A very wicked christmas, p.23
A Very Wicked Christmas, page 23
“How is Gentry doing?” whispered Miss Tripp.
“He’s anxious for it to be over.” Jane took several pins from her reticule and knelt in turn, to pin her flounce onto Miss Tripp’s gown. Her heart was beating far too quickly; she took deep breaths. “I am, too.”
“It will be fine, Lady Jane.” Miss Tripp calmly set the turban over her own hair. “Just think, we’re not in danger of being shot or knifed or tortured or any of those lovely things spies have to worry about.”
Jane chuckled. “When you put it that way…”
“Not only that, think of the reward at the end.”
Jane blushed in the darkness. “Believe me, I am.”
At last the flounce was secure, although in the dark, confined space Jane couldn’t tell whether it was entirely straight.
“Unimportant,” Miss Tripp said. “Colwyn was right. If Lord Staves notices, he will think Gentry trod on it during the dance.”
Jane stood and adjusted the turban over Miss Tripp’s knot of hair. “There, you look perfect. Off you go. Oh, you need my shawl!” Her heart thudded; what if they’d forgotten to exchange shawls? Hers and Miss Tripp’s were entirely unalike. “I am not cut out for espionage.”
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Miss Tripp settled the shawl on her shoulders. “That’s what matters.” She pushed the shelf open again and slipped into the library. Jane pulled it almost shut, leaving herself a tiny crack to peer through, and waited.
~ * ~
Colwyn’s various accomplices—and his victim—ran the charade like clockwork. Hadrian, once he’d approved his brother’s bridal plans, threw himself wholeheartedly into the scheme. He kept watch; he pretended to expostulate with Gentry, then shrugged and let him enter the library a minute and a half after Jane. Lord Staves followed them, right on cue, his wife several yards in his wake, the vicar (who was so much more than a mere vicar) beside her. Hadrian then accosted his father and began to argue with the old man. Just a few seconds more should do it…
Colwyn ducked down the service corridor into the closet and entered the passage.
He groped his way along; a dim light down the passage showed him Jane, peering through a crack. He reached her just in time to hear Lord Staves’ bellow.
“Finally got up the courage, did you, boy? Good lad!”
Colwyn slipped an arm around Jane. She gasped, stiffened…then relaxed against him with a most satisfactory little quiver. She smelled delicious. He took a deep breath, and his cock began to swell.
He admonished it and tried to pay attention to the little scene playing out in the library. Gentry and Amabel Tripp were locked together in an embrace. They parted and faced the marquis.
“You won’t weasel out of it this t—” As he saw whom Gentry had been kissing, Lord Staves drew breath. “Why, you little tr—”
The vicar strode in, Lady Staves at his side. Meanwhile, Jane’s heart beat gratifyingly fast under Colwyn’s hand. His fingers itched to play with the breast resting so tantalizingly above his fingers.
“Lord Gentry, I am outraged!” Mr. Tripp probably missed being a free operative, and relished this chance to inject a little performance of his own. Or maybe he’d planned precisely this scene all along.
Hadrian managed to say his piece without breaking into laughter. “Father’s right. You’ve compromised her, Gentry. There’s only one honorable course to take.” On a bit of a snort: “The reputation of the entire Oakenhurst family is at stake.”
Gentry peeled himself away from Miss Tripp and cleared his throat. He collapsed to one knee and grabbed Amabel’s hands, while his father purpled and her father smirked. Mr. Bury appeared in the rear with a couple of other guests as witnesses. The helpful footman lurked behind them with several of his fellows and a couple of maids.
Gentry cleared his throat again. “Miss Tripp, will you marry me?”
“Yes, Lord Gentry, I will,” Amabel said, the image of a soft, sweet, helpless maiden.
“Well done,” Jane whispered, as a hubbub of voices broke out. Lord Staves’ bellow was not one of them. Seemingly, he’d been stunned into silence.
Lady Staves congratulated her son and hugged Miss Tripp; Gentry shook the hand of one of the most dangerous incubi in England, completely unaware of whom he was about to acquire as a father-in-law. Damn, had Amabel Tripp kept that secret all these years? Colwyn couldn’t help but applaud her and wish her well.
Hopefully, she and her redoubtable father would soon wish him well.
Jane turned in Colwyn’s embrace and put her arms around his neck. She raised her lips to his, softly, tentatively. His heart twisted with doubt; what if, in the end, she still didn’t want to marry him?
That sort of attitude never won a war. Or a wife.
“Oh, my love, my sweet.” He stifled his damned conscience and pulled the bookshelf completely shut.
Chapter Ten
Finally, thought Jane. Her heart beat with passion. She kissed him again and quivered at the pleasure of his mouth on hers. She tightened her arms, squashing her breasts against his chest. His lips traveled to her cheek, her ear, her throat. Her head fell back in utter abandon. His tongue trailed to her cleavage, and she moaned.
He straightened at once. “Not here, love. Someone might hear us. Where’s the flounce? I’ll stitch it on for you.”
She retrieved the flounce from the floor and shook off the dust. “You know how to sew?”
“Spies have some astonishing skills.” He took her hand and the candle, and led her back down the passage to the broom closet. “If we’re to waltz together tonight, I’d better get out of this livery.”
What did he mean by that? That he wouldn’t make love to her?
He peeked into the passageway. “Safe enough. I’ll bet the whole staff is out there gawking by now. We’ll take the back stairs.”
Soon they were in the family wing, and then in Colwyn’s chamber. He tossed the wig across the room, shucked the coat and waistcoat, and dragged off the cravat.
She couldn’t stop staring at him. She should turn modestly away from the forbidden sight of a gentleman in shirtsleeves, but she couldn’t. Her heart thundered. Desire roared through her. She wanted more.
He opened a drawer and took out a freshly pressed cravat. From another drawer, he took a pair of buff pantaloons.
“Colwyn,” she said.
He turned, his brows knit. Their eyes met. His were dark with hunger…weren’t they? Why did he frown? Surely he wasn’t going to refuse her.
“Oh, please,” she said, unable to hold still, so fiercely did her body burn for him. She’d been told to pretend she was tipsy for the charade, but she really must be, for modesty had completely abandoned her. “Colwyn, take me, please.”
His throat convulsed. “Oh, hell,” he said, and pulled her close.
This kiss was nothing like the one they’d shared in the secret passage. This one ravished her mouth. His tongue tangled with hers; his hot hands squeezed her bottom. The firm length of his manhood—his cock—rubbed against her. His lips wandered, paused to nibble and lick at her ear. She shivered with pleasure.
He loosened his hands, and his lips paused at the corner of her mouth. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”
“Oh, yes, yes!” Joy sang through her.
His thumbs rubbed gently across her nipples. They peaked immediately under the fabric of her bodice. She thrust her breasts into his hands, just as she’d done in the dream.
His voice roughened. “Then let’s get rid of all these clothes.” He turned her, making short work of her ties and laces, laying her garments carefully over a chair, until she stood in chemise and stockings. He bent to kiss her breasts through the chemise, then knelt, running his hands up one leg and then the other, perilously close to the throbbing spot between her thighs. His hot breath bathed her belly. He unfastened her garters, one by one, and rolled her stockings down.
She shivered. He ran his hands up both legs again, and this time his thumbs traveled all the way to her sweetest spot, and she cried out.
“Ah, love, you’re so slick and ready for me.” He shucked his shirt, and she shivered again, whether from cold or heat, she couldn’t tell. She ran her hands over the smattering of dark hair on his chest. He kissed her, and kissed her again, while he worked at the buttons of his breeches. She reveled in those kisses, swaying with passion, but broke away to look down. She wanted to see.
He smiled at her, a sweet, rueful smile, and pushed down his smallclothes. His cock sprang free, and a thought struck her. Was that sketch on the French letter a man’s cock? With a string around it? How utterly strange.
She almost asked if his cock would fit inside her, but surely it must. They were made to fit together.
He grasped the hem of her chemise and pulled it over her head. His gaze devoured her. “Ah, love, I’ve wanted you for so long. Come, into the bed.”
For so long? He had no idea. He’d wanted her for a month or so; she’d yearned for him for five whole years.
They burrowed under the coverlet. “Which dream would you like to revisit, sweetheart?” He didn’t stop for an answer, but ran his lips down between her breasts, then licked and suckled them as he’d done while she slept.
“All of them,” she whispered.
He chuckled and shook his head, and his hands, as talented as in the dream, sought the curls on her mound, and then the slickness between her legs. Oh, God, so gentle and yet so insistent, giving no quarter, no chance to think or protest at such loss of control…
He drew away.
No, it couldn’t be over. In the dreams, she’d reached a shattering climax. “But…but…”
~ * ~
Uncertainty gripped him. She was willing, so that wasn’t why his conscience kept pricking at him. The problem was his. The solution was obvious to an experienced incubus. He knew what he had to do. He should get on with it.
“I’m here, love.” He thrust a knee between her legs and prodded her gently with his cock. “I love you, Jane.” He pushed into her. God, she was tight, and burning hot. He thrust once more, and then he was inside her. Oh, yes.
Don’t get distracted. First step in the plan. “Do you love me?”
“You know I do.” She writhed under him, flushed and gorgeous, heavy-eyed, caught in a sensual haze. Perfect.
He pulled slowly out, then moved in again. “Say it, then.”
“I love you,” she breathed.
In and out again, slowly, drawing it out. He forced himself to stay still. “Say my name. Say, ‘I love you, Colwyn.’”
“Colwyn,” she moaned, and thrust herself against him, almost breaking his control. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t love you.”
“You love me,” he said. In. Slowly. Out. Painfully slowly, but he had to know. He had to win. “With all your heart?”
“Yes, I love you with all my heart!” She grabbed his buttocks with her sweet little hands and rammed herself against him. God in heaven. “Why do you keep stopping and starting and stopping again? You’re driving me mad.”
Yes, and it was driving him mad, too, and not only that, it was stupid. And underhanded. And—
“Why all these questions?” Her eyes widened. Her brows drew together. Now she stopped moving.
So much for tried-and-true techniques. He blew out a long breath.
“I can’t do this,” he said, “until I know why.”
~ * ~
She frowned up at him, at the distress on his beloved features. “Why what?”
“Or rather, why not?” He heaved another sigh. “Why won’t you marry me?”
She tried to gather her thoughts. “Because…because…” She didn’t want to say why. It made her too sad.
“You told me you didn’t marry any of your suitors because you didn’t love them,” he said, his expression both anxious and confused. “But you do love me. Don’t you? You just said so. It can’t be because you don’t love me.” He sighed and pulled out of her, pulled away. His cock had shrunk a little. “Unless you were just succumbing to my dirty trick, and now you’re not.” Pause. “Like you didn’t succumb in the dream.”
“What dirty trick?”
“It’s an interrogation technique,” he said. “Get the woman into such a haze of lust that she’ll blurt out anything, including pertinent information you can’t get any other way. It’s worked for me before. Valiant swears by it.”
She moved away, wrapping herself tightly in the coverlet, and narrowed her eyes. “And just what did you want me to blurt?”
“That you would marry me.” His mouth twisted. “I thought once you’d agreed, you wouldn’t go back on your word.”
“If I’d realized it was a trick, I wouldn’t have felt obliged to keep my word,” she gritted out. “I will not be forced into marriage. You should know that by now.” Impossible man. “Why didn’t you just ask me why not? Why go to all this trouble?” She waved her arm, indicating the clothes strewn on the floor and his shivering nakedness.
“It wasn’t exactly trouble,” he said ruefully. “I was enjoying it until I realized I couldn’t do it.”
She opened the covers, moved closer, and enclosed him as well. Then she turned and lay on her back—about as withdrawn as she could be while lying naked next to him. “The reason I won’t marry you should be obvious.”
“Because of my reputation,” he muttered. “Because I’m a scoundrel.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Damn it, I’m not really that bad. The reputation was part of my cover as a spy.” He grimaced. “Of course, I had to engage in some mighty low activities to acquire it.”
“Didn’t you hear me? I said no, it’s not your stupid reputation. Even if I didn’t already know about the espionage, I wouldn’t let myself be swayed by gossip and innuendo.”
How she wished she could just say yes, I’ll marry you.
But she couldn’t, and there was no point stretching out the misery. “It wouldn’t be right for me to marry you. We want to make love to one another, but you’re not the marrying kind. I couldn’t bear to force you.”
He sat up, staring at her with knit brows. “What makes you think you’re forcing me?”
“You said so yourself.” She sat up, too. “After I did my best to ruin myself the other night, I hid at the top of the stairs, and I heard you and Lettice and Hadrian coming up. You said that you’d have to marry me now, because I was ruined, and people would think the man I’d given myself to was you.”
“Oh, my sweet, that’s not how I meant it.”
She scowled. “Don’t lie to me. That very night, you asked me to marry you. I had to say no.”
“Unbelievable.” He blew out another of those long breaths. “I’d told Lettice and Hadrian earlier that I wanted to marry you. They disapproved of my methods and said I should court you properly, which would have taken months. Your ruin seemed like a godsend. It meant we could marry straightaway.”
A glib explanation. Foolishly, she wanted to believe it.
“Darling Jane, I sent those dreams in the hope of seducing you into marrying me. My reputation doesn’t allow the usual courting rituals, so how else was I to woo you? Dash it all, I’ve waited for you for five long years.”
“Five…years?” Since we danced?
“Maybe I’m losing my touch. I swear I mentioned those five years twice in dreams since you arrived here, and the second time without any sensual overtones, so you should have noticed.”
“I thought—I thought that dream was wishful thinking on my part.” Her throat swelled; she blinked away tears. “Five years—since the day we met.”
“You remember, too?” His smile was indescribably tender. “It was love at first dance.”
She caressed his cheek, overwhelmed, hardly daring to believe. “I couldn’t get you out of my mind for months afterward, but I told myself it was impossible, and so I did my best to forget.” Her lip quivered; her eyes burned with unshed tears. “When I said I had given myself to another man, it was true. It wasn’t my body I’d given, but my heart.” She bit her lip to stop the trembling, but a telltale tear leaked out and rolled down her cheek. “To you.”
~ * ~
Together they slid under the coverlet again. He kissed her lips, her nose, her cheek, her chin. “I would have asked you then and there—run off with you if I had to—but even if you wanted me as much as I wanted you, I couldn’t ask you to marry a man with a bad reputation whose mission was to make it worse.”
“No,” she said gravely. “Of course not.”
“But I can ask you now. Will you marry me, Jane?”
“Yes, oh, yes.” She sighed happily, wriggling under him, twining her legs with his.
He closed his eyes. “Thank you.”
“But you have to promise not to—no, forget that. I’m not sure you’re capable of a life without trickery.”
She was perfectly correct, alas. But she’d still agreed to marry him! “Sorry, my love. I mean well, but I freely admit to being odious. I’m afraid I’ll take some putting up with.”
“No stultifying propriety. No senseless rules. I’m sure I can put up with that.” Her soft, pink, hot, enthralling lips curved up. “By the way, there was a sensual overtone to that dream.” She ran her foot up and down his calf.
“I’ll kiss your toes later,” he said as his cock hardened again. “For now, let’s finish what we started tonight.”
~ * ~
Afterward, they dressed again. She realized why he’d laid her clothing carefully over a chair—to avoid telltale creases. He reattached the flounce with a few quick stitches, and painstakingly combed out the tangles in her hair. “If there’s one thing that shows a woman’s been lying under a man, it’s a clump of tangled hair at the back of her head.” He eyed her with a grin. “Although with such a glow about you, and accompanied by me, many will wonder anyway.”
