Shana Galen (7 page)

“Winn!” She jumped back, her face bright red. Had he aroused her or embarrassed her? He moved toward her, and she moved another step back. “You have forgotten yourself.”

“No. I’ve finally remembered.” He took another step toward her, and she darted away from him. He was not going to chase her, but he didn’t have any qualms about cornering her. “If you object to the dining room, why don’t we go upstairs?”

“The maids—”

“—are easily dismissed.” He moved closer, and she took another step back. One more, and her back would be up against the window.

“I do not know what has come over you,” she said, smoothing her perfectly neat hair into place, “but I am afraid I have an appointment this morning. I cannot accommodate you.”

Winn’s fingers flexed. He would have liked to throttle her. He knew all about her appointment. How dare she put him off in favor of another man? And Smythe suggested he
talk
to her. Elinor would be lucky if he didn’t lock her in her room for the rest of the year. “I see.” He could have allowed her to go then. He was meeting Smythe in Hyde Park anyway, but Winn didn’t want to make it quite so easy. “I’ll have my valet fetch my coat and hat then,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“I thought I’d go with you.”

“No!”

He raised a brow, and she took a step back, bumping into the window. Now he had her trapped. “You object to my company that fervently?”

“I don’t object to your company.”

He stepped closer, planting his hands on the windowpane so he framed her head and those fat, glossy curls. He wanted to take one and wrap it around his finger. “I am glad to hear it. Where are we off to?”

“I…”

He could see her thinking, devising a lie. And what surprised him was that if he had not known she was lying, he would not have known it was a falsehood. He did not know her tells.

“I have some shopping to do, underthings.”

He smiled.

“For the girls.”

His smile dropped. Even though he knew she was lying, the thought of buying underthings for his daughters unnerved him. He did not want to know what the girls wore under their skirts. As far as he was concerned, they did not exist under their skirts. And he did not want to know otherwise.

“So I’m certain you would rather stay at home.”

He could not argue. He had her physically cornered, but she had more than outmaneuvered him mentally. “I will wait patiently for your return.”

She gave him a puzzled look, for which he did not blame her. She ducked under his arm and started for the door, but he could not allow her to go that easily. He did not know what would happen in the park today, but Winn was not going to allow Elinor to meet her lover without thoughts of her husband on her mind. With lightning speed, he reached out, grasped her arm, and spun her back to face him.

“What—?”

He silenced her with a kiss. No gentle, tantalizing kiss this time. He wanted heat. He wanted to sear the memory of his lips on hers, his body pressed to hers, his arms holding her tightly—sear all into her mind. He wanted her to feel the lasting traces of the heat of their kiss all the way to Hyde Park and back. His mouth slanted over hers, his lips parting hers so he could taste her. She cried out in surprise, but he took without mercy, and soon she was clinging to him just to keep upright. He pushed her back against the window, cushioning her with his arms as he wrapped them around her waist.

Outside, the wind battered the windowpane. The day had dawned dark and blustery. He could feel the cold seep through the wool of his coat, but he was far from chilled. Elinor was so warm—her mouth, her skin, the small sigh she made now when his tongue met hers. She was still stiff and unyielding. She did not want him to kiss her, but, like it or not, she
did
want him. She
did
desire him.

He allowed one hand to roam over the indention of her waist and down the swell of her hips. He caressed the curve of her bottom and pressed her to him. She gasped, and he caught the sound with his mouth. He remembered her lips. That much he had not forgotten. They were so soft and inviting, and he found himself succumbing to the pleasure of kissing her.

Now, who was seducing whom?

He broke the kiss and trailed his lips along her cheek until he reached her earlobe. He nuzzled the silky curl she’d tucked behind her ear and breathed, “Don’t make any plans for this evening. I want your”—he kissed the tender flesh of her ear—“undivided attention.”

“Winn—”

“And you might want to find somewhere for the girls to play this evening. They might wonder when they hear you crying out in pleasure.”

She inhaled sharply as his tongue teased her skin, and then he brushed his hands up her sides and traced his thumbs over her nipples. Her body was trembling, and he knew he was going to have trouble allowing her to walk away. He wanted her. Badly. He kissed her again, and this time her mouth met his eagerly. Winn might have smiled at his victory if it wasn’t also a defeat. His own desire had built far more than he liked, and now he must stand back and watch while she went to meet another man. Slowly, while she still sought him, he pulled back.

Her face was flushed and her eyes as dark as the midnight sky. Her fichu did little to constrain the straining of her breasts as she struggled to catch her breath. Winn clenched his hands to keep from ripping that flimsy material away and feasting on her soft skin.

“You should go,” he said, his voice edged with steel. “While I am still amenable to your departure.”

“Yes.” She nodded and looked this way and that as though confused as to where she was going.

Winn gestured to the door. “That way, madam.”

“Of course.” She stumbled past him, hurrying toward the door. Her hair was not quite so perfectly coiffed anymore. And damn him if he didn’t find her more alluring with it slightly mussed. She reached the handle and opened the door, but before she could step outside, he said, “Ellie.”

She stopped, her posture as rigid as that of a man who has just been shot.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

Ellie
.
He had called her
Ellie
. Elinor could not say the last time he had used the sobriquet with her. Years, she thought. Years and years.

She sat in the Keating town coach and sped toward Hyde Park. There were few other conveyances about this morning. It was early and chilly, and she imagined the members of the
ton
much preferred their warm beds to the biting wind. This morning she could also see the appeal of a warm bed, a warm, naked man sharing it with her.

She shook her head. Damn Winn! Why did he have to kiss her this morning? Why did he have to whisper in her ear and make her blood thrum in her veins today? All of these years she had wanted him, waited for him, hoped he would notice her, desire her, seduce her. And now, today, when she had finally given up, he sought her out. Did he know or suspect? She did not see how he could, unless he’d found the letters she’d kept in her dresser…

But he was not home enough to have even spent any time in her bedchamber, much less searched her dresser. And if he had been in her bedchamber, Bridget would have told her. The household servants were loyal to her. They’d realized long ago Winn was not the one who ensured their salaries were paid. So how did he know? But if he knew about Mr. Trollope, wouldn’t he have been angry? He would not have kissed her. Which meant this must be an incredible coincidence, and she was allowing her imagination to run wild because she felt guilty for betraying Winn.

Not that she’d betrayed him. Yet. She was only going to meet Trollope. That was all. She hadn’t even allowed him to kiss her. She’d accepted his love letters, that was true enough, but she hadn’t responded in kind. She’d been cautious, despite the fact that Rafe Trollope was wild and exciting. She was not certain this was what she wanted. She was not wild and exciting, though at the moment, with her heart pounding and her lips still warm from Winn’s kisses, she felt rather reckless. She took a deep breath and tried to shut out the image of Winn pulling her into his arms. She tried to forget the feel of him pressed against her. He was so tall and so strong. She could barely wrap her arms around the breadth of his shoulders. And yet, for such a large man, he was never clumsy, never inelegant. Indeed, today he had moved with all of the sleekness of a lion as he caught her about the waist and pulled her against him.

Against his chest. His hard chest. His hard, muscled chest.

She licked her lips and closed her eyes. This was not helping matters. She should be thinking of Trollope, with his sun-touched golden hair and his emerald-green eyes. Drat! That was Winn who had the green eyes. Trollope had… she could not remember the color of Trollope’s eyes.

She glanced out the window and noted Hyde Park was just ahead. Elinor sat up straighter. She would take note of Mr. Trollope’s eyes this morning. She would memorize their color, and she would kiss him too. That would help her to forget Winn’s persuasive mouth. By the time she returned home, her thoughts would be centered on Mr. Trollope and the exciting new adventure she was about to embark upon.

She frowned, a moment of panic infusing her. There was one detail about her relationship with Trollope she had not mentioned to Mary. She’d told him of her interest in his work, and he’d offered to allow her to help him with his next mission. She was excited at the prospect of seeing mention of her work—not her name, of course—in
The
Times
at some point in the future. How thrilling it would be to know she had done something more important than plan a ball or scrub a child’s face clean. And perhaps when she and Trollope were working together on their dangerous mission, they would fall in love. Trollope told her he was half in love with her already, and she knew his motives were anything but pure. Still, at least there was one man whose interest she had captured.

The carriage slowed and stopped, and Elinor peered out of the window. The park was deserted at this hour. She did not even see Trollope. But he had told her he would keep out of sight until she was away from her driver. They did not want any witnesses to their meeting. Mr. Trollope worried about foreign agents and spies, and even though Elinor had assured him her driver was not a foreign spy, Mr. Trollope did not wish to take chances.

A groom opened her door and handed her down.

“I prefer to walk alone this morning, Jacob.”

The groom’s eyes widened. “B-but my lady,” he finally managed. “I’ll be sacked for certain.”

“The park is empty. No one will ever know, and I shall be perfectly fine. I will stay within sight of the carriage.”

“My lady, please.”

“Another word, and
I
shall sack you.”

Jacob closed his mouth abruptly, and she set off. She tried to walk for a while before looking over her shoulder to see if Jacob was watching her. Like a good servant, he was. She waved at him and meandered toward some trees. Feeling like an idiot, she pretended to spot something fascinating and ducked into the small copse. The ground beneath her feet was spongy and soft, and now that she was out of the sun, she felt the chill. She shivered and peered around the woodsy enclosure. “Mr. Trollope?” she hissed. “Ah… Rafe?” She had not used his Christian name before, but what was the use in holding on to societal conventions at this point? She was breaking them simply by being here. “Rafe!”

Elinor sighed. It seemed she was destined to wait for men who deigned never to make an appearance. She turned, prepared to return to Jacob, who was probably apoplectic at her disappearance, and then gasped. Mr. Trollope was standing behind her, smiling.

He made a deep bow, sweeping his hat in an arc before him. “My lady.”

Elinor put a hand to her racing heart. It pounded, and not only from surprise. Trollope’s good looks always took her breath away. “I thought you were not coming,” she breathed.

He glanced behind him as though ensuring he were not followed. “I was unavoidably delayed.”

Elinor swallowed. Had he come straight from a mission? He looked a bit breathless. He stepped closer and took her hand in his gloved one. “I am so pleased you came today, Elinor. May I call you
Elinor
?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

He squeezed her hand, and she wished she could remove her gloves and touch his skin. She looked up at him, then back down to meet his eyes. She had forgotten he was not nearly as tall as Winn, or as broad-shouldered. He was actually rather slight and quite slim. Beside Winn, she always felt petite and delicate. Trollope made her feel like she should hunch over a bit and have Bridget lengthen and tighten her stays.

And she really must cease thinking of Winn! Here was Mr. Trollope with his golden-blond hair, his lionlike brown eyes, and his charming smile. He was the catch of the
ton
. Every young lady was swooning over him, and he wanted her. Elinor.

He tugged her hand and pulled her closer. She hesitated slightly, uncertain what he meant to do. She had never kissed a man other than Winn, and she was not certain if she was prepared to do so now. But, fortunately, Mr. Trollope merely bent and brushed his lips over her gloved knuckles. “You look ravishing today.”

Elinor wanted to be pleased by the compliment, but she had the sense this was something he said to every woman. She had taken extra care with her appearance, but did she look
ravishing
?

“I could not sleep for thinking about you,” Trollope said, looking up at her from under his long lashes.

Elinor frowned. His lashes were longer and thicker than hers. That seemed immensely unfair. She studied his face. “You look well rested.”

“I assure you I am not. I could not wait to hold you in my arms.” He tugged her hand again and pulled her smoothly into his embrace. “May I kiss you?” He moved to press his lips to hers, and she tilted her head back. But niggling thoughts invaded what should have been a romantic moment. Why had he asked to kiss her? Why not simply do so? She wanted to be swept away, not queried.

“Kiss me, Elinor.”

She frowned. Why did
he
not kiss
her
? Why did he not press his lips to hers and steal her breath away? Elinor took a deep breath and closed her eyes. This was, after all, what she’d come for. Mostly. But just as their mouths met, she heard a sound like a muffled curse. She opened her eyes, and a startled robin flew at her, narrowly missing her face with its wing. “What was that?”

Trollope was eyeing the trees. Elinor looked up as well but saw nothing other than branches and brightly colored leaves. The reds, yellows, and oranges of autumn were in abundance in this wooded section of the park. “I don’t see anything, but we cannot be too careful.”

Elinor nodded. “Of course. Perhaps you should explain the mission now. My groom will pursue me if I am out of sight much longer.”

Trollope’s brow creased in annoyance. “I thought I told you to come alone.”

“How am I to come alone? It was difficult enough to leave the house without Lord Keating attending me.”

Mr. Trollope mumbled something about choosing a better venue in the future; then he smiled. “One kiss, then I will tell you all of the particulars of the mission.” This time when he reached for her, Elinor moved deliberately out of range.

“We’re too exposed here,” she said.

His brows came together. “Fine. As I told you, I work for an elite organization.”

“For the Babylon group.”

“Shh!” Trollope grabbed her arm and pulled her deeper into the copse. “You mustn’t speak the name out loud. There are spies everywhere.”

Elinor blinked. “Oh, I’m sorry!” It was a stupid mistake. He had told her before not to say the name of the group aloud.

“You are forgiven, but be more cautious in the future, or I shall have to find another agent to work for me.”

“Of course.” Elinor’s heart was pounding again. Finally she was going to be a secret agent and participate in missions. She was almost giddy at the thought of the adventure. Trollope needed her, and she wanted to be needed. “What would you have me do?”

“I need you to give another agent a message.”

Elinor nodded. She could do that easily, and how exciting to meet another agent! “What is the message?”

He glanced over his shoulder again. “I cannot write it down.”

“Of course not.”

“You will have to remember it.”

Elinor nodded again. “I have an excellent memory.”

“Very good. The message is
oranges
and
lemons, say the bells at St. Clement’s
.”

Elinor blinked. “A rhyming song?” She had sung that with Caro and Georgiana when they were barely walking. “That is not a message.”

“It is in code,” Trollope said, his tone impatient.

“Oh.” Code. Of course. She had not thought of that. “To whom shall I give the message?”

“Will you attend Lady Hollingshead’s garden party?”

“You know I will. We are good friends.”

“He will be in attendance.”

“How will I know him?” They were whispering now, their heads close together, and she had to admit this was so much more fun than supervising Georgiana’s French lesson.

“You will know him when you see him.”

“How—?”

“Lady Keating?”

Elinor jumped at the sound of her name. “It is my groom, Jacob.”

Trollope’s face paled. “You should go before he spots me here. We would not want him to inform your husband of our rendezvous.”

“No.” She did not want that either, but she did think a veteran spy like Trollope would be less worried about a man as benign as Winn. “But how will I know the agent?” she asked as Mr. Trollope made for the trees on the other side of the copse.

“I have faith in you, my Elinor. We will meet again soon to discuss the next mission, and next time it will be somewhere very, very private.” He kissed her hand and was gone.

“Lady Keating?”

She turned. “I’m here, Jacob. Coming!”

***

“It’s about time the bloody groom stepped in,” Winn said, watching his wife walk back to the carriage with Jacob. “What the devil is he doing if he’s not protecting my wife from vermin like that?” He gestured to the trees where Elinor’s lover had taken shelter.

Smythe looked bored, which was quite an accomplishment, as they were balanced precariously high in a tree. “I assume she ordered him to wait. Poor man. He cannot win—sacked for dereliction of duty or sacked for disobedience.”

“I’ll have a word with him.”

“You had better speak to all of your servants then. In my experience, wives usually have control over matters pertaining to the household. Especially when the master of the house is frequently away.”

Winn scowled. What else was going on in his house he did not know about?

“There is good news,” Smythe said.

“What is that?” Winn wanted to know. His wife had almost kissed another man—would have if Jacob hadn’t distracted the couple. He would have jumped down and killed this Trollope that moment if Smythe hadn’t held him back.

“Trollope is not a spy.”

“Oh, that.” It was small comfort to know the man seducing his wife was a liar.

“He has probably used the story in the past to woo women. Clearly your wife is giving him more difficulty than he anticipated. He actually has to concoct a mission for her.”

Winn smiled. That was true. Leave it to Elinor to make things difficult. “But now she’ll be approaching random men and speaking to them of oranges and lemons.”

“Let me take care of that. In the meantime”—Smythe gestured to the trees where Trollope was making his way back through—“I believe we have a rake who needs to be taught a lesson.”

“You are correct, Smythe. And I want him all to myself.”

Winn pulled his hat low over his brow and jumped down, surprising Trollope enough so the man let out a high-pitched squeal. Wolf, similarly disguised, landed beside him a moment later. “I suppose no one ever taught you to share, Baron,” he muttered.

“Who the devil are you?” Trollope asked, stepping back. Smythe flanked him, cutting off his escape.

“I am afraid I cannot reveal that information to a potential rival agent,” Winn said.