She laid her hand on his forearm, felt the bone-deep tremor. “But you didn’t. The wound will heal in a matter of days.”
His chest rose and then he released a long breath. “I am not fond of you, at the moment.”
“I know.” His peevish tone made her want to smile. “This is probably not a good time to bring up the fact that I was in the alleyway first.”
“No, it is not.”
“Perhaps then, you might enlighten me on what happened after I blacked out.”
“Fainted.” He pushed away and plopped in a chair.
She snorted. “I have never done so in my life.”
“Well, now you have. According to Mick, all he did was mention blood a few times, and out you went.”
Sydney recalled the warm liquid seeping down her leg and the metallic scent that filled her nose and coated her tongue. A shudder rippled through her. “Let’s change the subject, shall we? Please tell me what happened.”
He smirked, though it did not last long. “When I left you, I had no intention of trying to locate the other entrance. I figured by the time I did, you would be long gone.”
“Something changed your mind, or a stroke of good luck?”
“I suppose you could say both.” His gaze dropped to her leg. “Instinct prevailed over logic, and your injury curbed my hasty retreat.”
“So, you caught us leaving, recognized the twins, and followed us home?”
“Not at first,” he said. “You and Mac were already in the carriage, and Mick’s ragged clothing and hat concealed his features.”
“Then you followed.”
He nodded. “Imagine my surprise when the carriage I was tracking rocked to a halt outside your agency?”
Somehow she could picture the moment with perfect clarity. Probably because she’d had nightmares about him discovering her secret identity for days.
“Still, I had not yet put the one with the other.” He rubbed the pad of his forefinger over his bottom lip, back and forth. Back and forth. “The lock of unruly hair was a perfect bit of misdirection, Sydney.”
She had never heard her name spoken in such admirable tones. Not even from her parents. And yet, admiration wasn’t the only emotion she heard tucked between the syllables. Her chest muscles squeezed tighter. “I suspect you are giving me credit for something I am not capable of masterminding, Ethan.”
“There now,” he said. “We are fast friends. It does not normally take me a sennight to persuade a beautiful woman to emphasize my name in such a fetching way.”
“I suspect your women are too busy moaning their husband’s secrets in your ear to say your name at all.”
The roguish grin he had been casting her way dimmed, and something stormy took its place. “What do you know of it?”
“Enough.”
His handsome face darkened. Instead of defending his actions, he went on the offensive. “Why did you hide the truth?”
“For the same reason you concealed your motives for seducing women,” she hedged. “To protect.”
“What truth are you talking about?”
She had gone too far. He only wanted to know why she had avoided his detection when all he wanted to do was thank her. But her mind had been on an even greater deception—the reasons behind her wearing the cloak.
“You do not trust me, I see. No matter—in time, you will.” Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees. “Let us continue down your previous train of thought. Why would I need to coax information from women?”
“To protect England, of course.”
He canted his head to the side, more alert than ever. “What are you protecting?”
“Its people.”
“From whom or what?”
“Men like you.”
He exploded out of his seat. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
The hotheaded viscount finally made an appearance. This was the side of him that had led many, including his family and superiors, on one merry chase after another.
“Men of privilege and wealth,” she said in her calmest voice. “Men who care for nothing but their own comforts and desires. Men who abuse their staff and then abandon them to a miserable fate. In sum, the aristocracy, my lord, of which you are a member.”
Folding his arms over his chest, he started pacing again. “Do not think to lump me in with the profligates of my class.”
“Tell me, when was the last time you took up a cause within the House of Lords?”
“You appear to know about a great many things you shouldn’t. Perhaps you already have an answer for the question.”
Sydney did not allow herself to be baited by his petulant comment. She let her silence unfold into an unspoken reprimand.
“I have been somewhat preoccupied of late,” he said, when the silence stretched. “I haven’t had much time for political squabbling.”
“Ah, but effective political debate, or squabbling as you term it, is the backbone, the very marrow, of this great country. Without it, without you, the people have no voice.”
He stared at her long and hard, his eyes burning with thoughts of an inner demon. Angling his head away, he transferred his tortured gaze to the window. “I rarely win an argument with my sister, and I don’t seem to be faring any better with you,” he said with unexpected candor. “How persuasive do you think I’d be in a chamber full of seasoned debaters?”
“Are you implying Cora and I are less fearsome than the House of Lords?”
“Less fearsome? No. More heart, yes.”
Despite the voice of caution echoing between her ears, she said, “Ethan, you’re passionate about everything you do. Passion paired with charm and persistence is a winning, or, if you’d prefer, a deadly, combination.”
With aching slowness, he transferred his attention from the window to her. “Is it, indeed?”
Years of carnal knowledge entered his gaze, transforming his tortured countenance to one of warmth and hunger. She felt the power of his need, all the way to her feminine center. Anticipation. Fear. Unadulterated desire wove its tantalizing tentacles between every muscle, every nerve ending, every dream she possessed.
“Do not think to try to seduce me,” she said. “My life is complicated enough.”
“It doesn’t have to be complicated. Only pleasurable.”
“I see you consider the two exclusive of each other.” She poured every ounce of conviction into her next words. “They are not.”
“I assure you, they can be. With the proper guidance.”
“Are you offering your services?”
“If I were?”
Sydney’s toes hung over the precipice of a very bad decision. The businesswoman in her recognized the danger he presented. She did not share her affections often, and never on the level he was suggesting. Despite his assurances, she could lose her heart to this man, especially if she became intimate with him.
On the other hand, she was so tired of being alone. If spending an evening or two in the arms of an accomplished lover could assuage the burdensome emotion, why not learn from one so experienced?
She slid her toes toward the edge another inch. “I would want to know the rules.”
The darkness behind his eyes swirled into a storm. Unfolding his arms, he strode to her. His brawny frame seemed to grow larger and more formidable with each step. She found herself pressing her spine deeper into the chair’s cushioned back. Even while her mind grew annoyed with her body’s subtle act of submission, she gathered herself to do far worse.
“The rules?” he asked. “As in a numbered list?”
Her shoulders squared the slightest bit. “Perhaps not something so formal, but there must be some type of code you mentally tick off.”
He knelt in front of her, his muscular legs spread into a wide vee, cradling her. “Do yo
u take nothing for chance?”
“No.”
He skimmed the back of one finger along her cheek. “My rules were formed by habit, which have now settled into instinct.”
“How many do you have?”
“Perhaps five.”
Five. She opened her mouth to speak, but had to draw in a breath of much-needed air first. “Instinct Rule Number One?”
The corner of his mouth curled up into a roguish smile. “Never feel with your mind, only your body.”
“My mind?”
“Yes.” He braced his free hand on her chair. “Do not think about the warmth of your lover’s skin against yours, nor the tenderness of his touch. Feel it, enjoy it, but do not think on it. If you do, the memory will soon be etched on your mind and will grow life. And then you will yearn for it, yearn for your lover.” His fingers began an erotic journey. They skimmed down her neck. “Yearning begets need.” Traced over her throat. “Need begets emotion.” And slid up the other side, cupping her cheek. “Emotion begets complication.”
The more he told her not to think about the beauty he designed against her flesh, the more she concentrated on his seductive path. “Number two?” she asked through a shuddering breath.
“Lean forward.”
Heart pounding, she angled toward him, feeling the skin around her stitches stretch. At that precise moment, she would have ripped them all out if that’s what it took to hear his next words.
His thumb swept a caress over her cheek. “Kiss to stimulate your lover’s arousal, not his affections.”
The moment his lush, warm lips nuzzled the underside of her jaw, Sydney’s eyes fluttered shut. She wanted this so badly. Had probably wanted it since the morning he opened his eyes inside the dockside warehouse.
Even then, with his swollen face, split lip, and bruised ribs, she had experienced an unnerving attraction to this man. He seemed broken in more ways than just his body. In the depths of his beautiful eyes, she saw resilience combined with vulnerability, determination with disappointment, and fear with murderous intent. The volatile mix had made her ache to take him into her arms and soothe it all away.
So, when Ethan’s magical lips descended to the hollow of her throat, she could no longer recount the reasons to refuse herself this small moment of ecstasy.
“Arouse, my lord?” she asked in a voice not her own. “Is that what you’re trying to do, or is this merely a lesson?”
“Perhaps it is both. Shall I proceed?”
Twenty
Time narrowed to a single pulse point on the proprietress’s throat while Ethan awaited her answer. The rhythmic thrust beneath her flesh kept him transfixed long past what was appropriate. He knew he should lift his gaze to hers, but something primal would not allow him to shift his focus from the truth pounding against the curve of her graceful neck.
After weeks of searching, he had finally found his cloaked savior—and his determined nurse. Never once had he considered them one and the same. His pain-induced mind had created a larger-than-life, godlike figure lurking beneath the black cloak. At least now he knew how his savior managed to haul him from the alleyway to the warehouse. Her two hulking footmen could move a small building if they set their minds to it.
He still didn’t know how he felt about the discovery. Last night, his overriding emotion was fear. When he saw Mac carrying her from the carriage into the agency, he was out of his mind with terror. He had struck a friend, not a foe. A woman, no less. A woman who had saved his life. A woman he was growing fonder of by the minute.
Then came the anger at her protectors, the betrayal over her silence, and finally a sense of wonder at her bravery. In the darkness, she had mentioned a business arrangement with Helsford, or, rather, the cryptographer. Did that mean she knew of the Nexus, or did her knowledge stop at Helsford’s special skill? One thing was for certain. If he found out that his friend had known his rescuer’s identity all along, he would rip off the cryptographer’s limbs one by one.
“Please do,” Sydney whispered, wrenching him from his contemplative silence.
When Ethan had thrown out the challenge of engaging in an uncomplicated affair, he never expected the staid and careful proprietress to accept. But she had, and her every act of surrender tore at his heart.
Could he take her to his bed, as he had countless others, and simply walk away? He feared he knew the answer and still could not bring himself to stop. Because he wanted to feel her flesh sliding against his with an almost unbearable need.
He cupped her other cheek. Soft and delicate. Courageous and intelligent. Humble and caring. He held it all in the palm of his hand.
“Shall we make this unforgettable?” He kissed the corner of her mouth.
Opening her wrap, she said, “It already is.” She turned her head until their lips slid into a union so perfect that the backs of his eyes stung with an unfamiliar emotion.
Groaning his approval, he increased the pressure of his lips and then softened them again. Over and over, he built her anticipation and, in return, his. He broke free to sample the vulnerable softness of her long, beautiful neck. The erratic pulse beneath his lips urged him lower and lower until he met the diaphanous barrier of her chemise. The backs of his fingers trailed along the same path as his mouth, not stopping at the fine linen barrier. They trailed over her generous bosom, pausing just before her straining peak.
He ached to take her breast in his mouth, twirl his tongue around her sensitive bud, and draw hard on it until she keened her pleasure. The need to taste her delicate flesh pounded between his ears, deafening him to reason. In less than three seconds, he could have his placard open, her chemise lifted, and his cock inside the slick warmth of her passage. A shudder of repressed passion racked his body, and Ethan nearly spilled right then and there.
Swallowing, he peered up at her. “Not only am I a cad, but I’m also a fool.”
She tunneled her fingers into the hair above his left ear. “No, Ethan. Never.” Arching her back, she brought the object of his torment ever closer to his mouth.
“You don’t understand. My c-control,” his voice cracked, “eludes me with you.”
“Then set it free.” She hooked her fingers over the neckline of her chemise and pulled it low until one perfect mound was exposed. Her fingers curled into the back of his head, and Ethan was lost.
His hand traveled up her rib cage to the underside of her breast, pleased with how she overflowed his large palm. Then his mouth covered her engorged nub, and they both groaned their satisfaction. Her skin was spun from the most exquisite silk, a cool layer of perfection covering molten desire. He inhaled her feminine scent, memorized the texture of her unblemished skin, and trembled against the telling sounds of her passion.
“I have longed to feel you in my arms,” she whispered around harsh breaths.
“As have I.” He retraced his path back up to her lips. Hours. He could spend hours learning every curve and valley of her body, locating every unexplored nook of her mouth.
She skimmed her hands up his arms and over his shoulders. The gesture was equal parts intimate and innocent, and Ethan found himself on the verge of consuming her entirely.
But, in that one simple motion, something reached into the haze of his desire and grasped the last cord of rational thought. She was an innocent. He knew it to the depths of his debauched soul. How she had managed to protect something so precious, given her predilection for dangerous activities and unsavory people, he knew not. She had, though, and she was handing the invaluable gift to him. The realization encased his body in a slab of ice.
He did not deserve such a rich offering. For more years than he wished to count, he had used his body to swindle information from wives and mistresses of powerful men. Good God, did he even know how to make love for pleasure, and pleasure alone? Even if he did, he could not do so with this woman. She deserved far bette
r than the likes of him. A boudoir spy.
And, if all of that wasn’t reason enough to halt this madness, she had sustained a nearly life-ending injury. One delivered by his hand.
With an almost crushing reluctance, he ended the kiss, removed his shaking hands, and sat back on his heels. His nails bit into his palms. After a moment, she opened her eyes, languid and filled with unspent desire. The sight nearly sent him back into her arms. Instead, he managed a smile. “You’re lovely, Sydney. Truly lovely.”
The compliment seemed to shake the languorous hunger from her features. She fixed her chemise, pulled her wrap closed, and folded her hands together in her lap. “A rather vapid c-commentary,” she said, with a slight catch in her throat, “on my ability to stimulate your arousal.”
He wanted to touch her, to reassure her, though he feared making matters worse. “Vapid? My words were not meant to diminish your effect on me. You did quite well in stimulating my interest, I assure you.”
Her attention flicked downward, causing his gut to clench. “Don’t believe me, sweet Sydney? Allow me to show you.”
Rising up on his knees, he watched her expression and knew the exact moment the material of his buckskin breeches grew taut over his painful erection. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.
To make sure she never doubted her power over him, he caressed his pulsing manhood with one long upward stroke and then squeezed. “This is all you, Sydney. All you.”
“If you want me, why did you stop?”
“And run the risk of hurting you more?” He laid his hand on the knee of her injured leg. “I couldn’t.”
The hard click of her swallow reached his ears. He glanced at her and noted tears shimmering in her eyes. “I’ve upset you. My sister was right. I have the finesse of a battering ram.” Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he once again cradled her cheek within his palm. “Do not cry, I beg you.”
Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and pressed into his warmth. Tears filled her lowered lashes until they became too heavy and a fall of liquid pearls dripped onto her cheeks.
“No, Ethan. You did not upset me. Quite the opposite.” She lifted her lids. “You’ve begun to heal my soul.”
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