After the Spy Seduces Page 21

  The self-recrimination on his face sliced into her like a knife twisting into her belly.

  “So don’t tell me that we’re all grieving for lost loved ones or that you understand the hell I’ve gone through—the hell I am still going through. That we all want to make deals and sacrifices to bring them back.” A bitter laugh fell darkly from his lips. “Risk my life to get justice for Fitch? I shouldn’t have a life! It should have been me in that alley, my throat that was slit.”

  He lowered his face until his eyes were level with hers, his mouth so close that she could feel the warmth of his lips shadowing hers. Fear that she was already losing him ripped her breath away.

  “So you tell me, Diana. What sacrifice do I offer when I should already be dead?”

  Chapter 20

  Kit sat at the stern of the little sailboat, leaning against the short cabin wall and resting his forearm over one bent knee. He wore only his trousers, but even otherwise bare to the air, he felt none of the cold. He’d turned numb before he left the cabin, from the way Diana had stared at him when he’d finished confessing everything. As if he were once again no more to her than a stranger.

  On the eastern horizon, the sky was beginning to lighten as dawn approached. Finally. He had no idea how long he’d been out here, waiting for daylight to come so he could sail the boat back to the wharf. But long enough that the waves had picked up and were now rocking the boat side-to-side in a slow, steady motion in anticipation of the breaking day.

  Time had run out.

  He would take her back to shore, put her onto the first coach headed west, and then leave. Just as he’d planned. She’d forget him soon enough. After all, she was the beautiful, intelligent daughter of one of England’s most respected generals, and she would find a husband who would cherish her and love Meri as his own. The husband she deserved.

  Kit would forget her, too, eventually. But not until the day he died.

  Beside him, the little hatchway opened with a soft click. Wrapped in a blanket around her shoulders, Diana climbed carefully up onto the small deck. Then wordlessly, she knelt down beside him.

  Her blue eyes were as deep as the eastern sky behind her, holding the same radiance as the dawn. His gut clenched when those eyes stared into his, when she reached up to touch his cheek.

  Leave me alone…I can never be the man you need me to be. But he couldn’t find the strength to utter the words that would send her away.

  When she brushed her thumb across his lips, then leaned in to kiss him, the tenderness nearly undid him. It wasn’t passion he tasted on her lips but understanding and forgiveness.

  Silently, she slipped over his legs to straddle him, the entire time deepening her kiss, until she entreatingly coaxed him into opening his mouth to her so that she could claim what lay inside. The tip of her tongue slid over his inner lip to taste the sweetness there, then twirled slowly around his tongue, drawing it out until she could close her lips around it. Her gentle suck coiled through him, right down to the tip of his cock.

  She sat away from him. With her eyes never leaving his, she pushed the blanket from her shoulders. It slid down her back and bared her completely, both to his eyes and the dawn.

  Sweet Lucifer.

  Her pale skin was awash in the sapphire and midnight blues of the sky. Only the dusky pink of her nipples contrasted the cool, cobalt light falling upon her as the last vestiges of night gave way to morning. Unable to resist her siren song, he traced a fingertip lightly over each ripe bud, watching as they grew even more taut beneath his attentions.

  He leaned forward and took one between his lips.

  Her breath caught, then she relaxed against him as he suckled at her. He drew her deep into his mouth, and when she arched her back toward him, he rewarded her with a gentle nip and hot lave of his tongue. Then he moved to give the same sweet torture to her other breast.

  So sweet and tempting…a goddess.

  Her bare flesh was warm and smooth beneath his hands as he trailed them across her back beneath the silky curtain of her hair, then down to cup her buttocks in his palms. When he squeezed them, an insensible moan of pleasure spilled from her lips.

  He released her breast from his mouth with a delicate kiss to her nipple, then tantalizingly scraped his teeth up over her throat. With a whimper of growing desire, she tilted back her head and curved the long column of her neck against his lips. He seized the invitation and placed long, open-mouthed kisses over her neck and along her bare shoulder.

  Except for soft sighs of desire, she made no sound as he stroked his hands over her. He had to touch her, not just because he ached for the solace she offered, but to make certain that she was real, that he wasn’t dreaming.

  Then she took his hand and slowly guided it between her legs. She begged with a whimper for him to pleasure her as she cupped his face between her hands and brought her mouth to his, her golden hair falling around his head and shoulders as she sat perched over him. He gladly did as she bade, and beneath his teasing fingers, her quivering folds turned slick with evidence of her desire.

  With every panting breath she inhaled, the ache in his loins grew more intense. Every nip and lick and kiss she placed to his lips and neck hardened him, every shudder of her thighs made him shake. And when a throaty moan rose from the back of her throat at the feminine need he stirred inside her, he couldn’t stop his own answering groan.

  She reached between them and unbuttoned his trousers, freeing him into the cool morning air. Then she took his hard length in her hand as she rose up onto her knees above him.

  “What sacrifice?” she repeated his words against his lips and lowered herself. As she slowly sank over him, sliding him inside her tight warmth, she shivered at the intimate connection of their bodies and answered, “The duty of surviving, the responsibility of holding him in your memory for the rest of your days and keeping him alive in your heart as long as possible.”

  She shifted her hips and settled completely over him, taking him deep inside her. Her breath came fast and ragged, and every small pant pulsed through her into him, racing along the length of his cock like a lightning rod to his heart.

  “That’s the sacrifice you have to make.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her breasts pressed flat against his chest, and placed a kiss to his temple. “The sacrifice of living.”

  Then she began to move, rocking her hips against his in a smooth and loving rhythm. All thoughts of Fitch and the Home Office fled, until there was only Diana. Until all he knew was the exquisite feel of her tight warmth bearing down around him, the strength of his embrace encircling her.

  He sat up and pressed his hands against her bare back to keep her close, and in response, she locked her ankles at the small of his back. With each roll of the boat beneath them, he rocked into her in a steady rhythm, one as natural as the open air and sea around them. The sky came alive as the sun peaked over the horizon and flooded its golden light over her shoulders.

  He whispered her name and gave himself over to the sensation of their joined bodies, of him buried inside her and her clenched around him. They mixed until he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began, until their heartbeats pounded fiercely in unison. They were shamelessly exposed to the dawn, yet neither cared about anything but moving together toward bliss.

  This wasn’t sex. This wasn’t even making love. It was absolution, and in her arms, he was finally healed.

  “You’re not leaving me this time,” she whispered into his ear, her legs tightening their hold around his waist. “I want you, Christopher. I want all of you, in every way.”

  He couldn’t stop the hot shiver that sped through him, the tightening coil she twisted inside his gut until he wanted to explode. He took her hips in his hands and guided her movements against him, keeping himself buried deep inside her.

  She came with a soft cry as he rocked her gently to release. Her body spasmed around his as she broke in his arms, and he followed a heartbeat later. He spilled himself
inside her with a shudder, and her sex flexed around him as her body attempted to coax every drop from him. To claim every bit of him that she could.

  Neither of them loosened their hold as they both struggled to regain their breaths and slow their heartbeats, their bodies still entangled around the other. Dawn had broken. A new day had washed over them, but Kit wanted nothing more than to keep holding her like this forever.

  Chapter 21

  Diana stared shamelessly at Kit’s muscles as he dug the oars into the water and rowed them toward the docks. Sweet mercy, he was heavenly. Her own god, like those in Lord Elgin’s marbles…sculpted, hard, larger than life. Even his blond hair shined like spun gold in the morning sunlight. But underneath those rock-hard muscles lingered a vulnerability that she cherished.

  A smile teased at her lips.

  “You look like the cat that got into the cream,” he commented, not pausing in his steady rhythm of rowing. When dawn had gotten too bright for them to continue to hide on the boat, he’d sailed it back toward shore and anchored it near a rowboat that had been tied to a buoy. Not wanting to take the chance that someone had seen them leave on the sailboat last night and would be looking for its return, he now rowed them back, with the docks growing closer with each stroke of the oars.

  “I feel like Cleopatra on her Egyptian barge.” She reclined back as far as possible on the bench and lazily waved a hand with all the imperialness she could muster. “Row on! Don’t stop until we reach Cairo!”

  He grinned at her. “Enjoying yourself, are you?”

  More than in my entire life. She beamed and leaned up, leaving the steadiness of her seat only long enough to place a quick kiss to his lips before sitting back down as the boat rocked beneath her.

  Oh, she was happy! Meri was safe and would be waiting at home for her when she arrived, her brother wasn’t a traitor, the French had the diary and so had no reason to ever come after her family again—and she loved Christopher.

  She nearly laughed at that. If anyone had told her a month ago that she would lose her heart to a Carlisle, and to the seemingly worst of the lot no less, she would have called them mad. Mad! But she’d gone and done exactly that.

  “I would offer to help row, but…” She waved a hand weakly in the direction of the oars. “You know how we pharaohesses are.”

  He arched a brow. “Pharaohesses?”

  She answered that with another imperial wave of her hand, then laughed at herself again. “Truly, thank you for finding the rowboat. I didn’t fancy a swim.”

  “I serve at the pleasure of my pharaohess,” he teased. Then his mocking amusement faded into one of affection, and he added tenderly, meeting her gaze, “And my angel.”

  Warmth swelled inside her, and she looked away before he could see the blush of happiness that pinked her cheeks. “It was fortunate that you were able to rent that sailboat last night on such short notice.”

  When he didn’t reply, she glanced back at him, just in time to see a guilty expression cross his face.

  “You didn’t rent it, did you?” His guilty expression deepened, and her mouth fell open. “You stole it!”

  “Borrowed,” he corrected, not pausing in his rowing. When that didn’t appease the scolding glare she gave him, he added, “It was that boat or the hotel, and you’d just handed over military secrets to the French. Would you have rather spent the night in our room where everyone knew where to find us?”

  Her shoulders sagged. “No.”

  Nor would she have given up a moment of being in his arms last night. But now that dawn had come, all that frightened her was once again revealed beneath the harsh light of day.

  “You really think they would have come after us there?” she asked. “After they were given the diary?”

  “It might not have been the French who would have paid us a call.”

  Her mouth fell open. “The British?”

  “Possibly. I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “Then thank you for last night.” She added in a husky voice, “Very much.”

  But the way he grinned at her told her that he knew she was thanking him for far more than appropriating the sailboat. So did the now familiar ache that stirred between her thighs.

  “The French will leave your family alone now,” he assured her as he glanced over his shoulder toward the docks. They were less than a hundred yards from the pier. “They think they have the real diary, so there’s no more reason for them to come after Meri again, or you and the general.”

  Relief mixed with the happiness blossoming in her chest.

  “When we reach shore, we’ll go straight to the posting inn. You’ll have to leave behind everything that’s in the hotel. It’s not safe to go back there.”

  He stopped rowing and reached into the sleeve of his jacket. His fingers fumbled for a moment beneath the fabric. Then he pulled out a small scabbard that had been buckled around his forearm. He slipped the knife out of its sheath to show it to her. The blade flashed in the sunlight.

  He handed it to her. “To protect yourself.”

  She hesitated, then took it in her trembling hand and held it awkwardly. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Stab people with it.” When her gaze darted up to his in shock, he gestured toward her legs. “Until then, keep it hidden up your skirt.”

  “Up my skirt?”

  “It won’t be seen there.” He leaned toward her, his face deadly serious. “And if any man ventures beneath your skirt and finds it, then the bastard deserves to be stabbed.”

  A thrill coursed through her that he would be so possessive of her. “Except you?”

  He answered with a wolfish grin that made her toes curl, and she longed to have him inside her again, once more making love to her.

  Taking up the oars, he went back to rowing. They were only a dozen strokes now from drifting to the end of the pier.

  He commented toward the docks with a preoccupied shake of his head, “I can’t guarantee how everything will play out for your brother.”

  Her foolish heart skipped. The happiness that had warmed through her only moments before now seeped away like the water dripping from the oars every time he lifted them above the surface.

  “I don’t know when he’ll return home,” he continued. “Or if.” He glanced over his shoulder, as if to gauge the remaining distance to the docks. “If the French discover that he double-crossed them, they’ll kill him for it.”

  She blinked hard and turned her face away. Please, God, don’t let them find out what he’s done.

  “There are too many players in the mix now to be certain about anything, too many agencies and operatives who all have a stake in this.” He paused, a hesitation before the oars dipped back into the water. “Did he say anything to you about any of them?”

  “No.”

  He pinned her with a glance. “Would you tell me if he did?”

  She eased out a long sigh and let her hand skim the water along the side of the rowboat. “He said that Meri was safe and that he would see us at home again soon. That was all. He didn’t say when or who he was working with.”

  “Thank you,” he said quietly, acknowledging the trust she now placed in him.

  “I have no more secrets from you.” After last night, none at all. But she feared that he did. “You’re still determined to arrest Garrett, then, aren’t you?”

  He looked away toward the mouth of the bay and the sea beyond. His face turned inscrutable. “No,” he answered quietly. “I’m giving up the hunt for your brother. Whitehall and the French can sort him out between themselves.”

  Her breath hitched. If he was no longer pursuing Garrett, then… “Then why do I need this knife?” Her questions lingered on the salty air between them, implying so much more about the future than a simple coach ride home. “Won’t you be there beside me to protect me?”

  “No.” His shoulders flexed as he dug the oars deep into the water, then he lay back nearly horizontal as he ga
ve them a fierce pull. “I’m remaining in Bradwell.”

  She grabbed his knee and stopped him mid-row. “Why?”

  “There are things that have to be settled here.”

  Wariness tingled down her spine. “What things?”

  His answering silence struck icy dread inside her chest, and her fingers tightened on his leg. Desperate for answers, she searched his face, but he only returned her gaze with a stony expression.

  “More secrets,” she answered herself, releasing his knee and sitting back. Betrayal turned bitter on her tongue, and just when she’d begun to think they could fully trust each other.

  He blew out a harsh breath and let go of the oars, his forearms resting across his knees as he leaned toward her. They were momentarily set adrift in the rowboat, to bob gently on the water. “Whitehall is going to declare me a rogue agent.”

  “What does that mean?” The fear licking at her toes made her fear his answer.

  “That I am beyond the Home Office’s control. That I am using the Crown’s assets for my own gains, damaging communication networks, and jeopardizing operations.” He paused. “That I need to be stopped. At all costs.”

  Stopped. So did her heart for one brutal moment, because she knew exactly what he meant. “Why? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “More than you realize.” His eyes softened on her, and he reached up to stroke his knuckles across her cheek. “In the past fortnight alone, I’ve interfered with Home Office operations and used communication links that I shouldn’t have. And now I’ve crossed the Foreign Office by giving that diary to the French.”

  “But it’s not the real one.” She grabbed his hand and wrapped it in both of hers. “Garrett has that. And you did it to save Meri.” Her voice choked. “And me.”

  “That doesn’t matter. They’ll see it as an act of disloyalty. I was already warned away once but ignored them. They won’t give me a second warning. They’ll come after me, and I want you as far away as possible when they do.”