How to Plan a Wedding for a Royal Spy

by Vanessa Kelly

  Evie cast a quick glance around the plain but rather elegantly furnished room. The four-poster bed looked comfortable with its high mattress and thick quilt.

  “Oh, I suppose that will make a nice change, won’t it?” she said as he gently put her down.

  When he laughed at her foolish reply, she couldn’t help wincing. “Don’t mind me,” she said with a sigh. “I’m just being an idiot again.”

  Will paused in the middle of stripping off his waistcoat. “Evie, you do want this, don’t you?”

  She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted at this moment except for Will to be safe and Michael to be free. And making love to Will, in her limited experience, did tend to complicate matters. But the avid, almost desperate desire that colored his gaze and the tension that gripped his big body clearly told her how much he needed this. Needed her.

  As much, she hoped, as she needed him.

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “Of course I do, silly.”

  “Thank God,” he murmured. A wry smile eased the lines that bracketed his mouth. “Because I need to feel my cock deep inside you, Evie, and I need that now.”

  “Will Endicott,” she gasped. “That’s an outrageous thing to say.”

  Of course, she was the one standing there in nothing but her shift and stays, so she supposed she didn’t have much business scolding him.

  He dropped his waistcoat to the floor and reached for her. “Sweetheart, I’m just getting started.”

  Quickly, he pulled the stays from her body, leaving her clad only in her shift, stockings, and shoes. He picked her up and tossed her onto the bed, ignoring her halfhearted protest. In fact, she found it all unbearably exciting, and his extravagant display of masculine power wound her insides into a knot.

  As Evie came up on her elbows to steady herself, Will pulled his shirt over his head. He unbuttoned the fall of his breeches, freeing his erection, then climbed onto the bed and straddled her.

  She eyed his gorgeous, half-naked body and his straining arousal. “You’re still wearing your boots, and I’m still wearing my shoes. And my spectacles.”

  He plucked the spectacles from her nose and placed them on the bedside table. “I wouldn’t worry about your shoes, Evie,” he said in a distracted voice.

  “That’s hardly the point,” she replied, fighting an urge to moan as his hands came to her breasts. “It’s not very—”

  She broke off on a gasp when he dipped down and took her in his mouth, sucking her in through the linen of her chemise. When his tongue flicked over her nipple in a stimulating rasp through the fabric, she let loose a moan and arched her back off the bed.

  He pulled the wet fabric taut over her nipple, avidly inspecting the stiff point. “I assure you, love, our footwear will not prove to be an impediment.”

  His hands cupped her, shaping her curves into plump mounds, and then his head bent again. For a few delirious minutes, he sucked, teased, and tormented her breasts until Evie was writhing beneath him. She could feel herself going slick and soft, and tiny contractions had already started deep in her womb. It didn’t seem possible, but she thought she might climax even before he touched her more intimately.

  Abruptly, he sat up, his pale eyes glittering with a heat she felt dancing across her skin.

  “It’s not enough,” he said.

  Evie came up on her elbows. “What’s not?”

  Instead of answering, he grabbed the hem of her chemise and shoved it all the way up to her neck. She squeaked, startled to be so quickly and thoroughly exposed, and in broad daylight, no less. Yes, he’d seen much of her the other night, but the room had been dimly lit and she’d still been partially clothed. Now, every part of her was visible to his hot gaze, painfully so in the morning sun. Her full breasts and pink nipples were on display, as was her unfashionably round body. Evie felt a flush start at her heels and move up her body in a swift tide of warmth.

  “Christ, you’re gorgeous,” Will growled.

  He was looking rather flushed himself, and his expression was decidedly approving. Evie gave him a tentative smile, feeling slightly less embarrassed. Still, she couldn’t help slipping her hands to the top of her thighs in an instinct to cover herself.

  “Ah, none of that,” Will admonished.

  He gently pushed her hands out of the way and then did the most astonishing thing. He nudged her wide open and pushed her knees up, then slid down the bed and settled between her legs. Evie came farther up on her elbows to peer at him, completely mystified.

  “Good God, Will, now what are you doing?”

  His lips curled up in a rakish smile. “I’m being outrageous.”

  He clamped his hands on her inner thighs as if to hold her still, then he came down on her. When his tongue slicked between her folds and dragged over her taut bud, Evie let out a startled cry and arched her body, almost lifting straight off the bed.

  No wonder he’d gripped her so firmly. Sensation stormed through her in an overwhelming wave. As his mouth caressed her, she found herself unable to do anything but give herself up fully to it.

  Not that Will gave her any choice. His broad shoulders wedged her wide and his hands held her in place while he feasted on her. Evie fell back onto the pillows, her eyes closing as he lavished her with one delicious sensation after another. She squirmed in his grip, instinctively pushing into his mouth, trying to deepen the contact on the part of her that throbbed under his deft tongue.

  Will’s head came up. “God, how beautiful you are.”

  In a daze, Evie came up on her elbows. Her stomach clenched at the sight of Will’s golden head between her thighs. He played with her, his fingers drifting through her curls then spreading her soft folds wide to expose her sex. All of her was open to him—body, heart, soul—waiting for him to claim her.

  He used her own moisture to stroke her, gently rubbing.

  “So pretty, Evie. Everything about you is so pretty.” His voice was a husky rumble that knifed through her.

  “Will,” she whispered, her voice breaking with need.

  His hot glance flicked up to hers, then he swooped in and fastened his mouth tightly on her sex. He sucked her into his mouth and Evie came apart in a sudden, explosive climax. She let out a high-pitched wail and curled up to grab his shoulders, clutching at him with shaking hands.

  A moment later, Will surged up her body, bringing her hands up and clamping them over her head. He pushed into her, spinning her climax to impossible heights. Evie threw her arms around his neck, holding tight as her channel tightened and throbbed around his erection.

  Will groaned, pounding into her with fierce possession. Straight-armed, he loomed over her. His gaze, heavy-lidded and almost feverish, bored into her.

  Evie could feel her eyes start to sting. “Wolf,” she whispered, her voice fracturing with emotion.

  “Yes, love,” he said, in a tight voice. “I’m right here with you.”

  She gripped his shoulders, staring into his gaze. She felt like her heart was splitting wide open.

  “I love you,” she said.

  He closed his eyes and came down on her, surging into her one last time before letting himself go, shaking in her arms as he found his release. Evie wrapped her legs around his hips, wishing they could stay connected forever.

  After exhaling a shuddering sigh, Will slowly sucked in a few deep breaths before rolling onto his back, taking her with him. Evie rested, splayed inelegantly on top of him in a delicious, boneless daze.

  After perhaps a minute, he lifted his head. “Are you all right?” He sounded cautious.

  “Hmm,” Evie muttered into his chest. She was beginning to wonder if she’d ever be able to move again.

  “Are you sure? I wasn’t exactly . . .” Will trailed off.

  She sighed and lifted a bit, meeting his gaze. “Gentle? No, you were a perfect beast. A wolf best fits the description.”

  When concern flared in his gaze, she gave him a lazy grin. “But I thought it was rather splendid, if y
ou must know.”

  He let out a relieved sigh. “Thank God.”

  She lowered her head back to his chest, enjoying the slow stroke of his hand down her spine. “You worry too much, Will.”

  His hand stilled on her bottom. “Evie, why did you stop calling me Wolf back then?”

  She thought back to their last summer together when she’d made a deliberate decision to start calling him Will. “Wolf was your childhood nickname and I didn’t want us to be children anymore.” She sighed, thinking how foolish she’d been. “I was in such a hurry to grow up.”

  To grow up and be with him as wife and lover, or so she’d hoped.

  “I don’t mind if you still want to call me that,” he said.

  She pushed herself up, stacking her hands on his broad chest and resting her chin on them. “No, I like your proper name. It means resolute protector. Did you know that?”

  He propped his hands behind his head, perhaps so he could see her better. She missed them on her bottom but had to admit the position showcased his muscular shoulders and arms.

  “I did, and I intend to live up to my name, at least when it comes to you.”

  She subsided onto his chest again. “Perhaps we can resolutely protect each other.”

  He made a slight scoffing noise. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Will Endicott—”

  He swiftly cut off her scold. “I know the meaning of your name, too. Evelyn means light.”

  The emotion in his voice had her looking up again. “Will?”

  He reached down to cradle her cheek. “You are my light, Evie,” he said in a husky voice. “You’ve always been my light.”

  She smiled at him, her throat too tight to speak. But then he let out a sigh, and she sensed a change come over him. Their brief respite from the perils of the world was about to come to an end.

  “I’d like to spend all day in bed with you, love,” he said, “but—”

  “I know, it’s time to get up,” she said regretfully.

  Evie slid off the high bed and found her spectacles. Will followed, retrieving a shoe for her that had ended up on the floor and helping with her stays.

  He leaned down and kissed her nose. “You go in the other room and finish dressing. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  As he strode to the washbasin in the corner, she made her way to the front room to retrieve her clothes. She struggled into her dress, leaving undone the buttons she couldn’t reach. She then slipped her spencer on over it, knowing it would preserve her modesty. Her bonnet disguised her messy head, thank God, but she suspected she looked a wrinkled mess.

  Evie made a few more attempts at smoothing her skirts, hoping she didn’t look too much like she’d spent the morning doing exactly what she had been doing. She also hoped she’d be able to get herself down the stairs without falling, since her legs still felt shaky from her explosive encounter with Will. Right now, she longed for a hot bath and the time to think through exactly how she felt about things—including assassination plots and her impending marriage.

  Will strode from his bedroom, cravat neatly tied and not a button out of place, blast him. Next to him, Evie felt like an undignified shambles.

  “I don’t mean to rush you, sweetheart,” he said as he took her by the elbow, “but I’ve got to get on O’Shay’s trail before it goes any colder.”

  She allowed him to tow her to the door. “And you’ll do what you can to help Michael, won’t you?” Though Will would never be unfair, Michael had deliberately impeded his investigation. Evie couldn’t entirely repress her anxiety over that.

  Will’s eyes narrowed to irritated slits. “Evie, I certainly hope this . . . episode wasn’t some benighted attempt to manipulate me.”

  She spluttered. “Of course not! How can you even think that way?”

  “How can I not think that way, given our history?” He shook his head in disgust. “God, we’re a fine pair, aren’t we? Do you think we’ll ever be able to simply tell each other the truth?”

  “Now you’re just being beastly,” she said, trying to hide how his words wounded her. “Besides, I’m not the one who’s been doing all the manipulating around here. That would be you.”

  “I don’t have time for this.” He grasped her chin between his long fingers and gave her a hard stare. “Get one thing straight, my love. You and I will be getting married, whatever happens to Beaumont. At this point, I really don’t care if the man spends the rest of his life in the bowels of Newgate prison.”

  “Don’t you dare threaten me, Wolf Endicott,” Evie huffed. “I have no—”

  “There’s another thing you should know about me by now,” he said, cutting her off. “I never make idle threats.” And then he hauled her, still protesting, from the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Will stalked down the deserted alley, automatically flicking his attention from one potential trouble spot to another. He paid particular attention to the doorways cast in shadow by the encroaching dusk and the overhanging roofs of tenement buildings. The houses of St. Giles leaned into each other, crowding out light and air and any sense that there was life beyond its prison-like walls. No wonder the Irish who lived in the stews—and anyone else who had the misfortune to abide there—hated those who didn’t. Mayfair was only a few blocks away, with its gleaming white mansions, prosperous shops, and well-fed residents, but it felt like another country so acute was the difference. Given the circumstances, Will could hardly blame those who sought to destroy their masters.

  But if years of war had taught him anything, it was that violence carried consequences that shadowed a man for the rest of his life. Even when necessary, it stained the soul and destroyed the innocents who stumbled into its path. If Will and Alec didn’t stop this conspiracy, innocents would surely be harmed, including Evie, Bridget O’Shay, and even Michael Beaumont, who now seemed guilty of little more than misguided compassion.

  He passed a gin house with a few rough-looking characters clustered in the dank doorway puffing on their pipes and eyeing him with interest. Will slipped his hand inside his coat to grasp his pistol, making it obvious he was armed. That movement, combined with the glare he directed their way, did the trick. Two of the men melted back into the tumble-down shop. The remaining cove returned him a toothless sneer that would have been comical but for the hatred that deformed his narrow features.

  Who could blame the poor devil? Will’s boots alone could probably keep the man and his family in food—or drink—for a year.

  He cut through a laneway that led to Vine Street, then through the Charlotte Mews to Woburn. Dusk had now fallen heavily from the sky, bringing premature darkness to St. Giles. Fortunately, he’d always had good night vision, and his eyes quickly adjusted. His passage was aided by the occasional gleam of a lamp or candlelight from a window of one of the many tenement houses, or from the gin shops and pubs that dotted the narrow passageways through the rookeries.

  Over a day had passed since Evie provided him with the information she’d gleaned from Beaumont. Will, Alec, and Aden’s men had spent almost every moment of that time searching the stews, trying to track down O’Shay and the other suspected Ribbonmen. Will had also questioned Bridget O’Shay again, a weepy affair with passionate denials that her brother was involved in any plot. Her tune had changed, however, when he brought up the Battle of Garvagh and the role of the Ribbonmen. The girl had gone quiet and still for several moments, her sobs cutting off in mid-gasp. With a little more prodding, she’d finally admitted that her brother had been involved in the incident at Garvagh but swore he’d promised to leave that all behind when they moved to England. Then she burst into tears again, babbling something about him getting involved with bad men.

  Will hadn’t enjoyed it, but he’d pressed Bridget hard for a possible location where O’Shay and the others could be hiding out. Obviously afraid of losing her employment or bringing the law down on her own head, the girl had finally pointed him in the direction of a particularly
noxious warren of tenement buildings in the heart of St. Giles. It wasn’t much to go on, but it meant they could focus the search. And only a half hour ago, Alec had sent a message to Aden’s house reporting that they’d found the tenement where O’Shay was holed up. Will had been consulting with Aden when the note arrived. He’d immediately left to join Alec, who’d promised to hold off on taking action until he arrived.

  He rounded a corner into a small square fronted on all sides by three- and four-story houses, most looking on the verge of collapse. Will melted into the deeper shadows of a convenient doorway, ignoring the scuttle of what was likely a rat across the top of his foot. He stood motionless, taking in the scene and analyzing possible escape routes, as he waited for Alec to find him. A foolish charge across the square would announce his presence in the clumsiest of fashions. O’Shay might not have thought to post lookouts, but a stranger would be noticed in an instant. Word would pass swiftly enough through the tenement to give anyone wanting to flee a head start.

  A minute or two later, Alec’s form seemed to dissolve and detach from the wall of the building across the square and ghost around the perimeter to meet him. He loomed up before him like a grim specter, wearing plain, black clothing and sporting an unshaven face and a low-slung cap that made him look as disreputable as any of the criminals who lurked in the dark. Despite his size, Alec had a tidy knack for adapting to his environment. No one who saw him tonight would believe he was heir to a wealthy earldom.

  “Are we sure it’s O’Shay?” Will murmured.

  “Aye, and he’s still there.” Alec leaned against the rough plaster wall of the building behind him, as if settling in for a chat with one of the locals. “He’s on the third floor, toward the back.” Will caught a quick gleam of Alec’s white teeth when he grinned. “I managed to get up there and grab a quick glance at the bastard before he disappeared inside his room. Based on your description, it’s almost certainly him. Even better, there’s only the one stairway in the building. He’d have a hell of a drop if he tried to escape by the window. Still, I put two of Aden’s men around back, just in case.”