Enemy's Kiss

by Jun, Kristi

  The chains clanked. “Wait,” the prisoner shouted. “You can find Jimmy at Devil’s Horn. East End.”

  Slowly walking back, he looked at the prisoner. “Is he the one who ordered the kill?”

  “I don’t know who the fuck ordered it. He was my contact. That is all I know.”

  The scum’s gaze darted from him to the nearly empty plate. Men like him never revealed all his cards at once. But for now, it would have to do. He called for the stable boy to bring another plate of food for the prisoner.

  When the food finally arrived, Michael handed him the plate and the prisoner gobbled up the meat like a starved animal. For now, Michael was satisfied, so he left the stable, instructing the stable boy to watch the cull with a promise of a reward for him in the morning.

  When Michael stepped out, he gave a relieved sigh. Finally, something solid to go on. Now, all he needed to do was send instructions to Row in London to find Jimmy, find out what he knows, and keep a close eye on Lord Tomkin.

  Looking up toward the darkened sky, the cold rain tapped down on his face cooling his skin. Pulling his collar up to block out the cold, he hunched over and quickened his pace toward the inn.

  CHAPTER 15

  Emma awoke to the sound of the door opening. The hallway light spilled into the darkness before the door closed again. The fire in the hearth burned slow and she heard heavy languid footsteps across the room. Several seconds later, someone lit the candles on the candelabra; one by one, bringing life back in to the room.

  Her eyes adjusted to the light. She saw Michael by the wash bin, filling it with the water from the pitcher. Stripping off the coat, he yanked his cravat loose, untied it, and gently tossed it on the floral settee nearby.

  She sat up on the bed and Michael turned to look at her, his features cut sharp by the flickering light as he stood there.

  “I’m sorry to have awakened you.”

  “I ordered dinner for you, but I am afraid it’s cold now.” Gazing at the table near the fireplace, she looked at the untouched plate of meat and vegetables.

  “I’m sorry, the business with the prisoner took a lot longer than I would have liked.”

  Ever since Michael spoke of her surname to the prisoner at the bank of the stream where the fight took place, she’d told herself Michael still didn’t trust her. She didn’t blame him entirely, but she couldn’t deny the hurt and resentment that stung her deeply.

  “What happened? What did you discover?” she asked.

  Michael released a heavy sigh. “Can we discuss this tomorrow? It’s been a long day.”

  She waited hours for him to return, worried and anxious. It seemed as though that’s all she did these days—wait. She wasn’t an equal partner and he didn’t treat her that way. Frankly, she was tired of it. She pulled away from the bed and walked up to him.

  “Ever since we started this journey together, I have done everything you asked of me yet you still keep me at arm’s length. Is this about Geoffrey? You will never stop punishing me for what I’ve done.”

  He looked profoundly confused at her statement. “All I said was we can converse on this tomorrow.”

  She shook her head. “You say that, but you won’t. You won’t share anything with me unless I take the initiative. You are keeping me at bay. Now that I’ve had time to think on it, you still won’t allow yourself to trust me. At least do me the courtesy of being honest this time.”

  “How did this conversation get so disjointed so quickly?” He sighed again and looked at her, pressing his lips tight. “It’s late. We’re both tired. Let’s not say anything that we might regret later. We will continue this tomorrow, Emma.”

  If he trusted her, he’d tell her where they were headed. “At least tell me where you are taking me.” The look on his face was a mixture of fatigue and confusion, the wall of defense crumbling.

  “Alright.” He sighed. “If I tell you, will you drop this matter and go back to sleep?”

  She nodded.

  “I was planning on taking you to my private cottage, but plans have changed. We’re going to Chatham Hall.”

  Chatham Hall? “What did the American say?” He didn’t answer and he didn’t have to. She saw the look in his eyes. “He threatened your family?”

  “We will talk in the morning,” he said, firmly. “Good night.”

  Of course she knew he was right, but the thought that something might happen to his family was more than she could bear. Lord Tomkin had informed her that the Runner, Mr. Roberts, had been assigned to Michael’s family. “I know Mr. Roberts won’t let anything happen to them.”

  She walked to the bed, sat down, and perched on the edge, watching him. Michael proceeded to wash his hands and face. Then he pulled off the quilt at the foot of the bed and went to kill the candlelight. One by one, he pinched the wicks on the candles until it was nearly dark. Walking over to the settee, he lay down and tried to make himself comfortable.

  “You’ve allowed me to have the bed all this time,” she said, watching him. “It is only fair that I offer you the bed tonight. I will sleep on the settee.”

  “No,” he said, curt. “I will be fine. Go to sleep.”

  “Stop being so stubborn. The settee isn’t big enough for you. That blanket on you is barely thick enough to keep you warm. Please take the bed. I insist.”

  He said nothing.

  “Michael?”

  He sat up and looked at her for several seconds. “We can share the bed for tonight.”

  Her brows rose. Share the bed with Michael? The thought of sharing a bed with him made her stomach do summersaults. This is not a good idea. She quickly squelched the voice inside her head.

  When she didn’t protest, Michael rose and walked up to the bed. Pulling off the boots, one by one, he slipped under the blanket next to her with his clothes still intact. Instantly she felt his heat, the maleness of him.

  Once he was settled, she heard his steady breaths. Heart thumping. Blood pulsing through her veins, she was keenly aware of him next to her. Too aware. Honestly, you are being quite silly. She focused on her breaths. Several minutes ticked by yet sleep did not come. Not even close. Several more minutes passed and she felt him shift, turning his back to her.

  She did the same and faced the opposite wall. Several more minutes passed before she spoke. “Michael? Are you asleep?”

  He didn’t respond straightaway. “No.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Again, there was several seconds of silence. “Yes.”

  “Do you regret the weeks we spent together at the cottage?” The instant she asked the question, she wished she could take it back. Hadn’t he already proven to her again and again that he’d rather forget? But it mattered to her. Those weeks together had meant a great deal to her and she liked to think that what they shared had meant something to him too.

  With him so close, she felt an overwhelming need to be close to him, to feel his hands on her. Wanton.

  “You are the one who failed to keep your promise, so you tell me.”

  He was right. She chose to walk away and that choice ultimately had consequences. She laid on her back and watched him. He was on his back again, eyes open now, but he did not look at her. “I suggest you resolve whatever issues you may have about us and quickly.”

  It was all there in his tone; she sensed she hurt him deeply.

  “Would it help if I said you meant nothing to me?” he said. “Is that what you need to hear from me to move on with your life?”

  She sat up, pulling back strands of unruly hair away from her face and looked at him. “You don’t mean that.” He said nothing and her wall of defense slowly crept up again.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right, I don’t understand,” she said. “But I want to.”

  “Don’t you see…I can’t have you.” He sat up and looked at her. “While your engagement to Geoffrey had been a ruse, a lie, he loved you very much. The night he was killed,
he told me how much you meant to him…how happy you made him. So, you see, Emma, I cannot in good conscience have you. I won’t allow myself to have any feelings for you. It would be an utter betrayal to his memory.”

  “Then don’t,” she started, inching a little closer. “I’ve never asked you to betray him. I am not some impressionable debutante in the hopes of a proposal or a love match. I am one and twenty, a grown woman and I know what I want.” She was tired of fighting. Tired of wanting.

  More than anything she wanted to feel desired, to feel wanted. She wanted him and she meant to have him. “Just this once.” Her chest rose and fell as his eyes lowered to her bosoms. Then they slowly lifted to her lips and up further until he was looking at her with lust brewing in his eyes.

  “Be careful what you ask for.”

  “Make love to me because you want to.”

  She watched him and for a single moment she thought he’d deny her. Her eyes slid down to his lips and her heart lurched wildly. Leaning in, his breath was a scent of musk and earth. She traced his lips with her fingers and her heart danced with excitement. A sensuous heat sparked in his eyes. He didn’t stop her and she knew she had him.

  How long had she waited for this? Too long. Leaning in further, she dabbed a kiss on his soft lips. But that innocent kiss soon became dangerous and hot when he pulled her into his embrace, her breasts crushing against his chest. He lowered her against him, his hard body stretching across the length of her. She felt the evidence of his arousal pressing hard on her hip. Oh heavens, yes. She wanted to feel all of him.

  Now.

  Heart pounding in her ears. Throbbing in her chest. Her heart quickened even faster at the realization that he was going to make love to her. This powerful desire that burned inside her would never cease, she feared. Not with him. A sense of urgency propelled her and she deepened the kiss. Tasting and licking. His silky tongue plunged into her mouth and urged her to open to him.

  He raked his fingers through her hair and his hand slowly traveled down her neck and stopped at the soft dip on her neck. Exploring further, his hands slid down to her chest and his fingers skimmed across her breast. Her breath clipped shockwaves of heat were sent through the soft spot between her legs. Massaging, he pinched her nipple with his fingers through the thin fabric of her nightgown and she moaned in utter delight.

  “You like that?” he whispered in her ear.

  Yes, yes, yes. Please…. She couldn’t speak. Instead, she clung to him for fear that he might stop. Exploring him under her palms, she ran her hands up his arms, feeling his taut muscles, his firm buttocks as if she was surveying a new territory.

  He parted her legs. Slowly reaching down, he pulled her nightgown up and dipped his hand into the soft spot between her legs, stroking and teasing her nub. “Michael—” Her words died off as the stormy pleasure rendered her speechless. Oh, my….

  A slow guttural moan escaped him. “You feel delectable.”

  Her restless hands combed through his thick hair as he continued to leave a trail of kisses while his fingers worked exquisite magic in her heat. Surely, if he continued in this manner, she would utterly die of pleasure.

  She yanked at his shirt. “Take it off. I want to see you.”

  He dabbed another kiss on her lips and pulled away from her. Watching him pull off his shirt over his head, her heart throbbed wildly with excitement. He tossed the shirt on the floor to showcase the glorious specimen that he was. She raked in all of him as her eyes lowered to the sinewy nakedness of his chest…his washboard stomach as if he were a glorious bronze statue of Zeus.

  She traced her finger down his chest, their gazes locked. Reaching out, she hooked her finger on his breeches and tugged on them. “And this….”

  Michael smiled, slowly undoing the buttons on his breeches. One by one, the button came lose until a very aroused member jutted free. She looked at it in fascination, his very aroused member: A beautiful, delicious man, indeed. She simply could not look away.

  “Like what you see?”

  Heart beating. Pulse racing, she smiled and inched closer and touched him with her aching fingers. To her surprise, it was silky and warm. The swell of his arousal felt perfect in her hand. Stroking it gently as if it were the most natural thing to do, she grinned wide when his eyes closed and he moaned.

  “You feel so hot, Michael.” She looked up at him

  “You have no bloody idea what you’re doing to me.”

  Michael bit down, grunting inwardly as she stroked his penis. The steadfast control he’d perfected over the years in the war and spying washed away in an instant when she offered herself to him. It was as if she’d bewitched him.

  He wanted to taste her, lick her all over. Leaning down, he kissed her while her hand was still on his cock, touching and exploring with such curious delight. At this rate, he’d not last another minute. More than anything, he wanted to see her—all of her.

  “Let me see you,” he whispered in her ear.

  She looked at him with the most curious expression on her face.

  “I want to see all of you.”

  She stood and brazenly slipped off her nightgown and pulled it over her head. Gazing at her perfectly shaped breasts and down to the curves of her creamy flesh, he pulled her to him. “Dear God, you are beautiful.”

  “Am I?”

  “You have no idea.”

  She settled on his lap, his hard cock pressing hard on her pelvis. She wrapped her arms around him as he lowered to kiss her breast. Then the other. Damn he was hard. He ached to be inside her. Pulling her onto the bed, he lowered to kiss her slow, once again tasting every inch of her mouth. She dragged her hand down and touched his cock, slowly stroking it in her hand.

  “Bloody hell.” He bit down as the pleasure mounted in his penis. He cupped her hand and pulled it away. “I won’t last if you keep that up. Allow me….”

  He kissed her neck while his other hand dropped and he slipped his fingers into the wet recess of her sex and stroked her there. “You’re so wet,” he muttered. He caressed, touched and stroked her until her moan morphed into a hot cry, quick and clipped, and he felt her ready to burst.

  “Oh, no…. Not just yet.” He lowered, leaving a trail of kisses on her tummy, then further down to take her silken heat in his mouth. Widening her legs, she lifted her hips slightly as if it were the most natural thing to do. Kissing, stroking and tasting, he licked her nub with his tongue again and again. He heard her gasp and cry out in utter ecstasy before a rush of feminine scent filled his mouth and she climaxed.

  He moved to join her and positioned himself between her legs. With a gentle thrust, he slowly moved inside her tight channel and she cried out.

  He instantly halted.

  Oh hell, this can’t be her first time.

  He lowered his head and groaned. How could that be? “Are you in pain?”

  “Yes, a little,” she said impatiently. “Why did you stop?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Please continue.” She smiled. “The pain isn’t so bad.”

  When he didn’t, she motioned for him to continue with her hands. So he did what she wanted and he proceeded as slowly and gently as he could. Slowly picking up speed, she moved with him until his cock was hard and ready for release. Pulling out, he spilled his seed onto her stomach.

  “Umm…that was delightful,” she said, caressing his chest with her finger. She looked up at him, a wide grin pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Can we do it again?”

  He chuckled and picked his shirt up off the floor to wipe his seed from her stomach. Then, he joined her in bed and pulled her into his embrace. “Soon, my sweet,” he said. “After we get some rest, we can do it again.”

  For several seconds they were quiet and once the sensations settled, the ramifications of what they had just shared hit him with full force: She was a virgin and hadn’t shared her bed with Geoffrey. A huge sense of relief washed over him.

  He thought Geof
frey and Emma had shared an intimate union, but then again his friends never revealed such details to him. Maybe he assumed that his friend couldn’t wait because if Emma had been his, he knew he couldn’t wait. At least not for very long.

  Something in him suddenly shifted.

  He was…happy?

  Yes, he was genuinely happy.

  CHAPTER 16

  Oxfordshire

  Michael focused his gaze at the hazy outline of Chatham Hall up ahead.

  The estate was manicured with large oaks, willows, and oversized Greek sculptures of gods that dotted the landscape. Much of the land had been kept to its original state on the insistence of his twin brother.

  It was here that young Geoffrey chased after wild rabbits when he wasn’t at Eton. Geoffrey had no real family to call his own; having lost his father at ten by thugs who ransacked his father’s carriage and took his life. His mother died from a fever when he was too young to have remembered her face. Chatham Hall had been his friend’s only true home, Michael thought with a sharp prick to his chest. The memory of that night flashed before him again, his fists bunching together: Didn’t mean for this….

  What were you trying to tell me?

  Gazing up toward the sky, the dark ominous clouds moved in again. A heavy storm would soon hit and he feared he’d be stranded at Chatham Hall for longer than necessary. He sighed heavily, his warm breath fusing outward.

  A few more minutes and they would be home. With that thought, a sudden relief clutched him. Finally, he’d be able to breathe a little easier with Emma safe at home. With the prisoner hitched to them, he didn’t have a moment to spare on Emma, except a few glances or two between them.

  There was no point in denying it. He cared for Emma and he was fully aware of the responsibility he had ahead of him. While she may have given herself to him freely, he couldn’t allow himself to have her and let her go—she was his responsibility now.

  He caught himself grinning idiotically as thoughts of Emma paraded through his mind, pulling him in deep, like an alluring siren calling out to him.