Love and Let Spy

by Shana Galen

  “Always analyzing, aren’t you?”

  “I’m curious.”

  “So am I.” He pushed her skirts higher, and she was aware that she was exposed to him. She could feel the cool air from the Dungeon in that most private place and see the way his eyelids lowered slightly until his gaze was heavy-lidded. He took her breath away in that moment. He was the perfect incarnation of a dark angel painted by Rubens or Maffei. He was all sensuality and sultry heat and wicked intention.

  His mouth moved higher, just above her knee, and she felt her leg begin to tremble against the hand with which he held it. “So am I,” he repeated. “I may regret asking this, as I want no account of your former lovers.”

  “You have been my only lover,” she said. “You know that.”

  “In the strictest sense, yes. And in that same sense, I have been only with you.” His eyes clouded for a moment, and she willed his gaze back to her face.

  “Yes,” she said when he looked at her and seemed to return to the present. “We both began again tonight. Nothing not done with the intent of pleasure matters anymore. It’s forgotten. Wiped away.”

  He took a breath, nodded, and then he returned to her. His lips were on her thigh again, moving upward. She was trembling quite noticeably now, and the ache between her legs was hot and insistent.

  “I have never kissed a woman here,” he said. “I’ve never slid my mouth to the heat between her thighs and teased her to climax with my tongue.”

  Desire stabbed through her so strongly she had to close her eyes and dig her hands into the table to gain control again. She wondered if he could bring her to completion simply by speaking.

  “But I have read of such things.”

  “Such naughty books,” she said, surprised at how husky her voice sounded. “I’ve never read anything so scandalous.”

  “Has any man ever put his mouth on you?”

  “No,” she said firmly. She had known attentive men, but none had ever kissed her there. She did not think she would have allowed it if one had. It was too intimate. It made her too vulnerable, and yet with Dominic it seemed right. She would have agreed to anything he wanted.

  “Then it is another first for both of us.” His hands rested on her thighs, and he slowly pushed them upward, taking her skirts with his fingers. And then her skirts were at her waist, and he stood between her legs, looking down at her. “You are beautiful. So pink and perfect.” His hands slid higher, and one cupped her. “Hot and”—his gaze met hers—“wet.”

  She could not stop the moan as his hand pressed lightly against her, taking all the yearning in her body and centering it in that one place. Without even thinking, she raised her hips and pushed against his hand, wanting more pressure, wanting to feel his fingers toy with her, then press hot and hard inside her. But the pressure of his hand lessened rather than increased, and he bent to kiss the inside of her thigh.

  “Oh!” Her fingers scratched at the table, desperately seeking purchase. The rough scratch of his days’ growth of beard against that too-tender skin made her dizzy with pleasure. She was falling, her body languid and heavy with need. And yet she knew Dominic would never let her fall, not in truth. Of course, he could not stop her falling in love with him.

  His mouth brushed lightly over her center, and she jumped then sighed in frustration when he kissed her other thigh. He had her legs spread now, and she was so hot, so desperate with arousal. “I want you inside me,” she said, again not only shocked at the breathlessness of her voice but the wantonness of her words. He did this to her. He made her forget everything else—the Dungeon, the Maîtriser group, the all-important mission. She was not Bonde with him. She was just Jane—but that was not even true. She was more than Jane when they were together. They became something new.

  She squirmed and quivered, and finally he raised his dark head and met her gaze. She thought she might climax from the image of him between her legs like this. She had never thought she could be so close to climax without going over the edge. His hands slid down until she felt his fingers part her folds. “May I?” he asked.

  He slew her. In that simple request was everything about him she loved. She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes and willed them away. “Yes.”

  He lowered his mouth, brushing his lips against that sensitive flesh. Jane dug her nails into the stone of the table and could not stop her hips from lifting slightly. And then his tongue darted out and scraped over that small, sensitive nub, and she cried out, shaking violently with need. He tongued her again, using the tip to tease her and circle her. She had not known anything could feel this wonderful. The pleasure was almost pain, and she felt her body tightening and spiraling. He flicked his tongue over her again, and she heard someone cry out in ecstasy, and she knew it was herself, but she was no longer present. She existed only on a plane where pleasure burst inside her, filling her, then crashing over her again and again.

  It went on and on, and she had never known anything could feel this good. She had not imagined she could experience pleasure like this. As the sensations ebbed, she was aware she was still crying out, aware her legs were spread and she was open to him. And then he slid a finger inside her, and the jolt of arousal cut through her again. There could not possibly be more. And yet there was. His finger stroked in and out, and he bent to lick her again. She was almost too sensitive, and the feel of his tongue almost painful. Except that the pain was exquisite pleasure, and she rode that sensation and the fast stroke of his finger, the hot flicks of his tongue, until she came undone again.

  This time she could not even manage a scream. She whimpered and arched, taking every last drop of pleasure he could give her. And then she pooled on the table, lying in a boneless heap.

  Finally, years and years later, she opened her eyes. His mouth had curved up at the corners, and he’d pulled her gown over her legs, covering her. “That was interesting.”

  She was not even certain she could speak, but finally she managed to move her lips. “Not the words I would use.”

  “What words would you use?”

  “Looking for compliments?”

  “Oh, I think your reaction was all the compliment I need.”

  She put a hand over her eyes. “I was a bit more expressive than I intended.”

  He took her hand, kissed it, then pulled her up so she was sitting. “Always give me an honest reaction. I think if this marriage is to succeed, we will both have to be excruciatingly honest with each other.” Besides the fact that her heart soared at the realization he was now speaking of their marriage as a given, she knew what he said was truth. Neither of them was used to honesty. He had a past he was ashamed of, and she had a present she was honor bound to hide. Could they even find a way to reveal those dark, vulnerable parts of themselves?

  He tugged at her hands, and she slid off the table. “Now I believe you have a file to read.”

  “But…” She gestured helplessly. “I haven’t given you anything in return. Allow me—”

  He put a finger on her lips. “You have given me your love, and that is more than I can ever deserve.”

  “Dominic.” She shook her head. He deserved that and so much more. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing in this file I haven’t seen. But there is a file at my town house.”

  “Shall we go there?”

  She shook her head. “Foncé surely has a man watching for me, especially now that Tueur has not returned. Foncé must know he was not successful in his mission to kill me. I will have to send another agent in my stead.”

  “I would go for you.”

  “Too dangerous, and you are not trained.”

  “I suppose that is for the best, because I intend to go to Edgeberry’s town house.”

  She shook her head. “You cannot. Melbourne won’t allow you to leave.”

  “Jane.” He took her hand. It was ice cold. He had his grea
tcoat with him, and he slipped it over her shoulders to warm her. “My brothers and my mother’s husband are there. Surely you understand my need to warn them of any danger.”

  She sighed. “Of course I do, but M won’t allow you to leave.”

  He raised a brow. “And you expect me to believe that you know of no secret passages or hidden exits?”

  She gave him a long look. “Follow me.” She led him through the Dungeon to the darkest, blackest section. This was the A section, and she had never required a file from this row. But she had been here once before when her uncle showed her this door to the outside. He’d made her promise not to reveal it to anyone, but he wanted her to know where it was in case the Barbican was ever invaded and she needed to escape. “This opens into an alley not far from Piccadilly. You can find your way from there. How much time do you need? I will return and open the door for you.”

  “Two hours?” he said. “Three if they are not at home and I must go to White’s.”

  “I will be here.”

  He nodded then cupped her face, kissing her gently. She removed his coat and helped him don it, buttoning it for him and smoothing the material down. “Be careful.”

  He opened the door and was gone. For a moment, she wanted to go after him. She had the urge to protect him, but then she shook her head. He was safer without her. Foncé did not know him.

  And she had not left him completely defenseless.

  She retreated through the winding maze of the Dungeon and back to the main floors. No other agents were about, and the place seemed strangely deserted. She had seen it thus only a few times before, during the war with Napoleon, when stakes were the highest. This was another of those times. She did not know what Foncé planned, but she had to stop him. King and Country were counting on her to keep them safe so they might continue their blissful rides in Hyde Park, continue to dance the night away at their balls, continue to live their lives without looking over their shoulders.

  She was tired and thought she might lie down in the dormitory for an hour. When she turned into the passage, she all but collided with Moneypence.

  “Miss Bonde!” He caught her arm to steady her unnecessarily and released her just as quickly. “I am sorry.” He looked past her, probably expecting Griffyn to appear and take him to task.

  “Mr. Griffyn is not with me at the moment.”

  “At the moment,” he murmured, and she thought he looked rather sad.

  “Are you well?” she asked.

  “You love him,” Moneypence said. It was not a question, though she supposed it should have been.

  Jane opened her mouth to tell Moneypence they had more important issues to discuss, but it occurred to her that she should set him free from his long infatuation with her. She should have done so years ago. “I do. I love him and am going to marry him.”

  “I see. And there is no chance for me then?”

  She was not so cruel as to suggest there never had been, but she had an idea. “Mr. Moneypence, is Miss Qwillen in yet?”

  “I do not think she ever left, though what she could be crafting now, when all of the agents she might help are out on assignment, I cannot begin to imagine.”

  “I need her assistance. Will you take me to her?”

  “Of course.” He offered his arm, and Jane took it, walking slowly. She had plenty of time to detail all of Q’s charming qualities before they reached her lab. As a rule, Jane did not play matchmaker, but she supposed when one was in love, one wanted everyone else to feel similarly.

  Moneypence knocked on the door to Q’s lab, and when she opened it and saw him, the annoyed scowl on her face melted away. A pink blush spread across her cheeks in its place. Jane felt a swell of satisfaction at having guessed correctly at Q’s feelings. “Mr. Moneypence.” Q’s gaze darted to Jane and then back to Moneypence.

  “Miss Qwillen.” He bowed. Jane watched anxiously, wondering if, now that he had delivered her to her destination, he would walk away. “It is a pleasure.”

  “Is it? I mean, thank you.”

  “Bonde needs you.” He glanced at Jane, and Q followed suit. Jane had intended to ask Q if she might borrow a clean gown to wear, but one look at Q’s current attire, and Jane reconsidered. It was covered with green flecks of some sort, and small holes had burned through the muslin in several places so she could see clear through to Q’s petticoats.

  “I actually need both of you,” she said, inspiration striking. Jane Bonde was never one to ignore inspiration. “I have a mission for you.”

  Q frowned, but Moneypence shook his head. “Only Lord Melbourne has the authority to assign missions.”

  “Yes, but he has forbidden me to leave, and I find I need a file from my town house.”

  Moneypence sighed. “I suppose Mr. Griffyn has gone for you.”

  From the corner of her vision, Jane saw Q roll her eyes. Moneypence was obviously still holding out hope for Jane. She had to turn his attentions elsewhere. “Not at all. He has not been trained as an agent, unlike”—she gestured to them—“you two.”

  “You want us to fetch a file from Melbourne’s town house?” Q asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “I should think Miss Qwillen might go alone,” Moneypence said.

  Jane shook her head. “Considering the dangerous situation with the Maîtriser group, and the fact that my town house is being watched, I should think you might offer to go along and protect her.”

  Q opened her mouth, probably to protest she did not need protection. Jane tended to agree. Q had more weapons than the army of Luxembourg, but Jane gave her a meaningful glare, and Q closed her mouth. The woman was no fool.

  “Oh.” Moneypence blinked. “Of course. Miss Qwillen, I would be happy to accompany you.”

  “Thank you.” She looked at Jane, her expression knowing. “If you will pen a note, I will present it to your butler in order to gain entrance to your room and clothing.”

  Jane shook her head. “If my town house is being watched, that will not do at all. You will have to gain entrance unnoticed.”

  Moneypence’s eyes widened. “Do you mean we should break in?”

  “It is not really breaking in if you have my permission to be there.” She looked at Q. “The file is in my bedroom, in the desk drawer. It is locked.” She told them where to find the hidden key. “While you are there, can you fetch me a fresh gown as well as the necessary underthings?”

  Moneypence cleared his throat, apparently reminding her that she should not speak of underthings in his presence. Jane suppressed a sigh. Men.

  “Of course.”

  “There is a large tree in the back, whose limb juts quite close to my bedroom window,” Jane said. “I have used it and your glove grips on numerous occasions.” She looked at Moneypence. “Of course, I leave it to your discretion to determine the best means of access.”

  “We will not fail you.”

  “Is two hours enough time?”

  “I will do my best,” Q said. “Let me look through my tools and see what I should take.”

  Jane backed away. “I will leave you to it.” With a smile, she strode away. Not only had she begun a lovely romance, she had given herself at least an hour’s rest. She could have gone to her town house herself, sneaked in and out without being seen. Q undoubtedly knew this, but she had been waiting for her chance with Moneypence, and sometimes, when a chance was available, one had to grasp it and hold on.

  Seventeen

  Dominic was relieved to see the footman at the gate of Edgeberry’s town house. He’d often thought it a bit strange that the marquess always employed additional footmen for security, but now he was glad. He didn’t immediately recognize the man, but he was allowed to enter after he explained who he was. The footman apologized profusely, explaining he had been hired recently. Dominic waved him back to his post and went inside in search
of his brothers. The house was quiet, which did not surprise him. He opened several doors off the dark vestibule and noted the rooms were empty. It had been a gloomy, cold summer thus far, and the cold and gray encouraged everyone to stay in their warm, cozy beds.

  “Danbury!” Dominic called when he didn’t find the man in the parlor or the dining room. Danbury stepped out from one of the servants’ doors.

  “Yes, sir. Good to have you home, sir.” The servant’s eyes widened as he took in Dominic’s disheveled clothing and days’ growth of beard. “Shall I send Lord Trewe’s valet to your chambers?”

  “No. I’d like to speak with Lord Edgeberry. Where is the marquess?”

  “He’s gone to his club, sir. Lord Trewe accompanied him.”

  Dominic had expected this, but it still frustrated him. One more step. Another hour within which his family might be in danger.

  “Lord Phineas and Lord Carlisle have also gone.”

  “They’re all at White’s?” He turned back toward the door, and Danbury hastened to open it for him. “I’ll go directly.”

  “Yes, sir, but if I might make a suggestion?”

  The cold air blew in through the open door, chilling Dominic. He felt uneasy, and it wasn’t simply the unseasonal cold. “What’s that?”

  “I do believe a bath and a fresh coat might be in order if you plan to stop at White’s.”

  Damn. Danbury was correct. Dominic could hardly show his face at the exclusive club looking like this.

  “And your mother would undoubtedly like to speak with you.”

  Dominic’s head jerked up. “My mother? She’s at Kenham Hall.”

  “She returned this morning, Mr. Griffyn.”

  “She has to go back,” Dominic said. And he would make his case after a quick bath and change of clothing. “Very well. Send a valet to my room. I hardly care whose, but I’m in a hurry.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dominic took the stairs two at a time, cursing propriety and the etiquette that demanded he look presentable to warn his family of danger.