I Spy a Duke (33 page)

She did not draw back from him. Instead, her fingers cupped his chin, forcing him to look at her. “I have spent the last year and a half vowing to slay the bastard who killed Evan. When I have the opportunity, I will take it.” Her eyes held his with steadfast scrutiny. “So do not expect me to condemn you for the things you have done. You protected people,
innocent
people, while all I want is to hurt Sauveterre. Of the two of us, I assure you my goals are far less noble.”

He did not know how to respond. Perhaps he should have anticipated this—she was never typical in her reactions to things. But her acceptance when she knew the truth about him still stunned him.

“You may have vowed to kill Sauveterre, but you do not know what you will do if the opportunity arises.”
 

She shrugged. “I do not know many things. But I
do
know that you are an honorable man, James Spencer. Even though I gave you every reason not to, you trusted me. The man I see when I look at you is one I’m proud to be married to, a man I love.”

Love.

That last word repeated in his mind. He had dared to hope that she could love him, yet a part of him had never believed she would.

She readjusted her position so that she was at eye level with him. Her lithe body leaned into his as she placed a soft kiss upon his lips. That gentle, sweet kiss grew more ardent the longer his lips connected with hers. Like everything else she did, Vivian kissed with passion—fervently, with reckless abandon.

She was perfection in his arms.

He parted from her, keeping his gaze locked on her. Gently, he caressed her cheek. “I love you too, Vivian. More than I ever thought it possible to love someone. You’re my everything.”

His hand rested on her cheek and she leaned into his touch. She stared into his gray eyes and she found strength in the steady weight of his gaze, the respect he offered her as his equal. His wife. His duchess.

A month ago, she had been Vivian Loren, wallflower and bluestocking. Unnoticed and unloved by most. She had gone through every day as though she were slumbering, trapped in the same spiral of thoughts. Evan’s murder. Sauveterre’s control. Lie upon untruth upon misery until she believed she would never know anything but bitterness and hatred.

James had changed that. From the moment she’d confessed her wrongdoings, he’d been there. Navigating behind the scenes, ensuring her care. She could not fathom all he had done—how his agents had unearthed traces of Sauveterre, or how he’d discovered that Evan was a spy too. There was so much about his profession she didn’t comprehend, and she still wasn’t sure if she wanted to accept his offer to join the Clocktower.

But she understood
him
. The man behind his many names. He was intelligent and resilient. His devotion to those he cared about had drawn her in from that first night in his office. The way he spoke of his sisters with such affection, and how he’d always made sure Thomas received the best tutelage possible. She pictured how dedicated he’d be to their own family someday.

He knew how to fight, but he also knew how to love.
 

She did not know if she was special enough, beautiful enough, tough enough to deserve him. But he made her want to take that chance.
 

She ran her thumb across his lips, letting her touch show him that though she doubted she could become a proficient spy, she never doubted him. She would work to become a woman worthy of him.
 

  
Slowly, day by day, he was teaching her that she could be his partner, but remain independent in her decisions.

She sat up straight, pushing the shawl off her shoulders. His gaze fastened immediately on her plump breasts. The almost translucent material of her nightdress left her little modesty. A quick glance down confirmed that the dark, dusky circles of her nipples were visible.

“You’re gorgeous.” The low huskiness to his voice made her shiver with need.

She wanted him. There was no question of that in her mind. She wanted him above her, the corded muscles in his arms straining as he thrust into her again and again. She wanted to be naked and gasping beneath him, striving to meet that devastating bliss once more.

Laying her hand on his chest, she gave him a gentle push, and he dropped to the bearskin throw. He pulled her down with him, and they fell together in a jumble of limbs, his back against the rug and her legs between his thighs.
 

He unbraided her hair until the fair strands fell loose against her shoulders. His fingers entangled in her curls, massaging as he brought his mouth upon hers in a long, scorching kiss. One kiss became another, and then another, mouths meeting in a desperate rhythm. He was hers. She was his. His tongue breached her lips, plunging into her mouth, filling her with the sweet taste of brandy, the spice of him.

 
Then his hands were on her hips, lifting her up so that she straddled him. Her nightdress fell about her, and he helped her yank it up higher.
 

 
“So beautiful,” he murmured with reverence that made her wet in her core. Under his watchful gaze she
felt
beautiful.

He ran his thumb across her breast, her nipples pebbling beneath his touch. Her breasts felt heavy, receptive to the slightest drag of the thin fabric. Pleasure rocked through her as he leaned forward, taking her breast in his mouth, his tongue dipping out to taste her through her nightdress.

It was not enough. She wanted more. She wanted
him,
with no impediments between them. Naked.
 

In one fell move, she whipped the nightgown off of her, tossing it aside. He had seen her with only her chemise on before, but she had never been bared to him. A moment of discomfiture raced through her, cut short when his eyes roved down her frame with such apparent hunger.

“God, Vivian,” he groaned, cupping her bottom and bringing her down on his erection. He guided her against him, the rub of his hard arousal against her mons the most delicious hint of what would come soon.
 

She ground against him, each stroke adding kindling to the fire that burned within her. His hands gripped her rear, holding her steady, allowing her to hit that one glorious point—that secret spot that had sent her reeling before.

 
Then he rolled them, and suddenly
 
she was between his thighs, his muscular arms resting on either side of her. He ducked his head, taking her lips in a kiss that branded her as his. He’d left a mark on her soul. Pleasure coursed through her as he moved his attentions to her neck, running his tongue against the crevice of her ear. She had never known that an ear could be so devilishly erotic.

He moved down, taking her breasts in his mouth and sucking upon the tip of her nipple. “Your breasts are wonderful. Firm, yet soft.”

Her hands somehow found their way to his head, diving into his black locks and anchoring his head to her chest. This was magnificent; this was perfect; how it had been with them before. That spark, now a full-fledged firestorm. He bit her nipple, scraping his teeth against her sensitive skin, making her squirm underneath him.
 

Yet he was far too clothed. She clawed at his cravat, ineffectively attempting to undo the knot. Laughing, he separated from her, tearing off the cravat and undoing the buttons of his shirt. When he slid the material off his arms and tossed it onto the blanket, she could only stare open-mouthed at the expanse of his hard, muscled chest. One long scar ran across his right pectoral, while an old burn marred the flesh above his left hipbone. Half a dozen other smaller marks littered his rugged physique.

She trailed her fingers down that long, windy scar. “What happened here?”

“Enemy in Brussels,” he said, clasping his hand over hers. “His knife might have left its mark upon me, but in the end I had the best of him.”

She leaned forward, placing her lips over top of the old wound. Gently, she kissed him, her tongue darting out to lick his skin.

He moaned underneath her, and she became more adventurous, her hands exploring the strong planes of arms, then his chest. And then down to his arousal—but he stopped her, his hand closing over hers and lifting it. “Not yet, my love,” he told her. “Not if you want this to be any good for you.”

 
She arched a brow at him, but he ignored her challenge. He stood up, and then he lifted her up in his arms, taking her over to the bed. He grinned as he laid her down. That mischievous grin of his drove her wild, for she knew she was the only one who ever got to see that side of him.
 

He parted her legs, situating himself in between them. His lips found her neck, her breasts, her stomach as he explored her, hands roving, leaving trails of heat wherever he touched. She wriggled underneath him, reaching down to try and direct his mouth to where she needed him most, but he was determined to torture her. He proceeded at a slow, leisurely pace, as though he had all the time in the world to win.

“James,” she gasped. “I want you. Please.”

He stopped his downward glide. “Tell me what you want.”
 

The sight of him was nearly enough to undo her. His half-naked body, his mouth poised right above the thatch of curls that led to her center. His eyes sparkled roguishly, and he held that pose, even as his bulging arousal told her exactly what he’d like to be doing.
 

He was mad, really, to expect such coherent thought from her.
 

“I want you to kiss me,” she panted. “Down there.”

“Not as specific as I would have liked, but we can work on that.” He flashed her that heart-stopping grin again before his head dipped between her thighs.
 

Her hands fisted in the sheets, for the short stubble of his day-old beard against her intimate flesh created a sensual friction she had not expected. Then his tongue flicked out, tracing her inner lips. Toying with that bud until she was moaning with need, slowly shattering under his ministrations.
 

“You are so wet.” He nibbled at her pearl, his teeth lightly grazing her, until she was flying, screaming out her release.

He made her forget about Sauveterre, about the possibility of joining the Clocktower, about everything that had passed in this last year and a half. There was only him and this blessed sense of rapture.

And when she was finished, when her body lay languid against the silk sheets, she looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, her gaze coming to rest on his hard arousal. Her climax had been powerful, but it wasn’t all she sought.
 

“I want you.” She reached for the band of his breeches, flipping open the clasp. “I want you inside of me.”

“Are you sure?” His gaze flickered over her face.

She knew that if she did want to wait, he would—whether or not it made him greatly uncomfortable to go without release. That made her love him more.
 

“Of all the things in life, I am most sure of this,” she told him.

He shucked his breeches and small clothes swiftly, coming back to her. Nudging her legs apart, he positioned himself between her thighs, bracing himself above her. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, his hard muscles against her own curves, the woodsy scent of him permeating everything.
 

“I swear, this shall only hurt the first time,” he promised her.

She nodded. Pain would no longer scare her away. She’d vowed to be fiercer.
 

There was the weight of his arousal against her folds. The pressure as he entered her, breeching her maidenly barrier. She grasped his shoulders. Stiffened at the discomfort, but it was fleeting. Her body stretched, accommodating his girth.

His gaze locked on hers, and she gave a push of her hips to let him know she was ready. He thrust, unhurriedly at first, his speed increasing as they found a rhythm that worked for them both. The fire that burned so bright within her before glimmered again, but hotter this time, for he was within her, filling her to the brim. He drove into her, so in tune to her, knowing immediately what pace she needed.
 

Passion thrummed through her, winding higher and higher, until suddenly she had nothing left to hang onto. The fire burned in the grate, their breaths comingled, but all she could focus on was this pleasure. It built and built within her, becoming almost too much to handle. Just when she feared she couldn’t take much more, she came apart at the seams, in an explosion of light and warmth. James crested after her, groaning out his release as he spilled within her.