Kisses Like a Devil

by Diane Whiteside

  He rumbled something deep in his throat and rode her, hard and fast. Lust brightened every stroke, strengthened the current in her blood, intensified the sound of every wet slap between their bodies. Her hips rose to meet him, her breasts ached for his touch, her channel clenched around him.

  And when he arched and shouted, jetting his heated come deep inside her, the added pressure shot her into yet another climax, like magma remaking anything in its way. She howled, shattering into a million pieces, everyone marked with a star.

  Chapter Seven

  As leader—and sole member—of a delegation, Brian rated a private carriage, ostensibly so he could see the fine mountain scenery and catch an early glimpse of the firing range. The road had been macadamized, giving it a solid surface which offered an amazingly smooth ride and could support very heavily loaded vehicles. Grassy meadows spilled into the distance, dotted with massive oaks and occasional stands of beech trees.

  Water tumbled and frothed down the slopes, turning trickles into creeks and streams into rivers. The storm two days ago had been the latest in a very wet summer, filling the channels until crossing some bridges sent a misty plume flying up behind the carriage’s wheels. Had his lover noticed?

  He’d had little time to talk with Meredith this morning before departing the palace. There’d been the rush to dress and snatch breakfast, to say nothing of that all-too-strong stirrup cup offered to warm them for the journey.

  He eyed their driver, impassive in his dark-blue Eisengau infantry uniform, and was reluctantly glad he wasn’t making conversation with Meredith. Let the obvious spy attribute their silence to a night of frenzied lovemaking; God knows that was true enough.

  He snorted privately. Only her inexperience had kept her enthusiasm—and his lust—from keeping them awake all night. He also had the uneasy suspicion that only carnal diversions would keep her fine mind from following any inquiry to its logical conclusion—regardless of the consequences. At least she had Morro to guard her after he was gone.

  His mouth tightened and he glanced sideways at her. She’d asked the driver to put the top down on their carriage so she could watch her beloved dog trot beside the carriage. The sturdy fellow was uttering happy little barks, no doubt delighted at the universe of new scents borne by the brisk morning air. She wore the fine tweed suit Brian had ordered for her yesterday, under its warm, matching cape. Her jaunty hat with its saucy feathers and ribbons left her expression open to his perusal. A smile played around her bruised lips, under her heavy-lidded eyes.

  Something deep inside him sat up and purred, luxuriating in pure masculine triumph. His skin warmed and his cock swelled, climbing hopefully onto his thigh.

  All the time and money he’d spent yesterday on ordering clothes for her, starting with Gareth’s lady loves, then touching modistes currently encamped in Eisengau before finally reaching out to Paris and London—damn, but it had all been worthwhile, just to see her now. He hoped she agreed because he was counting the hours until he could have her alone again. No matter what his deal was with her—or the other fools’ behavior around them—he wasn’t about to enjoy her in public.

  As if sensing his regard, Meredith slid her hand along the leather upholstery toward him. He caught it up and kissed her fingers, happy to look besotted. “Comfortable?”

  “Very.” She turned to him, glowing like a torch. “My clothes fit perfectly, even the corset. Thank you! How did you know exactly what size I am?”

  He managed not to throw out his chest like a pompous politician. When had anybody ever looked at him like that before, especially since he’d grown up the second of four sons? He was loved, yes, by his family but hardly called infallible.

  “A man of the world can tell these things,” he pronounced smugly. He added more softly, “Besides, I’d kissed you thoroughly and my body remembered every detail.”

  He was still contentedly watching her blush when their driver neatly turned the carriage into a walled courtyard and stopped precisely in front of a cream-colored stone building. Strongly built with few doors on the first floor, its second floor windows provided comfortable views of surrounding area. The third floor offered classical bas-reliefs and the dynasty’s salamander crest but few peepholes. All in all, it was stolidly militaristic and quietly functional, in complete contrast to the Schloss Belvedere’s extravagance.

  Pairs of hard-eyed young men strolled the courtyard in Eisengau’s crack Rifle regiment’s uniform, revolvers holstered quietly at their waist. A pair of their mates stood guard impassively at the front door, while another pair had exchanged salutes with Brian’s driver at the courtyard’s entrance.

  Like the engineering college, this place knew what it meant to guard secrets.

  A chill breeze slipped over Brian’s skin, despite the courtyard’s high walls. By the time his breath steadied on his next exhale, he’d assessed every sentry’s position, weapons, and alertness while never looking directly at any of them.

  He stepped down onto the smooth pavement, automatically gauging its decorative stones. Not macadamized so they didn’t bring the truly priceless stuff, the heavy goods Eisengau was known for, in through this entrance.

  There were motorcars and even a few new-fangled motorcycles mixed among the crisply parked carriages, none of which he’d seen earlier at the palace. Could they have come with the grand duke’s notoriously conservative friends? Or was his heir sneaking in a few more modern thinkers?

  “Meredith, have you attended summer maneuvers here? In the stands?”

  “No, only from the outbuildings on the valley’s edge. I was only present for practice sessions…”

  “Not the real thing,” he finished grimly. A few surprises were undoubtedly in store for them both.

  A few minutes later, he and Meredith emerged from the headquarters onto the narrow balcony in the back. A row of leather armchairs marched along the balustrade, enough for the heads of delegations and a handful of honored guests. All in all, there was only enough room, sitting or standing, for a few people.

  A military band was playing dashing martial airs from a flag-decked bandstand off to one side. Guests milled around, drinking coffee, tea, or something stronger, and finally assuming their proper role of foreign observers.

  Some of the most top-flight courtesans were here, ornamenting the arms of the richest and most privileged attendees. Their tweeds were trimmed with luxurious sables and studded with diamond brooches. Their voices were low and melodious, their bearing that of queens. Men stopped to chat with them, then moved on.

  Meredith’s eyes widened and her fingers tightened briefly on Brian’s arm but she said nothing about them. He patted her hand approvingly.

  The headquarters’ sides dropped steeply away to a bowl-shaped depression cut into the mountainside, where the morning fog’s last few wisps were dancing in the sunlight. Tables in front of the balcony held long, straight, narrow objects, covered by cloths. An almost bucolic landscape was filled with grass and trees, except every knob seemed to feature a cannon—and every tree mourned at least one shattered branch.

  He’d finally arrived at Eisengau’s legendary test range.

  He grinned privately and accepted a cup of coffee.

  “Brian,” Meredith whispered, “where will everyone sit? There isn’t enough room on the balcony and the road doesn’t go near the valley’s borders.”

  “They won’t, not here. Only the most important folks are allowed to see the demonstrations.”

  She frowned and rubbed Morro’s head, while she considered his answer. Brian waited, curious to learn what her next question would be.

  “But not every head of a delegation will make it here this morning, especially after all the drinking and, ah, everything else that happened last night. What happens then? Will the seats be empty?”

  He shrugged and told the truth, doubting that lying would serve any good with her.

  “Remember the chanting you heard last night? One, two, three, prost?”


  “Or ‘cheers,’” she agreed, translating the last word into English.

  “It was a drinking contest, in which the winners get first claim on seats here.”

  She blinked. “How can they do that?”

  “On the count of three, everybody shouts prost! and downs a small glass of hard liquor, in this case vodka. Then they march in single file to the head of the room and crawl under the tables back to their place. The winner is literally the last man standing.”

  “Who will have a very nasty headache in the morning to listen to these with.” She indicated the cannons.

  He nodded agreement.

  “It seems silly.”

  He shrugged, having played far stranger games.

  “But why vodka? That’s not a spirit often seen in Eisengau.”

  “Sazonov provided it.”

  “Does anyone other than Russians know how to drink much of it?”

  “Not many.” He reluctantly gave her the truth.

  “He must have wanted more than one of his men here.” Her skin was pale from more than the weather.

  He nodded slightly, wondering why his gut was looking for snipers.

  “Miss Duncan?” The harsh accent smashed her name together.

  She flinched and spun to face Sazonov, finishing against Brian. He raised an eyebrow at the fellow, observing only a well-dressed man wearing a very apologetic expression. Strange, very strange.

  “Count Sazonov.” Her tone was curt to the point of rudeness. Some of their neighbors looked around. He glared at them.

  “May I speak to you for a moment, Miss Duncan? Privately but within eyesight of others. I assure you, you have nothing to fear.”

  “I cannot imagine what we have to say to each other.”

  “An apology?” Sazonov lowered his voice.

  More people were staring. Meredith glanced at them then looked back at him. “Very well, if you swear never to accost me in public again.”

  “You have my word of honor.”

  “Meredith, you don’t have to do this,” Brian whispered.

  “We can talk behind the previous grand duke’s statue, away from the band. I’ll take Morro and you can watch from the front of the balcony.”

  “No.”

  “He can help the workers,” she mouthed, keeping her head turned so Sazonov couldn’t read her lips.

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what wouldn’t she risk for that damn cause?

  But he couldn’t find any holes in her proposal. He could be with her in three strides, while Morro could rip into Sazonov within an instant. If it would make her happy, it would have to do, although Sazonov’s poorly hidden smirk made him very uneasy.

  Meredith drew herself up, longing to hurl herself back into Brian’s arms and demand shelter. Foolish thought; when had a man ever kept her safe?

  But she had to talk to Sazonov. Maybe, just maybe, he’d changed his mind and was genuinely willing to help Eisengau’s workers after all.

  At least the plans were safe back in the capital.

  “What is it, Count?”

  “I must apologize for my previous boorish behavior, Miss Duncan. I should not have attempted to grab you.”

  Why was he being so polite? If only Brian was beside her. The warm wool Brian had given her wrapped her shoulders like a hug and she smiled faintly.

  “But you are a beautiful woman and I lost my head. Please forgive me.”

  Sazonov was calling her beautiful? The bastard. Liesel, oh, Liesel, I wish I hadn’t been right…

  “You should be a princess, my darling, ruling a world blessed by loveliness and mercy.”

  What on earth was he talking about?

  “And I can make you one. In your domain, workers will be treated fairly and honestly, while poets flock to sing of your fair face.”

  Was he mad? “My domain, Count?”

  “Alaska, dear heart. The lowly peasants there are enslaved, forced to labor at canning salmon and curing sealskins. But after Russia regains it, you will be their great protectress, their goddess of mercy—if you help me now.”

  “Alaska? Really.” Where was this place?

  “You will be revered for years, even decades!”

  She nodded politely and wished she’d paid more attention to her few geography lessons. She was quite sure Alaska had never been part of the British Empire. It was an odd name, though—possibly American Indian?

  “Aren’t you worried I’ll mention this to Mr. Donovan?” she asked, fencing for time.

  “You’d never ally yourself with anyone who oppresses the common man.” He snorted in disdain. “Donovan’s father has owned silver mines for decades, building his fortune on the backs of unfortunate immigrants.”

  Could Brian’s father really be that powerful—and callous? Oh, dear God, let her never linger near any family ruled by an autocratic patriarch. Those devils had no use for women with independent thoughts, and the law enforced their rights, no one else’s.

  And her father’s memory was as much nightmare as talisman.

  Sazonov’s lips unfolded into a broad grin from something closer to a cobra’s flickering watchfulness. That military band was enjoying a cavalry march, all fluting cornets and lively drumbeats.

  “So you’re with me?” He tilted his head, lifting his eyebrow in what he probably thought was a charming mannerism, and reached for her hands.

  Morro growled and stepped between them. Good dog! She wasn’t about to fall in with the jackal’s plans, no matter how few the workers’ alternatives were.

  Sazonov automatically jerked away.

  “What do you need first?” she inquired, keeping her expression mildly interested.

  “The plans for Eisengau’s new great gun, of course.”

  The ones he’d tried to force her to steal before, back at the engineering college.

  Her jaw dropped. “That’s ridiculous! The only complete set is back in the capital, not out here.”

  “Where only you and Zorndorf know the combination to the safe.” His eyes were focused on hers, compelling her to obey.

  “He’s undoubtedly given orders to keep me out of the building,” she protested. Just keep pretending they’re still in the safe, Meredith.

  “I’m sure you know ways around the guards, if you think hard enough.” His gaze turned warmer. “You’re a clever woman, Miss Duncan, who can do anything.”

  “He’d know in a moment who’d stolen it.”

  “But you’d be safe with me, my dearest.” Was his expression what the cheap novelists meant by seductive?

  “Think of the poor workers in Alaska,” he coaxed.

  “The plans should be used only to aid Eisengau.”

  Where was Brian? Pacing by the balustrade, exactly as he’d promised. Why was she looking to him for help? She’d always had to fight her own battles.

  She pulled herself up a little straighter.

  “But you always needed help to hide them from the grand duke’s secret police.” Sazonov’s syrupy tone was an utter contrast to the violent penalties for her, should he fail.

  “True. But you need my assistance now,” she retorted, not about to say where.

  His eyes narrowed and his breath hissed out. She braced herself, ready for a public fight.

  The band crashed into a flaring trumpet call and thunderous drum roll, winding up the march. The conversational screen around Meredith and Sazonov died away as everyone involuntarily turned to watch.

  “Gentlemen,” called a trim colonel from the terrace’s center. “Please take your assigned seats for Grand Duke Rudolph’s opening remarks. Thank you.”

  Brian’s shoulder brushed Meredith’s and Morro’s leg leaned against hers on the other side. Thank God, somebody cared about her, even if protocol reduced her to being an appendage to a man.

  Sazonov glared at her, swallowed hard, then bowed. “I look forward to continuing our conversation later, Miss Duncan.”

  She responded with the smallest possible nod. Please, God, ma
y the plans still be safely hidden.

  “What was that about?” Brian whispered, taking advantage of the pause caused by a gaudily dressed chère amie being seated next to a stout old gentleman. Sazonov had long since bowed and elbowed his way through the crowd to reach the front row. If he’d lifted a finger against Meredith, the bastard wouldn’t have lived long enough to draw another breath.

  She used her lace-trimmed handkerchief to shield her words. “He tried to bribe me, if I’d steal the plans for a cannon.”

  He cast her an incredulous glance and she shrugged, her mouth twitching slightly. He could have kissed her for understanding the need for discretion. “The bribe was to help workers in someplace called Alaska?”

  “Alaska!” Damn!

  He stopped dead in his tracks, causing vehement complaints behind them. His blood ran cold at the implications. He murmured apologies to everyone nearby and nudged Meredith forward, almost blind to where they were.

  “Are you sure?” he hissed, hovering over her like a loon as she sat down. With luck, everyone else thought she was sneaking him tidbits of information about Eisengau’s equipment.

  She shot him one incredulous glance but quickly pretended to fuss over her tweed skirts’ placement.

  “Yes, I’m sure he wasn’t lying. He mentioned after they regained it. Do you know what that means?”

  “Russia plans to attack the U.S. and steal the Klondike gold mines,” Brian whispered in her ear, pretending to adjust a woolen rug over her lap. “Though they’re just over the border in Canada.”

  “British Empire?” Her voice started to rise, turning very Scottish.

  He clamped down on her wrist, thankful they sat near the band’s very enthusiastic trumpeters. She glared at him and sat back. Even her hat’s ridiculous feathers seemed to quiver with indignation. She accepted a cup of tea from one of the many servants and stirred sugar into it with unnecessary violence, sending her unique scent to tease his nostrils.

  His body tightened immediately.