Tempting a Sinner (8 page)

“We were children.”

“We were old enough to be wedded and bedded.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t understand why I’m behaving like this. I don’t lose my temper with
anyone
.”

“I’ve always been a thorn in your side, don’t you remember?”

“But I’ve changed. I’ve learned to control myself.”

She couldn’t stand this. Couldn’t let herself weaken. Why couldn’t he be the coldhearted bastard he obviously thought he was with her? She needed to hate him and yet it was proving impossible. In the end, she supposed it didn’t matter. He’d learn to hate her again soon.

“Which perhaps explains why it was better that we were separated. You wouldn’t have achieved such success in your career if you hadn’t learned to put your emotions aside.” She spoke briskly, pushing on his chest until he took an involuntary step back. This time he stayed put and let her move off the wall.

He held out his hand. “If we continue down this way, we’ll come out in the kitchen garden. We can walk the rest of the way from there.”

B
enedict reviewed the day’s events as he walked with Malinda through the ancient back streets that surrounded the newly built London squares. Adam had disappeared into the countryside, possibly to avoid him, Jack Lennox was in charge at the Sinners, and he himself was currently in a state about his wife. He was never in a state. He was a cool, logical thinker with an outstanding ability to make connections, lead men, and discern the truth at a single glance.

Apart from when dealing with Malinda, who brought out a version of himself he no longer recognized, a lust-crazed emotional wreck of a man who couldn’t tell when she was lying or telling the truth. He had to bring himself under control. Kissing her had been a mistake; so had touching her. His cock twitched as he thought of that kiss and he tried to ignore it.

Perhaps he should leave Malinda at his lodgings and go back alone to the Sinners. But what if her enemies came after her and she was unprotected? He could hire men to guard her, of course, but no one would be as good at it as he would be. And then there were all the contradictions between her version of the past and his that he needed to sort out....

He was a doomed man. He couldn’t leave her alone, and his desire to know the truth would force him to stay close until he knew all. He retained enough intelligence to realize that she wasn’t telling him everything. If there truly was that much interest in her from more than one party, then the stakes were considerably higher than perhaps even she realized.

What to do?

He halted in front of his inconspicuous house in Maddox Street. He owned the whole property, but lived in the upper floor and rented out the lower. He patted his pockets and realized he didn’t have the key. The curtain of one of the front windows twitched and within moments a small boy flung the door open.

“Where have you been?” he demanded loudly. “You’ve been gone for weeks!”

“And you don’t need to announce that fact to the entire neighborhood.”

The boy’s face fell as Benedict went through the door, his hand still gripping Malinda’s.

“But you said you’d take me and Michael to see the balloon ascension, you
promised
and—”

“Jason.” A quiet voice came from the now-open door to the lower apartment and the boy looked stricken. “Come away, and leave his lordship be.”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Jones. He does have a point.” Benedict bowed. “I did go back on my promise.” He crouched down in front of Jason. “If you let me know when the next balloon ascension is planned, I will do my best to take you and your brother and make up for my appalling lack of manners.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He stood up and smiled at Mrs. Jones. “I mean it. Please keep me informed.”

“Oh, I will, my lord, or else I’ll never hear the end of it either.” She came forward and put her hand on her son’s shoulder. “Say thank you to his lordship, Jason.”

Benedict held out his hand and Jason obediently shook it.

Mrs. Jones glanced at Malinda and then at Benedict. “I’ve kept your rooms aired and ready for use, my lord. The fires are laid so you just need to light them. I’ve just baked a nice chicken pie so I’ll bring you up some of that later for your supper—if you’re staying.”

“We are.” He reclaimed Malinda’s hand. “Do you have a spare set of keys? I seem to have mislaid mine.”

She touched Jason’s hair. “Go into the scullery, fetch me the keys hanging on the hook there, and bring them up to his lordship.”

“Thank you, Jenny.”

“You’re welcome, my lord.” She dipped a curtsy. “It is good to see you back. We were beginning to get a little worried.”

“I was detained in Lincolnshire for a few weeks while I sorted out some family issues.” Malinda shifted slightly behind him, trying to pull away from his grasp. He urged her forward. “I had to reclaim my wife.”

Jenny’s mouth formed a perfect
O
. “Your wife?”

“Don’t tell anyone, will you?” Benedict winked. “I’m only mentioning it so that you won’t think I’ve started bringing women of ill repute into your home.”

“As if you would, sir.” Jenny chuckled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady. If there’s anything you need, you just come and ask me.”

“Thank you.” Malinda smiled.

He led the way up the stairs, pausing at the locked door to wait for Jason to come thundering up behind them with the key. He thanked the boy, gave him a coin, and sent him back down to his mother. What would Malinda think of his living arrangements and the very modest apartment he inhabited? He tried to view it through a stranger’s eyes and realized there was nothing of worth or value to draw the eye, nothing out of place, and nothing of himself there. He’d wanted it like that and now he wondered why. Even watching his wife move through the space made him yearn for something more. Something she alone had ever given him.

“It’s a very nice set of rooms, Benedict.” She moved toward the closed door. “Is this your bedroom?”

She opened the door and went through. It was a large room spanning the entire width of the back of the house and contained his one luxury, a bed fit for a king. She turned to look at him and took off her bonnet.

“You don’t bring women here?”

“Apart from you? No.”

“Why is that?”

He shrugged, defenses in place again, amiable smile at the ready. “Because if I want sex I can go to the Sinners, or the Delornay pleasure house, or any brothel I choose. I could even set my mistress up in a discreet house somewhere in the city and visit her there when I felt like it.”

“And have you a mistress?”

“Not at the moment.”

“How nice to have so many choices.”

“Whereas you had to write to Madame Helene to engage the services of one measly prostitute. How do you know Madame, anyway?”

She frowned at him. “I told you, I didn’t engage a prostitute.”

He stripped off his gloves and took off his hat and tossed them onto the nearest chair. “Don’t avoid the question. How did you know about the house of pleasure?”

She opened her eyes wide at him. “I can’t remember.”

“I was the one who hit my head, not you. With whom do you correspond?”

“You are relentless. It must prove very useful in your chosen profession. But as far as I’m aware, I’m not under investigation.”

“But you will understand that I’ll continue to ask until you tell me what I want to know.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because
everything
matters. Something that seems small and insignificant when placed within context can suddenly become extremely meaningful.”

“There speaks the spymaster.” She sighed and stretched her arms up over her head. “Do you mind if I take a nap? I’m dreadfully tired.”

“Are you trying to distract me?”

She undid the buttons of her jacket to reveal the creamy skin of her throat and he instinctively moved to help her.

“You’ll need new clothes,” he murmured as he unpinned the back of her skirt.

“Why?”

“You can’t walk around in this all the time. I’ll ask Jenny to arrange for a dressmaker to call on you.”

“I don’t need—” She gasped as he nipped her ear. “That hurt!”

“It was meant to. You are infuriating.”

“I don’t have any money to pay for fripperies.”

“Clothes aren’t fripperies; they are armor. You need to be prepared if we have to confront my father.” She shivered and he nuzzled her throat, inhaling her unique scent. “And I’m rich enough to pay for a few damn gowns.”

“I don’t expect you to pay for anything.” She stepped out of her heavy skirts and folded her arms across her chest. “When will you get it into your thick head that we aren’t married, and that you are not financially responsible for me?”

A strand of her long red hair had escaped her coronet and curled provocatively over her breast. Benedict leaned in, wrapped the curl around his finger, and tugged hard.

“Do you want help getting out of your corset, or will you sleep in it?”

His fingers dipped lower, playing with the edge of her corset and stroking the softness concealed within its well-boned shell.

“Perhaps you could just loosen it a little.”

“Of course. Turn around.”

He untied the laces at the bottom of the stays and spent quite a while easing the ties free, a complicated process with a spiral-bound corset.

“Why do women wear such ridiculous garments?” He kissed her shoulder.

“As armor against men?”

“Possibly.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take it off completely for you?” Even as he spoke he realized he was falling under her spell again. She arched her back, pushing her pert bottom against the swell of his cock.

Probably quite deliberately.

He still didn’t know whom she corresponded with at the pleasure house.

He forced himself to let her go and watched as she sauntered over to the bed, her hips swaying in a languid invitation that perhaps only he could appreciate.

“So if you didn’t need a prostitute, how have you satisfied your needs in the last few years?”

She climbed onto the bed. “That is none of your business.”

“You jest.” He closed in on her. “I’m your husband.”

Her eyes sparked with fury. “Benedict . . .”

He stroked her knee. “Tell me who you know at the pleasure house.” He spread his fingers wide, sliding his thumb between her thighs. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder and she relaxed against him. It was impossible to miss her quick smile of satisfaction. She was beginning to believe she could lead him around by the cock. He’d given her no reason to think otherwise. He eased his hand higher until his thumb circled her clit. She made a soft sound of approval as he played with her.

“Who, Malinda?” he whispered against her ear as he continued to stroke her.

“Are you still asking about my lovers?”

His thumb stilled. “No.”

“Because I could tell you some stories about them.” She sighed and moved luxuriously against him. “The Russian count, the French émigré . . .”

He changed the position of his hand so that he could slide a finger into her gathering wetness. “You can tell me about them when I’m inside you, tell me every filthy, little thing they did to make you come so that I can do it to you again and do it better.”

“You are
so
competitive.”

“If you want to know exactly how competitive I can be, you’ll need to oblige me first.”

“How?” Her skin was flushed now, her body undulating beneath his fingers, seeking release.

“By telling me whom you know at the pleasure house.”

She went still. “Go to the devil.”

“If that’s what you wish, my love.” He forced himself to remove his fingers and very slowly licked them clean. “Enjoy your nap. I’ll wake you in time for supper.”

He left her sitting there in furious outrage and shut the door, leaning against it until he could breathe without inhaling the scent of her arousal. When he had composed himself, he lit the fire, sat down with the brandy decanter, and stared into the flames. Absentmindedly he brought his glass to his lips and smelled her on his fingers.

With a soft curse, he unbuttoned his breeches, wrapped his hand around his aching cock, and pleasured himself to a quick and deeply unsatisfying climax. His cock knew better now, and found this solitary exercise as lacking as Benedict did, but he refused to go back in there and let her dictate to him. A man had to have some standards.

When Jenny arrived with the pie and other savory items for their supper, he was sitting in his chair reading the newspaper that Jason had thoughtfully slid under the door. After thanking Jenny, he placed the food on the table and went through to his bedroom, knocking politely on the door before entering.

Malinda lay on her back, the covers kicked away. One of her knees was bent, giving him an excellent view of her sex and the sight of her fingers pleasuring herself. Her eyes were closed and she was making those little whimpers of pleasure that meant she was close to climaxing. He was immediately as hard as stone again. With all the composure he could gather, he set his jaw, walked over to the bed, and cleared his throat.

Her eyes flew open. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t realize you were there, I—”

He patted her cheek. “I just wanted you to know that supper is on the table. Please feel free to join me when you’re done.”

He bowed and went out, his cock aching like a toothache. She’d done that quite deliberately. He wanted to go back in there, spank her, and then fuck her so hard that she wouldn’t be able to walk or argue with him for a week.

“Are you all right, Benedict?” He jumped as he noticed Adam Fisher sitting in the chair by the fire he had so recently vacated.

“How did you get in here?”

“You know I can get in anywhere.” Adam shrugged. “I heard you wanted to speak to me urgently, so I came as soon as I could.” His gaze dropped to the huge bulge in Benedict’s breeches. “Did I catch you at a difficult moment?”

“Don’t try to distract me.” Benedict snapped. “Perhaps you’d like to explain why you sent me off to find my wife?”

“Oh, that.” Adam waved a careless hand. “I merely thought it was time you reclaimed her.”

“She doesn’t consider herself my responsibility. She says that my father legally dissolved the marriage.”

“Did he?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that she’d returned to England?”

“What would the fun have been in that? I simply decided to allow the letter she’d sent you to get through.”

“Where did you acquire the information?”

“From a mutual acquaintance at the pleasure house.”

“Who?”

“So many questions,” Adam murmured. “It was one of the French women who works there. I believe she met your lovely wife when they were both following the army. They’ve kept in contact for years.”

“That explains a lot.” He fixed Adam with a fulminating glare. “It does not, however, excuse your behavior. What in the devil were you thinking, sending me up there to deal with a madwoman? Didn’t you know we parted on extremely bad terms?”

“One had to assume so, seeing as you haven’t seen or spoken to each other for over eighteen years.”