Her composure was a fragile shell as she leaned back on the leather squabs. With a jingle of harness, the horses set off at a brisk pace.
Minutes later, the carriage stopped before an elegant town home. The driver opened the door and lowered the step. “He’s waiting for you by the back door, my lady.”
She felt her face color. Did the servant know her intent? Was it a common occurrence to have women delivered to Gareth Ramsey’s back door step well past midnight?
There’s no turning back now.
She alighted and made her way along a stone path to the servants’ quarters at the back of the house.
She raised a trembling hand to knock just as the door swung open.
Gareth stood in the doorway dressed in a simple white shirt and buff breeches. The interior was dim, and moonlight partly illuminated his strong features.
“Jane,” he said as he opened the door wide for her to enter.
She stepped inside a kitchen. In the faint light, she could make out racks of pots and pans hanging from the ceiling and the large shape of an oven. The faint aroma of roast lamb filled the space.
He shut the door and pulled her into his arms. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”
She felt breathless in response to the warmth and hardness of his body. She raised her face to his. “I said I would.”
He pushed back the hood of her cloak. “I’ve given the servants the evening off. No one will disturb us and your identity will be kept secret. Who knows you’re here?”
“Only Lady Olivia. My secret is safe with her.”
“Come.” He took her hand and led her into the house and up the stairs. She stole a glance at his face. His profile was strong and rigid, and a strange, eager look flashed in his eyes. Her gaze swept from his broad chest to his narrow hips, and a familiar shiver of awareness rippled through her.
She saw no servants as they went, and she was glad he had dismissed them. Her identity would indeed be kept secret.
Then all thought fled as they entered his bedchamber. A low lamp burned, and a large four poster dominated the space. The rest of the furniture—a chest of drawers, a nightstand, two large bookshelves, and a pair of matching leather chairs situated before a large fireplace—were dark mahogany and very masculine. A cheval glass mirror rested in a corner beside the nightstand. A fire burned low in the grate, the flames casting shadows across the room.
“May I take your cloak?” He reached for the tie that fastened the garment and swept it off her shoulders.
She wore the same scarlet gown she had worn the night of the masquerade—the night he’d learned of her list of lovers and when he’d first kissed her. His eyes smoldered as his gaze licked over her, moving leisurely from eyes to mouth to upthrust breasts at her low bodice. An undeniable magnetism built between them, and excitement and a trickle of fear ran down her spine at the knowledge that such a physically powerful male was so anxious to be with her.
He motioned to the corner by the fireplace, and his voice broke the tension. “I had Cook prepare us some food in case you were hungry.”
She followed his gaze and noticed a small table tucked in the corner. Upon the snowy linen was a tray laden with an assortment of cheese and fruit. A thoughtful gesture, but she didn’t think she could eat even a scrap of bread.
“No, thank you,” she said.
“Wine then?”
She nodded. He poured two glasses of wine and handed her a goblet.
“To us,” he said, raising his glass.
She obediently drank. The wine was sweet and went down smoothly. Her eyes were once again drawn to the large bed, and she was suddenly assailed by nerves. Her only experience in the bedroom had been with Charles, and he’d expected her to lie on her back and not participate. He hadn’t hurt her other than the first time, but neither had he been interested in her pleasure.
She drank more wine. She wouldn’t think of Charles.
Not tonight. Not with Gareth.
He must have sensed her anxiety, for he plucked the wine glass from her fingers, set the two glasses on an end table, and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t think of the past. Tonight is about you and me. As much as I desire you, I won’t rush our intimacy. We have all night.”
A shiver ran through her. “I don’t want to think of the past, but what if…what if I’m frigid?”
“Impossible. You’re too responsive, too passionate to even think such thoughts.” He stroked a finger down her cheek. “Nothing but pleasure awaits you in my bed.”
The images his words evoked were arousing, but doubts crept into her mind. She searched his face, looking for reassurance. “I was expected to lie still while my husband…while he…”
“Your husband was selfish. That will never happen between us. I long to make your body tremble.”
Oh, my. “I want that, too.”
His gaze was soft as a caress. “Then kiss me, Jane. Show me you want me, that you want this.”
Her heart jolted, and her pulse pounded. She came close, rose on tip toe, and touched her lips to his. She was acutely aware of his large body, of the heat emanating from him, and of the faint scent of his shaving soap. She brushed his lips once, twice, then ran her tongue across his full, bottom lip.
He came alive and pulled her fully against his hard length. He kissed her, a long shivery kiss that promised pleasure and ecstasy. A kiss meant to drain away all her doubts and fears.
His hands lifted to remove the pins from her hair, and it tumbled to her shoulders. “Your hair is a golden cloud. I’ve always wanted to touch it.”
He buried his fingers in the silken mass, then lifted a curl to his nose and inhaled her scent. He pushed her hair aside from her nape and pressed his lips to the rapidly beating pulse at her neck. She tilted her head to the side to feel more of his lips and the sweep of his tongue on her nape. Then his tongue grazed the sensitive shell of her ear and sucked the lobe in his hot mouth.
“Does this feel good?”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered.
Her heartbeat quickened as she felt his nimble fingers undo the fastenings of her gown. Silk and lace gave way, and her chemise gaped open. His large hands cupped her breasts and his thumbs grazed her nipples, turning them pebble hard. His mouth followed, kissing the top of her left breast, then her right. Exquisite pleasure coursed through her limbs like molten fire, heating them. Every nerve ending was aflame with arousal.
She’d originally believed such a powerful male would dominate his lover to satisfy his desires, but the realization that Gareth was more interested in her pleasure sent a thrill through her.
The gown loosened and slid sinuously down her body to pool at her feet. Her chemise, drawers, and silk stockings did little to shield her from his heated gaze. He picked her up and carried her not to the bed but to the leather chair by the hearth and set her on his lap.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? How much I want you?”
During her marriage, she’d never thought her body desirable to a man. But now, looking into the stark hunger in Gareth’s eyes, she felt like a siren.
She wanted this, needed it, craved it with a ferocity equal to his.
“Touch me more,” she said. “Touch me everywhere.”
He was eager to oblige. His hand trailed down her stomach, caressed the curve of her hip, and lowered to raise the hem of her chemise. His strong fingers caressed her stocking clad leg, up to her frilly garter, and then parted her drawers.
His fingers delved inside her sheath and she groaned out loud, a foreign sound she’d never heard herself make before. Her body ached for his touch, and her pulse skipped wildly. His knowing fingers stroked, then delved, then sinuously slid across a sensitive nub. She panted and wantonly parted her legs to the erotic sensations coursing through her body. She never dreamed she could feel such rapt pleasure. Nothing she’d experienced in her marriage bed could compare, and she knew this was the way intimacy should be between a man and a woman. She wri
thed beneath him, arched her hips in wanton abandon. Then he lowered his head to lave a nipple and sucked it full into his mouth.
She was close to some cataclysmal event and she instinctively knew that his skillful fingers could give her body what it had never experienced before but craved so desperately. He kissed her just as her scream erupted. Shivers of delight flooded her limbs until she collapsed against him. She buried her face against his throat as her heart rate slowed, and she breathed lightly between parted lips.
Lifting her head, she looked up at him in wonder. “So that’s what all the fuss is about? I never knew.”
He chuckled, but there was a ferocious hunger in his eyes. She was sprawled across his lap, half undressed, while he was fully clothed. The thought struck her that he’d denied himself pleasure just to ensure hers.
But not without cost to him. His look was so hungry it sent a tremor through her.
Her pulse quickened again, and she had a sudden need to touch him. With trembling fingers she unbuttoned his shirt and thrust her hands inside.
A sprinkling of hair covered his chest and muscles rippled beneath her fingers. She flattened her palms against his skin, and the warmth of his hard flesh was intoxicating. The contrast between her soft curves and the hard planes of his body was shocking and arousing at once.
She squirmed in his lap, felt the hard length of his arousal against her bottom. Would that be as large as the rest of him?
She was no longer afraid, only wildly curious and eager to see him…to touch and stroke his flesh.
He rose swiftly from the chair with her in his arms. “If you have second thoughts, tell me now. I don’t think I’ll be able to restrain myself once you’re in my bed.”
Second thoughts? Her body ached anew for his touch.
She cupped his face in her hands. “Show me what I’ve been missing all these years, Gareth.”
With a deep groan, he laid her down on the bed and spread her fair hair around her. He stepped back to jerk his shirt off and toss it carelessly to the floor.
She leaned up on her elbows, eager to see him. Excitement coursed through her at the sight of his broad shoulders and powerful biceps gleaming in the candlelight. Her gaze lowered to the corrugated muscles of his abdomen, then lower still, to a trail of hair that ran down his stomach and disappeared into the waistband of his breeches. His arousal was evident. He towered before her, a lean man of muscle and sinew. His look was hot and intense.
She sat up and reached for the fastenings at the fall of his breeches. Her fingers trembled as the first button slipped through and the fabric parted slightly.
He hissed. “Careful, Jane. I just may ravish you.”
A second button loosened to reveal the vermilion tip of his arousal.
Awed, she touched him.
He jerked and groaned. “I want to go slow, to make everything pleasurable for you.”
“I want to touch you, too.”
“Yes.”
She was fascinated by his arousal and wanted to kiss him. To taste him. She lowered her head an inch.
Suddenly a pounding sounded on the door.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she jerked back. Her eyes flew to Gareth’s.
“What the hell!” He fastened his breeches and reached for his shirt just as Jane scrambled to cover herself with her dress.
He strode to the door and cracked it open.
“I apologize for the disturbance, Mr. Ramsey.”
Jane recognized the voice of the Gareth’s driver who had directed her to the back door.
“What’s wrong, Brooks?” Gareth said.
“I was waiting in the carriage outside when a young woman showed up and started knocking on the front door. I told her to go away and that no one was home, but she refused to listen and said it’s an urgent matter. She kept knocking and started calling out…and well…she was causing a stir on the street by shouting out Lady Stanwell’s name.”
Jane jumped off the bed. “It must be Lady Olivia!”
Gareth looked at her questioningly.
“Please. It truly must be urgent,” Jane said. “She would never come here otherwise.”
Gareth turned to his driver. “You did well. Please see the lady to the parlor. We’ll join her shortly.”
Chapter Fourteen
Lust pounded in Gareth’s veins as he watched Jane struggle with the hooks of her gown. Her back was as smooth as alabaster, and the curve of a full breast peeked from her gaping chemise. Sexual frustration battled with possessiveness. Her passionate response had told him that her husband may have taken her virginity, but he had never been her lover.
Gareth couldn’t think about what Jane was going to do with her mouth only moments ago. He took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair.
Jane gave up with her hooks and reached for a slipper. “I’m worried for Olivia,” she said. “She must be in danger for her to risk coming here.”
Gareth went to her and helped with her gown. He focused on the task, tried not to think about the warm, soft flesh beneath his fingers.
Jane turned and met his gaze. “She’s my close friend, Gareth.”
His breath stopped at the worry in her beautiful brown eyes. He was besotted. There was no other explanation.
“Then let’s go see what she needs,” he said.
Together they rushed down the stairs and into the parlor.
As soon as Olivia spotted Jane, she cried out and embraced her friend. “Thank goodness I found you!”
Jane grasped Olivia’s hands. “What’s amiss?”
Olivia’s eyes darted to Gareth, then back to Jane. Her mouth opened and closed, and it was obvious she was conflicted by his presence.
“I shall leave,” Gareth said.
Jane placed a hand on his sleeve and halted him. “No. It’s all right, Olivia. Mr. Ramsey will not repeat a word you say. I trust him.”
A thrill of male satisfaction coursed through Gareth.
Jane’s statement must have convinced Olivia. The lady started speaking rapidly. “It’s Edward. He’s in trouble. Remember I told you about his brother’s, William’s, debts to the moneylender?”
“Yes,” Jane said.
Olivia nervously bit her lip. “Edward decided to pay off the moneylender, but he didn’t trust William to deliver the money himself. Edward thought he would be tempted to stop at a gambling establishment on his way. So Edward went to pay off the moneylender on his own. He was supposed to send word hours ago, but he hasn’t. What if he’s been hurt?” she said in a choked voice.
Jane tried to comfort her friend. “No, don’t think that. Maybe Edward went to his club or to visit friends before—”
“No! He told me he’d deliver a message as soon as he returned. He wouldn’t forget.” Olivia wrung her hands in her skirts.
Gareth led the overwrought lady to a sofa and sat beside her. He hated female tears, and from the look on Olivia’s face, he feared she was about to burst into hysterics.
He spoke in a calm, firm voice. “I will search for the duke, Lady Olivia.”
She raised teary eyes to him. “You’d do that?”
Gareth withdrew a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “Yes. But I need information from you. Do you remember the name of the moneylender?”
Olivia’s brow knit as she dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t know his true name, but I overheard William tell Edward that the man goes by the name of Snake. I thought it ridiculous at the time.”
Gareth’s insides went cold. Snake was a ruthless moneylender whose tactics were not only unethical, but barbaric. Gareth had represented a client for legal separation who had dealt with the moneylender once in his past. The man was missing a thumb, Snake’s retribution for an unpaid debt.
“One more question. Does William look like Edward?” Gareth asked.
Olivia sniffed. “They are twins. Edward was born ten minutes earlier.” Sudden realization dawned on Olivia. “You don’t think the moneylender m
istook Edward for William, do you?”
It was likely, but he’d never admit it. “You shouldn’t fret needlessly,” Gareth said. “Men like Snake only want their money. They do not care who pays it.”
“Do you know how to find the moneylender?” Olivia asked.
“I have a good idea,” Gareth said.
Jane touched his shoulder. “We can accompany you.”
Over his dead body. Snake’s lair was in a seedy area of St. Giles, certainly no place for two women.
“No,” he said, his voice gruffer than he intended. “It’s best if I go alone. I’ll have my driver escort you both to your homes. I promise to send word as soon as I hear,” he said.
Olivia threw herself into his arms. “Thank you, Mr. Ramsey!”
Jane watched him, a strange look in her eyes. She was too intelligent not to see past his vague explanation and must know he was headed for dangerous parts of London.
Could she possibly be concerned for him? No one had expressed concern for his well being—other than Daniel and Robert during a mission—in a long, long time. Certainly not his father, the baron.
A foreign emotion pierced Gareth’s chest. He wanted to reassure Jane he could take care of himself and that was an oddity in itself. She was confusing him. Making him weak. He resisted the lure. He refused to allow one night of almost sex to turn him into an infatuated fool.
…
That night Jane found it impossible to sleep. She paced in her bedchamber waiting to hear from Gareth. His driver had dropped her off hours ago. She’d wanted to stay with Olivia, but her friend had sneaked out of the house unchaperoned and both women knew it was best if they returned to their own homes until the morning.
The sun was struggling to rise. Early morning fog curled around distant church spires, and a church bell rang.
Had Gareth found the moneylender? Had he located the duke?
And heaven help her, was Gareth safe?
Her mind turned to the previous night, before Olivia had arrived with her urgent need of help.
At the Spy's Pleasure Page 11