Dangerous Seduction: A Nemesis Unlimited Novel (36 page)

In an instant, she was lifted from the bed. Simon carried her over to the chaise as if she weighed no more than a scrap of lace. But for all the decimating potency of her climax, she didn’t feel delicate like lace. She felt powerful, durable. Forged strong in the heat of what their bodies had done.

He stood her so she faced the chaise, then guided her hands to grip its back. The position made her thrust her behind out, a bold invitation. She
felt
bold.

“Now
you
don’t let go,” he commanded.

“Or else?” she couldn’t help retorting.

Her answer came as a sharp smack against her buttocks. She jumped. Hot sensation filled her. God, she hadn’t been spanked since … never. She always ran faster than the teacher with the switch, and they never believed in hitting at home.

She waited for a sense of anger or embarrassment. None came. Only more pleasure.

“Or else that,” he said, voice edged with need.

Now she couldn’t decide whether or not to be disobedient. That spank had been wicked, glorious. But she also wanted him again, for him to take her as he wished. So she held fast to the back of the chaise.

He gripped her hips with bruising force. The tip of his cock notched at her entrance. And then he thrust in, one sure, thick stroke that was all of him.

“Wanted this,” he rasped. “For so long. To lean you against a wall at the engine house or in the village, and take you, make you mine.”

She didn’t think it was possible for a woman bent over a chaise having sex from behind to blush, but she did. “You’ve got me now.”

And he seemed ready to make full use of the chance. His hips moved, his cock within her, and it wasn’t gentle or sweet. It was raw and real, as animal as she felt. She pushed back into him, making eager sounds. Sounds without words, which meant “yes” and “more” and “harder.”

She chanced a glance over her shoulder, wanting to see him. His body in motion was a beautiful thing, especially when that motion was loving her roughly. His eyes were clamped shut, his mouth open. He’d never been more glorious. And
she
was the one who put that look of ecstasy on his face.

Growling, he pulled out. Release shot from him, spattering onto her buttocks, her back. It felt incredible, but just once, she wished he could climax inside her. A wish that couldn’t come true. Not without the possibility of consequences.

For a long while, they remained as they were: her bent over the chaise, him continuing to hold her hips. But then he moved, and he found one of the discarded cloths, using that to clean them both.

Slowly, stumbling like drunks, they got back into bed. The moment they lay down, he wrapped her in his arms, their bodies weaving together. He tipped her chin up and kissed her, once, sweetly.

“Simon,” she breathed, and in that one word, in his name, was all her hope and fear and need and dread and pleasure. Things she’d never shared with anyone else. Only him. Two little sounds in his name, but they held everything she couldn’t admit, not even to herself.

Too soon, it’d all be taken away.

“I know, love,” he said. “I know.”

Love,
she thought as she drifted off to sleep.
Yes. Love.

CHAPTER 15.

The carriage ride to the owners’ offices revealed that nothing in the world had changed. Men and women walked to and from work, the sky was a watery gray, the smells of damp pavement rose up, and a nautical bell tolled distantly. A dog barked, a man shouted in complaint against a thoughtless driver. Just another day.

How could everything look and act exactly the same, but everything for Simon had shifted as completely as the poles reversing? It didn’t help that the woman who’d come to be his North Star rode across from him in the cab, scattering his thoughts whenever they tried to gather.

He went over the steps in his mind—presenting the documents to Harrold, Stokeham, and Tufton, the exchange of property, signing more documents, Jack’s appearance, Simon’s response—it was just the same as reviewing a battle plan, thinking of all possible steps, every contingency.

No sooner did his thoughts alight on these details than he’d remember the night before.
Alyce beneath me, above me, all around me. Her taste. Her smell. The feel of her.
And her boldness that set his blood to flame.

The need to fight rose up in him. For her. And … for
himself.
She’d given him that.

There she sat across from him in the cab, wearing another of Harriet’s expertly tailored traveling ensembles. Alyce’s hands knotted in her lap, and she couldn’t seem to keep her gaze still. It slid out the window to blankly watch the passing streets, then skittered around the interior of the hired carriage, to finally land on him. She attempted a smile.

And,
damn it,
there went those knives into his heart again. Her bravery never stopped.

He wanted to say something to her. Anything. To reassure her. To let her know that last night had been the culmination of every dream, every desire. Yet they both knew that dreams never lasted in the light of day. So they both kept silent, rocking slightly with the movement of the carriage, until it drew to a stop outside the offices.

She took his arm as they went up the front steps. Before he could place his hand on the doorknob, Linton the clerk had already flung the door open.

“Welcome, Mr. Shale.” Linton glanced at Alyce, waiting for an introduction, but Simon hadn’t the interest or patience to go through the standard rituals.

He gave the clerk his coat and hat. “Where are the others?”

“In Mr. Tufton’s office. I’ll show you the way.”

Alyce didn’t speak as they made their way through the workplace, though her gaze touched quickly on the rich furnishings. No doubt tallying what everything cost and comparing it to what that money could’ve bought the workers of Wheal Prosperity. Yet she looked cool and mildly uninterested, as a woman of her class might when presented with the mundane activity of earning a living.

The young clerks at their little desks all watched her pass. She wore a bronze and blue traveling ensemble with a little feathered hat, and carried a fur and satin muff against the autumn chill. In this masculine fortress, she had to seem a welcome respite. A visitor from the realm of the inconsequential. Little did any of these clerks know that Alyce was a living weapon disguised in moiré silk.

Inside Tufton’s office, Harrold and Stokeham also waited. They rose from their chairs, smiling, and offered handshakes and bows at Alyce and Simon’s entrance. Linton was sent to fetch tea.

“Thank you again for your hospitality last night.” Simon waited until he’d seated Alyce in front of Tufton’s desk before taking his own seat.

“I’ve never had a more enlightening evening,” Alyce added.

Harrold laughed indulgently. “Happy we can be so enriching. A shame, though, that you live so far away in London. We could make such evenings a regular occurrence.”

“What a pity,” Simon said. He hefted his portfolio. “Shall we get to the matter at hand?”

At Tufton’s nod, Simon arranged the paperwork on the desk. “First, here are the documents pertaining to my overseas properties. These are stocks. They’ll serve as collateral against the return of the mine. When the mine’s back in your hands, you’ll pay for the stocks—and everyone’s satisfied.”

“How soon will we see a profit?” Stokeham demanded.

“The profits are small but steady from these investments,” Simon said. “The real benefit, however, is that the money isn’t taxed, nor can the British government touch it. Profit in protection.”

The men chuckled, and Harrold accepted the stocks.

Simon pushed other documents forward. “As you see on this sheet, it has Alyce’s maiden name indicating she’s the representative of the Cornish Mining Collective. This ensures the venture has her brother’s protection. It just needs your signatures transferring ownership.”

“Cornish Mining Collective?” Harrold said with a frown. “Is it a genuine corporation?”

“I created it,” Simon explained, “and I’ll dissolve it. Most important is that my wife’s signature is on it.”

The men eagerly put their pens to the paper, and, with a flourish, Harrold handed the pen to Alyce. Only Simon saw how her hand trembled slightly when she signed the document.

And then it was done. The transfer had been made. Wheal Prosperity no longer belonged to these bastards.

Alyce set the pen down, then sat back in her chair with a barely audible sigh. He had to commend her—she didn’t look at him or give any sign that this bit of paper shuffling was anything more than a slightly mystifying nuisance. The sign of a green confidence player was revealing too much through nonverbal cues. A shared look. A quick smile.

But she played her part exactly as she was supposed to. Goddamn, but she never stopped fascinating him with the many people she could be, and yet still remain herself.

“Well, gentlemen—”

The door banged open. Everyone, even Simon, jumped. Jack loomed in the doorway.

“I’ve come back again, like I said I would,” he growled. “Every day until you pay what you owe.” His gaze caught on Simon. “What the hell are you doing back here?”

Simon rose from his chair. “Ensuring your ugly face doesn’t, in fact, return.”

Jack stalked forward. “Listen—”

“Ah, no, my gargantuan friend, I believe it’s time for
you
to listen.” Simon held up the sheaves of paperwork. “All of this ensures that you haven’t got a leg to stand on. Wheal Prosperity doesn’t belong to these men anymore. It belongs to my wife.”

Harrold, Tufton, and Stokeham looked on with wide eyes and gaping mouths, like an audience at the latest melodrama.

Jack sneered. “Then I go ahead and tax her, don’t I?”

“You can’t. First, because the ownership is a now a collective that falls outside of your department’s purview. It’s exempt from your thieving taxes. And second, because you might want to take a look at my wife’s signature.”

“The hell would I want to do that for?” Still, Jack snatched the paper from Simon’s hand and peered at it. He did a convincing job of turning pale, then going red.

“You’re not entirely a simpleton,” Simon went on, “so I’m sure you recognize her name. Carr. As in Edward Carr. As in the assistant to the President of the Board of Trade. A man you most certainly wouldn’t want to cross, and whose name you wouldn’t want to damage.”

Jack shook with rage. “This is just paper. I could tear it up, and no one would know any difference.”

“But I have a duplicate set of documents, also signed. Destroy these. It won’t matter.” Simon plucked the documents from Jack’s massive hands, and set the papers aside. “The bell has rung, Darby. The match is lost. Get out of here before you make an even bigger fool of yourself than you’ve done already.”

Jack spun around, glaring at everyone, including Alyce. She had the good sense to recoil from the blazing intensity of his anger—either excellent acting on her part or a genuine response of fear. Simon couldn’t blame her. Even when pretending, an enraged Jack Dutton was terrifying. The owners themselves seemed to try to crawl into the flocked wallpaper.

Only Simon faced him calmly. He had to fight to keep from smiling. This was always part of the confidence scheme he enjoyed—a relic from his schoolboy theatrics.

Jack stalked to Simon, looming over him by a good half a head. “I could also beat you bloody in front of your wife and all these fine gentlemen. No damn papers can stop that.”

Simon had never seen Jack fight during his boxing and brawling days, but he had seen him fight a time or two during their last mission, and he’d been a force unto himself. Simon and Jack had also never become friends—mostly because of Eva, but they’d still butted heads as two men used to being in charge—and Simon suspected Jack wanted only the smallest excuse to pummel him. Well, he’d go down swinging if he had to. But he hoped that Jack remembered he had a part to play, a part that didn’t include turning Simon’s face into pulp—the way he’d battered those henchmen from the previous job.

“You’re right,” he agreed affably. “Papers can’t stop you from degenerating to your basic, brutal self. But I did ask one of the clerks to summon the constabulary if you were to arrive. They’ll show up just in time to see you beating a defenseless man. I can’t imagine that would reflect well on your service record as a government employee.”

Jack glared at him a moment longer. Absolute silence choked the room, save for the clock ticking on a bookcase. Even Simon found himself holding his breath.

Cursing, Jack spun on his heel and stormed out of the office. Cries sounded from clerks as he shoved them out of his way, and the front door banged open, then shut.

For a long while, no one within Tufton’s office spoke. Simon took Alyce’s hand and patted it. “All you all right, my dear?”

She pressed her hand to the center of her chest. “My … goodness. What a thoroughly despicable character.”

“I’m sorry I had to expose you to such unpleasantness. The world of men can be an ugly one.”

“Then I’m happy to leave you to it.”

Gradually, Tufton, Harrold, and Stokeham peeled themselves away from the walls. “God, Shale,” Tufton said shakily, “you’ve got bollocks of iron. Forgive my language, Mrs. Shale.”

She waved her hand. “Perfectly understandable, given the circumstances.”

“Darby’s well and truly gone?” Stokeham asked.

“He’s my problem now, gentlemen, not yours. At the present, you’ve got nothing to do but take your ease for the next few days, and await the benefits of our arrangement.”

Harrold came forward, his hand extended. “It was a blessed, fateful day for us you when crossed our threshold, Shale.”

“Oh, but I don’t believe in fate,” Simon answered, shaking Harrold’s hand. He glanced over at Alyce. “Fortune’s in our hands. It’s what we do with it that proves our character.”

*   *   *

“I don’t know how to feel.”

Simon looked up from the newspaper he’d purchased at the train station to gaze at Alyce sitting across from him. They’d left Plymouth without meeting again with Eva and Jack, as had been prearranged. It would be too much of a risk for them to be seen together, but he and the other Nemesis operatives would reconnoiter as soon as his mission concluded. He didn’t know when that might be … but it wouldn’t be long, that much was certain. Finish his work at Wheal Prosperity, and then move on. As he’d always done, one job to the next.