Chapter Thirty-One

After the police constables had removed Mr. Tremont’s body from the room, Marcus and Kat spent the next half an hour sifting through the late man’s lodgings, but found nothing that would assist in either revealing the Chameleon’s identity or exactly how he was going to make an attempt on Lord Newtown’s life.

All they discovered was a small suitcase containing some men’s clothes, shoes, and toiletry items, and a lone violin leaning against Tremont’s trunk. Nothing to suggest Tremont was an assassin or at all immersed in a world of cloak and daggers.

Marcus felt the usual frustration at being too late roll around inside him. Damn it, if they’d only been a few minutes earlier, they might have saved the man’s life.

Mr. Tremont’s pockets hadn’t been all that forthcoming either. He’d had little in the way of interest in them, except for a business card in his bill fold to none other than the Corinthian Club. Though what the man had been doing in Bramsfield and what role he was potentially meant to have played in the events unfolding was anyone’s guess.

The innkeeper was too traumatized to say much apart from what a nice fellow Mr. Tremont had been and that he’d checked into the inn two days ago under extremely positive circumstances. The man had apparently been ecstatic about a new job offer.

From the corner of his eyes, through the windowpane, he saw Sir Albert climb into his carriage to depart for London to make some more inquiries on Mr. Tremont and how he was linked to this whole mess. Marcus had given Sir Albert a quick briefing only a short time ago, and the man had used that information to finally convince the Prince to return to London posthaste, though his companion Lady Brighthope had insisted on staying for the festivities. The woman did seem to thrive on the dangerous.

The local constabulary had sent patrols through the village and neighboring countryside to look for the assailant, but it appeared he’d long since vanished.

The man’s face was vivid in Marcus’s head. Had they just seen the Chameleon? Was that the man who killed Elizabeth and played a part in framing his brother as a traitor? Frustration rolled through him like a freight train.

Unable to help himself, he walked over to the door of the room and slammed his fist into the wood, the action helping to release some of the pent-up anger inside him, though it did send a jolt of pain down his forearm, damn it.

“Are you all right?” Kat asked as she finished looking through the man’s trunk.

“No, I bloody well am not.” He couldn’t seem to control the restless energy surging through him. “We nearly had him, Kat! But he slipped through our fingers again.” Marcus clicked his fingers. “Just like that, he was here, then he was gone.”

She walked over to where he stood by the door and placed a calming hand on his arm. “Trust me, I’ve thought of nothing else since. He fit the description Sir William gave to us of the man who attempted to kill him.”

“I know.”

“We will catch him,” Kat replied. “Though, we need to get back before we’re missed, and a good ride will help.”

Yes. He needed some exercise to get rid of this sense of listlessness and bitter disappointment that rolled around his mouth like a sour grape.

A few minutes later, after they’d mounted their horses, they cantered out of the village just as dark clouds began to sweep in overhead like a perfect reflection of Marcus’s mood.

“Do you think that was the Chameleon?” she asked, glancing back over her left shoulder at him as they made their way through the woods back to Newtown’s estate.

Marcus sighed. “I don’t know. A face is easy to disguise but one’s stature is not. He certainly fits the size of the man Sir William described, but he’s a great deal larger than the waiter at the opera.”

Kat pursed her lips. “Yes, I’d made that same observation, which begs the question, is the Chameleon working with others? And if that’s the case, then we are well and truly in the dark.”

Marcus’s face was stormy. “We need to get more answers from that damn woman again, and this time she’ll be wise not to refuse to answer them. We need to know the name of her client.” Brighthope knew more than just the man’s identity, Marcus would place money on it.

A flash of lighting illuminated the trees surrounding them, and was quickly followed by a crack of thunder that rumbled through the forest. A second later, heavy drops of rain began to pelt down from the heavens above.

Marcus pulled up his horse alongside her own. “We can’t stay in this.”

“There was that old hunting lodge not far away,” Kat said. “We could seek shelter there.”

He nodded in agreement, waiting for Kat to precede him, before he too urged his horse forward through the downpour.

About five minutes later, they arrived at the abandoned lodge, dripping wet and cold to the bone. There was a rather dilapidated thatched stable leaning to the side of the cottage, which they rode their horses into. It provided a reasonable amount of protection from the storm, though still had several leaks in its roof, which the rain poured through.

Marcus dismounted, his coat plastered to him and dripping wet puddles on the rough earth beneath as he tied up his stallion and then helped Kat dismount. She quickly began to tie her horse up while Marcus strode over to the main hunting lodge to check it was safe. He opened the door and peered inside. Apart from not having been used in years, with covers on everything and an inch or two of dust everywhere, it looked fine.

“All clear,” he hollered to Kat and then motioned her inside.

She ran out from the shelter and splashed through the mud-covered ground, before dashing inside the cottage.

Following her inside, Marcus closed the door behind him. As with the stable, the roof of the cottage had seen better days and the sound of water dripping onto the wooden floor echoed around the space. From the shape of the furniture under the dust covers, it looked as if there was a table in the center of the room, with some chairs underneath, and in the far corner was the outline of a bed.

Suddenly, the gravity of the situation hit him. He was alone, in an abandoned cottage with Kaitlyn Montrose, without any rubber sheaths to offer protection.

He was in trouble. Big trouble.

…

“I saw some wood outside in the stable,” Marcus abruptly said before he cleared his throat. “I’ll get some to start a fire. We need to dry off before we catch a chill.”

Kat watched as he stood staring at her for a moment, before abruptly turning toward the door and stalking outside, almost as if a band of cutthroats were on his tail.

He must really be cold, then as she glanced around the room, she became aware of the intimacy of the location. Surrounded by a storm, with not a person around for miles, except for her and Marcus. She glanced down at her clothes, which were plastered to her skin from the rain.

Hmm, perhaps she could take advantage of the situation? After all, she’d been craving to be with him again, but everything had been so hectic she’d been doubtful they’d get another chance, at least not until they’d apprehended the Chameleon.

She walked over and began removing the dust covers from the lounge beside the fireplace. She caught sight of a double bed in the far corner of the room.

The door creaked behind her and she glanced at Marcus as he stepped over the threshold carrying a pile of kindling and wood in his arms. He’d managed to use his coat to shield most of it from the downpour.

He followed her gaze to where she’d been looking and a dark glare fell over his face. She also thought she heard him swear softly under his breath, though wasn’t certain. Without looking at her, he walked straight to the fireplace and began loading it with what was in his arms. Once he’d stacked the wood and kindling into a small pile in the hearth, he stood and plucked a box of tinder from off the mantel and set to work lighting the fire.

The man didn’t look back at her the entire time.

It was rather strange, as she’d thought he’d also want to take full advantage of such a situation. She’d have to fix that. She unbuttoned the top clasp of her cloak and dragged the dripping garment from her shoulders. The rain had soaked through the fabric of her dress and chemise, all the way through to her skin.

Even her boots squelched with water as she padded over to the small kitchen area, while Marcus lit the fire. She draped her cloak over a chair and then bent down and unlaced her black leather boots before pulling them from her stocking-clad legs.

The soft sound of wood crackling was a welcome one, and she looked over to see Marcus standing next to the hearth, doing all he could not to look at her, it seemed.

He pulled out his pocket watch and stared down at its face. “Ten past four. Even if the rain continues for a while, we should still have plenty of time to get back in time for dinner, with no one the wiser of our predicament.”

“And just what predicament is that?” Kat asked as she slowly began unbuttoning the small buttons at the front of her jacket. “I consider our situation fortuitous.”

“What are you doing?” His voice was slightly hoarse.

“What does it look like?” She raised an eyebrow but continued with the process. “I’m taking your advice.”

“I never told you to take your clothes off,” he practically groaned.

“You told me not to catch a chill, and I’m soaking wet and starting to get cold,” Kat said with a hint of exasperation. “Stop being such a prude. You should take your clothes off, too.”

“I don’t have any rubber sheaths with me,” he whispered under his breath. “And unlike last time, I don’t see you carrying your reticule with one inside.”

“We’ll adapt.” She eyed his dripping pants and shirt, and the growing puddle of water on the floor where he stood. “Now start undressing. We can’t afford for you to catch a chill, either.”

“Are you always so bossy?”

She grinned over at him. “You know I am.” But then a thought stopped her cold. “Don’t you want to continue our affair?”

He frowned fiercely back at her. “Of course I damn well do. But sometimes I can’t control myself with you. My body is addicted to yours, and in all truth, that scares me.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She grinned at him while she finished unbuttoning the jacket of her riding habit and peeled it off. Then she pulled open the snap studs on her special skirt and tugged it away from her body, revealing a pair of her specially tailored black trousers beneath, which hadn’t been spared the brunt of the downpour.

“This isn’t amusing, Kaitlyn.” He stomped over to the hearth and yanked his jacket off. “What if you fell pregnant from our escapades?”

“Are there ways to prevent a pregnancy without rubber sheaths?” She draped her skirt over one of the chairs in the kitchen area.

“Yes.” He reluctantly tugged off his waistcoat before beginning to unbutton his white shirt.

Her eyes were drawn to the thatch of dark hair on his chest as the fabric of the shirt was slowly removed. She turned around quickly, looking away from the sight. As much as she’d teased him, seeing his flesh in the broad light of day was more than she’d expected. And she realized he’d soon be seeing her naked in daylight, too. The thought was disconcerting, but not in an unpleasant way. “Then all will be fine, won’t it?”

Marcus grunted, now completely bare chested.

His arm and chest muscles were a sight to behold, especially with the flames from the hearth casting a golden glow across them. She wanted nothing more than to run her hands across the expanse of his chest once again, her fingers trailing over every muscle on his body.

The man was hard muscle all over. Not an ounce of flabbiness on his finely-crafted form. Her hands trembled as her gaze travelled down the mane of his chest hair, which tapered down and disappeared in a line past the belt buckle of his pants.

Never one to be patient, Kat approached Marcus where he stood. He sucked in a deep breath when she stopped a foot from him, his eyes seemingly glued to her chest. Following his gaze, she could see that through her wet chemise, the buds of her nipples were pressing tightly against the material, the rose color of them visible through the wet garment.

“You’re still not wearing a corset?”

“I have no need to.” She shrugged. “Madame Arnout sews the boning into all of my tops, or in this case my riding jacket. It maintains the shape but doesn’t restrict me as much.”

“This is not a good idea,” he muttered, still unable to look away from her chest.

Kat felt a wonderful sense of her own power as a woman. She pushed her chest out slightly and he groaned. “You said you don’t need a sheath to protect us, so I intend to take advantage of you.” Kat pulled her chemise over her head, exposing her naked breasts to him. It had been different the first time with him, as that had been in the depth of night. This was in the bright light of day. “Who knows when we’ll get another chance?”

He gulped, his eyes feasting on her breasts. “Why am I even bothering to resist?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Neither do I.” With a hoarse moan, Marcus took two steps toward her and pulled her into his arms. His mouth crashed down hungrily onto her own as he began kissing her with barely restrained passion.

Kat reached her hands up and wound them around his neck, pulling him in even closer against her. Opening her mouth, she met his tongue with her own, matching him thrust for thrust. She pressed her naked breasts up against his chest and marveled at the feel of his chest hair rubbing against her nipples.

He cupped her bottom and pulled her snug against him. Kat could feel the hard length of him through his pants. But that was not nearly good enough. She fumbled for the buttons of his trousers, and slowly pulled them away from their button holes, one by one, until she was able to pull his trousers down and over his hips.

His manhood stood proud before her, a thick smooth shaft begging to be touched. She couldn’t resist, and her fingers drifted across the hard length of him. “You’ve missed me.”

Marcus groaned, his cock leaping in response. “You invade my dreams every night.”

Emboldened by his words, she began stroking her hand across him, marveling at his smooth silkiness. Her very touch elicited a deep growl of pleasure from him.

Before she knew what was happening, he scooped her up into his arms and strode over to the bed. He set her down gently onto her feet, before quickly grabbing ahold of the dust cover and pulling it aside. Some dust flew into the air and Kat laughed.

Marcus grinned back at her, before lifting her into his arms again, and carrying her over, placing her down on the bed with care. He lay next to her and his eyes met hers. “Do you know how hard you make me? How much I want you?”

“I feel the same.” She brought her lips to his as she reached for her trousers and began to pull them off, to which he helped.

She moaned when his hand slid down the side of her now naked body, to rest between her legs. His fingers stroked her while he eased his lips from hers and began nuzzling her neck with his mouth.

She arched her body as one of his fingers teased its way into her passage and his thumb rubbed on the little bud at the juncture of her womanhood. The usual sense of overwhelming wonder came over her, like it had the last time. Her hips slowly gyrated against his hand.

His mouth travelled lower and trailed kisses over her chest, before he took one of her nipples into his mouth. Her skin prickled with thousands of bumps and she couldn’t help but moan.

Marcus raised his head and gazed down across her body. “So beautiful. I’ve never wanted another woman more,” he muttered, before he lowered his head to her other breast, eagerly paying it the same attention as he had the other.

Before she knew what he was about, Marcus pulled his mouth away from her breast and lowered his head between her thighs, his mouth now replacing where his hand had just been stroking. Kat nearly bolted off the bed as she felt his lips kiss her very center, his tongue flicking lightly across her flesh.

She moaned loudly as the feel of his lips devouring her sent a sensation of pure pleasure surging through her entire body. Her hands gripped his hair, urging him even closer against her. Kat felt a deep pressure building up inside her as the last vestiges of her control began to slip away.

“No, don’t stop,” she said when he tore his mouth from her, but was quickly silenced as he raised himself over her and his mouth returned to her lips, whilst his hard shaft pushed into her passageway. “I thought you didn’t have a sheath.”

He stopped kissing her and looked into her eyes. “I don’t, but as long as I pull out before I spill my seed, it should be fine. Is that all right?” he asked her, his voice sounding strained. “If you want me to stop, I can. Just tell me.”

“Don’t you dare stop. I’ve been looking forward to having you inside me again for days.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and arched herself against him, forcing him inside of her.

He began to thrust in and out of her, which she met with equal vigor. Urging her body closer, she knew she was on the edge of that delicious precipice he always took her to.

“That’s it, my darling.”

“Marcus,” she cried as he plunged into her again and a deep pressure in her center built to the point she thought she was going to burst. She could feel him starting to pull out, but she gripped his shoulders with both hands, her nails pressing down hard into his skin. “Stay inside me,” she begged as wave after wave of rapture began to cascade through her, and her whole body began to convulse around him as he groaned and continued to pump inside her.

A tingling wave of satisfaction burst within her as Marcus collapsed on top of her, his breath ragged and his body hot.

It felt as if she was a million miles away, floating high above everything, yet his body pressed against hers was a warm and gentle anchor returning her awareness to him. She wrapped her arms around him and felt his pounding heartbeat thrumming through his chest.

Having him inside of her was bliss, and his strength and heat calmed her as nothing else had in a long time. But then he gently pushed her away from him and sat up. She caught a glimpse of his face and realized he was wearing a frown, a very deep and cold frown. “What’s wrong?”

“I just came inside you.”

“Oh…” She had begged him to. “Yes, that was my fault, I didn’t want to lose the feeling of you inside me.”

“I’ll make the announcement tonight.”

“The announcement?” She had a very bad feeling with where he was headed with this.

“That we are engaged.” His words brooked no argument. “I’ll obtain a special license and we can marry within a few days.”

It took her a moment to fully comprehend him. “No. We most certainly will not!” She jumped out of the bed and stalked over to where her clothes had been tossed to the floor. With sharp motions, she pulled them on, knowing she wouldn’t feel comfortable arguing with him while she was naked. And argue they were definitely about to do. “I’m not marrying you because you spilled your seed inside of me.”

From where he sat on the edge of the bed, Marcus regarded her steadily. “You could be pregnant because of it.”

“Surely not just from one instance.” She shook her head vigorously.

“It only takes the one time,” he bit out. “We will marry and that’s the end of it.”

“You said you never wanted to marry again.”

“And I don’t. But I will marry you after what I just did.”

She couldn’t marry. If he ever found out the truth of her parentage, he’d never forgive her, or the scandal she could bring upon him. It would be like a cloud hanging over their heads. And she refused to lose her independence for any man, not even Marcus.

A long, heavy sigh came from his direction as she shoved her chemise on and then pulled her drawers and pants over her thighs. She glanced at him as he stood, but unlike her, he seemed comfortable arguing with her while nude.

For a second, she found herself distracted as she drank in the sight of him fully naked. She tamped down on the ridiculously feminine sensations she was beginning to feel simply from gazing at him. Surely, she was more sensible than to be overcome by looking at a male form. Even if his form was fine indeed.

Shaking her head, she narrowed her eyes and made herself stare directly into his eyes, and only his eyes. She wouldn’t allow herself to be distracted, which she had a feeling he knew full well his nakedness caused. “I told you I was prepared to have a liaison with you, not marry you. Besides, I’m sure it will be fine,” Kat said, praying it would be so. She turned and collected her damp skirt from the chair, then walked over to the fireplace, and stood in front of it, holding her skirt aloft in an effort to dry it and the trousers she was wearing.

“It’s not fine,” he growled, stooping and picking up his clothes, too. “You will marry me, Kaitlyn Montrose, and that is that.”

The man needed a lesson that she was not one of his servants to be bossed around. She arched an eyebrow. “I will not marry you, Marcus Black. And you can’t demand that I will and expect me to happily acquiesce to your proclamation.”

“When have you bloody ever acquiesced to anything I’ve told you to do? Never! That is when.”

“Well, then,” she pertly responded. “It should come as no surprise that I will not do so now either. Why you are even trying to push the matter, I do not know.”

“You’re impossible,” he grumbled. “What if you are pregnant?”

“Then we shall reassess the situation.”

He pulled on his trousers, his movements rough and hasty. “If you are with child, then we will marry, regardless of what we want.”

His words unexpectedly tugged at her heart. She knew he didn’t want to marry her but hearing him say so was another thing. It was only out of some misplaced sense of honor that he was demanding they marry. Well, she’d never marry anyone because of such a reason. Never.

Wrapping her skirt over her trousers, she clipped up the studs before walking across to where she’d draped her bodice over the chairs. Caring little about the damp material, she stuck her arms through the sleeves and did up the buttons on its front. Then she retrieved her boots and put them on, the wetness of everything only adding to her annoyance.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asked. “It’s still raining.”

“I’d rather put up with a thunderstorm,” she continued, pulling her cloak from the chair and swinging it on over her shoulders, “than endure listening to your preposterous demands and edicts for a moment longer.”

“Prep—for goodness sakes, I’m trying to do the right thing here, and you call it preposterous.” He shook his head in resignation. “Run away all you like, but this conversation is not finished.”

Stopping on her way to the front door, she glanced back at him. “I’m not running away. Instead, I’m leaving before your arrogance and high-handed manner cause me to do something I might regret. I have a temper, you know.”

He laughed. “As if I did not already know that!”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Perhaps then you should continue to remember my temper and the fact that I’m usually armed, and how annoying it would be to live with, day in and day out, if you continue to insist upon marriage!”

And with that, she stormed out the door and slammed it behind her.

There, that showed him.

She marched over to her horse, caring little for the rain washing over her as rage fueled her each and every step. Demand they marry, would he? The man had clearly underestimated who he was dealing with, so she was just going to have to show him how unsuited to marriage she really was.

And while she did that, she was also going to have to continue to remind herself quite sternly of that fact, too, because suddenly the idea of marrying Marcus wasn’t so repulsive at all.