My Lady, My Spy (Secrets and Seduction Book 4)

by Sheridan Jeane

  As he spoke, he watched her reaction. Watched her surprise. Watched as her eyes filled with tears. Watched, but held back. Right now he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms. Kiss away the tears on her cheeks. Put a smile back on her face.

  But instead, he waited. He wanted all that, yes. But he wanted more. Wanted it enough to wait for her to give it to him.

  She opened her mouth wordlessly, as though too stunned to speak. “Frederick. Oh, Frederick.” Her hand shook as she brushed away the silvery gleam on her cheek. “I love you too.”

  Frederick’s hand slid into his pocket and closed around the item there. Pulling it out, he held it in the low lamplight so Josephine could see the gleam of the celadon-blue stone on the ring.

  “Then please, do me the honor of agreeing to marry me.”

  Josephine seemed to melt as she stared at the ring. “I— I don’t know what to say. It’s perfect.”

  “Say yes.”

  She ignored the ring, instead looking deep into his eyes. “Did you know your eyes are nearly the same color as that stone? I’ve often wondered about that. Was it a sign we were meant to be together? Because of that stunning blue of your eyes?” She took a shaky breath. “I was about to say that I’d love nothing more than to be your wife, but it isn’t quite true. What I’d love more is to be the wife of a man I love who is honest with me. I’m hoping you’ll be that man. I think you can be.” She glanced at the ring again. “Can you accept a compromise?”

  He tightened his grip on the band of metal and stone until it bit into his newly healed fingertips. “As long as you’ll be my wife, I can live with anything.”

  “I propose a long engagement. One year, to be precise. During that time, I’ll accept your proposal and I’ll be your fiancée, but one year from tonight we’ll evaluate our progress. If we feel we’ve been truthful with each other, we’ll move forward with the wedding. If not, we’ll dissolve our engagement.”

  His stomach tensed. “One year? That’s a long time.”

  “But imagine the prize at the end of that time. A wedding. Us, together. And with the faith and confidence that our marriage will be strong.”

  “Will you wear my ring?”

  She glanced at it. “Happily. I want the world to know we’re together.”

  “Even Lord Temple?” he asked, grinning.

  “Certainly Lord Temple. But I doubt he’ll mind as much as you think he will.”

  He took her hand and slid it onto her finger. She lifted it, admiring the glittering gemstone in the lamplight. “It’s perfect,” she said. Joy radiated from her.

  He couldn’t stop himself. He pulled her into his arms, lifted her up, and spun around, twirling her in the air as he held her to his chest. “You’re amazing. We’re amazing.”

  She laughed and tossed her head back, squealing in surprise and delight.

  He slowed, letting her slide down his chest until her lips were scant inches from his. He closed the distance in an instant, pressing his mouth to hers. Tasting the saltiness of her tears.

  Her lips parted, and he plunged his tongue inside her mouth, savoring the sweet warmth within.

  He moved back, leaning onto Lady Palmerton’s gilt-trimmed desk and spreading his legs so Josephine could stand between them.

  He wanted to slide his hand into her soft blond hair, and knock her hairpins awry, but he restrained himself. Instead, he pulled her to him again.

  He’d been in this moment before with her— kissing her— worshiping her— but this time was different. This time he wanted more from her. He wanted everything she could give.

  She let out a soft sigh of pleasure and slid her arms inside his evening coat, wrapping them around his waist. Her thumbs slid up and down the groove of his spine. She flattened her palms against his back and slid her fingertips beneath the waistband of his trousers. Teasing. Tempting.

  When her fingers slid back out, she surprised him by moving to the fastenings of his trousers. She quickly undid them and slid her clever fingers inside. When she grazed the tip of his erection, he let out a groan. “Josephine, what are you doing?”

  “Something I’ve been thinking about all week.” She pushed his trousers farther down his hips and then wrapped her hand around him, sliding it up and down his length.

  He let out another groan. “Woman, you’ll be the death of me.”

  He pushed her away just an inch or two, leaned over, and lifted the hem of her bell-shaped skirt. Lord, how he loved these hoop skirts. The man who invented them was a certifiable genius.

  Beneath the hoops she wore a pair of white linen bloomers held in place with a drawstring.

  Frederick held her skirts in place with one hand as he tugged at the bow holding up her bloomers with the other. He quickly loosened it and they slid down her hips, pooling at her ankles.

  He stared at her pale-blond triangle of hair. “I’ve dreamed of this. Of you.” He reached out to touch her there, and she shifted closer, reaching her hand down to touch him as well.

  He glanced up and found her staring into his eyes. Her face was soft with passion. As she stroked her hand from his base to his tip, his entire body trembled with his need for her. He wanted her, desperately.

  He touched her soft curls, sliding exploring fingers between her folds. He found her liquid center, and he kept his eyes locked on hers as she let out a gasp of delight.

  He quickly plunged one finger deep within her, and she let out a soft moan of pleasure. He glanced down, but her hoop skirts had dipped down and her soft mound of curls was now hidden from his sight.

  He let out a groan of frustration and pushed her skirts to one side so he could watch what he was doing to her. Watch as he moved his hand inside her body. Watch as she thrust her hips rhythmically against him, whimpering in pleasure.

  Her skirts slipped again, frustrating him. He needed to see her. Needed to touch her. Needed to be inside her.

  He pushed himself away from the edge of the desk, grabbed Josephine by her hips, pushed her up to the edge of Lady Palmerton’s desk, and bent her forward over it so her bottom was thrust into the air. He quickly lifted her skirts, draping the hoops over her waist, and was greeted by the sight of her bare bottom. Perfect. Round. Luscious.

  Lord, she was exquisite.

  He slid his hand between her thighs and used his foot to edge her feet apart, opening her more fully to him. He gently slid his hand into her soft folds, seeking her opening. He slid his first two fingers into her silken warmth.

  “Frederick!” The word came out with a gasp of surprise. “What are you doing?”

  “Giving you pleasure,” he murmured, moving his fingers in and out of her, and then using her own slickness as he began making circles around her clitoris.

  She let out another gasp and arched her back, lifting her bottom even higher.

  His cock twitched in response.

  He reached into the pocket of his jacket and extracted a French letter. He opened it and quickly slid the thin bit of protection over his eager flesh. She wasn’t his. Not yet. The last thing either of them would want would be a pregnancy.

  She trembled before him, open and wanting. He slowly, oh so slowly, moved his tip to her entrance. He held his breath as he pressed into her, savoring the warmth of her as her body wrapped around him. Accepting him. Welcoming him.

  She whimpered as he filled her, inch by slow inch. She tried to press back against him in an effort to force him to move more quickly, but he held her hips firmly in place. He wanted this to last. He wanted to drive her to the brink of madness. He wanted to make sure she ached for him— yearned for him— for the pleasure he was about to give her.

  This was bliss. This woman, this moment. He pressed into her, slowly filling her. He reached around her thigh to touch her soft curls, to slide his fingers into her folds. The moment he brushed against her hard nub, her entire body shuddered.

  He began moving in and out of her warm sheath while simultaneously stroking gentle circles with
his fingertips.

  Her entire body shuddered again and again. She pressed her hand against her mouth as she let out a hoarse sound, a stifled cry of passion. Between the muffled sounds and her spasming sheath, his own breath suddenly froze in his chest as he found his own release. He pounded into her in hard thrusts as his world exploded.

  He shuddered, his breath now coming hard and fast. He leaned over her, bracing his hands on the desk on either side of her hips. He could feel her trembling against his chest, barely able to support her own weight after the all-consuming bliss of her orgasm.

  Pure male pride filled him. He’d done this to her. He’d brought her to this point.

  He reached back into his pocket again and extracted a crisp, fresh handkerchief. He was careful as he withdrew from her. He slid the French letter off and wrapped it in his handkerchief. He’d dispose of it at home. He wouldn’t dare leave behind evidence of their tryst in Lady Palmerton’s office. He neatly tucked everything away into his pocket.

  He bent to gather the puddle of Josephine’s pantaloons from the floor and raise them to her waist. Just before he pulled them over her hips, he paused, staring at her round, perfect bottom. He pressed a kiss just above the base of her spine and then pulled her pantaloons up the rest of the way. He made quick work of re-tying the drawstring.

  He pulled down her hoop skirt, letting the fabric fall to her feet in a soft swoosh of satin.

  She braced her hands against the desk and pressed herself upright. She turned to face him. Not a hair was out of place. She looked perfect. Untouched. The only telltale signs of what had just taken place were her slightly swollen lips and her dazed, satiated expression. One he was certain was reflected on his face.

  A bemused smile spread across her lips. “Mr. Woolsy, I believe this upcoming year will be a most pleasant one.”

  “I plan to make it so pleasant you’ll never want to be parted from me.”

  The corners of her mouth turned up even more. “I have the same plan in mind for you. Finding precisely the right motivation can work wonders when it comes to making a change in one’s life.”

  He moved closer, pressing his entire length against her as he took her hands and held them straight down to their sides. As he brushed his thumb against the gemstone that now rested on her finger, he locked gazes with her. “You’re my motivation. Mind, soul, and body.”

  Then he wrapped her in his embrace for one last long, lingering kiss. She was soft and pliant as he pulled away from her. “A year from tonight, then?”

  She blinked at him. “Hmm?”

  He brushed the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “You’ll give me your decision a year from tonight?”

  She let out a soft, satisfied sigh. “One year. I promise.”

  “One year,” he repeated. And not a day longer.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  One year later

  The notes of the waltz ended, and the dancers took their time as they slowly strolled off the ballroom floor. Since the orchestra was taking a brief break, there was no need for them to hurry.

  Josephine smoothed her hands down the front of her satin gown. It was the soft, fresh green of an English forest on a spring day. She’d given up wearing her signature blue color months ago, and she didn’t miss it. If she ever wanted to catch a glimpse of it, all she had to do was look into Frederick’s eyes. Those gorgeous, celadon-blue eyes that made her heart sing.

  She was never far from his side, even here in Constantinople.

  The British Embassy was crowded tonight. She glanced around, seeking out Frederick. Her gaze paused as a broad-shouldered man in black evening wear turned. She recognized him even before he faced her. The flash of his blue eyes sent a flutter of awareness through her. He was her home. Her center. Her everything.

  The past year had been an exciting one, filled with new experiences and new locales. Although Frederick was usually in London, she now accompanied him on all his missions. She’d finally had the opportunity to begin filling her curio cabinet with little mementos from their travels. The memory tied to each item was priceless. She loved waking up in the morning and peering at her ever-growing collection.

  Frederick had proved true to his word. He’d worked every day to be truthful with her. He’d had a few problems with backsliding at first, but he’d kept trying. They’d both kept trying.

  And they’d improved.

  As he became more truthful, she was able to rely on him. To trust him.

  Theirs was the relationship she’d always dreamed of. And to think she’d nearly abandoned it too soon.

  “Lady Harrington,” a man said as he approached her. “I received a letter from Mr. Beasley at the British Museum informing me you were passing through Constantinople on your way to Lycia. I’m delighted to welcome you.”

  Josephine took in the tall, slim, anemic-looking academic. “What a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Rahim. I recall meeting you last year at the British Museum.”

  “Ah, yes. And how is Mr. Beasley?”

  “He’s quite well. He’s busy working on the Nereid monument. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for months. I find it impossible to resist visiting the site in Lycia where Mr. Fellows uncovered the monument. For a researcher, there’s nothing better than direct, firsthand knowledge.”

  “I envy you,” he replied. “I doubt my constitution would countenance such an arduous trip. But you’re a vision of health. Just remember to wear sturdy shoes. Don’t risk twisting an ankle.” He gave a small shudder. “Or blisters. Blisters can be quite troublesome.”

  “Sturdy shoes. Thank you for your excellent advice, Mr. Rahim. I’ll be sure to follow it.” She glanced away to hide the mirth in her eyes and caught sight of Frederick moving toward them.

  “I hear there’s even more to your trip than a visit to examine some old ruins,” Mr. Rahim commented.

  Josephine tensed as a flutter of apprehension ran through her. Could he know about their mission? Surely not. That didn’t make sense. She relaxed and gave him a teasing smile. “Really? I hope the rumors aren’t scandalous. I’d hate to have my reputation in tatters.”

  The man chortled. “Perish the thought. No, I’m referring to your research. Rumor has it you believe you’ve discovered some enormous secret regarding the tomb and are here to confirm it.”

  Josephine frowned in surprise. “Mr. Rahim. You astound me. I wasn’t aware my research was common knowledge.”

  “Oh, oh, my,” Mr. Rahim sputtered, looking enormously flustered, “I do beg your pardon. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

  “Certainly not. I’m flattered you’ve been following my work so closely.” But this served as a warning she’d need to guard her research more carefully in the future. It would be horrifying if some other researcher swooped in and wrote her paper before she could.

  Mr. Rahim glanced over her shoulder, and Josephine was surprised to discover that his already too-pale skin could turn even whiter. “I— Your— Please forgive me, but is your fiancé as understanding as you are?”

  Josephine turned as Frederick arrived and rested his palm on her waist, just above the swell of her hoop skirts. She loved that possessive gesture. It made her feel as though she belonged here. That they belonged together. It also sent a shiver of awareness through her.

  “Frederick, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Azize Rahim. He’s a researcher I met last year in London. He mentioned he’d heard I was coming to Constantinople.”

  She glanced up at Frederick, and understanding flashed between them. The excuse they’d given for their visit to Anatolia had been picked up and spread about. That would make tonight’s mission much easier.

  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Rahim. Lady Harrington frequently discusses both her research and that of her colleagues with me. She’s mentioned your work in Lycia.”

  The man’s face flushed slightly, adding needed color to those pale cheeks. “It’s been too long since I’ve been able to go there. My he
alth— well, I’ve suffered a decline. I’ve been following Lady Harrington’s work with great interest. I’m looking forward to reading all about her new discoveries and theories after she visits Lycia. I believe she’s the only woman who is currently undertaking such investigations.”

  “Surely not,” Josephine protested. “In fact, I read something recently by Mrs. Westport. She provided fascinating insight into the daily habits of the population living in the region back in 640.”

  “Really? I must have missed that. I’ll look into it.”

  “You should. Her work is excellent.”

  The orchestra’s violinist began playing a few lilting notes, and after a measure, the rest of the orchestra joined in. She loved this particular waltz, and she couldn’t help but smile in anticipation.

  “I hope you’ll excuse us, Mr. Rahim,” Frederick said, “but Josephine promised this waltz to me.”

  “But of course,” he said, gesturing them toward the dance floor.

  Frederick swept her into his arms and they began twirling around the ballroom.

  Josephine tipped her head back for a moment, allowing the glittering chandeliers and bright fabrics of the women’s gowns to create a kaleidoscope of color as she spun about. When she refocused her gaze on Frederick’s blue eyes, she was delighted by the love she saw in them. She melted inside.

  Tonight. This was the night. They both knew it. She licked her lips. They still had a mission to complete. Waiting to give him his answer until after they were done felt like tempting fate, and she was never one to court bad luck during a mission. Waiting felt unlucky. She could feel it deep in her core. She’d tell him now. Right here on the ballroom floor.

  His eyes glittered under the embassy’s chandeliers. “You’re glorious tonight. Did I mention that earlier?”

  “No,” she said, grinning, “but I believe you mentioned the word ‘intoxicating’ when you interrupted me as I was dressing for the evening. You nearly disrupted our timetable with your mischief.”