Jane felt the blood drain from her face. She should have expected his proposal. Knew it was coming. Then why did she want to sprint from the room?
If he was disturbed by her hesitation, it did not reflect in his eyes. “I don’t have much patience for the reading of the bans and would like to get a special license from the bishop.”
She should be thrilled. A special license suited her purpose just fine.
“We must speak with my aunt.” Her voice was strained.
His brow furrowed. “You are no longer a minor who needs consent, but a widow of advanced years.”
Now he made her sound like an old hag. “I understand. But I would love my aunt’s blessing nonetheless.”
He nodded curtly and rose. “I shall speak with her straightway.”
His unspoken meaning was clear: it was the efficient thing to do.
She couldn’t help but think of Gareth. His ruthlessly handsome face haunted her. Efficiency was the last word she’d use to ever describe their relationship. If only the smoldering passion she’d experienced in his arms wasn’t accompanied with secrets, lies, and danger.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Gareth circled the Vogleson’s ballroom. He felt caged in the crowd of elegantly dressed people. His cravat cut off his air supply, his waistcoat prevented his lungs from expanding, and his coat was too warm. His expression must have been fierce, for several men parted to make way for him.
Gareth scanned the colorful gowns of the women. Where the hell was Jane?
His emotions vacillated between fury and remorse. He kept reliving the moment when his relationship with Jane had gone wrong. A part of him rationalized that Jane didn’t need to know why he had been in Simon’s study, damn it. It was none of her business. Then his thoughts would turn and he’d want to plead for her forgiveness, her understanding.
She’d turned him into a confused simpleton.
The orchestra changed its tune. Several women were asked to dance, and a small sliver of space opened in the crowded ballroom. At last he saw her.
She nearly took his breath away.
Dressed in a pale rose gown that hugged every delicious curve, Jane looked radiant, even more beautiful than he’d recalled. Her fair skin glowed, her sleek blond hair was upswept, and a fat curl brushed her long nape. Her lush breasts appeared even larger, or had she lowered the bodice of her gown? He felt his skin tighten and his breath caught in his throat.
He was slow to realize she was talking to another man. A military officer dressed in regimentals. She smiled up at him, a slow sexy smile that made Gareth’s insides run cold.
He must be the captain Jane’s aunt had told him about. Captain Turner wanted a wife and by the way Jane was flirting with him, it looked like she was his choice.
Never! She belongs with me.
The captain led Jane onto the dance floor for a country dance. Gareth watched from afar as they came together and parted. Each time their gloved hands briefly touched, he wanted to sprint onto the floor and snatch Jane away from the decorated captain.
At last the dance ended. The orchestra began the waltz. Gareth was on the dance floor in a flash and tapped Captain Turner on the shoulder.
“Pardon, but the lady promised me this dance.”
Jane opened her mouth to protest, but Gareth swung her into his arms and into the music.
Even stiff and outraged, she felt wonderful in his arms. He was aware of the harsh uneven rhythm of her breath, of the fire in her beautiful eyes, and of her anger at being whisked away. Silk skirts brushed his legs, and her lavender scent filled his nostrils.
“What are you doing?” she hissed softly.
His gaze was riveted on her upturned face. “I want to ask you the same question.”
“Captain Turner is a very admirable gentleman.”
He splayed his fingers, the tips just barely brushing her breasts. “Rumor has it he’s looking for a wife.”
The slight parting of her lips told him she was aware of his touch. But rather than respond, her stubborn little chin jutted forward. “In this instance, the rumors are true. I’ve decided to encourage the captain’s pursuit.”
“The hell you have,” he growled.
Rational thought fled and he whirled her toward the open French doors and right onto the terrace. “You’re not encouraging any man’s pursuit, let alone thoughts of marriage.”
She gasped. “How dare you! I won’t let you speak to me that way.”
He held her hand firmly and whisked her down the terrace stairs and into the garden. She had the sense not to scream and draw unwanted attention, but she struggled, pulling against his grasp.
“Let me go,” she demanded.
“No.”
They passed a fountain, marble statues of Roman gods and goddesses, and stone benches.
“This is outrageous! You have no hold over me.”
Drawing her behind the shadow of a large oak tree, he pressed her against the bark. “Oh? What’s this?” Jerking her into his arms, he swooped down to capture her mouth.
He knew the kiss lacked finesse. He was nearly ravaging her in his urgency. In the back of his mind, he wanted to slow down, wanted to savor her in his arms and show her how much he missed her. But her stubbornness, her feisty determination, pushed him over the edge and made him dominate her with his strength and the force of his will.
She had to come to her senses, dammit.
Then she melted against him with a sigh, and pleasure coursed through him. Her fingers rose to his shoulders to bury in his hair. His hands explored the soft lines of her back, her waist, her hips. She flicked her tongue across his lower lip with a slow, sensuous lick, and he felt the pleasure all the way to his groin. He experienced a complete thrill of satisfaction.
She knew she was wrong. She knew they were meant to be together.
She parted her lips fully, inviting him to deepen the kiss. He was eager to oblige, covering her lips with his and pressing against her curves. She wiggled closer, rubbing her hips against his, and making mewling sounds that threatened to snap the remnants of his control. She tasted him again, sucking on his bottom lip like a ripe cherry. Raw, sizzling sensation pumped through his bloodstream.
Then she slid her teeth along his lip and bit him.
…
“Christ!” Gareth said, rearing back.
Jane jerked out of his grasp and faced him with hands on her hips. “You deserve it for manhandling me in such a fashion.”
She stared at his beautiful bloodied lower lip. She’d panicked when he’d whisked her out of the ballroom and kissed her. She feared her weakness would overcome her resolve. And it almost had. She didn’t have to fake her response to him. A spurt of hungry desire had coursed through her as soon as he’d pressed her against the oak tree and kissed her. It had taken everything for her to resist him.
She’d actually bit him!
She watched half in fascination and half in dread as he removed a handkerchief from his coat and blotted his lip. A small smear of dark crimson marred the white cotton.
“I only wanted you to come to your senses. We have something special,” Gareth said.
“Lust is nothing. Captain Turner can give me what I need.”
His jaw tightened and his dark eyes looked fierce. “And what is that? He’s old enough to be your father. Or is that what you prefer?”
She refused to let him bait her. “Captain Turner gives me honesty.”
“You want the truth?”
“I thought I made that clear weeks ago.” Her voice was bitter.
“I can tell you now.”
She doubted him. He’d concoct lies, just as Charles repeatedly had. It was in their nature. She’d thought Gareth was different, but she had been so easily fooled. “I no longer care.”
“Dammit, Jane! I work for the Crown as an agent.”
She stilled. She’d expected a story, but nothing so elaborate. “You mean as a spy?”
He nodded tersely. “The
Home Office, more specifically.”
“Goodness!” Looking into his eyes, she realized he was serious. His admission had her reeling. “How long have you been a spy?”
“Seven years.”
“Seven years!” she cried out incredulously.
“My assignments have not been continuous. I do have a successful legal practice.”
“Why on earth is a barrister working as a spy?”
“I was recruited by a friend. My position at Gray’s Inn has come in useful for certain assignments.”
Her mind whirled with what he was saying. “What does all this have to do with Simon Marbury?”
“Simon’s company has been manufacturing dangerously inferior cannons. British soldiers have been injured.”
Her fingers twisted in her skirts. “Is it because of Simon’s father?”
“No. Simon purchased cheaper low-grade pig iron for the manufacturing process in order to maximize his profits. The cannons can’t withstand the heat and impact of combustion. They fail and injure our soldiers. You remember my law clerk, Stevens?”
An image of the young, crippled clerk at Gareth’s Gray’s Inn chambers came to mind. “Yes.”
“He was a victim of one of Simon Marbury’s defective cannons. The bore exploded from the force of the blast and shards of hot iron embedded in his leg. The limb couldn’t be saved and had to be amputated. He has a young wife who was pregnant at the time of the accident.”
She felt faint. “How horrible.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “You hired him?”
“I did.”
Few men would have done so. Charles would not have.
A thought occurred to her. “Is that what you were doing that night in Simon’s study?”
He exhaled slowly then nodded. “I was searching for incriminating documents. I found them just before you walked in.”
Doubts still remained. Years of disappointment made it hard for her to trust. If everything Gareth said were true, why hadn’t she read about the scandal in the newspapers or heard any gossip?
“What will happen to Simon?” she asked.
Gareth’s jaw tightened. “He was given a choice to leave the country rather than face imprisonment.”
“I heard he was leaving to tour the Continent,” she whispered.
“Personally, I believe he should have been arrested and tried at the Old Bailey.”
Her eyes snapped back to him. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“The case is over. The bad cannons will be removed from the army’s artillery. Simon will be exiled.”
“You should have told me. Did you honestly think I’d betray you to Simon?”
“No, it wasn’t that. Agents are prohibited from sharing any knowledge of their missions to others.”
“Why confess now?”
He clutched her shoulders and gently shook her. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you not believing in me, not trusting me.”
A ray of hope blossomed in her chest. His confession proved he was an admirable man. Her heart may have been right after all. She thought of the baby, their baby.
She could tell him her secret.
“Oh, Gareth,” she breathed.
“You must understand, Jane. My work is very dangerous. I’ve always accepted the risks involved with each mission knowing I was doing it for King and Country.”
There was so much more to him. She’d thought him a liar when he was admirable. He’d saved an indigent boy in the park; he’d employed a seriously wounded soldier; and his work as a spy for the government resulted in stopping shipments of perilous cannons to battlefields where English soldiers would be injured by them.
Perhaps there was a chance for them and for their unborn baby. Her heart felt light. The burden she’d been carrying could be shared.
She took a deep breath. “Gareth, I’m—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh, love. Let me finish. I’ve so much to say. I’ve never married for a reason, Jane. My duty is to King and Country. I never know when I’ll be assigned the next mission or how treacherous it will be.”
Her heart faltered. What was he saying?
“Don’t you see?” he said. “Neither of us wishes to marry. I dare not father children or put a family at risk. We were perfect together. We are perfect together.”
“You like it then? Being a spy?” she asked helplessly.
“I cannot imagine not working for the Home Office.”
Her hopes crashed around her. She felt sick. Gareth didn’t want to marry. He didn’t want children. If she told him she was pregnant, he would act honorably, but he would surely grow to resent her and the child. He liked being a spy, he thrived on the danger.
She wanted so badly to tell him, but the words stuck in her throat. Could she be that selfish? Could she put her child at risk?
She thought of the Captain. He wanted to marry—wanted to obtain a special license from the bishop. It could be done quickly; no one would suspect the child wasn’t his.
“I miss you, Jane. I miss our nights together.”
Sweet Lord, so did she.
“I’ll send my carriage tonight. Come to me.”
She wanted to. Oh, she did. But it was no longer simply about her desires. She had to protect her baby.
He caressed her arm. “It can be just as before between us.”
But it couldn’t be. Nothing could be just as it had been. She was afraid to speak; afraid she’d blurt out the truth in a moment of weakness and then burst into tears.
“No,” she managed to say.
His eyes were fierce. “Why?”
“It’s too late.”
His fingers tightened a fraction on her arm. “Give me a good reason.”
She shifted to the side and looked in the direction of the terrace. The ballroom lights flickered, and a trill of laughter floated on the garden breeze. “Captain Turner waits for me.”
He dropped his hand from her and stepped back. “You’re choosing him?”
She felt the loss of his heat, and a huge, painful knot formed inside her. “It’s done.”
His eyes grew fierce. “You’ll regret it. You’ll never experience what we have together with another.”
“Good-bye, Gareth.”
And for the second time, she walked away from him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The wind howled and rain pounded the roof of the Bear and Bull tavern. The foul weather matched Gareth’s mood. He shifted on the wooden bench in the corner and took a good swallow of whiskey from his glass. Despite the fine quality of the alcohol, it tasted bitter.
He never thought it was possible.
He’d grown attached to a woman and developed feelings. He wouldn’t call it love; he was too cynical to believe in the emotion. He hadn’t witnessed it during his childhood with his parents or through his clients in his profession. But he grudgingly admitted he’d developed strong feelings for Jane.
Just like his friend Robert had when he’d first met Sophia.
Only he was more of a fool. He’d been convinced that once he possessed Jane’s body, the tightly coiled need inside him would ease. But instead, it was keener than before, driving him to madness. He didn’t want their affair to end, but wanted her in his bed once again, desperate to impress the memory of their shared passion in her mind forever. He’d grown fiercely attached to her, and she didn’t want him. She’d chosen Captain Turner instead.
He wanted to kill the man.
A tavern maid wandered over. She was pretty, with large breasts the size of melons and red pouty lips. She’d been serving him all night, and from the coy glances she’d given him, he knew what she offered.
She rested a curvy hip on the table, inches from where his hand held his empty glass. “If you’ve finished with your whiskey, my shift is over,” she said.
“Is it now?” His gaze roved her face and rested on her big breasts. A peep of nipple was visible above her frilly bodice. She must have tugged the fabr
ic down before she returned to his table. He sure as hell would have noticed that nipple before.
She leaned close and whispered. “You’ll need to rent a room upstairs.”
It would be easy to get lost in willing female flesh. The problem was he didn’t want her. He didn’t want any other woman but Jane.
Christ.
“I’ll have another whiskey.”
The tavern maid pushed away from his table with a pouty expression. “It’s only alcohol ye’ll be wantin’ tonight, then?”
He nodded curtly. “Sorry to say so, but yes.”
A knowing look crossed her face, and she shrugged a bared shoulder. “She must be worth it,” she said, then wandered off to fetch him another whiskey.
Loud voices in the corner of the tavern caught his attention. Two men argued. One stood and pushed back his chair. It looked as if there would be fisticuffs tonight. Gareth shifted in his seat. He was itching for a fight, and the big man looked like he could pack a solid punch. If the boxing ring wouldn’t satisfy the raw ache inside him, perhaps a good bar fight would.
The tavern owner rushed over, spoke harshly to them, and one of the men stormed out.
Damn.
The door swung open again, this time with a blast of cold wind and rain. A tall man walked inside. His greatcoat was dripping wet and his beaver hat was pulled down to cover his face. He scanned the bar, then strode to where Gareth was seated.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
Gareth didn’t have to look up to know it was Daniel. He knew the answer to his question, but he asked anyway. “Why? Do you have something new for me?”
“No.”
“Then leave me alone,” he said tersely.
Daniel ignored him, and pulled out a chair. “Didn’t you tell her?”
Gareth’s gaze narrowed to slits. He considered ignoring the question, but knowing Daniel’s tenacity, the bastard wouldn’t back down. “I did. She wants another man.”
“I see.”
No. He didn’t. Gareth couldn’t even understand what Jane saw in the pompous captain.
“I told her she’d regret it,” Gareth said.
“How romantic of you. I’m sure that went over well,” Daniel said mockingly.
At the Spy's Pleasure Page 19