Shana Galen (19 page)

She lifted the other boot, positioned it, and wriggled it off. He could have told her that was not the best way to go about the task, but he could not seem to form words with her bottom wriggling like that. He was doomed. If this continued, he was never going to be able to resist her.

No man would.

She turned to face him again, smiling mysteriously. “And now, my lord, we may begin.”

Winn swallowed and hoped she had not noticed he was waving the white flag.

***

Elinor saw Winn’s throat working and did not know what it meant. Was he having a difficult time keeping the bile from rising in his throat? Was she completely disgusting him? She dared not risk a glance at his nether regions, and so she did not know if she was succeeding in her seduction or, as she feared, a complete and utter failure. Oh, she was going to make a fool of herself, that much was patently obvious. But at least she had tried. Winn said he did not think she was coming. Well, she had never been one to give up easily, and she was not done with him yet.

She only wished he would show some indication of what he felt. Did she arouse him at all?

And why had she said, “we may begin”? What did that mean, and what was she supposed to do now? He was looking at her expectantly, and she supposed she had better do something soon or she would fail this test before she had even begun. Seduction… seduction… She had no idea what to do next. Perhaps she would do something to keep him from staring at her so intently. She bent and pressed her lips lightly to his. She had to rest her hands on something to keep from toppling over, and the closest available surface was Winn himself. She slid her hands over his thighs and forgot she was supposed to be the seducer. How could his thighs be so muscular? How could they be so hard and solid and sculpted beneath her hands?

Her belly tightened, and she tried to focus on something else. She’d been kissing him lightly, but now she nipped playfully at his lips as she ran her hands up and down the length of his thighs. She could feel his muscles tightening beneath her hands. Did that mean she was affecting him? If she were truly a courtesan, she would not falter. She would not question her power. If she were truly a woman of pleasure, she would take her pleasure. Her way.

And what gave her pleasure? Kissing Winn. The feel of his mouth against hers. She deepened the kiss, slanting her mouth over his. How strange to be the one controlling everything. She was so used to Winn kissing her, Winn touching her. But now she could do as she liked. And she wanted to continue kissing him, to explore his mouth, revel in the taste of him, savor the feeling of being joined together—mouth to mouth—and soon body to body.

She teased his lips until he opened for her, then dipped her tongue inside his mouth. He tasted of mint, the same mint with which she cleaned her teeth. Hesitantly, she touched her tongue to his and felt a shock of arousal flash through her. Kissing him like this was familiar and novel all at once. In some sense they were still Elinor and Winn, but in another she was a wanton Cyprian and he the man who wanted her, the man who would pay any price to possess her.

She kissed him more deeply, sliding her hands up his thighs until she felt the bare skin of his abdomen. His muscles were tight there too, his body hard, his stomach flat. It rippled beneath her fingertips, and for the first time she thought she might be affecting him. She thought she might be seducing him. She stroked his tongue with hers and stroked his chest with her hands, noting how his muscles bunched when she caressed his skin, how his nipples had hardened, the way he sucked in a breath when she tweaked them.

Elinor could not have said what possessed her, but she could not resist closing what little distance remained between them. She straddled him, one leg on either side of his, and slid up his body, resting her bottom on his thighs and taking him by the shoulders. Even his shoulders were sculpted, the muscles beneath giving her a sense of the power he held leashed. He could take over at any moment. He could throw her to the floor, lift her into his arms, take her swiftly and hard. But he was allowing her to take control. Her hands scraped over the planes of his back and then dove into his hair to tangle with the short dark curls. She fisted a hand and moved his head so she could better access his mouth. Amazingly, he did not protest, but allowed her to have her way.

Feeling bold, she slid her body closer to his until they were joined but for the scraps of clothing between them. But even through the material, she could feel the heat of him. She could feel the heavy, hard maleness of him, straining against the fall of his trousers.

He wanted her, and she wanted to feel his need.

She reached between them and released the material covering him. He sprang into her hands, hard and hot and velvet. She took him by the root and ran her hand up and down, teasing the tip of him until she felt a bead of wetness well up. He groaned now, and she almost smiled. Instead, she pressed kisses along his jaw and his neck, feeling him shiver and jump in her hand as she continued her ministrations.

Without her mouth on his, she could hear his quick intakes of breath, his muffled groans, and the growl in the back of his throat as she touched him with long, slow strokes. She dipped her head, kissing his hard chest, sliding her body down until she knelt between his legs and could run her tongue over his muscled abdomen.

She remembered what he had done to her—had it been only hours before?—and bent to touch her tongue to the tip of him. For the first time, his hands gripped her shoulders and he pushed her back. “Stop.” The word was more of a growl than human speech.

But she had felt his body’s reaction. “You like it,” she countered. “You don’t really want me to stop.”

His hands on her shoulders tightened. “I do like it, but if you’re going to do that, if you’re going to touch me that way, kiss me like that, I don’t want this to be a game between us.”

She frowned. “You devised the test.”

“I’m ending it. I want to know this is something you do because you want it, not because you want to pass some test.”

How could she help but fall in love with him again? Even if she’d still been fighting it, she would have fallen helplessly at that moment. “I want this,” she murmured, stroking him again. “I want you. I always have.”

She touched her tongue to him again, swirling it around his tip then taking him slowly inside her mouth. In her peripheral vision, she could see his hands tighten on the chair, the skin white where he exerted pressure and attempted to maintain control.

“Ellie, you are killing me.”

And she would have liked to see what it took for his control to break, but her own arousal was building, and she needed him inside her, buried deep, the two of them frantically reaching for their joint release. Reluctantly, she released him and stood. The sheer expression of regret on his face all but made her laugh. He actually thought she was going to stop.

Instead, she bent and grasped the hem of her damp chemise. The material had grown cold and heavy, and she was glad to remove it. She wanted to feel his hot skin against her own cool flesh. Before, when she’d been in any state of undress in his presence, she’d always felt exposed and slightly embarrassed. But now she looked into the dark emerald of his eyes and saw how much he wanted her. She saw how beautiful she was to him. It made her want him all the more. It made her ache with love for this man who wanted her despite all her flaws.

“Now you,” she said, reaching for his trousers. He helped her yank them off, and she could not help but pause to admire his long, lean form. He was so perfect, so strong, so wonderfully male. She pressed herself against him, feeling the light dusting of hair on his chest rasp against the sensitive skin of her breasts. He was hot, she cool, and the contrast between them made her sigh with pleasure. She settled her bottom on his thighs, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. He rocked against her, and just the press of his heavy flesh against her sensitive core made her ache with need. She rose, positioning him, then whispered in his ear, “I want you.”

“Now,” he said between teeth clenched for control.

She was going to test that control further, because although she could tell he wanted to thrust into her hard and fast, she wanted slow and tantalizing. She was wet and hot and took him inch by inch, feeling every sensation to the fullest before he finally filled her completely. She was having difficulty holding back now as well, but she held on, knowing she would be rewarded. This was a new position for her. Years ago, before she’d conceived Georgiana, she could remember one night when they’d both drank too much champagne, and he’d set her on top of him. She’d been embarrassed then and unsure. She did not feel that way now.

Now she only knew she was controlling her own pleasure. Now she only knew that with each stroke she brought herself, and him, closer to climax. Now, she only knew if she resisted the frenzy her body called for, the mind-numbing pleasure building would explode into an ecstasy the likes of which she had never experienced.

She rode him slowly, steadily, until he was calling her name and clutching her, begging her for release. But she did not give in. She could not. Her entire body was straining for the peak of the swirl of pleasure rising within her. As soon as she thought she’d reached the summit, another peak crested, until finally she went over the edge. She trembled, bucked, exploded. Her body was alive with sensation so acute, so sharply pleasurable, she could not comprehend it. All she could do was give in to the sensation.

All she could do was let go.

With a cry, she bowed back and allowed herself to fall, knowing Winn would catch her. Knowing he would be there when she came back to herself.

Winn opened his eyes, hearing a ringing in his ears. What the hell had just happened? He had never felt anything like that before, never felt pleasure so strong he all but went blind. And still bright stars shot in front of his eyes. He shook his head and felt Elinor, warm and relaxed against his chest.

If the servants had wondered at their activities before, there was no need to wonder now. Half of Mayfair knew she had climaxed. He would have smiled with pleasure at her fulfillment, but he could hardly take much credit for it. He put his arms around her, holding her until her breathing slowed. Her silky hair brushed against his arm, and her soft skin was all but impossible to resist. He had to touch her, to stroke her, to feel her warm and soft against him.

When it became apparent she was not going to rise anytime soon, he stood awkwardly and lifted her into his arms. She was still so hot he would have thought her fevered if he had not known her better, so it was not the warmth of his bed but the comfort he sought. He yanked the covers back and tumbled onto the soft mattress, pulling her against him. Her head nestled against his shoulder, and her body curled into him. She fit against him perfectly, as she always had.

Her breathing slowed, and he knew she slept. He should sleep too. He doubted he would be able to rest in the following days, knowing the danger she would face. He would have denied her the position in the Barbican group if he could have, but she had more than proven herself capable of seduction.

Winn had not intended to allow the seduction to reach its completion, but he had found himself unable to resist her. His hands curled into fists as he thought of her seducing another man, even though he knew she would not allow it to go very far. But the idea of another man looking at her, lusting after her, attempting to touch her, kiss her…

Winn gritted his teeth and tried to control his fury. She was his wife.
His
. He was supposed to protect her, keep her safe, and he was going to allow her to walk into the lair of one of the most dangerous organizations known to the Barbican group. He’d risked his own life countless times and rarely thought much of it. Now he had a sense of what Elinor would feel if and when he continued with the Barbican group. Winn supposed fair was fair. He would never forgive himself if he lost her, but he knew she would never forgive him if he tried to wrap her in a cocoon.

Winn and Crow used to joke during long, cold, cramped nights on dangerous missions, that the good citizens of His Majesty’s Britain had no idea what the agents for the Crown endured to keep the people safe in their cozy houses. Winn used to think about Elinor, Georgiana, and Caroline sleeping peacefully in their warm beds. He would picture them snuggled under piles of covers, their heads resting on fluffed pillows. Somehow that made the cold and the boredom and the fear—because only a man who didn’t want to live anymore didn’t fear death—bearable.

But now Crow was dead, and Winn would never be able to think of Elinor sleeping peacefully away from him. He hadn’t understood before what it was to want, to long, to yearn. She’d longed for him, and he had not understood the emotion. But now he would have his own taste of it, and he did not relish the reversal of their positions.

Crow would have said it was Fate’s way of keeping the scales even. Winn would have probably wanted to punch him, because that would have been easier than admitting his partner was right.

Elinor sighed against him, and Winn pulled her close. How he missed Crow. How he would have liked to tell him about this remarkable turn of events. How he would have liked to speak with his friend one last time.

The old sense of guilt welled up inside him, but this time, instead of succumbing, he tamped it down. He could not absolve himself of guilt, but neither was he willing to take all of the blame for Crow’s death anymore.

The Barbican’s investigation had cleared him of any misconduct. Melbourne had told Winn he had done all that was to be expected. Perhaps it was time he believed them. Perhaps it was time he stopped regretting his life and began to live it.

He looked down at Elinor, her red lips parted slightly in sleep. Now he had something to live for.

***

Elinor woke slowly, puzzling over the unfamiliar surroundings. She stared at the dark shape above her as it gradually formed into a canopy. She blinked and turned her head. She was in Winn’s bed, his large, dark mahogany tester bed. She studied the ornate carvings over her head, wondering how many hours Winn himself had spent gazing at them.

He was asleep beside her, his body solid and comforting, one of his arms slung over her middle. Neither of them were wearing any clothing, and she supposed that should have embarrassed her, but she was still too sated from their earlier lovemaking to feel even remotely embarrassed. She would have done it all again. She smiled.

Perhaps she would.

But had what they shared meant anything? Had she passed his test? At some point she had stopped caring about the test and just enjoyed being with Winn. She’d never felt so close to him. She’d never before felt as though they’d shared a moment of true intimacy.

She looked up at the bed again. She’d never before slept in his bed. Did this new circumstance mean something? Was Winn inviting her into his life?

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to go back to sleep,” a deep, groggy voice said.

She smiled. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Someone has to lie here and worry while you sleep. Now that you’re awake and worrying so loudly I can hear you, perhaps I can get some rest.”

Footsteps sounded in the corridor, and she squinted at the heavy draperies, which would have blocked out even the brightest sunlight. “I hear the staff moving about. It must be morning.” And she was ready to find out what the day held. Would she be working for the Barbican group? Had she passed Winn’s test?

“It is barely seven, which in many quarters is still considered the middle of the night.”

“You have never been the sort to loll in bed.”

“Neither have you.” He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. “I like waking up with you.”

Elinor blinked, taken off guard.

“Does that surprise you?”

“I suppose. We have always slept apart. I thought you enjoyed your solitude.”

“I did, but I stayed away from you more because I did not want to arouse suspicion when I had to leave in the middle of the night. Now there are no secrets between us.”

Elinor was not ready to agree that no secrets existed between them, but there were certainly fewer. Although there was one matter she would like resolved as soon as possible. “This is the first time I have slept in your bed,” she said.

“Is it?” He frowned. “Do you find it comfortable?”

She laughed. “Yes… Winn, please tell me already. Did I pass your test?”

He stroked her face with one finger, and she braced herself for disappointment.

“Of course. You more than passed.”

She rose on her elbows. “I did?”

He shook his head. “Do not look so pleased. There is nothing about putting yourself in a position to die a slow, painful death that should please you.”

“I passed,” she said, hearing the wonder in her own voice. “I am going to work as an operative for the Barbican group.”

“For the record, I had not intended to allow the seduction to go that far. You were perhaps too good at playing the courtesan.”

“Really?”

“Mmm.” He brushed a lock of hair back from her temple. “I beg you not to play your role quite so well with Foncé’s lieutenant.”

“Of course not! I will not be required to… What I mean to say is, I will not have to.”

She saw the muscle in Winn’s jaw tense. “As your husband, I would like absolutely to forbid you from even looking at another man, but as an operative, I will say that no one can predict what will happen during a mission. You are not expected to seduce Foncé’s man, but he may have other ideas, and he may not appreciate being refused.”

“I see.” Elinor slid back down.

“You do not have to do this,” Winn said. “God knows I’d prefer it if you stayed home.”

“And if we all stayed home, where would we be? Someone must stand and fight for King and country. You have done so for years.”

“And I have never been in a position where my powers of seduction were called upon.”

She laughed. “I am happy to hear it. And I am ready to do my duty.”

Winn nodded resolutely, as though he’d been expecting this.

“But I do have one small request first.”

He raised a brow.

“Before we go to Melbourne, there is someone I must see.”

***

Lord and Lady Smythe’s house on Charles Street was quiet and unassuming. Elinor would never have guessed two of England’s foremost spies lived under such seemingly normal auspices. Of course, she’d lived with a spy for years and had no idea. So perhaps it was not so difficult to believe after all. “Are you certain this is the correct house?” she asked after the footman handed her down from the coach. Winn took her elbow.

“Yes. I’m certain.” He seemed mildly amused as he led her up the walk and to the door. He rapped three times, and the door was promptly opened by a distinguished-looking butler.

“Good afternoon, Wallace.” Winn handed the servant his card. “Are their lordships at home?”

“One moment.” He ushered Elinor and Winn inside a very normal-looking vestibule and clicked along the marble before opening a wood-paneled door and disappearing inside.

Winn nodded. “Wolf’s library.”

“That is his code name?” At his nod, she added, “And hers is Saint?”

“Yes.”

“I understand why his name is Wolf.”

Winn raised a brow.

“He has a predatory look about him,” she explained.

“I see.” His smile widened, indicating she was still amusing him.

“Why is her code name Saint?”

“Because she’s perfect. She’s known for her flawless missions and rarely makes a mistake.”

“But Foncé escaped her.”

“And do not think she has forgotten,” a man’s voice said. Elinor glanced up and saw Lord Smythe making his way toward them. “She will have him in the end, I promise you.”

Elinor smiled. “Lord Smythe.” She curtsied.

He took her hand and kissed it. “Lady Keating. My lord. Shall we convene in the drawing room?”

“Actually,” Elinor said before Smythe could direct them toward the stairs, “I was hoping to speak to Lady Smythe alone. Would that be possible?”

“Of course. She is in her room. I will have her maid take you to her.”

“I don’t wish to disturb her.”

Smythe waved a hand. “She will be glad for the distraction. She is going mad with all the enforced relaxation.” A maid appeared and beckoned Elinor to follow her up the stairs. Elinor complied, watching Winn and Smythe make their way back toward Smythe’s library. She was willing to wager there would be talk of strategy, and though it was early yet, once they began discussing strategy, she had a feeling Winn would also want brandy.

She had plenty of time.

Lady Smythe was lounging on a chaise when Elinor was shown into her boudoir. The viscountess could not have known Elinor was coming, and yet Lady Smythe did not seem surprised at her arrival. “Lady Keating.” The dark-haired beauty smiled widely, emphasizing her full lips. “How good to see you. Would you care for tea?” Without waiting for a response, she gestured to her maid. “She will return in a moment, and we can talk freely then. How lovely you look today. Green is your color.”

“Thank you.” Though she realized this was probably the sort of thing any lady would say when called upon, Elinor felt her cheeks heat with pleasure. “How are you feeling?”

“Very well.” Lady Smythe gestured to a stack of papers. “Trying to keep busy. Ah, here is the tea.”

It took two servants to wheel the heavy tray into the room, and Elinor rather thought it was more of a meal than tea. Besides the steaming teapot and its accoutrements, there were sandwiches, scones, clotted cream, crumpets, jam, cakes, tarts, and candied violets. Elinor blinked at it, but Lady Smythe merely reached for a cup and saucer. “Cream and sugar?”

“Cream, please.” Elinor took the delicate china cup and a small sandwich. Her belly was in knots, and she did not think she could even stomach that much. She did sip the tea, knowing it would calm her nerves, and watched Lady Smythe pile two scones, a crumpet, three cakes, and a sandwich on her own plate.

“They are trying to make certain I eat,” Lady Smythe said, nodding at the servants leaving the room. She poured her own cup of tea and added both sugar and cream. “I have not been hungry, of late.”

Elinor wondered what the woman ate when she
was
hungry.

“But then this morning I woke up feeling famished. I cannot seem to eat enough.”

Elinor smiled. “I remember feeling the same way when I was carrying my girls. For weeks, the very thought of food made me ill, and then all of a sudden I was so hungry I could have eaten my dinner and Lord Keating’s as well.”

“Then you think this a good sign?” She looked so hopeful, so desperate for good news, that even if Elinor had thought it a horrible sign, she would never have said so.

“I do. It means the baby is growing and needs sustenance.”

Lady Smythe was nodding and popping bites of scone in her mouth. “If this continues, I shall be as big as the prince in a month. I’ve never eaten so much.”

“Eventually, the baby will take up more and more room, and there will be less and less for your stomach. You won’t be quite so hungry then.” She did not mention that Lady Smythe would instead be tired and uncomfortable. Elinor did not remember the last weeks of either pregnancy fondly. It seemed she could not stand or sit or lie comfortably, she was always too warm, and her back screamed in constant pain.

And how quickly she forgot all of that once she held her daughters in her arms.

“Adrian tells me you have been chosen to infiltrate the Maîtriser group’s lair.”

“Yes. I am going to Melbourne’s offices after this to formally accept the assignment.”

Lady Smythe nibbled a cake. “How does Baron feel about this?”