The Beauty and the Spy

by Gayle Callen

  Charlotte quickly wiped the last of her tears away, and her face felt dry and chapped. “Please, Miss Reed, he is why I can’t go with you. Please don’t tell him what I—” She broke off and donned the falsest smile she could muster. “Oh my dear Mr. Cox, here I am.”

  He’d already seen her of course, and she was relieved when he began to walk over.

  “Mr. Cox—” Julia began, then broke off, her mouth pursing in dismay. “Oh Charlotte, what have you done?”

  Charlotte put her arm through Mr. Cox’s and spoke in the same falsely cheerful voice. “Mr. Cox, this is my new friend Miss Reed. Miss Reed, this is my husband.”

  Beneath her arm she felt Mr. Cox stiffen, but he only smiled pleasantly, his well-lined face creasing in seemingly new places. “How do ye do,” he said formally, nodding his head.

  “Very well, sir,” Julia said faintly, eyeing Charlotte with a pitying look.

  “I hope you don’t mind, dear,” Charlotte said, turning to look up sweetly at Mr. Cox, “but I had breakfast with this nice lady while I waited for you. But I understand you’re in a hurry.”

  He tipped his tall hat to Julia and said simply, “Good day, Miss Reed.”

  “Good day,” she answered, fumbling with her reticule. She pulled out a card and pressed it into Charlotte’s hand. “Do call upon me, Mrs. Cox. I would like to further our acquaintance.”

  Charlotte put as much emotion into her eyes as she dared. “Thank you so much, Miss Reed. Have a pleasant trip.”

  And then she walked outside arm-in-arm with Mr. Cox. He turned down the alley between the buildings, and she saw Nick and Sam waiting. She braced herself for Nick’s anger, but his face looked strangely unemotional.

  She smiled serenely at them, then whispered, “She could be watching. Do move along, gentlemen.”

  They turned and together they all walked into the yard of the inn, then up to the room.

  Nick couldn’t look at Charlotte. His relief was too great. He had to remain professional, to keep these strange emotions locked away. But every time he looked at her, they threatened to erupt, and he didn’t want to face them right now.

  “Sam, you need to follow Julia immediately,” Nick said calmly. “The rest of us will catch up with you. She’s leaving early, so something might have aroused her suspicions. Charlotte, is there anything he should know first?”

  He had to look at her, only to see her watching him with a wariness he understood.

  She shook her head. “We did not discuss anything related to the mission or to you gentlemen.” She hesitated, and a faint blush swept her face. “She merely thinks I’m married to Mr. Cox, but carrying her brother’s child.”

  Nick felt his mouth drop open in surprise. For someone used to concealing his emotions, he seemed to have lost that skill around Charlotte. Cox just folded his arms over his chest and looked resigned.

  Nick expected Sam to have a good laugh over this, but instead Sam just gave Nick an inscrutable look. “I’ll leave you all, then. Charlotte, nice work.”

  After Sam left, Nick glared at Charlotte. “Start at the beginning and leave nothing out.”

  “You saw my note,” she protested. “I didn’t want Julia to escape, so I felt like I should delay her.”

  “Against my orders.”

  She flung her arms wide. “Well you weren’t here to ask!”

  Cox cleared his throat. “Sir, I’ll just be harnessin’ the horses.”

  Nick didn’t even look at him. “Do that. We’ll be down soon.”

  When he was alone with Charlotte, something happened to his control, and emotions he’d always tried to keep buried came roaring to the surface in a confused rush. All he knew was that she had put her life on the line for his mission. She’d braved an enemy she knew wanted her killed. She’d come up with an impossible story and somehow made it plausible.

  And she stood there, looking so beautiful and vulnerable and stubborn—and he’d almost lost her, and the qualities that made her unique, so full of passion, so ready to explore things she’d never done before.

  When she opened her mouth to speak, he kissed her. There was nothing else he could do, no way to assuage this pain, except to convince himself with his every sense that she was alive.

  Charlotte reeled from the desperate power of Nick’s sudden passion. He caught her face between his hands and kissed her quickly, deeply, over and over again, until the wild emotions she’d gone through that day coalesced into a need for him so powerful she didn’t want to resist it, didn’t want to question it. He wanted her; she wanted him.

  With a moan she slid her arms about him, beneath his coat and up his back, letting her palms slide against hot muscle beneath his shirt. She tasted the recesses of his mouth, suckled his tongue, let herself burn with the raw desire that blazed out of her. She was overwhelmed, lost in her feelings, only aware of a surge of joy that she would finally know the truth of a woman’s pleasure. Nick would show it to her, and erase every terrible memory that lurked in the shadows of her mind. There would be no promises, for she needed none.

  His kisses suddenly gentled, and his fingers traced patterns across her face. His lips followed, pressing against her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the curve of her ear. Gentle kisses created paths down her throat, and she dropped her head back, letting him do as he wanted. When his tongue swept the hollow at the base of her throat, she groaned.

  As he began to undo the buttons of her bodice, she looked into his face. He frowned with concentration, as if he could not disrobe her quickly enough. The backs of his hands brushed her nipples, and she gasped at the sensation that shot through her. He glanced up at her and grinned, then spread her gown wide to push off her shoulders. When it pooled at her feet and she stood in her chemise, she expected him to relieve her of that as well. But instead he slid his hands down her shoulders, then over her breasts, pausing to cup them leisurely as he dropped to his knees, before spreading his hands wide as he spanned her rib cage and waist.

  Her breathing came faster with anticipation and longing as his palms skimmed her stomach and his fingers curled around her hips. When through the fabric his thumbs brushed the curls between her thighs, she gave a shudder and had to clutch his shoulders to remain upright.

  Then he rose to his feet, the hem of her chemise captured with his fingers. It slid up across her skin, a whisper of fabric. She felt the caress of air across her naked thighs, then the brush of his shirt against her breasts. When her chemise slid up and off her arms, he worked his fingers into her hair until her curls spilled free down her body. He stepped back and looked at her nakedness, and she wasn’t embarrassed, only felt proud at his look of approval and desire.

  Then he picked her up, took two steps and laid her out on the bed with a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes.

  With the back of his hand, he caressed her cheek and whispered, “How lovely you are.”

  Then he stood up and began to pull off his clothes, leaving them wherever they landed in his haste. She laughed and lay back among the pillows, knowing that they shouldn’t be taking this time, but that he was giving it to her. Her amusement died as his last garments fell and he put a knee on the bed and leaned over her. His body was corded with long, sleek muscles, and his erection proudly showed his desire for her. His dark hair fell forward over his cheeks, and between the strands his black eyes burned her wherever they touched.

  “Are you frightened?” he whispered.

  She shook her head, then gave a soft gasp as he came on his hands and knees above her. He freely dropped kisses wherever he could reach, from her bent knee to her hip to her toes. Pausing above her breasts, he smiled and passed on to nuzzle her shoulder. She groaned her disappointment and he kissed her mouth, softly biting her lower lip as she pouted.

  “You’re impatient,” he murmured.

  “Yesss,” she answered, arching her back, displaying herself brazenly.

  His smile died, and with a growl he began to spread tiny kisses and licks acro
ss her breasts, teasing their peaks with the tip of his tongue. She could hear herself moaning and desperately calling his name, but she was awash in the pleasure that scattered along her skin. She reached for him and he came down on top of her, molding her to him, their chests and hips and thighs undulating against one another. His skin was hot against hers, the weight of him pressing her deeper into the mattress. When she spread her thighs, his hips slid away.

  “But—” she began.

  He put his finger against her mouth. “Shh. Wait.” He lay at her side, kissing her mouth lazily, while he moved his hand from her knee up her thigh. “Now you can open,” he murmured against her lips.

  And she did. His hand slid between her thighs and he cupped her, gently moving the base of his palm against her in a circular motion. With a groan, she turned her head into his shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut at this new sensation. Every bit of her skin was sensitive, quivering with pleasure and tension in a reach for something higher, for the unknown.

  “No, look at me, I want to see you.”

  She looked up into his handsome face, communicating her urgency with her gaze.

  “I know, I feel it, too,” he said, as his fingers took the place of his palm.

  She cried out in wonder as he caressed her, circling, dipping, even moving inside her. Her every muscle tightened and she arched her back. Just when she thought she could take no more, he lowered his head and licked his tongue in a long, flat caress across her nipple, repeating it as if touching a fuse to a low-simmering flame.

  She hovered on the edge of a new wonder, a new understanding of what could exist between men and women.

  “Let go,” he urged, as his caresses deepened and grew harder, faster.

  Then she plummeted, letting herself fall into sensation, feeling shudder after shudder of aftershock take control of her body. When she looked up in wonder, he was there, watching her, smiling.

  “Oh Nick,” she whispered.

  He said nothing, just rose above her and parted her thighs to settle between them. Her newly sensitive flesh came alive again at the touch of him. She felt his hardness pressing against her.

  She must have betrayed a touch of an old fear, because he paused.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Char. You know that.”

  She nodded and looked up into his face, loving the way he shortened her name. It was almost an endearment. With a frown of concentration he moved against her, then sheathed himself deep inside.

  There was no pain, only the sense of being filled, of feeling complete. She lifted her knees and he settled deeper, breathing heavily.

  “Ready?” he said with an unsteady voice.

  Then he pulled out and thrust inside. It was as if every nerve he’d just aroused had only slumbered, ready to be awakened once again. He rocked against her and she found his movement, meeting his hips with hers, feeling that new passion coming to life again.

  Their mouths met and their tongues danced together, even as his hand moved between them to capture her breast. This time he joined her in a shuddering fulfillment.

  For a moment they simply panted, their lips gently touching, their bodies as one. Then he lifted himself up by the arms and looked down at her. She smiled.

  “I could look at you forever,” he said.

  She stilled, and he must have realized what he implied, because he said, “But there’s only today and Cox is waiting.”

  With a groan she wrapped her legs about his hips and held him still. She put her hands on his strong shoulders, then ran her palms down his chest slowly, enjoying his quick intake of breath when she touched his nipples.

  As he trembled, she tightened the muscles deep in her abdomen, the ones that held him inside her.

  He groaned. “Witch,” he said, but made no move to go.

  Very slowly she let her heel caress his backside, and her fingertips danced against his nipples. She gently raked her nails across him, and he twitched and gasped. She could feel him grow hard inside her.

  She grasped his head and pulled until he came down on his elbows. Against his mouth she whispered, “Again.”

  He surged up hard, going deep. His motion was fast but she kept up with him, her legs holding him tight.

  When he climaxed again, he groaned and rolled onto his back. “I can’t move.”

  She rose up on her elbow and looked down at his glistening body. “But I thought you said we had to go.”

  He closed his eyes. “We do. Hold on.”

  He got to his feet as wearily as an old man, and she giggled. But her amusement faded into a soft smile when he brought her a wet cloth and towel.

  “Sorry it’s cold,” he said, using another cloth on himself.

  She cocked her head to the side and watched him until he finally noticed and paused.

  “Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Just enjoying myself.”

  She could swear that even with his sun-darkened complexion, a touch of red swept his face. Then she quickly washed herself, and they helped dress each other, which probably took twice as long, but was more fun.

  Finally she opened the door for him, since he carried their two portmanteaus. They raced down the stairs and out into the yard of the inn. Mr. Cox was there to open the carriage door for them, and after handing him their bags, they collapsed next to each other on the bench. A few minutes later the carriage started moving.

  “All right,” Nick said, “now tell me exactly what happened with Julia.”

  So she did. During her story he looked alternately amused and angry.

  “So you see,” Charlotte concluded, “I didn’t come up with the whole story so much as allow Julia to lead me on.”

  “But you told her you knew her brother!”

  “I panicked! You must admit I kept her attention for well over an hour. And she’s very easy to talk to. Nick, she was so nice.”

  “I know what she can be like,” he said dryly.

  “I had forgotten—you had…relations with her!”

  He shrugged. “It was temporary, and we both accepted that.”

  They were silent for a moment, and she reminded herself that what she had with Nick was also temporary. She’d known that going in, but she had not counted on falling in love with him. Yet how could she not? She’d never felt as cherished, as desired as Nick had just made her feel. But he was a man with a dangerous duty who could be no husband to her. He was constantly fighting his gentler emotions, and that’s not what she wanted. She wished she understood him, wished she knew what haunted his past.

  But she could still matter in his life by helping him, being a part of this mission she was swept up in. She had now proven herself, and surely he understood that, since he even confided his plans in her.

  Charlotte finally said, “So what happened with Julia’s men?”

  “Campbell never showed at our meeting place,” Nick said, his expression turning cold and professional.

  “So he wants you to turn them in?”

  “Who knows? They never came back to the tavern or to the rooms they’d rented, either.”

  “Maybe they were alerted by someone. Julia was leaving town much earlier than she normally does.”

  “Did she seem frantic or preoccupied to you?”

  She shook her head. “She was all courtesy and pleasantness, and eventually concern. She concluded that her brother knew about our baby and still didn’t want to see me.”

  “Doesn’t think much of him, does she?”

  “I guess not.”

  They were quiet for a moment, jostling gently to the motion of the carriage.

  “I have news,” he said, giving her a dour look. “You’ll consider it good, but I have a bad feeling about it. Sam saw Will last night, and he accidentally revealed to Jane that you’re traveling with us.”

  “‘Traveling with’?” she repeated, smiling up at him.

  He didn’t smile back, and she knew he’d retreated into his spy persona.

 
“So they don’t know how I came to be with you?”

  “Oh, they know,” he said. “I heard your sister was very angry. She demanded to see you immediately.”

  Charlotte couldn’t resist clapping her hands together. “How wonderful!”

  Nick narrowed his eyes at her, realizing that she didn’t understand. “Charlotte, it will be dangerous for all of us to be together. We’ll be a perfect target for Julia’s men to wipe us out all at once.”

  “Then we aren’t going?” she asked with worry.

  He clenched his jaw and spoke through his teeth. “We’re going. Sam made the arrangements, so we can’t back out now. But you’ll only get a few minutes to see her.”

  “I understand,” she said softly.

  “I don’t know if you do, Charlotte. We’re near the end of this mission. We’re almost to Leeds. From this point on, we’ll get ahead of Julia, leaving Sam to follow behind. We have to be at Hume’s house, waiting for Julia, so we can catch her in the act.”

  “Not the act of killing him,” she said, blinking her eyelashes innocently.

  He resisted the urge to smile. “We want to catch her just before. It’ll be the last and best evidence in our case. Proof that her treachery was worth killing for.”

  “And how do you know she just won’t send Campbell?”

  He glanced at her, grudgingly admiring her intelligence. “Because I think she needs to make sure the job is done right. Her men haven’t exactly been able to stop us yet, and she’ll know this.”

  She nodded and looked out the window, and Nick found himself staring at her delicate hand where it rested on the bench. Somewhere inside him, the weak man he was trying to conquer urged him to take her hand, to hold it in his own.

  But what idea would that give Charlotte? That there could be more to their relationship than sex? She understood the limited things he could offer her, and he didn’t want to confuse her by hinting at more.

  But less than an hour ago he’d been wrapped in her arms, held close to her heart. She’d granted him a gift that another man had almost ruined—the gift of her trust.

  But he wasn’t lying to her—he wasn’t betraying that trust.