Winn did not understand what had happened. When had women become spies? And when had they taken over the Barbican group? He’d never even seen a woman step through its doors before, and now there were two women in Melbourne’s office, and they were wreaking havoc. Wolf did not look as though he shared Winn’s opinion. He was watching Saint and smiling. “What are you smiling about?” Winn asked.
Wolf laughed. “It was a shock to me at first, but you’ll become used to the idea.”
“What idea?” Winn was appalled. “My wife is not going to become a spy.”
Wolf shrugged. “Too bad. She’d make a damn fine one.”
Winn could not argue with that. He’d always admired her efficiency and eye for detail. He’d watched her organize a lavish ball in three days flat. She could coordinate food, invitations, decoration, and musicians all at once and make it look easy.
But this was not a ball. This was serious. The Maîtriser group was a threat to the sovereignty of the nation, not a social event. “The problem,” Winn said, interrupting whatever the women were prattling on about, “is now that Foncé has relocated, we are back to where we started. Not to mention, I was not able to gather any intelligence regarding the plot to assassinate the prince regent. I’m afraid His Highness is still in grave danger.”
“Well, fortunately, as I was saying before you interrupted, I was able to gather intelligence on the plot,” Saint said.
“The assassination plot?” Winn asked incredulously. “I don’t think so.”
Wolf leaned closer. “Would you like me to hand you a shovel? That hole you are digging grows rather large.”
“I think Lord Melbourne can be the judge of that.” Saint opened the beaded scrap of fabric dangling from her wrist and pulled out two sheets of parchment. She unfolded them, smoothed them, and handed them to Melbourne.
Melbourne, who was leaning back in his chair and sipping brandy, took the papers and perused them. Winn had to resist the urge to snatch them out of Melbourne’s hand. Melbourne looked up at him, almost as though he’d read Winn’s mind. “Interesting reading. Where did you find this?”
Sophia smiled. “Adrian and I rifled one of the bedrooms. Those were in the desk.”
Winn scowled. He’d never even had a chance to search the house.
“The plans are not specific as to time and place,” Melbourne said, “but they do contain coded references. I’ll have one of our ciphers take a look.”
“I’ve already deciphered it,” Saint said, handing Melbourne a sheet of foolscap. “It lists names of agents working for the Maîtriser group.”
“If those agents are mentioned in the plans,” Elinor said, “they must be in London. Finding one of them might be the key to finding Foncé.”
Of course it was, Winn thought, still scowling. But it was annoying to have his wife think of the idea. She was not going to become a spy.
“Good point,” Melbourne said. Winn wanted to roll his eyes. Damn the secretary for encouraging her. “I’ll have some of our agents start canvassing the area. Unfortunately, most of our men are abroad.”
Winn was relieved to hear the secretary say men. He did not think he could have tolerated more women in the group.
“You four—”
“Three,” Winn interjected. Elinor gave him an annoyed glance.
But Melbourne continued unperturbed. “—will have to investigate as well. And that’s not all.”
“Bodyguards,” Wolf said, even as Winn thought it. Were they now going to be reduced to acting as the prince’s bodyguards?
“I’ll speak to His Royal Highness,” Melbourne said, “but you know how he is. He will be initially terrified and amenable to staying out of the public eye.”
“And then he’ll grow bored,” Saint added, “and want to venture out. I think this is an area where Lady Keating and I could prove even more useful.”
“How is that?” Elinor asked.
“No one will suspect two women as part of the prince’s entourage. I can protect him while Lady Keating watches for anyone or anything suspicious. If the Maîtriser group thinks the prince is unprotected, it might make Foncé’s men bolder. And if they act, I can intercept them.”
“Capital idea,” Melbourne said.
Winn clenched his hands around the arms of the chair. It was not capital, not at all. What Saint had not said explicitly was that everyone would think Lady Smythe and Lady Keating were the prince’s mistresses. Winn glanced at Wolf, who seemed to find the whole situation… if not amusing, not distressing. But Winn did not want his wife associated with the prince and the man’s lascivious tastes.
“All of you should go home and rest,” Melbourne directed. “I’ll send for you later and let you know my plan.”
Wolf and Saint rose to depart, but Winn hesitated. Elinor did as well, clearly waiting to hear what Winn had to say. Fine, let her hear it.
“My lord,” Winn said, “I respect your experience and authority.”
Melbourne’s brow rose. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
“But I prefer my wife not become involved in this. She is not an agent of the Barbican group. She’s my wife and the mother of my children.”
“And you think that means I would not make a good agent?” Elinor challenged him, hands on her hips. He glared at her, willing her to silence. He planned to deal with her when they arrived home.
“I’m aware of Lady Keating’s identity,” Melbourne said, “but I believe she has skills that might serve us well. She managed to incapacitate one of Foncé’s men, remained calm and collected in the face of danger, not to mention she escaped Foncé himself. Many of our own cannot make that claim. However, I respect your authority as her husband. If you do not want her involved—”
“How dare you!” Elinor stepped in front of Winn and poked her finger in his chest. “How dare you treat me as though I were a child. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions. I have done so without you for the last fourteen years. And my decision is that I wish to be a part of this case. I am already involved, and became so the moment Foncé abducted me.”
“She has a point there,” Melbourne muttered.
Winn gave him a dark look. “We’ll discuss this at home,” he told Elinor.
“Oh, no we will not.” Elinor turned to Melbourne. “I am going to assist, one way or another. If you leave me out, you will be sorry.”
Winn grabbed her elbow and pulled her out of the room and into the corridor. The Smythes were not to be seen, and Winn thanked God for small mercies. “What the devil are you about?” he demanded. “You do not threaten the head of the Barbican group.”
“What the devil are you about?” she countered. “Who are you to tell me what to do? It’s your fault I am involved in this to begin with.” She pulled away from him and marched ahead.
“And I’m ending your involvement right now!” he called after her.
“Go ahead and try!” She hailed a hackney cab at the corner, and when Winn went after her, she told the jarvey to drive on. Winn had to flag his own hackney down, and he did so fuming. She wasn’t going to escape him long. He would show her he was not so easy to dismiss.
When Winn arrived home, Bramson took his coat and informed him Lady Keating had also just arrived. “I know,” Winn snapped. He knew he should take the time to reassure the servant that the baroness was well and unharmed, but he was in no mood to deal with anyone. “Where is she?”
“I believe she retired to her bedchamber, my lord.”
“Good.” He took the steps two at a time, marched down the corridor to his room. He entered, tossed his cravat on the bed, and went to the adjoining door. It was locked.
Fury engulfed him, and he gritted his teeth. He was not going to knock on his own door in his own house. She had never locked him out before, and she was not going to start today. Winn raised one booted foot and smashed it into the door. The door splintered but held.
“I see you do not require my assistance at the moment, my lord,” his valet said from the doorway.
“No, I do not,” Winn said, stepping back and preparing to kick the door again.
“I might have a key for that door,” the valet offered.
Winn considered. “Thank you, but I prefer this approach.” He took a final step back, raised his leg, and kicked the door in. He stormed in and stared at an empty room. And then he heard a woman’s voice and started for Elinor’s dressing room. The door was closed, but he did not let that stop him. He kicked it open and burst inside. And was greeted with two shrieks.
Elinor sat in a hip tub, her back to him, but her head turned so he could see her wide, startled eyes. Her maid was kneeling on the floor, holding a washcloth and soap.
“What in God’s name are you doing?” Elinor demanded.
Winn looked at the maid. “Get out.”
The woman rose hastily. “Yes, my lord.”
“No! Bridget! Stay!”
It annoyed Winn that the maid hesitated, but he was also pleased to see his wife inspired that much loyalty in the servants. It explained why they rarely had to hire new help and why Society never buzzed with rumors about them. The maid glanced up at him, and Winn raised a brow. “I imagine you have something to press or sew, Bridget.”
“Yes, my lord.” The maid bobbed.
“Her ladyship will send for you when we have finished our conversation.”
“Yes, my lord. I am sorry, my lady.” And the maid rushed from the room. Winn waited until he heard the outer door close, and then he folded his arms. He had her exactly where he wanted her. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, the wet chemise revealing the pale skin of her legs. She had her arms crossed over her chest, but Winn could imagine the way the wet material would cling and mold to her skin there too.
Suddenly, he was not so angry.
“Not so easy to escape me now, is it?”
“I was not trying to evade you. I simply did not wish to continue our conversation.” She shifted, leaning down and wrapping her arms about her knees. “If your intent is to come in here and dictate what I can and cannot do, then you might as well leave.”
Oh, he was not leaving. Not now. Not until he had her stripped bare.
“Why is it so unpleasant to obey my orders? You might find it pleasurable. If you were willing to try it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are we speaking of the Barbican group?”
He approached the tub and held a hand out. “Stand up, and we shall see.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t want this.”
“You’re my wife. You do not have a choice.”
Her brows lowered in annoyance. Winn was annoyed himself. What was wrong with him today? Even if the law dictated she was his property, reminding her of her subordinate status was not the best approach.
“Do you intend to rape me then? Is that why you came in here?”
“No.” Didn’t she know him any better than that? Or did she know him just well enough to realize how much that barb would sting? “Although I must admit I am on unfamiliar ground. You have never refused me before.”
“Accustom yourself to it.” Her voice shook slightly, and he realized she was probably getting chilled in the cooling water. And still, she’d rather sit in cold water and shiver than step into his arms. The idea would have deflated the ego of another man. Her reaction didn’t exactly speak to his prowess as a lover. So perhaps he would have to show her he was preferable to chattering teeth and shivering flesh.
“Or perhaps I might persuade you to try things my way.”
She shook her head. For the first time, Winn began to feel that perhaps he was not going to be able to earn her love again. Perhaps his efforts were futile. But he wasn’t ready to give up yet. He had to try. “Just this once. If you don’t like what I’m doing, you may stop me at any time.”
“Really? You will stop?”
“Test me.” But she wasn’t going to want him to stop.
“Fine. Hand me that robe.” She stood, and though she crossed her arms over her chest, she could not hide everything at once, and the material clung to her rounded hips and thighs. Winn felt his throat go dry. The last thing he wanted to do was hand her a robe, but she was shivering, and he didn’t want her to catch cold either.
He handed her the robe and watched her shrug it on, then step out of the tub and disappear behind a screen. A moment later, the wet chemise appeared over the edge of the screen, and Elinor emerged, brushing her hair over one shoulder.
“Come here,” he said, holding a hand out. It was extremely hard to be patient, knowing she was naked beneath that flimsy robe. Knowing one tug of the knot at her waist would bare all of her to him.
“Has the test begun then?”
“Come here.”
“What if I do not like the way you order me about?”
He smiled, masking his annoyance. He had been trained in the art of patience and endurance. He could wait her out. “Why don’t you come here? You might like what I order you to do.”
Her face flushed, and if he was not mistaken, her chest rose and fell just a little quicker. She still wanted him. Now he had to show her that her desire would be rewarded. In the back of his mind, he was aware this had begun as a way to force her to give up the Barbican group. But at some point he had forgotten that goal. Perhaps it was when he’d seen she was in the bath. Perhaps it was when she’d stood.
All Winn knew was at that moment he didn’t care one farthing whether she became a spy or not. He wanted her naked beneath him. Or on top of him. And she thought he wasn’t adaptable.
She took one step and then another, and Winn took one himself to meet her in the middle. The bed, and his goal, were in the next room, but he would find his way there. In the meantime, he saw a sturdy dressing table he might make use of.
Winn put an arm around her waist and drew her close. She smelled of the soap she’d been using, something clean and sweet and not too heavy. That was Elinor. She never overpowered.
For once, Winn thought he might like to be overpowered.
But that was not for today.
“Do you know why I was so angry at the Ramsgates’ ball?” he murmured, stroking a finger over one warm cheek and down the curve of her jaw.
“Because you are unreasonable?”
He laughed. Had she always been this amusing? “Try again.”
“Because I was dancing with that boy?”
She’d called the puppy a boy, and he liked her all the more. “No, though I wasn’t pleased to see his hands on you.” He slid one hand down her neck to her collarbone.
“His hands were not on me.” She began to pull away, but he held her.
“I was angry at myself.”
He could tell from the arch of her brows she did not believe him.
“It’s true. I was late, and I disappointed you again.” It couldn’t have been helped, but he did not add that now. Instead, he walked his fingers down to the V of her robe.
“I didn’t think you cared.”
“I do. I may not show it, but I hate disappointing you.”
“Then don’t,” she whispered as his fingers parted the material of her robe slowly.
“Oh, I won’t. But that was not the only reason I was angry.”
“No?” Her breath was fast now as he slid the silk slowly over the pink skin of her breasts, baring them.
“No, it was because I had forgotten, until that moment, how utterly ravishing you are.”
“No, I’m—”
He lowered his mouth to her nipple, and her voice ended in a choked moan. He sucked gently, pulling back to tease the hard nub with his tongue. “Yes, you are. I cannot keep my hands off you. I can hardly stop myself from taking you right now.”
“Then don’t.”
This was the Elinor he knew. This was the Elinor who always wanted him. Always complied with all of his wishes. But he did not want compliance now. He wanted heat and passion and a glimpse of the woman he saw when she defied him.
“Drop your robe.”
“I…”
“I want to see you. Touch you. Everywhere.”
She hesitated, lifting her hands but not moving to comply. He’d never made this request before. He’d never wanted to make her uncomfortable. Of course, he’d seen her without clothing, but never like this, never watched her disrobe for him.
Her hands hovered near the slit in the material, and he waited. He was very good at waiting. He’d had years to perfect his skills, but waiting for her to take off the robe rather than ripping it off her himself was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Finally, after what felt like months of torture, she allowed the material to slide off her shoulders, down her hips, along her legs, and puddle in a heap on the floor. Winn swallowed. He had been a fool. All of this sensuousness had been his, and he had virtually ignored it. Ignored her.
That would end now. “I do not deserve you,” he whispered.
“Should we go to the bed?”
He could see her hands starting to come up, and knew she was feeling self-conscious. “Not yet. As I said, I want to touch you.” He put his hands on her ribs, just below the swell of her breasts. “Everywhere.” He slid his hands down, over the curve of her hips, then cupped her bottom. His fingers itched to delve inside her, to see if she was as hot and wet as he suspected, but he resisted. Instead, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly, nibbling at the corner of her lips. She smiled, and he could feel her body relax. He kissed a light path across her cheeks to her ear. He breathed into it and felt her shiver. “I’m going to make you tremble with pleasure,” he whispered. “I want to hear you call my name.”
She opened her mouth, but he put a finger over it to silence her. If she invited him to take her now, he did not know if he could resist. Her tongue darted out to tease the pad of his finger, and he felt himself go rock hard. Patience would be more difficult than he anticipated.
Gritting his teeth for control, Winn withdrew his finger and dragged it over her lip, down the slight point of her chin to the silky skin of her neck. With so much of her bare skin to explore, he really needed to make use of both hands.
And his mouth.
He followed the path of his finger with his mouth, kissing the hollow of her neck and flicking his tongue out to tease her flesh, which was already pebbling with anticipation. He tasted her shoulder and the inside of her elbow before settling where he really wanted—her ample breasts.
He could still remember when they had first married. She’d had small, pert breasts that fit in the palm of his hand. After the birth of two children, they were not so pert, but they more than filled his hand, and they had a satisfying heaviness he found irresistible. He found one erect nipple and teased it with his tongue. Ellie writhed against him, her breath coming short. “Winn, please.”
He smiled, intent on continuing the torture.
She tasted clean, of bathwater and silk, but underneath that, he could taste her—Elinor. It was a taste he would never forget. It was a taste he had not sampled in far too long.
Winn fitted his hands around her waist and lifted her. She immediately wrapped her legs about him, and he kissed her lips to keep her from exploring with them. She had never been what one might call an adventurous lover, but over the years she had certainly learned where to touch him and what sensations pleased him. He had to hold her at bay for just a little longer.
He kissed her deeply, drugging her with his mouth upon hers and slowly moving her backward. When he reached the dressing table, he set her on it and continued exploring her mouth with his tongue. He filled her, teased her, nipped, and sucked, and she gasped in response. He’d always been careful not to shock her before—not to offend his wife’s delicate sensibilities. But now he had no such qualms. Something about seeing her in Melbourne’s office, seeing her take charge in Foncé’s cellar, made him throw away propriety. There was no room for it between them now. He wanted her, and on his own terms.
Reluctantly, he abandoned her mouth and kissed a path down her torso. She arched back for him, and he paused to tease her breasts again, but he did not linger. When he kissed her abdomen, she tried to sit forward.
“What are you—?”
“Shh. Let me kiss you.”
She continued to struggle. “You said you would cease if I did not like something. I do not want you to kiss me there.”
Winn rested his hands on her thighs, stroking small circles with his thumbs. He felt her muscles tense. “What is it?”
She put her hands over her belly. “I don’t want you to touch me there.”
He frowned. “I want to touch you everywhere.”
“Not there. My skin sags, and I have the scars from pregnancy.”
He looked down at her rounded stomach, ripe and sensual in his opinion. Yes, he could see the faint marks where her skin had stretched with her two pregnancies, but he did not find them distasteful at all. “These?” He traced a hand over one of the faded marks.
“Don’t.” She caught his hand. “They are ugly.”
“Nothing about you is ugly. In particular, the badges you wear from carrying my children are not ugly. I find you beautiful.”
She looked at him as though she did not know him, and perhaps she did not. “Winn.” She shook her head in disbelief.
“Women should be round and soft. I liked your body when we first married, but I love your body now. I cannot resist you.” Gently, he lifted her hands from her belly and kissed the soft flesh there.
“Winn…” But her protests were dying away. He flicked his tongue out, teasing her skin and kissing every one of her scars. He remembered wanting to kiss her distended abdomen when she was with child, but she had kept it hidden from him, and he, not wanting to hurt the child within her, had abstained from his marriage rights. Now he wished he had not been so careful and considerate. Now he wished he had seen her swollen with child and kissed every angry red mark until she was shivering as she was now.
Her breathing had grown rapid again, and he dipped his head lower, kissing the fine light brown hair at the juncture of her thighs. His hands still rested on those thighs, and he moved them inward, teasing her and skittering upward until she was shaking with need. He opened her thighs and knelt before her.
“Winn!” She tried to close her legs, but he was between them now, and he was determined to taste her here. He knew she must feel exposed. She was seated on the dressing table, and he was kneeling before her. But that was how he wanted her. This was how he wanted to see her. The lamps cast a soft glow, and the light from the open windows of her bedroom added to the illumination. He could see the soft pink of her flesh. How long had it been since he’d gazed on her like this?
Years. He had done this only once before, and that had been shortly after they were married. He had cared about her pleasure then. When had he ceased worrying about it? When had he begun to content himself with assuming she reached fulfillment? He would never assume again. He wanted to feel her climax. He wanted to hear her moaning his name.
Winn bent, kissed the velvet skin of her inner thigh, and then tasted her.
***
Elinor bucked in shock. She knew what Winn was doing. She remembered being mortified when he’d done this years ago, but also climaxing harder and faster than she ever had before or since. He’d brought her intermittent pleasure in the years between. Still, she never forgot the touch of his mouth and the lick of his tongue there. She had never ceased to crave the sensation again, though she had been too mortified to ask him to do it again. If he but noticed her, she counted herself fortunate.
No longer. She had not asked for this. She was no longer his simpering wife, impossibly in love with him with no hope of requite. She would never be that woman again. If he wanted her now, then she would give herself to him because she was enjoying herself. She would not fall in love with him again.
She looked down at his bent head, his bronze hands on her pale skin, and just then he gazed up at her. His emerald-green eyes were full of mischief and dark with pleasure. He was enjoying this almost as much as she.
Very well, then. She would not fall very much in love with him.
And then his tongue flicked out and touched her core, and she really could not think at all. It had been so long since her body had spiraled with pleasure like this, so long since she’d felt the first stirrings of ecstasy. She knew it was wanton, but she could not help but spread her legs farther, and Winn took it as invitation and slid a finger inside her. His tongue continued its assault, battering her with tiny licks and taps until she was moving her hips against Winn’s mouth and crying for release. “Yes! Please!”
Elinor did not care about the servants. She did not care that Winn was seeing her lose all control. She only knew she had never felt so utterly close to breaking apart before. She only knew that the greatest pleasure she had known was coming. She was already drunk on pleasure, and she could feel more and more and more mounting.
And then Winn scraped his tongue against her, and she exploded. She cried out, gripping the edges of her dressing table for balance. Her hips bucked, and she rose up, and still Winn did not cease his assault. The world was bright white with pleasure, her body was hot with sensation, and when she peaked, she called his name.
The aftermath left her body warm and sluggish and still thrumming with ecstasy. She was vaguely aware that Winn had scooped her up and carried her into her bedchamber. She was vaguely aware that the drapes were open, and she would have preferred they were closed so her body was not quite so exposed. And, in the midst of the last eddies of pleasure, she was vaguely aware that Winn was undressing. She glanced up, from where she was sprawled on the bed, and saw him pull his shirt over his head.
His body was bruised and battered. Blue, yellow, and green splotches mottled his torso and ribs. She was no stranger to his scars and abrasions. She had seen him bandaged and bloody, but she had always believed him when he claimed to have fallen off a horse. Now, she knew differently. His muscles bunched as he pulled the shirt off, and she thought what a perfect specimen he was, despite the injuries. He was no soft-bellied gentleman of leisure. He was slim and fit and powerfully built.
A shot of arousal pierced her. She did not know where it had come from. How could she want him again? How could her body be warming with desire? She did not think even Winn’s skilled touch could make her feel anything more today. But the sight of his hard, bare chest made her mouth go dry. She wanted to touch that skin, drag her teeth over it, rub her sensitive nipples against him.
He reached for the fall of his trousers, and she moaned. She could still feel the last waves of her climax pulsing through her. But when she saw his erection—how hard he was, and all for her—she could not stop herself from reaching for him. But he was faster. He bent and grasped her wrists, pinning them over her head. Elinor knew if she protested he would release her.
She looked into his eyes, into the hot desire she saw there, and had a moment’s pause. Would he release her? Did she want him to?
His mouth was on hers again. His bare chest grazed the tips of her breasts, and she gasped with pleasure. His hips settled between her thighs, nudging her open, though he did not enter her. She could feel the tip of him—hard and velvet—poised against her most delicate core, but he seemed in no rush. Once again, he was kissing her senseless. Once again, he was drugging her, making her forget who she was and all the years between them.
Seemingly of their own accord, her legs wrapped around him, urging him closer. She wanted to feel him inside her, filling her, completing her.
“Tell me you want me.”
“I want you.” She pressed him closer with her legs, raising her hips to meet him.
“Say my name,” he murmured in her ear. Elinor gritted her teeth. Would the man not hurry?
“Winn, I want you. Now.”
He drove into her, and she gasped at the sudden rush of sensation. His thrust pushed her down into the bed and sent a shock of pleasure swirling through her.
“Are you hurt?” He’d never been so rough with her. Never taken her with so much force before. He was pulling back, but she reached up and grabbed his back, holding him in place. “I hurt you.”
“No.” She couldn’t imagine him hurting her physically. “I like it.”
He looked down at her, surprise in those vivid green eyes. He moved inside her, thrusting deeply. “Do you like this?”
She could hardly speak. “Yes,” she breathed.
He moved again, this time slow and languorous, stroking her until her toes were curling and she thought she would die from the mounting pleasure. “Yes. Yes. Please.” She did not even know what she was asking. She only knew she needed him and only him. “Winn.”
His hands lifted her hips, bringing her into closer contact and making her moan. He slid in and out, driving harder and faster until she was clenching him so tightly her legs began to ache. But she could not let go. She was so close, so close…
And then he groaned and thrust fast and hard, and she shattered. She bit down on a scream, and though it seemed impossible, she clenched Winn more tightly. The pleasure seemed to go on and on until she was floating, weightless and tingling and sated.
“That’s going to leave a mark,” Winn said, rolling off of her.
She was vaguely aware he had spoken and did not even open her eyes when he pulled her close, cradling her in his arms. Drowsily, she realized he had never done this before, never shown her tenderness after their lovemaking. “Hmm?” she said on a sigh. She was so tired. She knew there was something she wanted to discuss with him, something important, but right now she needed to sleep.
“My shoulder,” he was saying. “You bit it when… never mind.”
She felt his lips brush against her cheek.
“Sleep now. I’ll stay right here beside you.”
And she drifted away, safe and warm in his arms.