When a Lady Deceives (Her Majesty’s Most Secret Service) (23 page)

Turning, she met Trent’s greeting with a bland smile. “What a delightful surprise. I hadn’t expected to see you out and about so early.”

The cordial façade that served as Trent’s disguise slipped away. His eyes hardened. “You’ve been seen with him—with Colton. A rather intimate exchange, from what I’m told.” His words cut through the street sounds like a slap in the face.

She froze, even as her pulse raced. How dare he speak to her with such contempt. Good heavens, the man had no right. Stiffening her spine, she pulled in a calming breath. This was not the place to express her furious indignation.

He stood close enough to touch her now. Shoulders rigid, he kept his hands jammed in his pockets as if that was the only thing keeping him from reaching out to her.

She layered her voice with ice. “I beg your pardon.”

“I have an observant acquaintance at Café Susannah who appreciates a handsome gratuity. It would seem that you, my dear Miss Quinn, evidently possess little appetite early in the day. Of course, a lovers’ quarrel tends to have that effect.”

She whipped around and resumed her brisk march. He followed close at her heels.

“You’re not going to deny it?” he asked. “Perhaps my source is mistaken. It is possible Colton had a heated discussion with another lovely redhead.”

“I suggest you search for evidence rather than concerning yourself with where Colton prefers to dine.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game. He’s on to you.” Trent’s voice lost its arrogant edge.

“You have your sources. I have mine.”

“Has your time with Colton produced evidence of anything other than the man’s eating habits?”

She stared over her shoulder. How dare Trent interrogate her? “Nothing I am prepared to share with you.”

“Matthew Colton is not a fool. He’s baiting you to keep your interest. In the process, he’s enjoying whatever favors you’re willing to bestow.”

“Favors?” She battled the impulse to slap the smirk from Trent’s face. Her nails bit into her palm. “I assure you, I have no desire to continue this discussion.”

“He’ll hurt you, Jennie.”

“That’s not your concern.”

“Bloody hell it’s not.” His voice lowered to a near whisper. “Tell me you haven’t developed feelings for the man.”

“You are making a scene,” she gritted between her teeth. “I know what I’m doing. You’ve no need to worry about me.”

He reached out to her, resting his hand on her upper arm, gently this time. “You’re a shrewd reporter. You’ve got all the right instincts. But you don’t have the experience to deal with a deceptive rogue like Colton. No good can come of this.”

“In that case, I suppose I will gain the requisite experience the hard way.”

Trent studied her for a long moment. Grazing his thumb over her cheek, the harsh set of his features eased. The anger had fled his eyes, replaced by a profound weariness. “You may not believe me, but I’m half mad with worry over you. No matter what it takes, I won’t allow that bastard to hurt you. By the time I’m finished, he’ll be rotting behind bars with Harwick at his side.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Trent’s threat echoed in Jennie’s thoughts long after he’d walked into the distance. Hours later, his words still played in her head, drowning out the alcohol-fueled boasts drifting from the Lancaster’s boisterous patrons. Devil take it, she’d let the man rattle her. She had better things to do than dwell on his innuendo-laden warnings.

Balancing a tray of generously filled mugs on one upturned hand, she navigated the bustling crowd. A quartet of jovial gents offered enthusiastic thanks as they hoisted the steins to their mustachioed mouths. Smiling to herself, she gathered their empty glasses and hurried back to the bar.

“Miss Danvers, a word please.”

The polite request startled her so, she nearly tipped the tray to its side.
Jack Trent
.
Again
.
Has the man gone utterly mad?
He trailed her steps, so near she thought he might actually tread on her skirt.

Pivoting to face him, she kept her voice low and guarded. “What are you doing here? Surely you realize—”

“You need to get out of this place. Now.”

Jennie edged toward the bar. “You shouldn’t be here.”

His fingers closed over her forearm. “You need to come with me. Something’s happened.”

“Unhand me. You are drawing far too much attention.”

Jennie caught a glimpse of Matthew’s dark hair. Blast the luck! He cut through the crowd, heading straight toward them. The cold steel in his eyes reminded Jennie of the photos of his trial. A lethal edge, tightly leashed—but exceedingly dangerous.

“Keep your goddamned hands off her.”

Even as the tension in his grip dissolved, Trent regarded Matthew with a bland stare. “I don’t recall hearing the lady request your assistance
.
”

“You
will
keep your hands off her. Unless you intend to be carried out of here.”

Trent drew a cigarette from his pocket and struck a match against the wall. “You don’t intimidate me. If Scotland Yard doesn’t get you, Harwick will.” He dragged in a leisurely inhalation. “When it happens, I’ll be there to write the story.”

“Get the hell out of here before you write your next words from a hospital bed.”

“If that’s what it takes to get you locked away in a cage, it will be well worth it.” Jack turned, casting Jennie a glare over his shoulder. “Keep away from him. I’d hate to see your blood stain his hands.”

…

Jennie grabbed a rag and swiped at a spill on the counter while stealing a glance to the front entrance. Where in blazes had Matthew gone? He’d stormed out of the tavern not long after the exchange with Trent. Business matters, he’d explained tersely as the door swung shut behind his back. She could only pray his
business
had nothing to do with Jack Trent.

She was clearing a table when Matthew marched in, his charcoal overcoat unbuttoned and a black hat shading his features. He met her eyes for the briefest of moments, then headed straight for the bar. He exchanged a few brusque, quiet words with Harry. The frequent nods of the barkeeper’s head were clear indicators the conversation was not entirely social.

Carrying a tray laden with empty mugs, she approached the bar. Matthew stood with his back to her. Over his broad shoulder, she saw Harry’s usually jovial face creased with tension.

“If you see that bastard come through the doors, toss him out on his arse.” Matthew’s order no doubt referred to Trent.

“Ye’ve no worries on that. We don’t need his kind here.” Harry twisted a rag in his hands as his head bobbed in a nod.

“I knew I could count on you.” Matthew turned to Jennie. His eyes were hooded. Weary. But a wicked spark lit his dark brown irises as his gaze settled on her. Harry shuffled away, clearing his throat with intent. Was the attraction between them so obvious?

Matthew came to her. “It’s been a long night. I’ll see you home.”

“I still have work to do,” she said, flashing a coy smile. After the way her nerves had been frayed all evening, it seemed a relief to pretend her life was filled with smiling at customers and toting trays of ale.

Matthew leaned closer. Against her ear, his husky inquiry unleashed a delicious little shiver down her spine. “Do you really want me to convince you? I could kiss you
here
.” His breath brushed her pulse point, then trailed the column of her throat. “Or
here
. That spot, I believe, makes your knees go a bit weak.”

Her legs positively wobbled. Blast the man. Did he always have to be right?

Harry’s entirely indiscreet cough rescued her. She smoothed her skirts, doing her best to pretend she hadn’t been so affected by Matthew’s sensual challenge. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “This has been a rather tiring night.”

“Harry, I trust you’ll see Rose home,” Matthew said.

“Of course,” the big man blustered. “Ye know I wouldn’t let a pretty miss on the streets by herself with a madman runnin’ loose.”

Matthew offered a crisp nod. He caught Jennie’s arm in one hand, escorted her to the door, and draped her cloak around her shoulders. Eyes darkening with promise, he pulled her close. “Do you want a caveman or a poet tonight?”

“Neither.” She molded to his warmth. “I want you.”

The door to Matthew’s town house closed with quiet finality. He stripped off his coat and jacket and crouched before the hearth. As he kindled a fire, Jennie took in the play of muscles beneath his shirt.

He glanced over his shoulder. His mouth curved in a wry smile. “You may remove your cloak. I’ve no intention of tearing off your clothes.”

Jennie freed the braid closure at the neck of the wool cape. Peculiar, how her fingers trembled slightly as her heart beat a fierce cadence. Not with fear. But with heady anticipation. “Somehow, that possibility does not trouble me in the least.”

Rising to his full height, he came to her. “I want you too much, Jennie. Too much to let you go.”

Watching him through the veil of her lashes, emotion scalded her throat. “I don’t doubt you want me…”

“You still don’t understand, do you?” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Fleeting. Tender. He swept her into the cradle of his arms. “I’ve never needed a woman more in my life. But if you don’t want this…if you don’t want me, I’ll leave you to your rest, alone with your dreams.”

The pain in his gaze reached deep within her, seeming to touch her very soul. Such a bold, arrogant man. Yet, he’d cast away his desire if she wasn’t ready, if she didn’t share his hunger. How could he not see how she longed for his touch?

She cupped her hand to his cheek and brushed a kiss over his mouth. “And where would the pleasure be in that?”

His wicked grin lit his features. “In that case, I’ll need to drag you to my lair once again.”

…

Jennie’s legs dangled off the edge of Matthew’s bed. A small lamp in the corner of the chamber cast a cozy glow over her unclothed limbs, while a blazing fire warmed her skin. The soothing cascade of running water drifted from the bathroom.

“Have you decided you’d rather soak in a tub than lie here with me?” she teased.

“No.” Sensual hunger charged the single syllable with erotic heat. Barefoot, he returned to her with soundless steps. His white linen shirt hugged his broad shoulders. Her gaze trailed from the dark vee at his unbuttoned collar to the damp shirtsleeves he’d rolled to his elbows. A dusting of chestnut brown hair emphasized the lean-muscled power of his forearms.

Pulling Jennie to her feet, he threaded his fingers through her hair. A sweet warmth filled her. A heartbeat hovered between them, and he kissed her. An unhurried caress, teasing her senses to full, aching awareness. Longing pooled in her core, spreading like molten lava to her fingertips and toes.

Taking great care with each button, he undressed her. The tenderness in Matthew’s touch swept exquisite shivers over her skin. Peeling away her garments until she wore only her combination, he worked the top fastening free. Another followed, and another.

A rake’s smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “Too many damned buttons,” he growled playfully, undeterred in his quest.

Anticipation leaped though her body. Matthew slid the fabric over her shoulders. The undergarment pooled at her feet. She stepped away, and she shifted a glance to her discarded combination. A sigh escaped her. How deliciously wanton she’d become. A decent woman would cover herself. But she welcomed the bold desire in Matthew’s gaze.

His unashamed hunger set her pulse thundering. His fingertips grazed her skin, stirring tiny currents of sensation, and she reached for him. Tearing greedily at the shirt that concealed his chest and arms from her, she stripped the fabric from his body. The offending garment fell to the floor in an unceremonious heap.

Matthew gathered her in his arms. Skin to skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat. His body heat melded with hers. Soothing. Tempting. Infusing every pore with languid need.

And then, her toes no longer touched the floor. With deliberate strides, he carried her to the bathroom. She blinked. “What…what are you doing?”

His kiss was a light brush against her lips. “Relax, sweetheart. You’ll like this.”

Candlelight cast a muted sheen against the porcelain tile walls and floor. A claw-foot tub brimmed with hot, soapy water. Gently, he deposited Jennie in the tub.

She sank to her chin and drew a bubble-laden finger over his forearm. “This is heavenly.”

A smile of wicked promise spread over Matthew’s face. Kneeling beside the vessel, he pressed a leisurely kiss to her nape, then dipped a sponge in the fragrant water and etched a meandering trail of soapy bubbles over her breasts. So far from innocent, yet so very tender. No one had ever touched her with such unbridled gentleness, not until Matthew skimmed his roughened fingertips over her flesh.

He drew the sponge in a leisurely exploration over her body, a delicate blend of temptation and restraint. The coarse texture of the sponge stirred lush tingles over her skin. A sweet ache formed deep within, heightening the yearning for his touch.

His fingers slipped between the triangle at the crux of her thighs, teasing and coaxing and insistent. The deep-seated hunger intensified to a low throb. Jennie arched her back, canting her hips to meet every deft stroke of his fingertips.

A low moan drifted from her lips. The world contracted around her. There was only Matthew. Touching her. Mastering her body with a virtuoso’s skill. Loving her.

And then, she shattered.

Pleasure splintered through every nerve. Delicious tremors overtook her. Jennie gripped the sides of the tub, savoring every nuance, every sensation until she collapsed against his sturdy arms.

His grin was soft, knowing. With a leisurely kiss, he eased her into his arms and scooped her from the tub. Enfolded in a plush towel, she nestled against his chest, needing only his possession.

“Tell me what you want, Jennie.” His desire-roughened voice propelled fresh ripples from her nape to her core.

Fierce desire swelled within her heart. She wanted to learn every inch of his body. His taste. His scent. His response to her touch and her kiss. She wanted to claim him, just as he’d claimed her.

She coiled her arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily. “All of you.”

…

Matthew placed Jennie on the bed, then set about the thoroughly pleasant task of toweling her dry. He tugged the pins from her hair, freeing her lush waves to cascade over her shoulders. She was beautiful, and he drank her in. Ravenous for every soft, seductive sigh. Every subtle, teasing smile. Every passion-stirred beat of her pulse. He’d never get enough of her.

He slid beside her, pulling her to his body. The feel of her breasts against his chest melded heaven and carnal temptation. He wanted her. More than he’d ever wanted a woman. More than he’d ever wanted anything.

“What will bring you pleasure tonight?” he whispered as he swept a scattering of rebellious curls behind her ear.

“You.” Her voice was smooth and rich as fine Scotch.

The single word drove him to the brink of desire. Like a man crawling through the Sahara, his thirst for her welcoming body consumed him. He’d planned a slow, deliberate seduction, a sensual campaign to make her indelibly his. But how could he hold his own need in check when she looked at him like that?

He left her just long enough to shed his trousers and drawers. A hint of a pout formed on her delectable lips, tempting him beyond all reason. Stretching out on the bed, he held her. His cock throbbed, demanding he bury himself in her heat.

Her lashes shaded eyes as luminous as emeralds. “If you don’t take me now, the longing will drive me quite mad. Surely you wouldn’t want that on your conscience.”

Bloody hell, she sounded so very reasonable. Her eyes had taken on a slightly mischievous sparkle that set his soul ablaze.

“We can’t have that now, can we?”

His fingers glided between her thighs, and she moved to meet his touch in an instinctive offering. With one smooth movement, he hovered over her, supporting his weight on his elbows as he peered down at her expectant features. Such a rare and precious thing, that gorgeous, inviting smile.

He dotted her brow with soft kisses. “My sweet Jennie.”

Her arms curved around his back, and she clung to him. “I need you.”

The words disintegrated the last shards of his control. He sheathed himself in her warmth with one long thrust.

In that instant, layers of the shield he’d erected around his soul shattered. For so long, he’d wanted only justice. But now, he needed her. He’d kill for her. And he’d die for her.

The undeniable truth embedded itself in his soul.

In Jennie’s arms, he was home.