flinched as the sun suddenly shone brightly across her face.
“I’m ever so sorry, Miss White,” Eleanor said, turning toward Mary from the window. “I called your name, I did, but mayhap you didn’t hear me.” She gazed worriedly at Mary. “Would you like me to bring you some tea?”
Mary shook her aching head as she tugged the coverlet up to her chin. “Please do not trouble yourself, Eleanor. What time is it?”
“Half of nine, Miss.”
Mary groaned. She had slept far past the time that she should have arisen, but she had only fallen asleep at five of the clock and… Oh, pooh. She was miserable and had absolutely no desire to face the day.
Her eyes were dry and scratchy, as though someone had lifted her eyelids and deposited sand beneath. She touched the tips of her fingers to her swollen eyelids and groaned, despising the usual result of her dissolving into a fit of tears.
There had only been two previous occasions in which she had spent the entirety of the night weeping. The first had been when Gabriel had abandoned their friendship and moved to Scotland. The second was when Mama had so tragically passed away.
This was now the third. Evidently, she had not learned her lesson with Gabriel the first time he had broken her heart, for as she had only realized last night, she had willingly—and most foolishly—allowed him access to her heart once more. How could she have done such a reckless, imprudent thing? Curst hopeful heart.
She dearly wished her Mama and Papa were here to comfort her. Her mama would say, “Any man that turns his back on a pretty flower like you, isn’t worth his salt,” just as she had after Gabe had left. Her papa would give her a kiss on the forehead and allow her to cry upon his shoulder for as long as she desired.
Her lip quivered, and the heated warmth of tears threatened behind her eyes, and she pulled the coverlet over her head. “Wake me in six hours,” she mumbled.
“Oh no you don’t, miss.” The small maid grabbed at the coverlet and pulled
it from atop her. “Pardon me for intrudin’, but I know that expression. Don’t you go lettin’ a man ruin your pretty face with all that cryin’.”
To Mary’s mortification, she could feel her bottom lip begin to stick out. Oh heavens, she was pouting like a petulant child!
“You’re a grown and experienced woman, if you don’t mind me sayin’,” Eleanor continued. “Whatever Mr. Spencer did most likely makes ‘im a cad and not worth your carryin’ on so.”
Mary nodded her throbbing head and slowly rose to a seated position. “You’re right, Eleanor. Of course, you’re right.”
The young maid smiled and Mary was struck by just how handsome the girl was. Her green eyes stood out in her soft, round face. Mary wondered what Eleanor’s auburn hair would look like without her frilly mobcap covering it.
“O’ course I am, miss,” Eleanor said. “Now, up with you. We’ll get you dressed and presentable in a trice.”
Allowing Eleanor this moment to take charge, Mary shuffled from the bed and moved to sit at her dressing table. She glanced down at the carpet before the hearth as she walked past. Gabriel was gone; he must have awoken early, for his pillow was resting on the bed and there was no evidence of him being there.
Her heart lurched and she frowned, turning to gaze at herself in the mirror.
Drat. She did look affright. Dark rings graced the underside of her red, puffy eyes and her hair was tossed about. Her freckles had all but faded long ago, but now, under the paleness of her complexion, Mary could swear that she saw a light dusting of them on the bridge of her nose.
Eleanor was right. Mary should not allow Gabriel’s rejection to have a complete monopoly over her emotions. Despite still having her virginity—no thanks to Gabe—she was a grown and experienced woman. And Gabe was a cad.
She ought to close her heart from further amorous feelings, and hope that the love that she’d come to feel would dissipate, for she deserved so much better than the way he treated her. Her Mama—rest her soul—would be right. Gabe wasn’t worth his salt.
Mary nodded at her reflection. Indeed. She would stop this misery nonsense, pull herself together, straighten her spine, and complete this assignment victoriously.
Eleanor brought a brush to Mary’s hair. “Your hair is a tangled mess, miss.”
“I’ve never taken to plaiting it while I sleep.”
“You’re certainly unique, if you don’t mind me sayin’, miss.”
Mary smiled. “I take that as a compliment, Eleanor.”
“I meant it as one.” The maid winked at Mary’s reflection, then clucked her tongue. “There is nothing for it, Miss White. We will have to apply powder to disguise the darkness around your eyes.”
“Yes, I had thought as much, Eleanor. And please, call me Mary.”
The maid smiled shyly, dipping her chin. Mary’s instincts told her that Eleanor was someone she could trust. The maid was afraid of her master, and unwilling to say anything too disparaging, but Mary understood what the girl was unwilling to reveal.
“You are quite vocal this morning,” Mary observed.
Eleanor’s expression closed as she bit her bottom lip in distress. “I am ever so sorry, Miss White, I didn’t mean—”
Mary raised a placating hand. “Oh! No, no, Eleanor! I did not mean for my words to be taken in such a way. I like that you feel comfortable enough in my presence to speak freely.”
“You’re so kind, miss—er, Mary.” Her smile grew, exposing her uncommonly white teeth.
“There now,” Mary returned the smile. “I think we will be fast friends.”
“I should like that.” Eleanor finished untangling Mary’s long, auburn hair, then moved to the wardrobe to find a suitable dress.
Mary gazed at her reflection in the mirror and brought her chin up a notch. She was a spy. In the name of protecting King and Country, she would devote herself to her position.
From now until they delivered their recovered information to Hydra, Mary would be strictly professional.
She turned to look over her shoulder at the table. Excellent; Gabe had taken the documents. Now she must think of a way to give him an opportunity to make the exchange.
Should she make a scene? Faint at luncheon? She scrunched her face in thought.
Ah-ha! Oh, how plainly obvious.
Mary turned her back on her own reflection to face the petite, softly rounded maid. “Eleanor?”
She gazed at Mary from her position by the wardrobe. “Yes, miss?”
“Would you be so good as to prepare another of my costumes? I have a mind to put on another performance.”
The maid inclined her head. “I have one already prepared. I hung it in the wardrobe before you woke.”
Mary grinned at her. “You are so efficient, Eleanor. Thank you.”
“A pleasure, Mary.” She removed a deep green costume from the wardrobe. “I think this one shall do nicely.” She draped it over the foot of the bed. “Just the right colour to brighten your mood and make everyone green with envy.”
Mary chewed on her bottom lip, an idea taking shape in her mind. “Eleanor, have you ever considered leaving your post here and finding a position somewhere else?”
Eleanor laughed. “Oh, every day! But where am I to find one? Land owners in these here parts are chock full o’ staff and most are cutting back, if you understand my meaning.” She waved a hand in the air as she returned to Mary’s side. “Besides, Lord and Lady Kerr aren’t like to give me a glowin’ reference.”
“Have you ever considered making the move to town?”
“Me? London?” She affected the demeanour of a gentlewoman. “La! What a notion!”
Mary gave a short laugh. “You mimic high society ladies very well.”
“Well, I should think so, I been around ‘em long enough.” Eleanor grinned.
“If I should say that I could get you any position you desire, would you travel to London?”
Eleanor stilled. “I’ll not enter into anything unsavoury.”
“Nothing unsavoury, I assure you.” She squinted one eye at the maid, considering. “But I believe I can trust you, Eleanor, and I have a mind that you could do very well in London. If you are able to acquire conveyance, you can find me at my apartments—I will give you the direction.
She nodded at Mary. “I will consider it. I am much obliged.”
“Not at all, Eleanor. I believe that it is I who should be thanking you.”
* * *
“No, I saw it this morning,” the Bonaparte spy said.
“Perhaps it was a maid. They are wont to do odd things, eh wot?”
The spy shook their head. “What possible reason would a maid have for making a mess of linens in the closet? No. I believe this was our new guest come to spy on us from a convenient hiding spot across from the study.”
“Miss White? I hardly believe her capable of—”
“Fool! Of course I did not mean Miss White; she is as simple minded as she is talented at seduction. I am speaking of her paramour, Mr. Spencer.”
“Mmm… What do you suppose we do with the man?”
“What else but bring him to the dungeon for questioning?”
“How would you like me to—?”
“Leave that to me…”
Chapter 25
Crack! The billiard ball struck another then rolled across the table. Gabe could only muster a grim smile at his excellent shot.
“Why so morose this morning, Spencer?” Lord Pondridge said before throwing back another two fingers of brandy.
“I’ll wager it was a woman.” Lord Sheffield laughed, his extra chin jiggling. “Miss White held out on you last night, eh? That woman…” he sighed. “She has a way of bewitching a man.”
“Indeed, she does,” Pondridge replied. “Why not avail yourself of the other ladies in residence, Spencer, and let one of the fellows here have a go at Miss White. They’re all eager enough.” He grinned.
“I’ll second that!” Lord Hale said
from his position by the fireplace as he tugged on the bell pull.
Gabe’s jaw tightened and his stomach churned. Even while playing billiards with other, potentially traitorous men, he could not escape Mary and his disturbing experience of last evening.
“I’ve already promised Miss White to Reddington and Boxton for this evening,” he said. “You gentlemen will have to wait your turn.”
“Lucky bastards,” Sheffield wheezed.
A nervous-looking maid appeared in the doorway.
“Ah yes, there you are,” Hale boomed. “Have one of my footmen come here at once.”
The maid curtsied, and with a mumbled “right away your lordship,” she was gone.
“Small maids in this house,” Hale grumbled. “No good for anything; can’t even take a man my size atop them.”
“Aye,” Sheffield pulled a cigar out of his waistcoat’s breast pocket. “If you can’t tup them, what’s the point?”
“Of course, if they’ve got a big mouth…” Hale wiggled his eyebrows and the three men laughed.
Gabe felt ill.
“You called for me, your lordship?”
Gabe looked up to see Sir Bramwell Stevens standing in the doorway, wearing Hale’s vomitus green livery and a powdered wig.
“Yes, Smithe. Have my horse saddled, will you? I have the urge to ride.”
Stevens bowed. “Right away, my lord.”
Gabe bent to take his turn at billiards, hardly noticing where the balls ended up. He needed to speak with Stevens to tell him what he had overheard last night. If something were to happen to him or Mary while he was exchanging the documents or while they were on their return journey to London, someone needed to pass the information along to Hydra.
Soon enough, Mary would come up with a distraction and Gabe would make the exchange. Until then, he must wait, and what better to do while waiting than speak with his comrade.
“Please excuse me, gentlemen,” Gabe bowed to the room.
“Off to see if you can repair whatever damage you did last night, eh?” Pondridge grinned.
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