The King's Code (The Lady Spies Series #3): A Regency Historical Romance (21 page)

His stomach flipped, knowing she would learn.

God, how this woman would learn.

Seamus placed his hand on her waist and watched as his fingers glided over the spectacular curve of her right hip. He splayed his hand across her belly, the tip of his last finger getting lost in the thatch of alluring curls between her thighs. He stared at his hands on Juliet’s body with such a deep sense of possession that it startled him.

Troubled, he turned Juliet to face him and bent his head to kiss her. He parted her lips, sliding his tongue into her mouth as his hands slid over her bare backside while his mind claimed her as his.

≈

It was the dead of winter and she should have been cold. Instead, she was anything but. The heat in his eyes and the warmth of his touch was setting her alight.

“I want you to teach me, Seamus,” she whispered into his mouth, knowing no other man from whom she could learn. His golden eyes met hers and for one terrifying moment she thought he would deny her. “Teach me.”

He would. She could see his decision etched in his features, and she let out the breath she had been holding, only to suck it in again when he kissed the hollow of her throat. Juliet reveled in the feel of his lips pressed against so vulnerable a place.

Seamus was taking an eternity unbuttoning his waistcoat and Juliet found herself rising to her knees to help him out of it. It fell to the floor and her breath was becoming labored as each stud on his shirt gave way, revealing that magnificent chest.

The hard plains of his stomach contracted as Juliet unfastened the remaining studs. Not bothering with the cuffs, he turned the sleeves of the linen shirt inside out. When he was free, they reached for each other, his hands on her lower back and hers on his shoulders.

Seamus kissed her again, crushing her breasts to his bare chest. Her nipples tingled as if they had just been awoken to a new purpose and she wanted to feel more. His head lowered and he took her left breast in his mouth. She moaned. Impatient, she pushed on his shoulders and Seamus stood up, ripping his trousers from his body.

My lord, he was stunning.

Juliet was shaking with desire, but Seamus must have thought it was from the chill of the study because he lay her beneath a blanket and joined her. He did not say a word as his mouth returned to her breast. He lightly raked his teeth across her nipple and Juliet jumped, her nails digging into his muscular back.

“Do that again,” she begged and Juliet saw him grin before shifting his dark head to her right breast.

She closed her eyes, bracing herself to be overwhelmed, but after a moment her brows furrowed and she opened her eyes.

He was watching her and she hit him in the shoulder, demanding, “Seam—” But his name died on her lips, converting to “Oh” as he took her nipple into his mouth.

His lips moved between her breasts and he softly kissed his way down her stomach. But when his mouth continued to descend, Juliet slowly closed her thighs.

“I’m going to bring you to climax, Juliet.” She heard his baritone brogue in the air.

Her thighs were eased apart by gentle caresses of masculine hands, and she could feel his ragged breath before she felt the heat of his mouth. Her mind leapt at new sensations while her body melted into the carpet.

He laved deeper and Juliet could feel the moisture of his mouth mingling with the heat between her thighs.

Seamus moaned as he tasted her desire and Juliet grew hotter still. She stole a peek at her spectacular tutor; his broad shoulders and bare back were so beautiful. He probed again and her eyes drifted closed, focusing on the lesson he was teaching her.

The pleasure he was giving her turned to urgency, but she didn’t know for what.

“Seamus?” Juliet asked, wanting more, and he gave it to her. Caressing and laving, focusing his attention on a particular protrusion as if he knew her body better than she did herself.

She attempted to move away from him but his strong hands held the tops of her thighs, keeping her where he wanted her to be. Seamus continued his ministrations until her nipples began to harden and she arched her back, opening herself to him before fracturing into incalculable pieces.

Juliet did not breathe, did not think, did not even move until she was sure that she had felt every spectacular rush of sensation.

“No wonder men think of nothing else.”

“It is better with some than with others.” Seamus smiled, pleased with himself.

“Well, you’re not going to disappoint me, are you?”

Seamus was busy crawling over Juliet, the taste of her pleasure still fresh in his mind.

“Disappoint you?” was all he could manage, his life’s goal to be buried inside her.

“Your drawers, remember?” She was looking up at him, smiling. “I want to see you, Seamus.”

The appeal was flattering, but it would involve getting off her and his body was downright rebelling.

“All right, lass,” Seamus said, knowing he would have to shed his garments either way.

He stood, fussing with the drawstring to his drawers, and Juliet came to her knees. The blanket fell away from her spectacular breasts, turning her nipples a pebbled pink. Seamus looked at the lust in her eyes and he grew harder still.

“I would never want to disappoint you, Juliet.” He grinned, watching her eyes carefully as he dropped his drawers.

She took a sharp breath and stared at his erection. He was afraid that she would change her mind when she ordered on an airy breath, “Turn around.”

“Why?” Seamus asked, curious as to how her mind worked.

“You have the most magnificent backside in your buckskins and I want to see if . . . Oh, yes . . .” She was speaking to herself. “I much prefer your bare backside to your buckskins.”

Seamus laughed and then crawled over her, pushing her onto her back.

Juliet looked up at him and Seamus could not help kissing her. He never seemed to be able to stop himself from kissing her.

He lowered himself on top of her naked body and closed his eyes, shaking with need. She spread her legs, a quick study, and Seamus began rocking his hips, teaching her the rhythm of lovemaking and reigniting her desire.

“Oh, Seamus,” she lifted her hips to meet his. “You feel so . . . right.”

“Wait until I’m inside you, Juliet,” he whispered, unsure if he could.

Seamus placed himself at her entrance and stared down at the brilliant women he would make love to. He closed his eyes with anticipation, but he hesitated. She was an innocent unjustly accused, and if he were to take her virtue, so, too, would he take the proof of her innocence.

“Juliet, once I’ve . . .” He shook his head, his arms shaking with want of her. “There’s no turning back.”

“I do realize that, Seamus,” Juliet said, annoyed. “Now stop thinking, because at the moment I am more interested in your exquisite body than your exquisite mind.”

Seamus grinned to himself, gathering Juliet in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, easing forward. Juliet closed her eyes and bit her lip and he bit his, but eventually she withdrew her nails from digging into the flesh on his back.

“Are you all right, Juliet?”

“Yes, but I must confess I liked climaxing better.”

“This gets better, I promise you.” Seamus surged forward gently, teaching her with each languid stroke. He kissed her to ease his path, but the clever Juliet caught on quickly and emulated his movements.

God above, she felt . . . “right.”

“Oh,” she moaned in surprise as he buried himself to the hilt.

Seamus balled his hands into fists as he concentrated on her needs, not his. But with each feminine gasp of discovery, he could feel himself losing control. His steady strokes were becoming increasingly urgent and he was not sure how much longer he could restrain himself as she cried out with each of his thrusts.

“Open yourself to me, Juliet,” he whispered in her ear.

Her hands slid down his back and her cries became more frequent until finally they were one long moan broken only by the need for her to breathe.

“Seamus?” she managed.

“Yes?” He could not think as he buried himself in her warmth.

“Can a woman peak more than once?”

A flash of lust stole the breath from his lungs so it took a moment for him to answer. “Oh, God, yes,” he said, speaking more of the pleasure she was giving him than to answering her question.

“Good, because . . .” And then he felt her feminine muscles tightening around him and for the first time in his life Seamus lost control.

~

In
the foggy corners of his mind, Seamus heard the bedchamber door open. He took a deep breath of contentment and mumbled against the silk sheets as he lay on his stomach, “Come back to bed, Juliet,” with the hope of making love to her in the morning light.

Last night he had made love to her in the study, in his chair, and in his bed, but he had yet to make love to Juliet in the morning light.

Soft footsteps drew nearer the bed and he smiled with anticipation.

“I’d rather you get the fuck up!”

Seamus was so startled by his older brother’s voice that he flipped over, wrapping himself in his sheets as tightly as his newfound predicament.

“Daniel?” He stated the obvious, lifting the sheet to cover his naked hips. “What are you—”

His heart stopped and he went still, faced with the wrath of the three other gentlemen littered about his bedchamber.

Seamus glanced to his right and saw the eerie silence of the Earl of Wessex staring back at him from a corner chair, his countenance as cold and as hard as ice.

A flash of bright color drew his eye to Christian St. John, who paced back and forth like the wind bouncing off the sides of a highland canyon. The man was mumbling to himself as he stared at the floor and Seamus followed his movements, straining to hear what curses were being cast upon him.

“I knew it,” Christian was saying. He stopped and looked at Daniel, who was still standing over him. “I knew it.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Christian?” Daniel erupted, his turquoise eyes burning into Seamus. “None of us knew what a bloody idiot my brother was until this morning. Give me a drink, Gilbert, before I flatten the stupid git.” Daniel ran his hands through his auburn hair and then remembered to close the bedchamber door.

The Duke of Glenbroke rose like an ancient oak and tried to steady the disturbance of the others.

“Perhaps,” the duke began, lifting a drink to Daniel as he closed the ground between them in two strides, “we should hear what Seamus has to say for himself.”

“Yes, I am most anxious to hear what explanation Mister McCurren has to offer for bedding Lady Juliet,” the Earl of Wessex said, the chill in his voice reaching across the room and plunging deep into his chest.

Christian stopped pacing and joined the other men as they all stared at Seamus, demanding an answer.

“I don’t have one.” Seamus stared back.

“You don’t have one.” Daniel exploded. “You don’t bloody have one!” His brother came around the side of the bed so that they were face to face, eye to eye. “You just ruined the lass that we”—his arm swept over the room— “were trying very hard to salvage, and all you can say for yourself is ‘I don’t have one’!”

Seamus opened his mouth and shook his head, but all that escaped was air.

“I knew it,” Christian said again, prompting Daniel to spin round.

“You knew what, Christian?” he asked, annoyed.

“I knew he was in love with Juliet Pervill.”

Seamus went rigid, his mind protesting Christian’s claim. “I’m not in love with Lady Juliet.”

“Aye, you are, Seamus.” Daniel nodded, betraying him. “You told me you wanted to kiss the lass the first time you met her.”

He groaned at the implication that he had set about to seduce Juliet, then he waited a few moments for the anger in the room to subside before looking up at the other men.

“Aye, I did want to kiss her, but that was—”

“So.” The duke took a step forward, trying to understand. “You are
not
in love with Juliet Pervill?”

“No,” Seamus answered, looking to his left.

“Then you are merely a libertine?” the earl asked from the right.

“No!” Seamus cringed.

“Well, if you are not a libertine . . .” Christian stepped around the winged-back chair, his Nordic blue eyes clear. “That would leave only one answer to this little problem.”

A large hand clasped Seamus’s shoulder and then squeezed so hard that it all but broke his collarbone. “You’ll ask Lady Juliet Pervill to marry you,” his brother ordered.

Seamus couldn’t breathe and his head snapped round so that he might read the level of sincerity in his brother’s turquoise eyes.

“This afternoon,” the duke added as the other gentlemen stared at Seamus, nodding their agreement.

“Aye,” he agreed, knowing that asking for Juliet’s hand was the honorable thing to do and that he would have done so himself.

But not quite so soon.

≈

“How are you feeling?”

Juliet sighed, wishing she had never told Felicity what had happened last night. She should have realized her virtuous cousin would not understand. But she had to explain to Felicity why she had been out until four in the morning. And truth be told, Juliet had been bursting to share the momentous event with her dearest friend.

She was a woman now, well and true, and Juliet couldn’t be happier.

Her cousin had thought it a great tragedy, of course, but Juliet forgave Felicity her ignorance.

“I feel wonderful.” If a bit sore.

“You could be carrying his child, Juliet.” Her cousin’s eyes were soft and void of reproach. “So, you had better eat something.”

“Oh, I shall. I am absolutely famished.” Juliet pushed herself upright.

“Well, I’m pleased you’ve slept for so long as I think we can now discuss what happened with clear heads.”

“I was perfectly clearheaded last night,” she said, annoyed.

Felicity rose, pouring them both coffee, saying, “I beg to differ.”

“You just don’t understand, Felicity.” Juliet sighed, dismissing her cousin’s uninformed advice.

“Don’t be so condescending, Juliet. You could have created a child last night and you have no husband. What else is there to understand?”

“Passion.”

Felicity’s eyes went cold and Juliet stilled. “You think I know nothing of passion?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Just because I do not wear my heart on my sleeve does not mean I have never desired to be with a man.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really!”

“Sorry, I just . . . Well, I had no idea.”

“Neither does he, which is rather the point, Juliet. A lady does not take to bed any gentleman she fancies.”

“A respectable lady does not, I agree. But if you will remember, I am no longer a respectable lady.”

“That is not true. The
ton
was coming round.”

“Were they?” Juliet raised a doubtful brow.

“Yes, the scandal was all but forgotten but now . . .” Felicity sipped her coffee, agitated. “Thank the lord no one will ever know of this misstep.”

“What do you mean?”

“Christian dropped by this morning,” her cousin said and Juliet stilled. “He knew how upset I had been when I could not find you at the ball.”

“But I was told you left early because your father was . . . ill.” Of course Lord Appleton had not been ill.

“Who on earth told you that?”

That lying Scot!

“Never mind.” Juliet shook her head, her heart racing with the urgency of her question. “What did you tell Christian?”

“That you had made your way home.”

“And?” She couldn’t breathe.

Felicity looked at the counterpane. “Christian could see that I was distraught and he asked if you were well. I began to cry . . . and—”

“You told him!”

Juliet sucked in a breath but no air was left in the room. Her hand flew to her throat in a vain effort to ease her breathing.

“Juliet!” Felicity reached for a newspaper and began fanning her furiously. The light began to dim and Juliet made another futile attempt at breathing. “Mister Barnes!” her cousin shouted to the senior footman. “Send for Countess Per—”

“If . . .” Juliet held up a hand to still the footman’s progress. “You bring my mother into this situation . . .” She had to breathe. “I will
never
forgive you.”

Frustrated tears filled Juliet’s eyes and she could see the shock on Felicity’s face when her cousin realized that she meant it.

“You may leave, Mister Barnes.” Felicity turned away from her, the hurt thick in her soft voice. “I’ll not tell your mother.”

“Thank you.” Juliet took a shaky breath and her clammy forehead began to cool.

She forced herself to the edge of the bed, taking another breath, and actually felt the air slipping down her lungs rather than being stuck between her shoulders.

“Here you are.” Her cousin handed Juliet a cup of coffee with such grace that no one would ever suspect that she was angry. “It doesn’t matter. Your mother will know soon enough,” Felicity said as if she was sure.

Juliet stared at her cousin in no mood for the perpetual sunshine that spouted from Felicity’s perfect mouth. Yet something in the manner in which she was looking at her made Juliet ask, “What do you mean, my ‘mother will know soon enough’?”

“Don’t you see?” Felicity smiled. “He’ll have to marry you now.”

“Who? Robert?” Juliet shook her head, confused. “He’s only just proposed!”

“Robert Barksdale proposed to you?” Felicity asked, shocked.

“Yes, last night. I was so tired when I arrived home that I forgot to tell you.”

“You forgot to tell me that a man offered to make you his wife?” Felicity just stared at her, dumbfounded.

“My mind was . . . occupied.”

“Yes, I am sure that it was, but how did you go from a marriage proposal to another man’s bed?” Felicity was angry and then swept it away with a wave of her hand. “I’m sorry, Juliet. It doesn’t matter any longer. I woke you to give you time to ready yourself.”

“Ready myself for what?”

“Seamus McCurren will arrive this afternoon to make you an offer.”

“What!” Juliet jumped to her feet. “How could you possibly know his intentions?”

“Christian . . .” Felicity hesitated. “Christian went to Daniel and Daniel—”

“Did what? What did Daniel do?”

“He enlisted the aid of Wessex and Glenbroke to have a chat with Seamus.”

Juliet was going to be ill.

“Mister McCurren should have asked for your hand last night and our four friends merely pointed out his oversight.”

“Four?”

“Christian accompanied them, of course.”

Juliet’s mind drained of everything but the image of a disgruntled Seamus McCurren as he took his obligatory vows to the plain Lady Juliet Pervill.

It was a nightmare and Felicity kept adding to the ugly scene.

“He’ll marry you and then you can live in his town home, which is not really all that far from ours.” Juliet just turned and stared at her cousin, unable to form any words. “And if you are not already increasing, you soon will be. And if ever I marry, we can raise the cousins together, as we were raised.”

Juliet dropped to her knees as Felicity planned the details of her life, which prompted her cousin to look down, asking, “What are you doing?”

“Praying.” Juliet kept her eyes closed and curled her fingers over her hands. “Praying that God will strike me dead.”

“Don’t say such horrible things,” Felicity gasped.

But at the moment Juliet did not care, wanting only for this afternoon never to arrive.

≈

Freshly bathed, Seamus was pulling his shirt over his head when he heard his bedchamber door open.

“You’re still here?” Seamus asked, glancing at Christian before violently jabbing at his shirttail as it disappeared beneath his buckskins.

“Still here,” Christian said, walking to a chair. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Yes,” Seamus said, but he didn’t really. He was glad for the company but not willing to talk about last night. Not willing to talk about Juliet. “I didn’t see Ian with your merry little band.”

“He’s gone for the weekend.” Christian poured them both long drinks. “I think it had something to do with your sister-in-law’s plea for eligible gentlemen to attend her ball.”

“Eligible?” Seamus swung his cravat around his neck. “Yes, the lady is not yet aware of the fear that word strikes in the gentlemen of the
ton
.”

Christian took a sip of brandy as Seamus focused his attention on tying the silk noose around his neck. “And how does marriage strike you?”

Seamus’s hands jerked at the silk.

“Damnation!” He stared at the misshapen cravat in the mirror, stared at anything but his insightful friend.

“I’ll summon your valet, if you answer the question.”

Seamus stared into the mirror, knowing there was no getting away from the man.

“I don’t know.” Seamus turned away from his reflection and sat in a chair opposite St. John’s. “I suppose it strikes me about as well as it strikes any man.”

“Well, my friend,” Christian said, crossing his legs, “I believe I can help you.”