An Indecent Invitation: Spies and Lovers, Book 1

by Laura Trentham

  Lily turned away while Gray tipped the man with an extra coin. Only at the receding clatter of horse hooves did she look up. Nausea turned her stomach and beat a path up her throat. “He knew what we were doing.”

  “Your approach, while delightful, was none too subtle. Your wig is intact. No one will ever know your wanton ways,” he teased.

  “You know.”

  “Does that worry you?” Although his tone was light, his face reflected unease.

  “I’m not like my mother,” she said defiantly, desperation tingeing her statement.

  “I never assumed you were.” Glancing around, he took her arm. “Let’s walk while we discuss your concerns. We’re too exposed.”

  They were still a block from the Drummond townhouse. “Why did you have us dropped here?”

  “Just in case,” he answered cryptically. “Now, back to your mother—”

  “She was fickle, intemperate. Life got difficult, and she ran. Even before she took a lover and abandoned Father, she made him miserable, didn’t she? Their fights are legendary.” Even though it was difficult, she forced her fears to the surface. “Everyone says I’m like her. The night before Father disappeared—” Her throat closed.

  They entered the mews, the huff of the horses the only sound breaking the quiet of the night.

  “I assume Rafe has no idea of your whereabouts. What was your plan?”

  “Rafe thinks I took dinner with Minerva. I had Daisy leave him a note saying I wasn’t feeling well and went to bed early. The back garden gate is unlocked.” She led the way through the small garden, stopping at the door to the house.

  “Will you call on us tomorrow?” She kept her face averted. The entire evening had veered through every emotional high and low, leaving her vulnerable and exhausted.

  “Certainly not,” he clipped out.

  Had she driven him away with her shameless behavior? She was ready to choke out embarrassed apologies when he added, “We have too much to discuss. It can’t wait until morning. I’d rather follow you up the servant stairs instead of scaling the wall, if you don’t mind. My knees are still a bit weak.”

  He reached around her to open the door. She was grateful for his heat and strength now that she felt tapped of both. Silently, they climbed to her room. Once locked inside, he lit two tapers and stirred the banked embers, adding coal. While he worked, she pulled the wig off, immediately finding a measure of relief without the heavy encumbrance.

  “Let me play your lady’s maid tonight.” He guided her to sit in front of the fire. After situating her on the edge of the chair, he threw a leg behind her and settled her between his thighs.

  She mewled as pins plinked to the floor. Finally, her hair was unbound and flowing past her shoulders. He brushed her hair, his touch soothing. Her limbs fell lax, and her eyes half-closed.

  When his voice came, the deep timbre settled in her bones. “Do you really believe you’re prone to run away from difficulties, from danger?”

  “Perhaps.” She leaned into his chest, feeling sleepy and vague.

  It rumbled against her. “In my experience, you run straight toward trouble. Did you abandon Rafe last fall?”

  “Of course not, he’s my brother.”

  His chest rumbled again, and his arms came around her, his hands clasped together at her waist. “While both you and the earl might like to deny his parentage, I see much of him in you.”

  She tensed in his arms, her sleepiness ebbing away. “That’s a dastardly thing to say.”

  “No one is all good or all bad, sweetheart. Your father possesses an unwavering loyalty and steadfastness. To England. To your mother. He never tried to divorce her, carrying the pain of her defection like chains. He’s had a few liaisons but never loved another.”

  The letters and her father’s attitude after her mother’s betrayal confirmed his assessment. Had she been too hard on her father? “I suppose you might be correct.”

  “Your mother…” he said in a thoughtful, slow voice. “She’s a bit of an enigma, isn’t she? Her letters to the earl profess an unparalleled love and devotion only a few months before she left.”

  “You said yourself they fought frequently.”

  “Yes.” He drew the word out. “But reconsidering my memories through adult eyes, I wonder if their fights weren’t more a reflection of their passion for one another. It’s obvious they enjoyed a fruitful physical relationship. What if…”

  “What if…what?” She pivoted her head to catch his expression.

  “I’m not sure. We need to discuss the men who attacked you.” Uncompromising steel hardened his voice. “Someone targeted you. Those men were hired.”

  “The big one, Kurt, said he was going to nab me later, but I made it rather easy by following the gentleman out into the alley.”

  His every muscle turned to stone. “What gentleman?”

  “If I had recognized him, I wouldn’t have been following him,” she said pertly. “But he was familiar. I couldn’t quite place him though. I thought if I saw the crest on his carriage—the plan was to dash out and back before you noticed.”

  “That worked out well, did it?” She chose to ignore his sarcasm. “You believe he was a peer?”

  “He had the bearing. His clothes were high quality, but he wore a hat and cloak—even inside. He wasn’t as large as Kurt though.”

  “Few men would be. The man was a beast.”

  “You seemed to handle him with little effort.” She stroked his forearms. “Thank you for coming to my rescue. I was out of my depth, I’ll admit.”

  “If we wouldn’t scandalize the house, I would call in your maid as an eyewitness to your admission.” Although she couldn’t see him, she was sure dimples creased his face.

  “What does it mean that I was targeted so viciously?”

  She measured time by his breaths. Finally, he said, “It means we’ve been looking under the wrong rocks.”

  “So, Gilmore…”

  “Not involved, unless Whitmire is lying, and I don’t think he is. No, any man who sets three brutes on a woman intending rape…it’s personal. Very personal.” His arms tightened around her.

  “Back to the Matthews, perhaps?”

  “We’ve safely ruled them out. There’s something we’re missing. Someone we’re missing.”

  A thread of worry wriggled through her memories out of reach. Something Rafe had mentioned to her once. How? How did they know? “Very few people were aware of my plans tonight. How did that man know I would be there? And if everything is connected—which I’m sure it is—how did the ruffians who attacked the carriage know I was heading to Wintermarsh? Who knew I would be at Lord Napier’s?”

  “Who knew about this evening’s work?”

  “You, of course. Aunt Edie read the invitation the afternoon it arrived. Minerva and her man, Mr. Drake, procured my disguise. Penny drove me to Minerva’s, but I took a hack to Fieldstones. I was careful.”

  “Who knew you were leaving London?”

  “I sent notes to you and Minerva—”

  “Lady Minerva would have also known you planned to attend Napier’s.”

  She sat up and turned. He remained sprawled in the chair, speculation on his face. “No, I can’t fathom it. What possible motive would she have?”

  “Her brother is a gambler, is he not? Are they in need of money?”

  “In that case, she would ransom Father.”

  “Perhaps, she did. To the French.”

  She shook her head and looked back to the grate. “This is ridiculous. Minerva Bellingham is not a kidnapper. She means me no harm. You need to trust my instincts about her.”

  A few beats of silence passed. “All right.”

  She twirled again to face him. “All right?”

  “Yes, all right. I trust you. We can strike Lady Bellingh
am as a suspect.”

  His words affected her more deeply than all the effusive compliments and poetry gentlemen had spouted all Season long. He trusted her. Words of her own welled up, crowded in her throat and begged to be set free.

  His cravat hung loose around his neck, his shirt ripped from the fight. The beginnings of a bruise shadowed his jaw. Draping both her legs over one of his, she twisted to find his lips and brushed them with her own.

  “I trust you too, Gray. In fact, I—” Would he dump her on the floor and walk out the door? He’d told her he couldn’t afford entanglements, couldn’t have someone to worry about while on his missions. She refused to be a burden.

  “You what?” He brushed her hair back and moved to the buttons of his jacket.

  “Nothing. Wh-what are you doing?”

  “I require my jacket back.”

  “Are you taking your leave?”

  “As soon as we discuss the last order of business. Your outrageous wantonness.”

  She spun her legs off his and tried to stand, but his arm at her waist kept her seated. Heat bloomed. The wool of his jacket felt scratchy and uncomfortable. “It was untoward of me, I realize. It won’t happen again, I—”

  The jacket sloped off her shoulders, catching at her elbows. Her tattered dress revealed more than it covered, and the night air caressed her exposed skin. The sudden rending of fabric startled her. He’d ripped the back of her gown to her waist.

  “But it will—again and again, I hope. You misunderstand me. I find your wantonness and curiosity infinitely arousing.”

  He tossed his jacket to the floor, pushed her dress down to ride on her hips, and pulled at the laces of her stays. Her mouth parched, and she dug her fingernails into the arms of the chair. He pushed her hair forward over one shoulder, and the swaying tendrils tickled the sensitive skin of her breast.

  Nuzzling her neck, he said, “You can’t deny you thrilled watching the other couple this evening. Did you imagine some other couple watching us? Even for a moment?”

  She had, but couldn’t bring herself to admit it. “This is sinful.”

  “Terribly, deliciously sinful.” He emphasized each word with a kiss on her bare shoulder. He raised his hands to cup her thinly covered breasts, circling his thumbs over her nipples. “Perhaps you should do something about it, if it bothers you so.”

  Swallowing hard, she arched her back and drove her breasts more fully into his hands. “What can I possibly do to rectify our situation? Throw you out the window?”

  “Marry me.”

  She couldn’t think. Pushing his hands away by the wrist, she stood and whirled to face him. Her torn dress and loosened stays fell to her ankles, leaving her in the thinnest possible chemise. Gray could probably see straight through it. He crossed his legs, propped his cheek on a fist and roved his gazed over her, the slightest of smiles curving his lips.

  “We can’t marry. Why would you want to marry me? I’d be a burden, an entanglement. You said so yourself.”

  “You’ll be a lovely burden and a welcome entanglement.” His gaze finally rose from her body to meet hers. “The first night we lay together, I told you things would change. What did you possibly think I meant besides marriage?”

  “I thought you meant banishment to Wintermarsh. I hoped perhaps you’d visit me on occasion.” Shock held her in its grasp.

  “Is that what you think you deserve?” His eyes flashed, his tone bending toward anger. “You thought to be my mistress? You’d allow me to use you and offer nothing in return?”

  “I’d prefer that to marrying a suitable man. A small part of you would be better than a lifetime with Montbatton or Penhaven.” Her eyes filled with tears. What was this? She never cried. One managed to escape, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand like a child.

  He surged out of the chair and pulled her into his arms. The silky fabric of his waistcoat caressed her cheek. More tears trickled, and she tilted her face down so he couldn’t see.

  “Lily Drummond.” His admonishing voice vibrated through her body. “You deserve much more than that. You deserve love and marriage. Don’t you agree?”

  Apparently, her shoulder shrug wasn’t the answer he sought. He pulled away to cup her face in his hands and forced her eyes to meet his, thumbs brushing away her tears. “I love you, you daft, brave woman. I was asking for Rafe’s permission to pay my addresses the morning you interrupted us. He gave his blessing, by the by. I’ve had a special license burning a hole in my jacket pocket since that afternoon. I meant to tell you days ago, but I was…nervous.”

  She wrapped her hands around his wrists, her tears falling faster. What was wrong with her? Her mouth opened but all that emerged was a croak.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said anything. I thought…after we…” His voice stiffened and his hands fell.

  Not letting him go, she stood on tiptoe and pressed herself against him. Settling her tear-dampened lips against his, she murmured, “I love you, Gray. I’ve loved you forever and forever.”

  His sigh deflated the tension in his body, and he curled around her, amusement and relief threading his words in equal measure. “Forever? You took pains to torment me when you were a child.”

  “I wanted you to notice me.” She wound her arms around his neck as the warmth of his hands settled on her bare back. “Will you love me?”

  “I’ll love you forever.” He pushed her chemise over her hips. The airy garment floated to her feet. “But tonight, I plan to fuck you.”

  “You can’t say such things.” While her response was born from maidenly shock, arousal blurred any true outrage. The feel of his clothes against her nude body was alternatively frustrating and titillating.

  Laughing, he shushed her. “We can say or do whatever we wish together. Society’s strictures have no place between us.”

  Gray skimmed a hand over her buttocks and between her legs. “You’re ready for me now, aren’t you, my little wanton?” He swept her up and playfully deposited her on the bed where her body bounced. Her muffled laughter chased away any lingering tears.

  Watching her with intense, burning eyes, he meticulously undressed. There was no frantic tearing of his clothes, and his deliberate movements grew her impatience. First, his waistcoat and shirt were folded over the chair, revealing his hair-covered, muscular chest. Next, his boots and stockings were placed neatly against the wall.

  Only one item of clothing was left. Her breathing paced her galloping heartbeat. He released each button on his breeches slowly and her eyes were glued to his hand’s motions. He stepped out of them, gloriously naked and aroused.

  “You…you’re magnificent.”

  “Let me return the compliment.” He crawled up the bed, drew her legs apart and knelt between them. “Now, my lady, let’s continue your lessons.” His grin was predatory.

  “What lesson would this be?” She tried to cover her embarrassment with a worldly tone.

  “Let’s appease your curiosity over a certain statue and an act we witnessed earlier.”

  He dropped over her and brushed his lips over her mouth, her breasts, her navel, before burrowing his head between her legs. Resting his forearms against her thighs, he forced her legs even farther apart. The first rasp of his tongue nearly catapulted her off the bed.

  Massaging hands on her legs settled her. He leisurely explored, teasing with his tongue and lips. Looking down at his dark head, she threaded shaking fingers through his hair.

  He flicked the center of her desire with his tongue. She lost the ability to think rationally, caught up in an inescapable rippling wave of pleasure so intense her focus was entirely on the pressure building inside of her. His finger entered her and started a slow, decadent rhythm as he sucked her cleft between his lips.

  She shattered into a million pieces, never to be the same. Her hips bucked, and h
e tightened his hold on her thighs, riding out her climax with his tongue and fingers. Spiraling back down to earth, she became aware Gray had propped himself up on his elbow next to her, his face smug with male pride and satisfaction.

  She had to give credit where credit was due. “That was incredible. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart. You’re quite delicious. Believe me that brought me nearly as much pleasure as it did you.”

  Feeling suddenly quite wicked and bold, she glided her hand down his taut stomach to circle his still-straining erection. “Not quite as much I don’t think.”

  Rising to her knees, she pushed him to lie on his back. Still lost in the afterglow of her climax, neither trepidation nor embarrassment hindered her.

  “You know there was that other statue that I happened to glance at while I was in Gilmore’s study.” She settled herself between Gray’s thighs, brushing his heavy erection ever so slightly with her breasts in the process. He tensed, and she decided to torture him a little.

  “Really? And what was it depicting, if I may be so bold to ask?” Strained and gravelly, his voice wavered.

  “Perhaps I should demonstrate. However, not having done such a thing before you may have to guide me in proper technique. Would you like me to try?” Lily caressed her fingertips along his shaft from the head all the way to the heavy bollocks hanging between his thighs. Her hair brushed across his groin, and a drop of moisture appeared on the tip.

  His eyes were incredulously wide, and his hands fisted in the soft linen sheets. She leaned down and her tongue rasped over the moisture dewed on the tip. He tasted salty, masculine and foreign, but not unpleasant.

  Her name falling from his lips on a groan offered encouragement. She must be doing something right. She ran her tongue up and down his shaft.

  “Please take me in your mouth,” he begged hoarsely.

  Like the statue then. Could she do it? Opening her mouth fully, she sucked the head and swiped her tongue around the ridge of flesh. His hips bucked, driving himself farther inside. A hum of surprise escaped. Her gaze swept up to see his face clenched in a pained grimace.