The Female Charm (12 page)

A breath caught in
his throat as she knelt in the middle of the bed in matching
deep-red French knickers and push-up bra. He couldn't help but
stare until he noticed she was giving him an appraising look of her
own. When their eyes met she raised an eyebrow and bit down on her
lip. If nothing else, Amelia knew how to ask a man to come to bed
with her.

Knowing very few
men would resist that look from a woman in her state, Mycroft moved
towards the bed and knelt in front of her. She parted her legs as
he leant forward and then put her arms around his neck. A second
later she went over backwards and he went with her, his hand
finding the smooth skin of her thigh as they did.

She pressed her
lips against his in a quick kiss and then paused only millimetres
from his face, inviting him to kiss her some more.

“I thought whores
never kissed on the mouth,” he said, keeping the Russian accent
going.

“I'm not your
average whore,” she replied and then kissed him again. As she did
she ran her fingers gently around his shirt collar until she
reached his tie. Deftly, she removed it and then slid the top
button back through its hole. A moment later she placed a kiss
right on the base of his throat. She was definitely not the average
whore.

Feeling his groin
tense with desire for the first time in years, Mycroft finally
responded and crushed his lips down on top of hers, their softness
parting slightly under his fierceness. As he slid his tongue in her
mouth, he ran his hand up her thigh, past the lacy knickers and up
to her breasts, cupping them.

She moaned gently
and flicked her hips upwards against his erection. Only then did he
realise what was happening. This was Amelia, not someone he was
using to slate an inconvenient desire, and he hadn't intended to
ever go this far. He let go of her and lifted his torso up a little
so his arms were supporting his weight more than her.

“Have you ever
seen the film
True Lies
?” she asked a few seconds later,
studying his face as she did.

“Nyet,” he
replied.

“Well, in it this
guy who catches his wife cheating on him, with someone claiming to
be a spy, tricks her into thinking she needs to help this lover of
hers by posing as a prostitute. She then poses as a whore for a guy
who is actually her husband in disguise.”

“What of it?” He
frowned, wondering where she was going with this. If it was an exit
plan, it was a strange one.

“She never worked
out that the guy was her own husband so when he tried to seduce her
she hit him with some random item in the bedroom.”

Understanding
dawned on him. Amelia wasn't trying to get out of the situation
because she knew it was him. He chuckled.

“How long have you
known it was me?” he asked, dropping the accent.

“I suspected when
you came into the room with the candlelight. The way you looked at
me for just a split second. But I didn't know for sure till just
now.” A smug grin broke out on her face. He got off her and stood
by the bed, and immediately the smile turned to a mock pout.

He turned his head
away from her body and made himself busy looking in the cabinet
near him for the bug she should have planted. It gave him time to
calm his body and heart rate down. The last thing he needed was for
Amelia to think he wanted to have sex with her. He may be male
enough that he'd screw a willing woman, but not when it would
complicate his life.

“It's in the
cabinet on the other side,” she said a moment later. “And there's
one behind the sink in the bathroom. I was going to put another one
by the bar as I left.”

“You had an exit
strategy then?” he asked as he fetched the two bugs.

“Of course. I was
going to pretend I was sick; wouldn't have been too difficult if
some other guy had groped me the way you did just now.”

He blinked but
that was the only outward expression of his response to her words.
This was far too intimate. Immediately, he resumed his usual cold
demeanour and stood up straight. After just a glance at her body,
now laid sideways on the bed, showing off the way her hips and
breasts curved, he picked up his tie and neatened his dishevelled
clothing.

“There were easier
ways into the room,” he said, sounding as disapproving as he could.
She shrugged.

“I thought this
one matched my skill set best, as you suggested I should do.
Whatever I had the most confidence managing and wasn't too
difficult. It definitely seemed to be working for a minute or two
there.” She glanced at his crotch, making it very obvious what she
meant.

He hmmphed in
response.

“I have work to
get back to, but you can stay here the night and enjoy the hotel's
luxuries. I believe there's a health spa. I'll pick up the bill.”
He walked towards the door, making his intentions clear.

“You don't want to
join me and make the most of your money?”

“No, Amelia. I
very much don't.”

“Pity. You were
doing a good job of getting me in the mood, too. Maybe I shouldn't
have said anything so soon.”

“You may have done
well, especially when you weren't aware this was another test, but
no, Amelia. This would not have led to us having sex, nor is it
ever likely to happen.”

With that, Mycroft
walked out. Hurt had appeared in her eyes, and that was all he'd
wanted. She couldn't ever think anything serious would happen
between them. Even if sex was something his body needed
occasionally, he would never allow it to be more than that. He was
immortal and she wasn't.

Seeing Sherlock's
reaction to Watson's death was bad enough. He wouldn't allow
himself to get attached to someone like that. She was a diversion
and nothing else.

Mycroft was so
wrapped up in these thoughts that he stood outside the hotel before
he noticed where he was, something very unexpected for him.
Somehow, he'd also forgotten to dismiss his agents. He'd planned to
do it as the Russian to keep any of them from knowing the whole
thing was fake but that meant going back inside. Instead, he sent
them a message.

He then called for
a taxi, not wanting Daniels or anyone else to see him when he
wasn't his normal self. Whether he wanted to admit it or not,
Amelia's seduction technique had affected him and it would take him
a while to compose himself. A cab ride home in the cold would have
the required effect.

The city was still
busy enough that it took almost an hour for the taxi to get him to
his front door. Thankfully, it would mean both his housekeeper and
Daniels would have gone home for the day, but as he walked in the
front door he knew he wasn't alone.

Sherlock appeared
at the entrance to his study, a glass of brandy in his hand.

“There you are,
brother of mine. How did it go in Scotland?” Sherlock asked, but
then raised an eyebrow. “I hope it wasn't Amelia who ruffled your
hair like that?”

Mycroft shot him
the most scathing look he could, knowing Sherlock would smell her
perfume on him as soon as he got any closer. Of all the days
Sherlock could decide to visit him, it would be when he was least
wanted. There was no avoiding the questions now.

Looking pointedly
at the brandy in Sherlock's hand, Mycroft pushed past him into the
study. His younger brother merely laughed in response, evidently
still caught up in the way Mycroft looked.

As Mycroft sank
into his favourite chair, Sherlock walked over to the desk and
poured another drink. The younger Holmes still had a grin on his
face when he handed the glass over.

“Happy Valentine's
Day, it seems.” He raised his glass as if toasting the ridiculous
sentiment.

Mycroft rolled his
eyes.

“I knew her female
charm would wear you down eventually.”

“Nothing
happened.”

“Something
obviously did. Your tie isn't straight either.”

“I was teaching
her something. She chose to seduce her way through the task. She
didn't even know it was me.” He waved his hand to distract from the
last part being a lie, but from Sherlock's extra chuckle it
evidently didn't work. Sometimes he wished he hadn't taught his
younger brother everything he knew. “Why are you here,
Sherlock?”

“Oh, I just came
to let you know I liked Amelia's article today, although I noticed
it didn't have her name on. Nicely handled.”

“Yes, well, it
would have been better had you handled it.”

“I think we both
know that's not true. I've never seen you look so alive, and
considering how little we've both aged, that's saying something.”
Sherlock smiled, downed his drink and placed the empty glass on the
desk.

“I'll leave you to
your thoughts now, brother. Good evening.”

Mycroft let out a
frustrated sigh as he heard the front door slam. At the best of
times, he never liked having someone else in this room. It was his
sanctuary, amongst his books and papers. But as he sat there, he
remembered how Amelia had looked the second time he'd had afternoon
tea with her, dressed in a similar green to the leather on top of
his desk. With her deep brown hair down around her shoulders,
simply because he'd said he thought it looked better that way.

As he took in his
study in the low light, he found himself picturing Amelia in there,
too, and it wasn't an unpleasant scene.

Amelia took her
time getting up the following morning. She'd already eaten her
breakfast in bed and spent an hour writing, but she was meant to
officially check out of the room even if she didn't leave the hotel
in the next half hour.

Checking she had
everything, she stepped out of the room into the hallway and
sighed. Although she'd enjoyed spending the night in the very
luxurious hotel, she still wished Myron hadn't left so swiftly. All
night, she'd dreamt of what might have transpired had he stayed,
but she knew it would do her no good to dwell.

Despite her best
attempts to think of something else, she wandered down the hallway,
towards the lifts, still thinking of the way his skin had felt as
she'd kissed it and how his silky hair had run through her fingers.
He was an attractive man and for a few minutes she'd been as close
to him as she'd ever wanted to be.

A hand clamping
down on her mouth disturbed her from her thoughts, and then another
arched around her middle, pinning her to a body behind. She tried
to struggle, but to little benefit. A second man came rushing
around her front, and as she recognised him he pulled a wad of some
kind of material out of his pocket. Between them, they forced her
mouth open and shoved it inside. A black bag was then yanked down
over her head.

Her panicked brain
had just enough time to conclude that this was the same man who had
appeared at the bar downstairs and who had followed her back from
Scotland, before they picked her up between them and man-handled
her back the way she'd come.

Yells and screams
came out as muffled grunts that would never be heard in any of the
rooms, quickly stopping her from bothering. Instead, she tried
desperately to think. She knew at least one of them was Russian,
which would make it one very large coincidence if this wasn't
another test from Myron so soon after he'd posed as a Russian
himself. He'd know it would be too obvious.

If it wasn't
Myron, that meant only one thing. She really was being kidnapped by
Russians. And if that were true, she couldn't help but think of
Tom's last warning to her. Not even Myron would start a war over
her safety.

~

Thank you for reading The Female Charm. The sequel, The
Reluctant Knight, will be available on April
29
^th
2016 to buy, and will be up for pre-order shortly. While you
wait you might also like to try my fantasy works beginning with a
free short,
Wandering to Belong
.

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Already
published

Historical
Adventure:

With Proud
Humility (#1 in the Hearts of the Seas series)

Chains of
Freedom (#4 in the Hearts of the Seas series)

Fantasy (Tales
of Ethanar):

Wandering to
Belong (Tale 1)

Innocent
Hearts (Tale 2 & 3)

For Such a
Time as This (Tale 4)

A Fire's
Sacrifice (Tale 5)

The Hope of
Winter (A short story in the anthology 'Flights of Fantasy' - Tale
6.05)

Sci-Fi:

Sherdan's
Prophecy (#1 in the Sherdan series)

Sherdan's
Legacy (#2 in the Sherdan series)

Sherdan's
Country (#3 in the Sherdan series)

Sherdan's Road
(A short story in the anthology 'The End of the Road')

The Slave
Who'd Never Been Kissed (A novella in the anthology 'The Kiss')

Find Purchase links here

Coming
soon

Historical
Adventure:

Victorious
Ruin (#2 in the Hearts of the Seas series)

Fantasy (Tales
of Ethanar):

The Fire of
Winter (#1 in the Winter series, Tale 6.1)