Adored In Autumn

by Jess Michaels

  She bent over him, her hair coming around them like a curtain, blocking out the world as she kissed him. He slid his fingers into her hair, but didn’t pull or push or demand. He let her taste him and explore him at her leisure and she shivered with the power he allowed.

  And with the desire that now boiled inside of her, ready to cascade over and out of control. She shifted, sliding the lips of her sex over his cock gently. Pleasure jolted through her at that sensation and she dropped her head back with a hiss of pleasure.

  She shifted again, reaching between them, and positioned him differently. Then she pressed down and he slid into her body without resistance. She bit her lip as he filled her, keeping a cry of pleasure from echoing through the house and letting the world know exactly what they were doing.

  He gripped her hips with a deep groan of pleasure and she smiled down at him. He looked on the edge, just as shaky as she felt. She had done this. He had allowed her to do this. It was a heady power, indeed, to bring such a strong man to his knees.

  She rolled her hips over him and ground her pelvis to his. They both groaned and his fingers tightened, but he didn’t lift to force her rhythm. He didn’t roll her to her back as it would be so easy to do. He let her buck over him, at first wild and reckless, but eventually falling into a constant rhythm. Her body hummed with pleasure as she rocked against him, a pleasure that began to build in intensity.

  She slowed her frantic thrusts, dragging out the pleasure, not ready to fall over the edge, but the edge kept coming, her orgasm close, closer and then she was falling, her body spasming against him, her back arching as she muffled her cries of pleasure by grinding her mouth to his in a deep and passionate kiss.

  She collapsed against him as the pleasure faded at last. He chuckled against her ear, then slowly rolled her onto her back, keeping them joined, covering her with his big body.

  She looked up at him, blushing at her utter lack of control. He looked anything but displeased, however. He grinned at her.

  “And how was that?”

  She made a soft moan. “Absolutely perfect.”

  “High praise,” he whispered as he began to gently pulse inside of her, tiny thrusts that brought her right back to the edge. “Not that I disagree. I think you are and always have been…” He swirled his hips and she jolted in pleasure. “Absolutely perfect.”

  She lifted into him with another ragged moan and her second orgasm hit fast and hard. His thrusts grew steadier as he guided her through it, then harder, then faster until he grunted deep in his throat and withdrew to spend away from her at last.

  Asher wouldn’t have been able to say whether they lay with their bodies curled together for a moment or an hour. He only knew that Felicity felt perfect in his arms, her back settled against his chest, her backside cradling his cock, her breath matching his evenly.

  Still, time was passing, he knew that, and he also knew that at some point he would have to exit her room.

  She must have sensed his thoughts, for she turned slowly and wrapped her arms around him. “Pondering your escape?”

  “Not from you,” he reassured her before he kissed her gently. “But your mother would likely not be happy if she found us together. I’m certain that would lead to a violent calling out from your brothers.”

  She pursed her lips and he saw the shadow of trouble cross her face. He wasn’t certain if the expression had to do with her fears on what would happen if they were caught together like this or everything else that weighed on her mind.

  “My mother is on the other side of the hall,” she said at last. “My door is locked. And my lady’s maid won’t come to me for hours.”

  He arched a brow at her statements. “What are you asking me?”

  She pushed herself up on one elbow and met his gaze evenly. “Stay,” she said softly.

  He blinked. What she was asking meant a great deal to him. He had no doubt it meant an equal amount to her. But it was still dangerous.

  “Felicity.”

  Her face fell slightly and she rolled away. “Of course not,” she said softly.

  He touched her shoulder. “Staying is too treacherous.”

  “For what? For who?” she asked, pushing to her feet. “I understand what answers you’ll give, but I wish you would be honest with me.”

  He watched her tug her nightgown back over her head, the flush on her skin no longer put there from pleasure, but from upset.

  “How am I not being honest?” he asked, trying to keep his frustration from his voice.

  She turned on him, arms folded as a shield, walls erected between them that felt suddenly insurmountable despite what they’d just shared.

  “Six years ago I asked you the same thing that I just did. To stay. And you left. I asked you today and you refuse. Why don’t you just tell me that you have a limit to how much you want me? That what keeps you from me isn’t some false sense of not belonging, but of not wanting to belong? Not to me.”

  He got up slowly and reached for his trousers. He put them on, taking the time to calm himself before he said, “That isn’t true.”

  “No?” she said. “Funny how it feels true to me.”

  “I’m trying to protect you,” he said softly.

  She shook her head sadly, and began to walk away. “You’re protecting yourself. Good night, Asher. I assume you can see yourself out, just as you saw yourself in.”

  She walked into her sitting room then and he heard the outer door shut behind her. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. This was not how he’d wanted this night to go. He’d come here to talk to her, to help her if he could.

  Making love to her had been a surprise. This end to their night was a frustration. He wanted to go after her, to explain the truth she didn’t understand. To tell her why he’d left all those years ago, to explain what he felt and why what he felt couldn’t decide what he did when it came to her.

  But he didn’t do anything of those things. He just finished getting dressed and he left the house as silently as he had entered it. In the end, some things were better left unsaid. For her.

  And for him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “It may be book code,” Dane mused.

  Asher jerked his head up from the figures he was analyzing and forced himself to focus on his friend. They sat in Stenfax’s parlor together, each going over their pieces of the puzzle. Only Asher knew his head wasn’t in the game.

  It was with Felicity. It had been with Felicity for the twelve hours since he’d left her bed the night before. He hadn’t slept in that time, only tortured himself with memories and regrets.

  “Book code?” he asked, rising with a suppressed yawn and moving to Dane’s side. “What is that?”

  “See how there are numbers here and also letters?” Dane said, pointing to the jumble of both slashed across the one and only page from the book that Stenfax and Gray had been able to retrieve months ago.

  Asher nodded. “Yes, I see it. What does it mean?”

  “It could be page numbers and line numbers from a book. The letters could be a coded positioning.” Dane leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “When Stenfax and Elise return from their outing, I’ll have to ask her what her late husband’s favorite book was. Not that the bastard sounded like a great reader.”

  “It’s as good as an idea as any,” Asher said, returning to his place. “Where were they going today?”

  “Felicity and her mother were hosting them and Gray and Rosalinde for tea.” Dane got up and paced away from the table. “Celia and I were also invited, but she made an excuse for me.”

  Asher pressed his lips together. He had not been invited. Of course he hadn’t. Not by Lady Stenfax. And not by Felicity after last night.

  “Mr. Seyton?”

  Asher turned to find Stenfax’s butler in the doorway, a folded paper in his hand. “A message for you.”

  Asher crossed the room and took the missive with a smile. He turned it over to open it and as he read, his
stomach leapt to his throat. “It’s from Hendrix, my connection in Fitzgilbert’s household,” he said.

  Dane was on his feet immediately. “What does it say?”

  “Money is about to be on the move, if Fitzgilbert’s behavior is reflective of past times,” he said, handing it over. “We need to go now.”

  Dane nodded and they made for the foyer. As they waited for their horses, Asher sent his friend a look. Dane was even more serious than ever. It was always that way when Fitzgilbert was mentioned.

  “I haven’t brought it up, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t notice your behavior, and Gray’s, when I told you my father worked for Fitzgilbert twenty-five years ago,” Asher said softly.

  Dane didn’t look at him. “I know you did.”

  Asher waited for more explanation, but it didn’t come, and he let out a sigh of frustration. “You won’t say anything?”

  “Not yet. Not now.” The horses were brought up and Dane turned toward him. “I will tell you my suspicions, Asher. I will. It is not for lack of trust, just for…I don’t want to cause you unnecessary pain. Nor my wife and her sister.”

  Asher wrinkled his brow. He didn’t understand that cryptic message one bit. But this wasn’t the moment to push on it, so he simply swung up on his horse and followed Dane from the drive into the busy street.

  If they were lucky, this entire situation would soon come to an end. And then he would be able to decide how to move forward. And what to do with his growing feelings for Felicity.

  The courier delivering Fitzgilbert’s letter was easy to follow. He took his time, like nothing mattered. There was nothing anxious or driven about him.

  “He’s just a hired man,” Dane mused as he and Asher followed him at a safe distance. “He isn’t deeply involved in whatever Roger Beckford is doing with the book.”

  Asher nodded. “I happen to agree, but you’re the expert. Why have you come to this conclusion?”

  Dane maneuvered his horse carefully, his gray eyes intensely focused. “There’s no urgency to him. He’s being paid to carry a letter, he has no idea what’s in it, no stake in what happens to it once it’s delivered.”

  “That was my observation, as well.” Asher gripped the reins tighter. “Look, he’s turning there.”

  The other man had angled his horse off the main street and into an alleyway that went behind a worn down tavern.

  “That’s the Hunted Rabbit,” Dane said. “A lowly place, but not known for criminal activity. Come on, let’s see what we can find.”

  They turned their horses down the same alley, but hung back in the shadows of the building. Farther up, the courier got off his animal and climbed a rickety ladder that was attached to the backside of the building.

  Dane marked where he stopped and whispered, “Third floor. Fifth door on the right from where the staircase would be inside.” Asher gave his friend a look and Dane shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Training dies hard. Come on, let’s go in.”

  They tied their horses in the alleyway. Asher looked down at himself, at his fine clothing. “I’m going to stand out,” he muttered.

  Dane was already stripping off his own jacket, tearing away his cravat and generally making himself rougher. “Good,” he said. “That will play in our favor. You go in first and head to Beckford’s room. You have a gun, yes?”

  Asher nodded and prayed he wouldn’t have to use it. “I do.”

  Dane squeezed his arm in reassurance. “I’ll follow in a few moments.”

  Asher left his friend in the alley and walked to the front of the establishment. As he had suspected, his appearance brought stares from the men gathered near the steps, and when he went inside, all eyes turned toward him before interest returned to drink and wenches and cards.

  He acknowledged the barkeep, then moved to the stairs. Up he went, past the second floor to the third. He took a deep breath before he moved five doors to the right. If Dane was correct, Beckford was just behind this door.

  And there was a good chance that the book was, as well.

  He knocked and waited a moment. The door flew open, revealing a man of about his own age, hair too long, eyes wide and wild, three days of beard on his cheeks.

  “About time, I asked for a tumble an hour—” The other man cut himself off as he realized it wasn’t a lightskirt in the hall, but Asher. “Who the hell are you?”

  Asher smiled, a forced expression. “Who I am is less important than the fact that I know who you are…Mr. Beckford. And that you’re wanted for murder.”

  Beckford tossed a glance over his shoulder. The look in his eyes said he wanted to run, but then he glanced back at Asher. “That so? And are you here to arrest me?”

  “No,” Asher said. “I’m here because you have something I want. And I think I have something that could help you, as well. Shall we talk?”

  Beckford stepped back and allowed Asher inside. Asher passed him, tensing as his back was turned to the other man. It was a risk he had to take to play this out, but he didn’t like it. He turned as quickly as he could, watching as Beckford shut the door and then made his way through the small, untidy room to a bottle on the sideboard. The man had a heavy limp on his left side and he winced in pain with each step.

  “You’re injured.”

  Beckford let out a laugh and took a swig of his drink. “That’s what happens when every member of the guard has a sketch of your face in their pocket, isn’t it?”

  Asher was taken aback by the man’s ramshackle appearance, coupled with a fine accent. Of course the man had been raised a gentleman. Once in line for the dukedom of Kirkford, in fact. Until greed had made him murder his cousin, the man in front of him for the title.

  Now he was a common criminal who held Felicity’s future in his dirty hands. Asher refocused.

  “I didn’t come here to discuss your state,” he said, keeping his tone cool. “I came here to do some business.”

  “Yet I still don’t know your name,” Beckford said, sinking into a chair with a soft grunt.

  “Asher Seyton,” he admitted. “I’m the son of a former servant of the Earl of Stenfax.”

  That made Beckford’s eyes light up. “Ah. I see.”

  “I know about the book of secrets your late cousin kept. And I know you took it when you murdered his successor. I also know it may very well contain information that my father’s former employer wouldn’t want out in the world. I want that information.”

  “Everyone wants what I have, it seems,” Beckford laughed.

  Asher wrinkled his brow. “You refer to Gregory Fitzgilbert, I assume.”

  Beckford stiffened. “What do you know about him?”

  “How do you think I found you?” Asher asked, folding his arms and leaving the statement at that.

  “Fitzgilbert got what he wanted. He paid me well for it. So if you think I’ll double cross him—”

  “What are you talking about?” Asher asked, his heart beginning to throb.

  “Fitzgilbert. He bought his secrets back.” Beckford got up with difficulty. “And some others.”

  Asher’s vision blurred for one horrible moment and he got up to stare at Beckford. “Whose?”

  “None of your affair.” Beckford laughed. “Now why don’t you worry about yourself? You want secrets, don’t you? How much are you willing to pay to bring down the house of Stenfax? Their secrets are mightily interesting, indeed.”

  Asher didn’t realize what he was going to do until he did it. With a roar, he lunged at Beckford, slamming him down on the ground with his surprise attack. But for a man with injuries, Beckford was surprisingly strong and he managed to roll with Asher until they crashed into the chairs they’d both been sitting on.

  Asher reared up, raining blows down on Beckford that did nothing to dissipate his anger on behalf of Felicity.

  “Stop!”

  He was torn away from Beckford and he watched as Dane jumped on Beckford, tying his arms behind his back.

  “You’re under arre
st for murder,” Dane growled. “And crimes against the crown.”

  Beckford stared wildly at him, then at Asher. “Arrest? What crimes against the crown?”

  Dane leaned in. “The ones in that book. You want out of that charge? You want to be transported instead of hanged for treason? That can be arranged. But you need to tell me where the damned book is.”

  Beckford’s shoulders slumped. “I’m tired of running. My cousins both got what they deserved. Let their names be tarnished by charges of treason. The book is behind the bed. There’s a false panel.”

  Asher moved to it, thrusting the small bed aside and tugging at the boards until he found the broken one. He tossed it away and there was the book. Such a small thing, really, a leather-bound item, tied shut with a worn ribbon. And yet it held the futures of so many.

  Including the woman he loved.

  He held it up and showed it to Dane. “Open it,” Dane said. “Be certain.”

  He did so and said, “The code looks the same. How did you break it?”

  Beckford clamped his mouth shut. “Why should I give you more?”

  “Because if you don’t, your life can be made miserable,” Dane said, shaking him hard.

  Beckford gasped out pain from his injury. “All right, all right. The code is from the Bible.”

  “Book code.” Dane drew back. “Asher, you’re bleeding.”

  Asher lifted his hand and touched his face. He brought blood down from his right cheek and shook his head. “Must have been when we rolled into the chairs. It doesn’t hurt.” He turned on Beckford. “Now tell me, whose secrets did you sell to Fitzgilbert?”

  Beckford smiled. “You can figure it out yourself. I’ve given you enough.”

  “You son of a—” Asher growled, moving toward him.

  “Stop,” Dane said, his tone sharp and dangerous.

  “How can I stop when he—”

  “You need to calm down,” Dane interrupted, cutting off what Asher would say next. “Before you make things worse. We need to get this man to my superiors. Then we’ll figure out what to do next.”