How to Plan a Wedding for a Royal Spy

by Vanessa Kelly

  And leaving him in a quandary, as well. Lady Reese’s actions had clearly indicated that he was to follow Evie in another obvious effort to throw them together. And as much as her agenda made him wary, following Evie was exactly what he wished to do. He’d seen the sweet girl’s fury give way to hurt and shame, and he’d seen the tears start to well up in her big eyes, only half-hidden behind the glint of her spectacles. At that point, he’d wanted to take both Lady Reese and Michael Beaumont by the scruffs of their necks and knock their bloody heads together. Evie’s mother was a harridan par excellence, and Beaumont didn’t have the good sense to know when to keep his fool mouth shut.

  It had taken him only moments to decide what to do, Lady Reese and her blatant attempts to match-make be damned. Evie was his oldest friend, and the image of her alone in the library, crying her eyes out over her mother’s cruelties, gutted him like a rusty blade.

  Alec, naturally, had tried to stop him. In fact, he’d even attempted to follow but Lady Reese had clamped onto him like a bulldog with a bone.

  Will wasn’t overly concerned with her ladyship’s clumsy attempts to turn him into an eligible suitor for Evie because Will knew nothing of the sort would happen. He would simply comfort his friend and escort her back upstairs when she was ready to return to the party.

  But that was before he saw her, the candlelight turning her hair into a gold waterfall and softly outlining the lush body that was clad simply in a dress of pale green silk. She’d turned with a gasp when he came into the room, but then stilled, her shoulders pressed into the bookshelves as if she unconsciously sought to brace herself. Though he told himself she couldn’t possibly guess his thoughts, that shy, downcast gaze and the slight tremble of her pretty mouth contradicted him.

  More than any desire he’d ever felt, Will wanted to lean down and cover that mouth with his own, drinking deep of her sweet, gentle nature and innocent sensuality.

  Instead, he pried his fingers from the bookshelves and forced himself to take one step back. And then another.

  Evie’s gaze lifted from the floor and she blinked a few times, as if to focus on him. Then she expelled a tiny breath—of relief, he thought—and let her shoulders relax.

  “Will—I—” She stopped and frowned. “What are you doing here? Did Mamma send you after me?”

  He shrugged, trying for a casual smile. “She certainly didn’t seem to mind that I came, but that’s not why I followed you.”

  She looked troubled by his answer. “Why, then?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Evie, you nit, I was worried about you.”

  The teasing endearment brought a wry twist to her gorgeous mouth. He’d always liked her mouth, with its classic, rosebud pout that seemed so at odds with her shy, serious personality. But now he had to admit he was becoming captivated by it, spending more time staring at it then actually listening to the words that issued from her lips.

  As if to prove that point, she pushed the bridge of her spectacles up and frowned again. “Will, did you hear what I just said?”

  “Of course,” he said. “You just thanked me for coming to check on you.” Thank God at least some part of his idiotic mind had been paying attention. As an intelligence agent, he’d always had impeccable discipline, but Evie was proving almost fatal to his focus.

  She gave her head a tiny, doubting shake, and Will suddenly remembered how good she was at reading him. He needed to remember that, and to remember he had a job to do too.

  “I also said you didn’t have to do it,” she said. “I’m fine. Truly, I am.”

  He studied her face for a few seconds. When she arched her eyebrows in a silent, ironic commentary, he let out a reluctant laugh. “Yes, so I see.”

  She leaned back against the bookcase but this time simply appeared to be getting comfortable.

  “I’m not a child any longer, you know. I’m not going to fall apart and cry whenever Mamma scolds me.” Then she gave a self-deprecating grimace. “Well, not very often, anyway.”

  He glanced behind him, then took a third step back to settle on the edge of her father’s desk. “No one could blame you if you did. Your dear mother deserves a thundering scold herself for her abominable behavior tonight.”

  Again her mouth pulled into a wry, adorable twist. “Don’t worry. Papa will take care of that.”

  “I find that a little difficult to imagine.”

  She laughed at his sarcastic tone. Evie had a beautiful laugh—rich and soft, like a velvet scarf drifting through the air. He suddenly had a compelling urge to hear that laugh issue from her throat while she was naked in his arms, with him buried deep inside her sheltering body.

  That image had the unfortunate consequence of turning him hard. He shifted uncomfortably, mentally issuing a stern warning to his randy member.

  “Oh, you’d be surprised,” Evie said, blessedly unaware of his silent struggle. “He was most displeased tonight. I’m sure he and Mamma will be discussing it after the guests depart.”

  “For all the good it will do.” A moment later, Will wished he’d held his tongue, for her smile died and the humor fled from her eyes.

  “Mamma will behave a tad more nicely for a day or two,” she said somberly, “but then everything will return to normal.”

  “Good God, Evie, how does your father put up with her? He’s the mildest man anyone could hope to meet.”

  She frowned thoughtfully, as if genuinely pondering the question. “Well, it’s not generally a problem for him or the others. I’m the one who drives her so distracted.” She sighed. “Mamma can’t seem to help picking at me, and I can’t seem to help annoying her.”

  Will rose off the desk and took a long stride in her direction. His hands twitched with the need to pull her into his arms, but he resisted, even though every impulse in his body urged him to do so.

  “Evie, you’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve never done anything wrong, and your mother is entirely at fault. The failing is hers that she cannot see the sweetness of your nature.” He couldn’t touch her, but he put as much honest emotion as he could into his voice.

  She stared up at him, blinking as if stunned by his outburst. Then her lips parted in a tremulous smile. “It’s kind of you to say so, Will. I try to get along with her, but nothing I do seems satisfactory.”

  She gave a bewildered shake of the head that cut his heart in two. When he was a lad, he’d fumed in silence when her mother scolded and bullied, but now it seemed worse. For so many years, he hadn’t been there to try to protect her, to soothe her battered feelings or joke her around as he’d done in the past. Where had it all gone so wrong between them?

  Evie’s gaze slid away from his, and she flushed a faint pink. “She’s been worse these last few months, and I don’t know what to do about it. It’s . . . mystifying.”

  To Will, there was nothing mystifying about it. Michael Beaumont’s courtship was the cause. Will didn’t want to push her too hard, though. Not when she was obviously feeling fragile.

  He rested a finger along the curve of her jaw and nudged a bit until she, reluctantly, looked at him. “You do know the reason for her ill temper, don’t you?” He softened his probing with a smile.

  She wrinkled her nose, which made her spectacles tip slightly askew. He couldn’t help thinking again that she was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

  “I do, and you’re a beast to make me acknowledge it,” she said with a sigh. She reached for his hand, moving it away from her face. She squeezed his fingers for a moment, then let go and wandered over to the antique globe on a mahogany stand next to her father’s desk. Slowly, she set the ball spinning, staring absently down at it. Will followed but simply stood by her, waiting for her to answer.

  “It’s Michael,” she finally said. “She can’t stand him, and it’s so unfair. He’s a terribly nice man. If she’d just give him a chance.”

  Will had no right to be jealous, but the ugly twist in his gut at the warm tone in her voice mocked that idea. Still,
terribly nice wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement of love, was it?

  “Your mother has always been the worst sort of snob, Evie,” he said. “I’m not defending her by any means, but wasn’t it predictable that she would object to Beaumont’s Catholic heritage and beliefs?”

  When she scowled at him, he held his hands up. “You know it’s the truth.”

  “But Papa doesn’t object to Michael’s religion.”

  “That’s because the Beaumonts are rich. Your father is both a kind and practical man.”

  “That’s a perfectly horrible way to put it,” she said indignantly. “You needn’t make Papa sound so . . . so mercenary.”

  Will dragged a frustrated hand through his hair. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss Evie’s impending engagement to a man who might be a traitor. At least he assumed that’s what they were talking about. Perhaps it was time to find out, once and for all, about the nature of her relationship with Beaumont.

  “Evie, I don’t mean to pry—”

  “Then don’t,” she interrupted.

  He dredged up a rueful smile that he hoped made him look both charming and harmless. But the way her eyes narrowed with suspicion told him he’d failed.

  “I care about you, Evie,” he said. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  Now her eyes popped wide open. “You think Michael Beaumont would hurt me? That’s rich, coming from you.”

  Now he wanted to tear his hair right out. Instead, he finally gave in to the overriding impulse and gripped her by the shoulders. She startled under his hands and her mouth formed a surprised oval.

  “Just tell me the truth,” he growled. “Are you going to marry Beaumont, or not?”

  She flushed a bright pink, and managed to look both embarrassed and annoyed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Michael has not, as yet, asked for my father’s permission to court me.”

  He scoffed at the dodge. “Trust me, Evie, he will.”

  Because she couldn’t deny that, she simply glared up at him. He found the obstinate set to her jaw and her refusal to be honest with him completely infuriating. He’d been closer to Evie than anyone but her twin. Surely that gave him the right to know exactly how she felt about Beaumont.

  Plus, it was his job to keep her out of danger, as he could never forget. That was the true reason for his ire.

  Keeping telling yourself that, you idiot.

  “If—when he does make it formal,” he ground out, “are you going to say yes?”

  She tilted her head, searching his face. The light from the lamp on the desk glinted off the lenses of her spectacles, obscuring the expression in her eyes, and suddenly she seemed opaque to him.

  He gave in to another misbegotten impulse, plucking the spectacles from her nose and placing them behind him on the desk.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, trying to reach around him to reclaim her frames. He clamped his hands back on her shoulders, preventing her.

  “Answer the question, Evie.”

  She stared up at him, her cornflower-blue eyes dark and huge in the muted, flickering light. They held a measure of defiance but also an intense vulnerability, as if he’d somehow stripped her naked.

  God, he only wished he could.

  She spluttered at him for a few moments and then tilted her chin up at a defiant angle. “Why shouldn’t I marry him? He’s a kind, generous man, and we share many interests. And he’s devoted to me.”

  The part of his brain that processed her words balked at her response. The other part, the part that had nothing to do with his mental capacities, was caught by the sensation of warm, bare skin under his hands. He spread his fingers wide over her shoulders, nudging them under the narrow strips of lace at the top of her puffed sleeves. It would take only a flick of his hands to push those ridiculous little bits of fabric down, fully exposing her shoulders and the tops of her breasts.

  “William Endicott, what are you doing?” she asked, trying to sound outraged.

  He wasn’t fooled. Not when he felt small shivers coursing through her muscles and saw the flutter of her golden eyelashes.

  “Yes,” he replied, ignoring her question. “I’ve noticed how Beaumont follows you around like a lovesick puppy.”

  Evie stiffened. She whipped a hand between them and pointed it up at the tip of his nose. “Now, you listen to me—”

  He cut her off. “Do you love him?” Her little tirade died on her lips. She drew in a stuttering breath, too shocked to answer.

  Some evil part of him whispered that she didn’t want to answer the question, because she didn’t know the answer.

  “I . . . I . . .” she stammered.

  “It’s an easy question,” he murmured, letting his fingers drift in slow circles along her naked shoulders. “Do. You. Love. Him?” With each word, he let his hands slip a little deeper under the fabric of her sleeves.

  Her gaze darted away, and she grimaced. “You can’t ask me that, Wolf,” she whispered. “You don’t have the right.”

  He hated seeing that look on her face. Hated the idea that their past—and the hurt he’d inflicted on her—might be part of the reason for her pain in the present. He wanted to do whatever he could to correct the mistakes of the past and take that pain away.

  “I don’t,” he whispered back. “Just like I don’t have the right to do this, but I’m going to do it anyway.”

  He moved one hand to her jaw, cupping it while tilting her head back. Her mouth opened; whether in protest or shock, he couldn’t tell. But it didn’t matter, because he finally gave into the desire he’d been battling from that first moment he’d seen her on the lawn behind Maywood Manor. Bastard that he was, he took ruthless advantage of those parted lips to slip inside, taking her mouth captive. She made an odd, squeaky noise before freezing in his grip.

  Her paralysis lasted but a few moments as he desperately searched for the girl who’d never shut him out before. Who’d once kissed him with a shy, innocent fervor he now realized he’d never forgotten. And when she finally responded relief flooded through him, as honest and true as what he’d felt on the battlefield when he realized he lived to fight another day.

  As her arms stole up around his neck and she trembled within his embrace, the echo of their sweet, youthful kisses faded in the clamor of blood pounding through his veins and his heart hammering against his ribcage. Because it wasn’t a girl he pulled close—it was a woman. And it wasn’t just the lust-inducing feel of her generous breasts pressing against him that inflamed his senses, it was the way she opened up to him, responding to his invasion with an enthusiasm that both startled and thrilled him.

  If he’d ever needed confirmation that Evie was not the young girl he’d once known and that she was all grown up, this was it. Anything that had ever happened between them in the past couldn’t begin to compare with this moment.

  He groaned deep in his throat and staggered backward against the desk, lifting her right off her feet as he moved. She gasped but didn’t lift her mouth from his, instead twining her soft arms more tightly around his neck. Years of holding back—for both of them, he reckoned—fell away, replaced with a voracious need that blotted out every rational thought, every distraction.

  Will managed to sit down on the corner of the desk, bracing his legs wide and pulling her between them. He slipped his hand from her jaw, gliding it down to her hip. God, he could feel the heat and softness of her body right through the thin layers of her dress and chemise. Spreading his fingers, he nudged her forward, until she was plastered against his cock. The notch at the top of her thighs framed him perfectly, and he couldn’t help groaning into her mouth.

  She went still again and Will mentally cursed. He’d pushed too far, but every instinct drove him forward, telling him it wasn’t nearly enough.

  Her lips came from his, allowing a breath of space between them.

  “What are we doing?” she whispered in a bewildered voice. She sounded close to having second thoughts, b
ut her arms were still wrapped around his neck and she held herself tight against him.

  “I should think it obvious,” he said, swooping down to sweep a hot lick across her rosy mouth. She moaned, and her eyes went soft and sleepy-looking.

  “I’m kissing you, silly girl,” he murmured as he trailed his mouth along her jawline. Her skin was as smooth and finely grained as satin. He wanted to see it all, every inch of her beautiful body exposed to his sight and touch. His hands followed the thought, carefully pushing down her sleeves to more fully expose her shoulders and chest.

  “Yes, I know,” she said, her voice coming more strongly even as she trembled under his roving fingers. “But I think—”

  Will never got the chance to know what she thought, since the next sound he heard was the library door opening.

  “Evie, I’ve been looking—”

  Beaumont chopped off his words, and the brief, fraught silence that ensued was like a bucket of cold water to Will’s face. On a strangled cry, Evie pulled up straight in his embrace. Since Will’s fingers were still caught in her sleeves, it had the unfortunate effect of pulling the fabric even farther down her arms, exposing the top of her stays and the generous breasts they barely contained.

  “Oh, God, let me go,” Evie exclaimed as she struggled in his grip.

  “Stand still,” Will growled. He was trying to get her damn dress back up where it belonged, but her wriggling wasn’t helping. She was so frantic to escape from him that she didn’t notice she was half-undressed.

  You’ve done it now, you stupid bastard.

  “Let go,” she snapped.

  For good measure, she aimed a kick at his shins. Will barely felt it but was afraid her struggles would send her tumbling to the floor.