Sally MacKenzie Bundle (198 page)

Her fingers tingled; her palms felt clammy. She struggled to take a deep breath—

“I’m sorry, Jane.” Edmund’s arm was around her shoulders. She leaned into his warm hold. He felt wonderfully solid in a world that was suddenly out of kilter. “I didn’t think. You’ve been so pluck to the backbone in all this, I forgot how upsetting the break-in must be for you.”

His voice was gentle, kind, understanding—and it made her burst into tears. His other arm came up to pull her against him; his hand cradled her head as she wept all over his waistcoat.

How mortifying. She never fell apart like this. John and Stephen had taught her early on that tears were a disgustingly weak, girlish response to any problem, but try as she might, she could not stem the flow. Edmund must be completely appalled.

“Shh,” he murmured by her ear. His hand massaged the back of her head. “Things will be all right, Jane. You’re safe here.”

Damn. A fresh spate of tears overcame her. Was she ever going to stop these ridiculous waterworks? She—

She felt his lips brush her cheek.

Oh! Her tears dried up as if he’d found the spigot and turned it off. She sucked in her breath. His lips were moving from her cheek to her…She turned her head, so her face was no longer buried in his waistcoat. His lips touched her eyelids, moved down…

She tilted her head back, and his mouth found hers.

Ah! His lips were firm, warm, male—she felt surrounded by his strength. His tongue slid deep into her mouth, filling her slowly and thoroughly. He tasted of comfort and brandy.

He smelled of brandy, too, and eau de cologne. She opened her mouth wider; his tongue moved leisurely through it, as if he had all the time in the world to discover every one of her secrets. She should be alarmed, but she was not. She wanted him to know her, just as she wanted to know him. She was happy to be kissed—and to kiss him—forever.

Except she couldn’t. Sadly, her nose was still stuffy from her tears. Breathing was becoming a rather insistent need. She made a small sound of regret and pulled back.

He let her go immediately, as if she had suddenly burst into flames. She did feel exceedingly heated, but not to the point of singeing anyone. She blinked up at him. He looked horrified.

“Forgive me.” He stepped back so quickly she was afraid he might trip. “It was unconscionable of me to take advantage of you like that.”

“Ah.” Her wits were too scattered for her to form a coherent reply. Saying he had not taken advantage of her—or that she wished him to take much more advantage—seemed too bold. Perhaps he had just kissed her out of pity and then been overtaken by his male instincts. Surely he would have expected a well-bred woman to have struggled or at least protested in some way. She felt herself flush. “Er, well, I am not usually such a watering pot.”

He straightened his waistcoat and cleared his throat. Her gaze followed his hands and then dropped a little lower. Damn. Her heart sank. If he’d been moved by passion, he had clearly got over it. His breeches were as smooth as a lake’s surface on a windless day.

He turned away abruptly and took refuge behind his desk. Oh, God, did he think she was going to attack him? This just got worse and worse.

“No, of course you aren’t,” he said. “I am sure it was just the shock of all that has happened.” He cleared his throat again. “But about the sketch—I hate to be so single-minded, especially when you have suffered such a fright, but I do think the sooner we solve this mystery, the better. Do you have the paper with you?”

“Yes, of course I do.” She could still feel it under her breast, only it seemed to have shifted a bit, perhaps due to the amorous gyrations of a moment ago.

“Splendid.” Lord Motton extended his hand. “Let’s have a look.”

“Ah, well, you see I haven’t had a chance to remove it from my bodice.”

Lord Motton’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes dropped to contemplate her bosom. She kept her hands from flying up to shield herself from his view only by the strongest exercise of self-control.

“If you will turn around, my lord, I will retrieve it.”

“Yes, indeed. Of course.” Motton turned and contemplated the red and gold brocaded curtains. Were they starting to look a trifle shabby?

He tried very hard to ignore the breathy little scrambling sounds coming from the woman behind him. What was taking her so long? It should be the work of a moment to reach—no, he would
not
think of where she was reaching. Still, it could not take that long—

“Lord Motton?”

Jane’s voice was thin and tight, as if she might be on the verge of tears again. “Yes? Is it safe for me to turn around? Do you have the paper?”

“Yes, you may turn, but no, I don’t have the paper.”

He spun around, ready to jump down her throat for being so careless, but he swallowed his spleen the moment he saw her face. She looked miserable.

“I mean,” she said, “I have the paper, but I don’t.”

“Excuse me?”

She turned as red as a furnace. “It’s stuck.”

“Stuck?” She couldn’t mean…he looked back down to her bodice. It was in some disarray. The neck was crooked and a bit of her shift was sticking out.

“Yes.”

He had never seen a human blush so hotly. He was half-afraid she would spontaneously combust.

He was feeling rather hot himself. Only one solution presented itself to his admittedly randy intelligence…well, intelligence might be a bit of a misnomer at the moment. Lust was reducing his meager thought processes to their most basic, bestial, instinctive level. He cleared his throat. “Ah, normally I’d call one of my aunts in—or your mother—to help, but I don’t believe we wish to have anyone else aware of our quest.”

Jane was staring at a point midway down his chest. “I understand that.”

“Ah. So, er, shall I, ahem, assist you?”

It was not possible, but she turned even redder. “Yes.”

“Very well.” He stepped around the desk. Jane had best not look down at his fall now. If she were redder than red, he was bigger than…He’d never felt so enormous. Perhaps his member had been inspired by Clarence’s Pan. “Did you stick it between your shift and your dress?”

“No.” Jane’s eyes closed, and she whispered the words. “It’s between my shift and…me.”

“I”—he cleared his throat again—“I see.” He looked down at her lovely bosom. He would have to reach in and touch…have her silky skin, her beautiful, round…

He was only getting a bit of paper out of her clothing. This was not a seduction. Jane was a gently bred young woman, the sister of his friend. A virgin. He should make the process as brief and dispassionate as possible.

Dear God, how the hell was he going to manage that?

Perhaps he could try to imagine he was a physician. Doctors must be able to treat women’s bodies as, well, merely bodies.

He took a deep breath and looked down at Jane’s lovely, soft—

All right, so pretending to be a physician wasn’t going to be possible. He would just have to grit his teeth and get the job done. “Where exactly is the paper? Under which breast?”

“The right one.” Jane was staring at his waistcoat again. “I think when I…when we…ah, just now when you and I—” She let out a long breath and scowled at his clothing. “When you kissed me, I think I moved so that the paper slipped down a little under my s—stays. I might be able to get it out myself, but I’m afraid I would tear it.”

“We can’t tear it. We might lose a crucial piece of the puzzle.”

“I
know.
” She frowned fiercely at one of his buttons. “Will you just get on with it?”

“Very well.” He couldn’t merely thrust his fingers into her dress; as she said, they couldn’t risk tearing the paper. He would have to look at what he was doing…what he was touching…

Jane darted a glance at the door. “Will your aunt Winifred—or one of your other aunts—come looking for you? I’d hate for them to walk in just as you were…you know.”

Winifred was not one to lay traps. She might be considering Jane for the role of viscountess, but she would not be so crass as to try to surprise them in an awkward moment. Still, it always paid to be cautious. “I don’t believe you need worry, but I’ll lock the door just in case.”

“You must be very accomplished at getting women out of their clothes,” Jane said as he secured the door. She was still standing stiffly exactly where he’d left her. The sooner he got this over with, the better. “You must be an expert at seduction.”

“No, not really.” He tried to smile reassuringly. It was true he wasn’t much in the way of separating women from their dresses, but when he did…well, he was discovering the task was far easier when seduction
was
involved. Then he had an eager, pliant woman in his hands, not one who was staring at him as though he were a poisonous snake choosing where best to bite her.

He did not want to frighten or disgust her, but he suddenly realized he did not want to bore her, either. He wanted to give her at least a taste of seduction—but how to do that when she was scowling at him?

“Perhaps it would help if you closed your eyes and thought about something else?” he said as he approached her again.

“What should I think about?”

“I don’t know. Something pleasant.”

Her brows edged down even farther so they almost met above her nose. “I shall count to one hundred. Will that give you enough time?”

He laughed. “I suppose it depends on how quickly you count. You aren’t planning to count aloud, are you?”

Her chin jutted out. “Yes, I believe I will. It might hurry you along.”

“It might make me nervous, and then I won’t be able to manage the deed.” His fingers already felt thick and clumsy.

She snorted. “I can’t imagine that.”

“It’s true.”

“Hmph.” She rolled her eyes and then closed them. “One.”

He smiled. Perhaps he should have some fun with this. He would see if he could seduce her a little—he had been having some luck with that just a few moments before. She had been so eager and soft when he’d been kissing her.

Instead of turning her to reach the buttons on the back of her dress, he pulled her gently forward, up against his chest, and reached around to slip the top few free.

“T—two.”

He stepped back and eased her dress down to reveal her chemise and stays.

Her breath caught and she bit her lower lip. “Three.”

His breath caught as well. He could see the darker shadow of her nipples behind her thin shift. And now…Ah.

He slid his fingers over her lovely soft skin. It would be sacrilegious to hurry. His thumb, all on its own, rubbed over her sweet nipple, causing it to pebble instantly.

“Ooh.” Jane wobbled. He slipped his arm around her to support her.

He needed some support himself. Fortunately, the desk was right at his back. He leaned against it, spreading his legs to brace himself.

Mmm. Jane fit delightfully between his thighs. He nestled her up against his aching member, then bent his head to look for the paper—and to kiss her rounded flesh. She arched back to give him easier access to her bosom. If the paper was there, he should see it clearly—once he took the time to look.

He circled her nipple with his tongue and listened to her small, breathy pants—she’d stopped counting. He cupped her breast and suckled; she moaned. He could spend all night worshipping her body—his throbbing cock wished most sincerely, desperately even, to pay its respects immediately—but he had ventured here with a specific purpose. An important purpose…

What was it?

Oh, that’s right—the sketch. He had to find the sketch.

He kissed his way to the place where her beautiful body and her chemise met her stays. There was nothing there. He ran his fingers back and forth, gently lifted her breast, and looked again…no paper.

“Jane, love, the sketch isn’t here.”

“Huh?”

Her eyes were unfocused, soft with passion. He couldn’t resist—he kissed her again, flicking his thumb over her nipple as he did so. Her hips bucked between his thighs and his cock twitched with frustration. If only he could…But he couldn’t.

He lifted his head. Much as it pained him, he would have to stop teasing her so some sanity could filter back into their brains. “Jane, there’s no paper caught under your stays.”

“Mmm, kiss me again.” She reached for his face; he leaned back, dodging her grasp.

“The paper, Jane. What happened to the paper?”

“I told you—it’s under my breast.”

“No, it’s not.”

She frowned. “Yes, it is.”

He traced the line of her stays. “It’s not here, Jane.”

Her frown had deepened to a scowl. “Of course it’s not
there.
It’s under my
right
breast. I said so in the beginning.”

“Ah.” He grinned. “So you did. And I suppose that would be your right, not mine.” He shifted her in his arms and ran his fingers along the underside of her right breast. Yes, here it was. He eased the paper free and stuck it in his pocket.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Jane struggled to detach herself from Edmund’s embrace. “You aren’t going to hide that paper from me. I’m going to help solve the puzzle.” Anger and annoyance flooded her until she almost choked on them. Good. They were much safer emotions than the confusing sensations she’d just experienced. She understood anger and annoyance. “Take that paper out of your pocket. We are looking at it together.”

“Jane—”

“Don’t ‘Jane’ me.” She wiggled free of his hold and stepped back. For some reason her chest suddenly felt quite cool. She looked down. “Dear God!” Her bodice was almost at her waist and her breasts…

She whirled around, stuffing herself back in her chemise and yanking up the neck of her dress. “See if you are as good at buttoning as unbuttoning.”

She was going to die, she was so embarrassed. What had gotten into her? She’d behaved like a light-skirt, a fancy-piece, a…a…dolly-mop. What must Lord Motton think of her?

She felt his fingers slowly doing up her buttons. How could his touch feel so ordinary on her back, but so very, very extraordinary—torrid—on her breasts? It was as if lightning had flashed from his fingers to her nipples and on to her—she swallowed—to
that
part of her.