Danger's Kiss (35 page)

“At the moment,” he purred, “I can think of a certain lusty lass who needs Nicholas Grimshaw more.”

By the Rood!  Did Nicholas have to look at her like that, his eyes flickering like stars through smoke, full of promise?

Despite Desirée’s keen desperation to finish her business with Lady Philomena, when he gazed at her that way, she found him almost impossible to resist.

Her body remembered too well the ecstasy of the night before, the searing passion, the exhilarating flight, and the quiet joy afterward.

But she didn’t dare delay.  There was no telling what obstacles she might encounter on her trek to Torteval today.  And when she thought of Snowflake, hanging helpless in that flour sack, his life at the mercy of a woman who despised cats...

“Nicholas!” she chided, batting away the arm that had somehow found its way beneath her skirts.  “You have to get dressed, and I
—
“  She hesitated.

“You what?”  His eyes narrowed, as if he was keenly interested in her answer.

“I...have things to do.”  She managed to wriggle free of several of his attempts to snatch her and finally fled into the next room.  Quickly scanning the chamber, she spied the satchel just where she’d left it, beside his keg.  She grabbed it up and began digging through the contents, praying the key was still there.  Aye, there it was.  “After all,” she called out, “I’ve been gone for two days.  I’m sure we’re out of milk and eggs, and
—
“

His sudden appearance in the doorway startled her, making her drop the key.  They both frowned down at the black iron object.  Desirée gulped.

If ever there was a time for distraction, it was now.   Desirée stepped close to him, blocking his view, letting her gaze drift up to his bare chest.  She only had to half feign the desire that coursed through her veins as she let her eyes graze the perfectly sculpted muscles and flat planes of his torso.

“On the other hand,” she breathed, outlining her lips with the tip of her tongue, “maybe I
can
spare an hour before I...”  She dipped her eyelids.  “...get on with my...”  She stared longingly at his mouth.  “...duties.”

She slipped her hand into his and led him back to the bedchamber.  It was doubtless a sin of the worst kind, using swiving as a distraction.  But she truly did care for Nicholas.  Enough to deceive him in order to protect him.  Enough to have given him her virginity, for the love of Mary.  And truth be told, a part of her yearned to relive their passionate coupling as much as he did.

“This time ‘twill be much better,” he vowed softly, bending down to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to the bed.  “You’ll have no regrets.”

She hoped he was right.  She hoped this indulgence wouldn’t delay her too long. Most of all, she hoped their lovemaking would erase all thoughts of that cursed key from his mind.

Nicholas settled Desirée gently atop the coverlet.  He sighed.  This interrogation was going to be torture for him as much as it was for her.  Already his loins ached with longing.

But it was the only way to wring the truth from her.  And now that he’d had a good look at the key she kept in her satchel, it was even more urgent that he discover what secrets she concealed.

Desirée knew him too well to fear the usual warnings of violence he employed when questioning prisoners.  She’d laugh in his face if he threatened to skewer her with the tool she’d turned into a cooking spit.

Nay, the lass would be won with passion, not pain.

Though his skills of seduction were rusty, in his youth he’d made many a maid tremble with longing and sigh with desire.  He could do so again.

He stretched out beside her, drawing the neckline of her gown down just far enough to place innocent kisses along her collarbone.  He nuzzled her neck and sent a soft breath up along her throat.  It curled into the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

“Tell me, Desirée,” he breathed, slinging his leg over her thighs in sweet possession.

“Aye?” she murmured.  She smiled and reached up a hand to caress his hair, but he caught her fingers, turning them to kiss her knuckles.

“Where have you been the past two days?”

He glimpsed alarm in her eyes before she quickly lowered her lids.  When she looked up again, she’d reined in her panic to stare lustily at his mouth.  “Does it matter?” she asked coyly.  “I’m here now.”

He chuckled softly.  She was good. 
Very
good.

She tried to extract her fingers from his grasp, but he held them fast, gently stroking her knuckles.

With the fingertip of his other hand, he traced a sinuous path over her bosom, teasing the cloth of her gown lower and lower with painful sloth, until her nipple languished but an inch from freedom.  Lord, her skin was as soft as down, and he bit the inside of his cheek, resisting his own lustful urges as her bosom rose and fell, straining at the gown.

Steeling himself against the desire to suckle at her sweet breast, he instead lifted just the edge of her neckline to peek at the treasure within.  “You stole my gaming box,” he murmured, his voice smooth despite the harsh words.  Then he blew a hot breath into the gap, stirring her nipple to life.

“Nay!” she gasped.

“Nay?”

“I mean, aye.”  Desirée squeezed her eyes shut, clearly distracted.

“Why?”

She clasped his invading hand in her own, subtly guiding it away from her.  “I...I thought ‘twould bring a good price.”

“And did it?”  Undeterred, he turned both their hands to delve beneath her neckline, brushing brazenly across her nipple with his thumb.

She bit her lip, and her fingers tightened in his, but she didn’t answer.

He gave her nipple a quick pinch that was at once punishing and arousing.  She gasped, and he instantly muted the sound, swooping to close his mouth over hers in a deep and lingering kiss of apology while he soothed her breast with the flat of his hand.

She moaned against his lips, a sweet, compelling sound, and he wondered again how he’d ever endure such torment.  Already his head buzzed with yearning and his cock strained at his braies.

But Nicholas was a man of control.  If he could command the subtle nuances of pain, he could certainly master the exquisite shades of pleasure.

Swallowing down a groan, he nipped softly at her lips.  “Ah, Desirée,” he murmured hoarsely, “to whom did you sell it?”

“Hmm?”

“The gaming box,” he said patiently.  “Who purchased it?”

She frowned in mild irritation.  She obviously didn’t want to answer his questions.  She had more pressing interests.

So did he.  But this was a matter of grave consequence.

“Desirée.”

“Mm.”

“Desirée.”  He withdrew his hands from her, finally garnering her attention.

“What?”

“Who bought the gaming box?”

She shrugged, but an evasive glint marred her innocent gaze.  “I don’t know.  I don’t remember.”

He brushed a stray tendril from her brow, and then delved his fingers into her hair.  He cupped her cheek, staring at her lush, inviting lips.  Apparently, she needed more convincing.  “Perhaps I can stir your memory.”

He lowered his head to breathe softly upon her cheek, running the tip of his nose alongside hers, drawing out the sultry suspense until her mouth parted hungrily and her nostrils flared with anticipation.

Only then did he consummate the kiss, deeply and completely.  He massaged her lips with his own until her jaw fell open in surrender and she moaned with pleasure.  Her arms crept up to wrap around his neck, and she arched toward him in invitation.  He swirled his tongue within, tasting her need, savoring her passion, and it was an intoxicating brew indeed.

For a dangerous moment, he almost lost himself in his own desires.

Then his fingers traced over the mysterious slash on her throat, and he remembered the marks on her body.  Someone had hurt Desirée.  And he needed to know who.  Now.

Never breaking the kiss, he reached behind his neck to clasp both her hands in one of his own.  She made no resistance when he raised them up and over his head, nor did she fight him when he pressed them onto the pillow above her.

Holding her thus pinned, he moved his free hand down over her skirts and began easing up the fabric.  She moaned once in halfhearted protest.  But once she lay exposed and he began to caress the soft inner flesh of her thigh with the back of his hand, slipping higher and higher, closer and closer to the center of her need, her protest became at first beckoning and then insistent.

Now, he thought.  Now he had her at his mercy.

He combed his fingers through the silky curls bordering her sweet feminine flower, breaking from the kiss long enough to whisper against her lips.  “Now, my sweet, you’re going to tell me everything.”

He felt her stiffen beneath him.  But just as quickly, she calmed, gazing up at him in coy innocence.  “But Nicholas, I don’t know what you
—
“

His fingers delved swiftly and expertly between her nether lips to alight like a butterfly upon the swollen bud nestled there, effectively silencing her lie.

Desirée sucked a sharp breath through her teeth.  His fingertip seared her like lightning between her thighs, instantly incinerating her thoughts, her wits, and her control.

“Oh, I think you do, my love,” he murmured against her hair.

He withdrew his fingers slightly, and in that moment of respite, the truth rushed in on Desirée with startling clarity.

She’d been gulled.  Nicholas had tricked her.  No better than one of her foolish targets, she’d let herself be blinded by her own desires.  Now she was as helpless as a fly caught in a spider’s web.  Worse, she was at the mercy of a lawman who was an expert at eliciting confessions.

She struggled to free her hands from his grip, but he held them fast.  Her legs, too, were anchored by his heavy thigh.  The bloody brute knew exactly what he was doing.

“Now why don’t you tell me,” he purred, “who bought the gaming box?”

Desirée resisted giving him any response.  Vexed at him and furious with herself for falling prey to his deception, she clenched her teeth and refused to answer.

But when he slid his finger down to caress her intimately again, she couldn’t help herself.  Though she managed to limit her verbal reply to stifled groans, her body acted of its own will, tensing in answer to his seductive caress.

“Tell me, Desirée.”  He stroked her again, and she arched up, welcoming the sweet pressure.

“No one!” she gasped.  “No one bought it.”

“Then where is it?”

“I don’t know.”

He nuzzled her ear, making her shiver.  “Are you certain?”

His fingers tormented her again, caressing and stretching and tickling her delicate flesh until it seemed she would burst with yearning.

Then his movements slowed and stopped, and she experienced a new agony as her hips thrust upward, straining for more.

“Are you certain?” he repeated.  “You have no idea where ‘tis?”

Frustration made her voice rough and demanding.  “Bloody hell!  Nay!”

At long last he resumed pleasuring her, but it was as welcome a relief as a double-edged sword.  She languished in a perverse sea of ecstasy and self-loathing as her traitorous body succumbed to his seduction.

Then he murmured another question in her ear.  “The key you dropped, where did you get it?”

Her heart skipped a beat.  Normally, Desirée could concoct a lie as deftly as tucking a pea under a shell.  But her brain was muddled by desire, and she only stared at him blankly.

At her stunned silence, Nicholas removed his hand from her, which left her squirming in discomfort, if slightly more clear-headed.

“Where did you get the key?” he repeated.

She could tell him the truth, that Hubert had given her the key.  But now that she could think straight, another possibility occurred to her, a more convenient explanation, one that might hasten Nicholas’s lovemaking, get him to stop asking her probing questions, and provide an excuse for her to venture out.