“If you see that bastard come through the doors, toss him out on his arse.” Matthew’s order no doubt referred to Trent.
“Ye’ve no worries on that. We don’t need his kind here.” Harry twisted a rag in his hands as his head bobbed in a nod.
“I knew I could count on you.” Matthew turned to Jennie. His eyes were hooded. Weary. But a wicked spark lit his dark brown irises as his gaze settled on her. Harry shuffled away, clearing his throat with intent. Was the attraction between them so obvious?
Matthew came to her. “It’s been a long night. I’ll see you home.”
“I still have work to do,” she said, flashing a coy smile. After the way her nerves had been frayed all evening, it seemed a relief to pretend her life was filled with smiling at customers and toting trays of ale.
Matthew leaned closer. Against her ear, his husky inquiry unleashed a delicious little shiver down her spine. “Do you really want me to convince you? I could kiss you here.” His breath brushed her pulse point, then trailed the column of her throat. “Or here. That spot, I believe, makes your knees go a bit weak.”
Her legs positively wobbled. Blast the man. Did he always have to be right?
Harry’s entirely indiscreet cough rescued her. She smoothed her skirts, doing her best to pretend she hadn’t been so affected by Matthew’s sensual challenge. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “This has been a rather tiring night.”
“Harry, I trust you’ll see Rose home,” Matthew said.
“Of course,” the big man blustered. “Ye know I wouldn’t let a pretty miss on the streets by herself with a madman runnin’ loose.”
Matthew offered a crisp nod. He caught Jennie’s arm in one hand, escorted her to the door, and draped her cloak around her shoulders. Eyes darkening with promise, he pulled her close. “Do you want a caveman or a poet tonight?”
“Neither.” She molded to his warmth. “I want you.”
The door to Matthew’s town house closed with quiet finality. He stripped off his coat and jacket and crouched before the hearth. As he kindled a fire, Jennie took in the play of muscles beneath his shirt.
He glanced over his shoulder. His mouth curved in a wry smile. “You may remove your cloak. I’ve no intention of tearing off your clothes.”
Jennie freed the braid closure at the neck of the wool cape. Peculiar, how her fingers trembled slightly as her heart beat a fierce cadence. Not with fear. But with heady anticipation. “Somehow, that possibility does not trouble me in the least.”
Rising to his full height, he came to her. “I want you too much, Jennie. Too much to let you go.”
Watching him through the veil of her lashes, emotion scalded her throat. “I don’t doubt you want me…”
“You still don’t understand, do you?” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Fleeting. Tender. He swept her into the cradle of his arms. “I’ve never needed a woman more in my life. But if you don’t want this…if you don’t want me, I’ll leave you to your rest, alone with your dreams.”
The pain in his gaze reached deep within her, seeming to touch her very soul. Such a bold, arrogant man. Yet, he’d cast away his desire if she wasn’t ready, if she didn’t share his hunger. How could he not see how she longed for his touch?
She cupped her hand to his cheek and brushed a kiss over his mouth. “And where would the pleasure be in that?”
His wicked grin lit his features. “In that case, I’ll need to drag you to my lair once again.”
…
Jennie’s legs dangled off the edge of Matthew’s bed. A small lamp in the corner of the chamber cast a cozy glow over her unclothed limbs, while a blazing fire warmed her skin. The soothing cascade of running water drifted from the bathroom.
“Have you decided you’d rather soak in a tub than lie here with me?” she teased.
“No.” Sensual hunger charged the single syllable with erotic heat. Barefoot, he returned to her with soundless steps. His white linen shirt hugged his broad shoulders. Her gaze trailed from the dark vee at his unbuttoned collar to the damp shirtsleeves he’d rolled to his elbows. A dusting of chestnut brown hair emphasized the lean-muscled power of his forearms.
Pulling Jennie to her feet, he threaded his fingers through her hair. A sweet warmth filled her. A heartbeat hovered between them, and he kissed her. An unhurried caress, teasing her senses to full, aching awareness. Longing pooled in her core, spreading like molten lava to her fingertips and toes.
Taking great care with each button, he undressed her. The tenderness in Matthew’s touch swept exquisite shivers over her skin. Peeling away her garments until she wore only her combination, he worked the top fastening free. Another followed, and another.
A rake’s smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “Too many damned buttons,” he growled playfully, undeterred in his quest.
Anticipation leaped though her body. Matthew slid the fabric over her shoulders. The undergarment pooled at her feet. She stepped away, and she shifted a glance to her discarded combination. A sigh escaped her. How deliciously wanton she’d become. A decent woman would cover herself. But she welcomed the bold desire in Matthew’s gaze.
His unashamed hunger set her pulse thundering. His fingertips grazed her skin, stirring tiny currents of sensation, and she reached for him. Tearing greedily at the shirt that concealed his chest and arms from her, she stripped the fabric from his body. The offending garment fell to the floor in an unceremonious heap.
Matthew gathered her in his arms. Skin to skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat. His body heat melded with hers. Soothing. Tempting. Infusing every pore with languid need.
And then, her toes no longer touched the floor. With deliberate strides, he carried her to the bathroom. She blinked. “What…what are you doing?”
His kiss was a light brush against her lips. “Relax, sweetheart. You’ll like this.”
Candlelight cast a muted sheen against the porcelain tile walls and floor. A claw-foot tub brimmed with hot, soapy water. Gently, he deposited Jennie in the tub.
She sank to her chin and drew a bubble-laden finger over his forearm. “This is heavenly.”
A smile of wicked promise spread over Matthew’s face. Kneeling beside the vessel, he pressed a leisurely kiss to her nape, then dipped a sponge in the fragrant water and etched a meandering trail of soapy bubbles over her breasts. So far from innocent, yet so very tender. No one had ever touched her with such unbridled gentleness, not until Matthew skimmed his roughened fingertips over her flesh.
He drew the sponge in a leisurely exploration over her body, a delicate blend of temptation and restraint. The coarse texture of the sponge stirred lush tingles over her skin. A sweet ache formed deep within, heightening the yearning for his touch.
His fingers slipped between the triangle at the crux of her thighs, teasing and coaxing and insistent. The deep-seated hunger intensified to a low throb. Jennie arched her back, canting her hips to meet every deft stroke of his fingertips.
A low moan drifted from her lips. The world contracted around her. There was only Matthew. Touching her. Mastering her body with a virtuoso’s skill. Loving her.
And then, she shattered.
Pleasure splintered through every nerve. Delicious tremors overtook her. Jennie gripped the sides of the tub, savoring every nuance, every sensation until she collapsed against his sturdy arms.
His grin was soft, knowing. With a leisurely kiss, he eased her into his arms and scooped her from the tub. Enfolded in a plush towel, she nestled against his chest, needing only his possession.
“Tell me what you want, Jennie.” His desire-roughened voice propelled fresh ripples from her nape to her core.
Fierce desire swelled within her heart. She wanted to learn every inch of his body. His taste. His scent. His response to her touch and her kiss. She wanted to claim him, just as he’d claimed her.
She coiled her arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily. “All of you.”
…
Matth
ew placed Jennie on the bed, then set about the thoroughly pleasant task of toweling her dry. He tugged the pins from her hair, freeing her lush waves to cascade over her shoulders. She was beautiful, and he drank her in. Ravenous for every soft, seductive sigh. Every subtle, teasing smile. Every passion-stirred beat of her pulse. He’d never get enough of her.
He slid beside her, pulling her to his body. The feel of her breasts against his chest melded heaven and carnal temptation. He wanted her. More than he’d ever wanted a woman. More than he’d ever wanted anything.
“What will bring you pleasure tonight?” he whispered as he swept a scattering of rebellious curls behind her ear.
“You.” Her voice was smooth and rich as fine Scotch.
The single word drove him to the brink of desire. Like a man crawling through the Sahara, his thirst for her welcoming body consumed him. He’d planned a slow, deliberate seduction, a sensual campaign to make her indelibly his. But how could he hold his own need in check when she looked at him like that?
He left her just long enough to shed his trousers and drawers. A hint of a pout formed on her delectable lips, tempting him beyond all reason. Stretching out on the bed, he held her. His cock throbbed, demanding he bury himself in her heat.
Her lashes shaded eyes as luminous as emeralds. “If you don’t take me now, the longing will drive me quite mad. Surely you wouldn’t want that on your conscience.”
Bloody hell, she sounded so very reasonable. Her eyes had taken on a slightly mischievous sparkle that set his soul ablaze.
“We can’t have that now, can we?”
His fingers glided between her thighs, and she moved to meet his touch in an instinctive offering. With one smooth movement, he hovered over her, supporting his weight on his elbows as he peered down at her expectant features. Such a rare and precious thing, that gorgeous, inviting smile.
He dotted her brow with soft kisses. “My sweet Jennie.”
Her arms curved around his back, and she clung to him. “I need you.”
The words disintegrated the last shards of his control. He sheathed himself in her warmth with one long thrust.
In that instant, layers of the shield he’d erected around his soul shattered. For so long, he’d wanted only justice. But now, he needed her. He’d kill for her. And he’d die for her.
The undeniable truth embedded itself in his soul.
In Jennie’s arms, he was home.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Matthew had always preferred midnight to dawn. But as he awoke with Jennie nestled in the crook of his arm, he couldn’t remember why. Rays of new light streamed through the window, coloring her delicate features with radiant hues that might have been blended by da Vinci. She was perfect.
And she was his.
Burrowing closer in her slumber, Jennie snuggled against him. Her arm draped across his chest. The first stirrings of desire pulsed, but he reined in his hunger. After his thorough attentions the night before, it might be too soon to love her again.
Her lids lifted. She met his eyes with a slumberous gaze. “Good morning,” she said, her voice hushed, shy.
“You’ll get used to waking in my arms.”
“I’m afraid this could become a habit.” Propping herself on one hand, her fingers blazed a lazy trail from his throat to his abdomen.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warned with a playful growl. She wore only a shirt—his shirt, no less—skimming the tops of her thighs, draping her delicious curves. The passion-darkened jade of her eyes tempted him to forget his good intentions.
She pressed butterfly kisses to his throat. “I must say, I do rather like this sort of heat.”
“As much as it pains me to do so, I’ve got to leave this bed and get to work.”
Jennie studied him with a reporter’s eye for details. “What do you have planned for today?” Her question might have sounded ordinary if any other woman had asked it. Coming from Jennie, he had no doubt she was formulating a plan to continue her inquiries.
“Nothing that will involve you.”
One delicate brow arched. “Shouldn’t that be my decision? One never knows what might prove valuable to my investigation.”
“Your investigation is finished. I’ll tie you to the bed if that’s what it takes to keep you from roaming the streets of London.”
He immediately regretted the threat. The scathing glare Jennie cast beneath her lashes didn’t concern him in the least. But the alluring image the words conjured shredded his resolve to give her time before he loved her again.
She pressed her lips into a prim pout. “I do believe you would.”
“I intend to protect you. Whatever it takes.” He watched her brow furrow. A less observant man would likely not have taken in the small change to her beautiful face. But he knew her reactions, knew how to read her emotions. She’d trusted him enough to drop the mask that disguised her feelings. The realization pleased him beyond measure.
“Whatever it takes. I shall need to keep that in mind,” she said softly.
“What, no indignant rebellion? At the very least, I expected a reminder that I don’t control you.”
Her shoulders lifted in a little shrug. “What would be the point? You know my position on the matter.”
“You can’t leave yourself vulnerable.”
“I promise to exercise more caution,” she said, a spark lighting her lush green eyes.
Matthew stroked her hair, the strands silken against his fingertips. “Bloody shame I don’t believe you.”
“And what of it? Surely you don’t intend to imprison me here. My, wouldn’t that make quite the scandal.”
“Scandal is the least of my worries. But I don’t delude myself that I can contain you. Promise me you will carry your pistol and avoid men you’ll want to use it on.”
“Fair enough.” She leaned closer, sweeping her lips against his. “But first, let’s do something utterly scandalous this morning.”
Her arms looped around his neck, and she kissed him again, a full-blooded, decadent caress that told him everything he needed to know. He pulled her to him, greedy for every touch, every scent, every throaty little moan. Drinking her in. Memorizing the sound of her voice when she spoke his name in pleasure.
He didn’t deserve her. A thousand lifetimes of good deeds would not repent for his sins. In his heart, he knew that truth. He’d have to let her go. A man like him could never give Jennie a good and proper life. But for now, he’d hold her and love her as no man ever had. Ever would.
A part of Jennie’s heart would always belong to him.
But he had to see this through. This unholy mission to bring Harwick to the fate he’d earned had consumed him for so long, but he’d protect Jennie to his dying breath. He’d ensure no one extinguished the sparkle in her gorgeous eyes.
He’d see the threat to her ended.
No matter the cost.
…
After a morning spent in Matthew’s arms, Jennie prepared for her meeting with Lawrence Bond. She returned to the boardinghouse, changed into a flattering ensemble topped with an elegant feathered hat, and hired a hack to take her to Bond’s posh town house.
Alone with her thoughts, Jennie peered through the slit between the curtains and considered her plan of attack. Bond expected her, but that did little to settle her qualms. Despite her inquiries, she knew precious little about the man beyond his appetite for pretty women and his turbulent relationship with Claude Harwick.
Jack Trent’s interrogation played in her mind’s eye. The ugly innuendo in his words had proven bitter to swallow, but his concern troubled her far more than his venom. He’d looked at her like a woman, a woman he viewed with more than professional respect.
No matter what it takes.
Trent’s inflammatory coverage of Matthew’s trial had stirred the public against the disgraced inspector. Now he planned to destroy Matthew, one way or another. His quest would lead to disaster. Matthew wouldn’t slink into a corner.
When the confrontation came, it would be brutal. Of that, she had no doubt. She couldn’t sit by wringing her hands and waiting for the two men to collide.
The solution was within her reach. There was one way to head off Trent’s investigation. She had to get Mary McDaniel’s diary.
From the start of her liaison with Harwick, Mary had known he’d soon cast her aside, just as he’d discarded other beauties when he tired of them. She’d compiled insurance of sorts against his rejection, or so she’d claimed. Her journal wasn’t filled with memories. The book contained facts, figures and names, evidence that could send Harwick to the gallows.
Before her death, Mary had suspected he’d heard rumors of the diary. After all, she’d been less than discreet in offering up the book to the highest bidder. Terrified her former lover wanted to silence her, she had decided to turn the book over to the Herald. Perhaps then he’d be afraid to strike.
But when Jennie had found her, there was no trace of the diary. Had Harwick set up Mary McDaniel’s murder to get his hands on the diary, only to discover she’d given it to someone for safekeeping? Her last protector, perhaps—Lawrence Bond?
If Bond had the book, Jennie intended to find it. Whether she charmed the sot into offering it or stole the book from under his nose, she’d get that journal. And then, she’d pray its contents did not prove her heart had been wrong about Matthew Colton’s true worth.
The carriage slowed as it approached Bond’s elegant Berkeley Square home. The posh brick town house had provided a temporary refuge to many of London’s elite. In her cashmere cloak and stylish suit, Jennie did not appear out of place in the well-heeled neighborhood.
The driver assisted her from the carriage. Dour-faced and wrapped in a heavy overcoat and scarf, he signaled his intention to escort her to the door, but Jennie shook her head and placed a shiny coin in the man’s gloved palm.
She hurried up the porch steps. Grasping the elaborate brass knocker, she rapped twice against the polished oak. No response. Not so much as the shuffle of feet or pounding of boots upon the floorboards. Had the servants been instructed to ignore callers? Quite peculiar.
When a Lady Deceives (Her Majesty’s Most Secret Service) Page 23