The need to be with her overruled everything his head and his training told him. Seb used many excuses to justify it—another pair of eyes, she was resourceful, they were only going to be observing—but he knew without a doubt the only reason he had allowed her to come was because he was emotionally unsettled and for some reason Gem’s presence made him feel better. Right now he wanted to feel better, not seething or lost in the past.
She had managed to lower herself from the window without needing his help and, after camouflaging the bottom of the rope as best they could in the bushes below, they silently skirted the garden, keeping to the shadows until they were well clear of the house. It was a good mile from Penhurst Hall to the sea across the Downs and one they did uttering few words. Seb was understandably preoccupied, yet she seemed much the same. Maybe it was nerves or fear of what they were doing, but he couldn’t shake the thought that there was something else going on in that clever head of hers.
Gem jumped out of her skin when one of his Invisibles stepped out of his hiding place, but to her credit barely a squeak came out of her mouth. ‘Good evening, sir. All is quiet now, but there was a flash just up there on the cliff about an hour ago. Nothing since.’
‘Where is everyone?’
‘There are men posted every half a mile from Birling Gap to Cuckmere Haven. Gray has arrived in Portsmouth and is with the Excise Men ready to board the vessel once she has offloaded.’ Assuming that the Espérance de Dieu was a smuggling ship, then they needed it to remain one for as long as feasibly possible—albeit with a slightly different crew—to allow the King’s Elite to infiltrate the organisation on the Continent before word got out of Penhurst’s capture. The ship could lead them to the rotten core of the Boss’s organisation.
‘You expect them tonight?’ Gem’s eyes were wide. ‘It looks like rain.’ An understatement. Such an angry sky suggested a storm.
‘We have to expect them every night, but tonight it’s cloudy and as there is little moonlight it makes conditions perfect. As long as the weather holds off for a few hours.’ He watched her eyes automatically turn towards the ocean and study the black horizon and quite admired the fact she didn’t simply take his word for it. Seb double-and triple-checked intelligence, too. Lives depended on accuracy.
Seb listened intently as his man brought him up to speed on everything that had been seen or learned in the days he had been incarcerated with Viscount Penhurst and then relieved him of his post to rest. Taking it in turns to snatch a few hours here and there was how they survived a mission. It was exhausting work and being exposed to the elements for long hours of surveillance wasn’t fun. Necessary, but mind numbing.
Gem watched him unravel the large rectangle of oilskin which he had brought and fold it in half before laying it on the ground. ‘There you go. Our palatial home for the night.’ He lifted one corner to allow her to sandwich herself between the layers. At that moment it dawned on him that he should have brought two. Climbing in beside her would remind him of being in bed. Cosy. Warm. Intimate. He dropped the sheet and sat on the damp ground next to it, rummaging in his bag for his small field telescope to cover the sudden physical discomfort his errant thoughts were creating.
‘What happens now?’
‘The really exciting part. We get to stare at the sea for two hours.’
‘And there I was thinking the life of a spy was glamorous.’ Gem adjusted her position, rolling on her front and propping herself up on her elbows, tossing the ridiculously thick, golden plait of hair to one side. ‘Pass me that telescope, then.’
He did and smiled as she taught herself how to focus it, scrunching up one eye and unconsciously poking out the tip of her tongue. It was the least Incomparable expression he had seen her pull and he found it enchanting. Not as enchanting as the erotic sight of her in the tight breeches which had tormented him as she undulated down the rope above him. Even with the layer of oilskin, that image was seared into his mind for ever. ‘What am I looking for?’
‘Big moving shadows or the occasional and brief flash of light. They are too experienced to use lanterns, but smuggling vessels communicate with those waiting onshore by using gunpowder. A little burns very brightly for a few scant seconds. If we are lucky, we will see flashes both at sea and somewhere along these cliffs or the beaches below.’
‘Like a conversation.’
She caught on quickly, as usual, and that made him smile. ‘Exactly. No replying light means something is amiss so the boat will not sail any closer.’
‘How did things go with your brother?’ The abrupt change of subject didn’t surprise him. The spectre of his past had been hovering all evening.
‘We were cordial. He’s still an arse.’
‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he was involved with Penhurst’s treachery and then you would have the pleasure of arresting him.’ She shot him a cheeky grin, then went back to her telescope.
‘Alas, like your pompous arse, Thetford is merely window dressing. Little trophies of Penhurst’s social standing now that he is rich once again.’
Seb was expecting her to correct him and defend her Duke, and when she didn’t he couldn’t resist another dig. ‘Talking of the windbag, he was glaring at me all night. Did the pair of you have words?’
‘Why don’t you like Westbridge? Specifically, I mean.’
Where to start? The blue blood. The undeserved privilege. The way dukes sneered down their nose at humble bastards. ‘You deserve better than him.’ Which didn’t really answer her question—but as she had asked she deserved his honest appraisal, even though he knew she wouldn’t like it. ‘The fellow only ever talks about himself. He’s detached and self-absorbed. I haven’t seen any evidence of either a sense of humour or any compassion. The man is a bore. A fickle, pompous, arrogant fool.’
‘You really don’t like him, do you?’
‘Ultimately, my opinion is of no consequence. It’s yours that counts. What do you think of him?’ Seb shouldn’t have asked that because he didn’t want to hear her waxing lyrical about the fool’s appeal—although for some reason tonight he kept pushing her to.
‘I’m not sure.’
He hadn’t expected that answer, nor the expression of confusion on her lovely face. Could it be she was having doubts? Doubts which made his silly heart soar. ‘Should you be planning to spend eternity with a man you aren’t sure about?’
‘I don’t think Westbridge will make a bad husband—not like Penhurst.’
‘Hardly a glowing endorsement.’
‘I know.’ She dropped the telescope and stared at him. ‘I have been trying to make a list of pros and cons in my head. He is a duke. He is rich and he is well respected within society.’
The title. As if that somehow made better men. ‘And the cons?’ Please God let there be significantly more.
‘I’m still working on those.’ She didn’t want to share them and Seb saw that as a very good sign indeed. So he pushed some more.
‘Tell me—does he know anything about the real you? The woman whose hair is naturally straight, who has a sweet tooth and a thirst for adventure?’ The one whose kisses sent Seb mad with desire. ‘I doubt he shuts up long enough to hear a word you say.’
Her silence was deafening.
‘Do you love him?’
More silence broken by the ominous rumble of thunder in the distance. A well-timed omen of doom if ever there was one, although whether that doom was aimed at the windbag or Seb he couldn’t say. ‘Not yet.’ A fat drop of rain splattered on the oilskin, closely followed by another. ‘Perhaps I will. In time.’ When the next droplet hit her face she pulled the oilskin up to cover her head.
‘And if you don’t?’
She didn’t answer, but the sky did. The thunder was closer this time and cued the heavens to open, decisively killing their enlightening conversation stone dead. After one determined raindrop caught him on the back of the head and trickled coldly down his spine, Seb pulled the collar of his coat up and did his best to burrow within it.
‘You should get in before you get soaked.’ Gem shuffled over, innocently unaware the prospect made him instantly hard.
‘I’ll get one of my men to escort you back. There’s no point in both of us suffering.’
‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Besides, a little rain never hurt anyone and neither of us will get soaked under here, will we?’ She patted the space next to her, looking decidedly pleased with herself, clearly intent on torturing him for the duration. ‘Isn’t the whole point of oilskin that it is waterproof?’
As there was no arguing with logic and further resistance would require explanations he wasn’t brave enough to give, like a man headed to the gallows, Seb edged his body beneath the oilskin and prayed for strength. At least the sudden downpour had killed the topic of Westbridge. Seb pulled the fabric up enough to shelter their heads before he relieved her of the telescope. Better to focus on the job in hand rather than the beautiful woman whose warm body was now inches from his in their own intimate, oilskin world. Wearing breeches. Tight, revealing breeches.
Two painful minutes ticked by, then she rolled on her side to stare at him again. Without the hat and with all the moisture in the air, her curls had begun to drop. She was vexingly beautiful and, for once, blissfully unaware of it. ‘The troubling thing is, if I’m being completely honest with myself, I don’t really find Westbridge particularly attractive. Do you think that will come with time as well?’ Seb grunted in response. Whilst a huge part of him was delighted at this revelation, he didn’t quite know how to answer. Like a coward he changed the subject.
‘The sea is whipping up.’
‘Do you think attraction is important in a marriage?’
The woman was going to kill him. ‘I believe it certainly helps.’
‘Why?’ At his outraged glare she looked away. ‘Ah, yes. I suppose it does help with the...um...physical side of things, doesn’t it?’
‘If you don’t mind, I really don’t want to discuss that side of your relationship with Westbridge. Not now.’ And not ever if he had any say in it. Imagining Gem engaging in intimacies with anyone other than him would make his blood boil—which was ironic, as imagining her in his bed heated it in an entirely different manner.
‘Yes. Of course. Sorry. A totally inappropriate topic of discussion. We should focus on the mission.’ She stared back out to sea and he slowly inhaled in an attempt to banish all thoughts of intimacy from his mind. ‘Not that we have that side yet.’ The calming breath came out on a whoosh. ‘That wouldn’t be at all proper before marriage, would it? And Westbridge is predictably proper. Which is a good thing, I think.’ She chewed on her bottom lip as she rolled back on her front and gazed off into the darkness, looking thoughtful. Seb doubted her thoughts and his were aligned. She was pondering propriety while he was considering all manner of improper things he would happily do to her beneath this oilskin, married or not. But then he was no gentleman by society standards and, in his defence, the woman of his dreams was lying inches away and tempting him. Intent on discussing marital relations while wearing breeches that moulded perfectly to her delectable backside. An image his brain apparently refused to forget.
Bringing her had been foolish. Bad for his sanity.
Where were the blasted smugglers when you needed them? A boat, some miscreants and the illicit offloading of illegal cargo would take his mind off her and the uncomfortable bulge in his trousers. Why, through several layers of clothes, was his body so conscious of the soft, warm heat of hers? His skin positively prickled with awareness. He sensed her watching him and risked taking his eyes off the horizon to glance at her. It was another mistake.
‘Do you know Westbridge is so proper, he hasn’t even tried to kiss me? Not once in almost two years.’ His own incredulity was met simultaneously with a shaft of lightning, which thankfully drew her gaze away from his stunned yet relieved face. His slack mouth was closed again by the time she turned back. ‘Is that odd?’
Yes, of course it is odd! If you were mine I would kiss you senseless at every available opportunity.
‘No.’
Westbridge is even more of a blasted fool than I first thought!
His eyes dropped to her lips hungrily before he tore them away and gripped his telescope for all he was worth.
‘Did you get a chance to go over the dates I gave you with Penny?’ Talking business might just take his mind off his desperation to bury himself inside her. If nothing else, those dates would link Penhurst to the Boss.
‘Not yet.’ Her jaw clenched as she stared out to sea. As an afterthought she took the telescope from him and peered down it.
‘It’s important, Gem. Can you make sure you ask her tomorrow?’
‘I’ll try.’ She adjusted the focus, but Seb had the distinct impression she was fobbing him off.
‘I need a definite yes. I’m relying on you.’
She stared resolutely at the horizon, chewing her lip thoughtfully. After an age she dropped the telescope, but still refused to meet his eyes. ‘It’s probably best you don’t rely on me to read anything.’