Unmasking the Spy (27 page)

“Rogue,” she said haltingly. “Do
not say no.”

“I’m sorry.” He turned sideways
to gaze out the window, presenting her with his inscrutable profile. “I have
come to tell you I shall not be pressing my suit after all.”

“You cannot mean it,” she
breathed.

He did not turn from the window.
“It is my deepest regret.”

Near tears, she tugged at his
arm, trying to make him face her. “But Rogue,” she pleaded. “I love–”

His fingers gripped her upper
arms to shake her before she realized he’d even turned. “Do not say it,
sweeting. I implore you.”

She stared at him in the
darkness. All her dreams were just that – dreams. She would have sacrificed
everything for him. Her social standing. Her economic security. Her reputation.
Anything – just to have him as her own, to have a taste of love.

His fingers still wrapped around
her arms. Alicia reached up to push them away but halted when her palms covered
his hands. He’d called her “sweeting.” All was not lost. Arms crossed over her
chest, she squeezed his hands with hers.

“I cannot hide my feelings,” she
whispered. His hands trembled.

 “I’m leaving. We’ll not meet
again.”

“Where are you going?”

“Might as well be another world.”

“Take me with you,” she begged,
flinging her arms around his neck. He did not pull away.

“I cannot,” he whispered
hoarsely. “I would not. Please don’t ask it of me.”

Pushing up with her toes, Alicia
brushed his open mouth with her own. As if he couldn’t help himself, he
captured her lip between his teeth then claimed her mouth in a searing kiss
before pushing her away.

“Elizabeth, no. I shouldn’t have
come. I can’t stay.”

“Then tonight is all we have,”
Alicia answered, straining against him until their breath mingled moist and hot
and desperate.

“You don’t know what you’re
asking. I cannot agree to… to this.”

“Then don’t speak,” she murmured
and trapped his mouth with hers, sliding her tongue along his lower lip and
pressing her body against him. He was still as a statue for only a second
before his arms clamped around her and the kiss turned carnal.

He loved her. Or, if he didn’t
quite yet, she’d make him love her! If necessary, she’d use that misguided
sense of honor to trap him to her any way possible. She had to. She could stop
at nothing. Take no chances. If giving herself to him was what it took to bind
him to her, then so be it. They were destined to be together. She meant to
prove it.

Alicia’s fingers tangled in the
back of Rogue’s hair as she clutched his collar and refused to end the kiss,
for fear he might refuse her unspoken offering.

His hands fumbled at the back of
her nightdress. When she felt the first draft of cold air against her naked
skin, she allowed herself a grin of triumph. Her plan was working! Soon, Rogue
would be her husband. Tonight, she would marry him in her heart.

The rough pads of his fingers
skated down her naked back, sending a shiver of excitement in their wake. He
cupped her derrière with both hands and lifted her to him. Her legs wrapped
around his waist of their own volition and he turned to place her on the
cushioned window seat without breaking the heat of their kiss.

Even with the dim light of the
moon to her back, the stiff black mask obscured his eyes, but she could feel
the proof of his desire in the hard ridge pulsing against the juncture of her
thighs. A small shudder trembled down her spine and her nipples hardened in
response.

With one hand on her lower back,
keeping her pressed against his arousal, his other hand slid up her shoulder to
stroke her cheek before pushing the thin cloth of her nightdress from her
chest. He freed both swollen breasts, his caressing palm alternating between
them, cupping and squeezing and teasing.

A swirl of heat began between her
thighs and spread throughout her body. Everywhere he touched, her skin seemed
to tighten and respond, and whenever his artful hands moved elsewhere, she
ached for their return.

His head dipped to her chest,
foregoing kisses to capture one straining nipple between gentle teeth. Alicia
gasped and arched her back, the involuntary response affording him even greater
access. He cupped her breasts with both hands, smothering his face between them
and pressing his lips to the valley between. The rough skin of his unshaved
cheeks taunted her nipples further, making Alicia writhe against him in
exquisite agony.

He ran his hands down her sides
and up her trembling legs, pushing her nightdress up to her waist. With one
last lick to each erect nipple, he dropped to his knees and settled his face
between her thighs before her muddled mind had a moment to imagine what he
might be planning to do.

The first swipe of his tongue
against her moist skin nearly caused Alicia to scream, and she gripped his hair
with her hands, unsure if she should force him up or trap him to her. His
fingers found their way back to her breasts, kneading and pinching and rubbing,
and Alicia couldn’t hear herself think over the sound of her own panting
breaths.

Just when she thought she
couldn’t stand the sweet torture a moment longer, an explosion of pure
sensation wracked her body. Her toes twitched, her legs contracted against his
head, and her breath caught her lungs in short, convulsive gasps.

Before the spasms had completely
ceased, Rogue sprang to his feet and had his pantaloons unfastened within
seconds. Something long and hard and thick bobbed against her trembling thighs
and the tip pressed against the still-sensitive skin between. He thrust inside
with one quick movement, his hand clapped across her mouth to drown her
startled scream as he punctured her last trace of innocence.

Alicia felt stretched, filled, claimed.
Stimulated. His hand reached down to where their bodies joined, and before she
could do more than grip his arms to hold on, the heady sensation returned, this
time ripping through them both.

Contented, she sagged against
him, barely noticing as he carefully withdrew, retied his pantaloons and laced
her nightdress back around her shoulders. He was incredible. Wonderful. Hers.

She opened her mouth to spill out
her whole sad story, beginning with the truth of her name and ending with the
damnable scandal, but he silenced her with a kiss. She broke away after a long
moment, blissfully happy and determined to tell him how much he meant to her.

“Oh, Rogue,” she began in a
dreamy voice. “When we marry–”

He recoiled, horror evident in
both his posture and his voice.

“What?” he choked out, running an
agitated hand through his hair. “I told you I couldn’t. Elizabeth, this was
good-bye.”

A blade of devastating truth
sliced through her soul as Alicia realized how wrong she’d been. “Rogue,” she
begged, both her voice and heart breaking. She reached out in a desperate bid
to cling to him, but he sprang back, holding up the palms of his hands.

“No. No. No,” he stammered,
glancing around the room as if he hoped a hole would burst forth and swallow
him whole. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize – oh, Elizabeth. Don’t you know how
I feel for you? Don’t you know I’d marry you if only I could? This was supposed
to be good-bye. I never even meant to kiss you. You’re just so damn
irresistible, and I couldn’t bear to leave you – oh, God. I shouldn’t have
come. I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”

And on these words, he spun
around and ran from the room, leaving her to pick up the pieces of her
shattered heart, straighten her blood-stained nightdress, and confine herself
to a living hell, knowing first thing in the morning, before God and her
father, she’d be pledging herself to a perfectly nice man – no longer a virgin.

*          *          *

No man ever stood at the altar
feeling guiltier than he. Just when Ian thought he couldn’t have mucked up his
life any more than it already was, he’d had to have one last look at Elizabeth. How arrogant to think he’d waltz in and out of her life unscathed. How stupid
to think she’d let him. He deserved the torture his conscience now inflicted
upon him for his reckless night of desperate lovemaking – but Elizabeth did
not. There was no sense wishing he’d made love to her on their marriage bed
instead of a window seat. He hadn’t.

He was the worst kind of cad and
sure to burn in hell, God save him.

And Alicia – poor Alicia! –
looked just as miserable. She didn’t want to marry any more than he did, but
here she was, putting on a brave face and forcing herself to go through with
it. She looked young. Beautiful. Stoic.

Ian considered his new wife as
they rushed through a farce of a wedding breakfast before changing clothes and
bundling into his waiting coach. She deserved a chance at happiness. He would
have to put all thoughts of Elizabeth behind him and concentrate on Alicia.

She sat ramrod straight, encased
in an emerald green carriage dress and staring silently out the window as they
rolled out of London. When they rolled over a large rut in the road, she winced
and changed position a little, but continued to gaze outside, saying nothing.

He would have to break the
silence himself.

“Heatherley is very nice,” he
offered, hating the halting sound to his voice. “I hope you won’t mind the
country. I miss it very much.”

At first, he was afraid she would
not respond, but after a long moment she turned her head and met his eyes. “I’m
sure I will like it above all else,” she said.

Ian hesitated, unsure whether or
not she was placating him.

“If something disagrees with you
there,” he said after a minute, “be sure to let me know. I want you to be
comfortable.”

She nodded and then cocked her
head to peer at him with curiosity. “What do you miss the most about
Heatherley?”

“My horse,” he answered with an
irreverent grin, pleased to find he’d startled a smile out of her.

“What’s his name?”

Ian blinked. For some reason, he
hadn’t anticipated that question. “His name,” he answered with a small cough,
“is Pegabus.”

“Pegabus?” she asked doubtfully.
“Is that like… Pegasus?”

“No, no, nothing like that.
Pegasus would be a stupid name. Quite unmanly. His name is Pegabus. After the
famous Greek, er, warrior. You know, in myths.”

Alicia raised her eyebrows,
clearly convinced he was bamming her, but turned her gaze back to the window
with a smile in her eyes.

Ian grimaced. Why hadn’t she asked
what sort of horse he was, or what color, or how long he’d had him? Just add
“lying through his teeth” to his ever-growing list of faults.

Or perhaps there really was a
mythological figure named Pegabus. Who knew? Pegabus the Mighty Warrior. It
might have happened. Ian glared out his window. It wasn’t his fault Pegasus was
such a stupid name. He should never have allowed Carlotta to name the beast. It
wasn’t even a Pegasus. It was a horse. And he was an idiot, if the best he
could come up with was “Pegabus.”

Besides, she was bound to learn
the truth about Pegasus – and any other stories his delightful sisters decided
to tell – as soon as she arrived at Heatherley.

*          *          *

As she watched the miles stretch
past her window, Alicia tried her best to relax. She couldn’t help but feel she
was en route to her execution. At the very least, some harsh judgment was due
her once Ian learned his new bride wasn’t the innocent he expected. She’d even
considered telling him before the ceremony in order to give him one last chance
to cry off, but in a guilt-laden mire of self-loathing, she could not make
herself do it. Where would she have gone? Her life would have been more ruined
than it already was.

It hadn’t helped that Ian had
stood before the altar looking healthy and handsome and just as wretched as she
felt. How horrible to have to take a wife because of honor. Alicia twisted in
her seat as the coach rumbled over another patch of uneven ground. She wouldn’t
be so uncomfortable today if she’d shown a bit more honor herself last night.
She’d let her blind love for Rogue outweigh all other considerations, without a
single thought to Ian Morrissey.

She was a heartless wench, it
seemed. Well, no more. It wasn’t Ian’s fault she’d already fallen in love
before she met him. Although her heart was bruised and sore, she owed him
nothing less than her loyalty, and the respect to give their marriage an honest
try. What else did he have to look forward to?

Unbidden, the memory of her
father’s illegible scratch-marks came to mind. Alicia narrowed her eyes in
suspicion. She’d been too overwrought to study the final numbers when she
signed the marriage contract, but a dowry like that would be enough to interest
any man in her hand. She cast Ian a sidelong glance. Perhaps the supposed “compromise”
had been a contrived affair, and she’d fallen right into the hands of the sort
of money-grubbing bounder she’d hoped to avoid.

Alicia sniffed. If that was the
case, he deserved what he got. She’d lost her innocence in more ways than one,
and she wasn’t going to fall victim to just another handsome face. She’d been
blind not to realize he was bound to be far more attracted to the Chadwick
fortune than to her. Just the thought of what an unmitigated fool she’d been
over the past few weeks was enough to send Alicia into an ill-concealed fit of
rage.