The Beauty and the Spy (16 page)

When he had them both alone in the yard of the inn, he told them briefly what Charlotte's note said. Cox looked stoic, Sam looked aghast.

Without saying a word, Nick led them through the alley between the buildings. The walk seemed endless as he told himself he had to change his own behavior and see Charlotte as more than a helpless widow in need of a rescuer. She had chosen to help him; she surely understood the risks. But how could she, when the only evil she'd faced had been her husband?

When they stopped on the walkway outside the coffeehouse, Sam said, “Nick—”

Nick raised a hand. “Let me judge the situation first. Wait here.”

He very carefully peered around the corner and through the glass. He didn't see her at first, and his chest tightened, but at the last second he saw her against the wall nearest the alley.

She was seated at a table with Julia—and she was crying.

He pulled his head back before Julia could glance up.

He thought he was in control, thought his face displayed nothing, but Sam grabbed his arm.

“Are you all right? What did you see? Is she—”

Nick pulled away. “She's with Julia. We have to get her away. You and I can't go in there. Cox, it will have to be you.”

His coachman straightened with determination and tossed his ever-present black scarf over his shoulder. “I'm ready, Nick.”

“C
ome with you?” Charlotte echoed as Julia briskly got to her feet. Charlotte pulled her back down. “Oh, I can't do that, Miss Reed!”

“Whyever not? We will have a long talk with my brother about responsibility.”

Charlotte couldn't help but admire her determination. “But—but I couldn't…couldn't act like I've gone behind his back.”

“You need to. We can kick his backside while we're at it.”

Charlotte concealed her sudden smile with a forced sob. “No, no, this was the worst idea I've
ever had, to—to try to force him into something he's not ready for.”

“He was ready about two months ago, wasn't he?” Julia asked grimly.

Charlotte didn't have to fake her shock.

Julia waved her hand tiredly. “Forgive me. That was terribly crude of me. I'm just angry with my brother. I'll feel better when we've made everything right. So come along.”

Julia stood up and reached as if to take Charlotte's hand. Stricken, Charlotte remained still. What was she to do?

Suddenly the door opened, and in walked Mr. Cox. He wasn't Nick, but Charlotte was just as glad to see him. She didn't know what he planned to do, so she quickly looked away, but too late.

“Who is that man?” Julia asked.

Charlotte had her first moment of inspiration. She looked at Mr. Cox in horror, and was secretly amused when he looked stunned.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

“You know him as well?” Julia asked dryly. “You meet a lot of people, Miss Cox. Unless—unless he was the one who brought you here.”

Charlotte quickly wiped the last of her tears away, and her face felt dry and chapped. “Please, Miss Reed, he is why I can't go with you. Please don't tell him what I—” She broke off and donned the falsest smile she could muster. “Oh my dear Mr. Cox, here I am.”

He'd already seen her of course, and she was relieved when he began to walk over.

“Mr. Cox—” Julia began, then broke off, her mouth pursing in dismay. “Oh Charlotte, what have you done?”

Charlotte put her arm through Mr. Cox's and spoke in the same falsely cheerful voice. “Mr. Cox, this is my new friend Miss Reed. Miss Reed, this is my husband.”

Beneath her arm she felt Mr. Cox stiffen, but he only smiled pleasantly, his well-lined face creasing in seemingly new places. “How do ye do,” he said formally, nodding his head.

“Very well, sir,” Julia said faintly, eyeing Charlotte with a pitying look.

“I hope you don't mind, dear,” Charlotte said, turning to look up sweetly at Mr. Cox, “but I had breakfast with this nice lady while I waited for you. But I understand you're in a hurry.”

He tipped his tall hat to Julia and said simply, “Good day, Miss Reed.”

“Good day,” she answered, fumbling with her reticule. She pulled out a card and pressed it into Charlotte's hand. “Do call upon me, Mrs. Cox. I would like to further our acquaintance.”

Charlotte put as much emotion into her eyes as she dared. “Thank you so much, Miss Reed. Have a pleasant trip.”

And then she walked outside arm-in-arm with Mr. Cox. He turned down the alley between the
buildings, and she saw Nick and Sam waiting. She braced herself for Nick's anger, but his face looked strangely unemotional.

She smiled serenely at them, then whispered, “She could be watching. Do move along, gentlemen.”

They turned and together they all walked into the yard of the inn, then up to the room.

Nick couldn't look at Charlotte. His relief was too great. He had to remain professional, to keep these strange emotions locked away. But every time he looked at her, they threatened to erupt, and he didn't want to face them right now.

“Sam, you need to follow Julia immediately,” Nick said calmly. “The rest of us will catch up with you. She's leaving early, so something might have aroused her suspicions. Charlotte, is there anything he should know first?”

He had to look at her, only to see her watching him with a wariness he understood.

She shook her head. “We did not discuss anything related to the mission or to you gentlemen.” She hesitated, and a faint blush swept her face. “She merely thinks I'm married to Mr. Cox, but carrying her brother's child.”

Nick felt his mouth drop open in surprise. For someone used to concealing his emotions, he seemed to have lost that skill around Charlotte. Cox just folded his arms over his chest and looked resigned.

Nick expected Sam to have a good laugh over this, but instead Sam just gave Nick an inscrutable look. “I'll leave you all, then. Charlotte, nice work.”

After Sam left, Nick glared at Charlotte. “Start at the beginning and leave nothing out.”

“You saw my note,” she protested. “I didn't want Julia to escape, so I felt like I should delay her.”

“Against my orders.”

She flung her arms wide. “Well you weren't here to ask!”

Cox cleared his throat. “Sir, I'll just be harnessin' the horses.”

Nick didn't even look at him. “Do that. We'll be down soon.”

When he was alone with Charlotte, something happened to his control, and emotions he'd always tried to keep buried came roaring to the surface in a confused rush. All he knew was that she had put her life on the line for his mission. She'd braved an enemy she knew wanted her killed. She'd come up with an impossible story and somehow made it plausible.

And she stood there, looking so beautiful and vulnerable and stubborn—and he'd almost lost her, and the qualities that made her unique, so full of passion, so ready to explore things she'd never done before.

When she opened her mouth to speak, he
kissed her. There was nothing else he could do, no way to assuage this pain, except to convince himself with his every sense that she was alive.

Charlotte reeled from the desperate power of Nick's sudden passion. He caught her face between his hands and kissed her quickly, deeply, over and over again, until the wild emotions she'd gone through that day coalesced into a need for him so powerful she didn't want to resist it, didn't want to question it. He wanted her; she wanted him.

With a moan she slid her arms about him, beneath his coat and up his back, letting her palms slide against hot muscle beneath his shirt. She tasted the recesses of his mouth, suckled his tongue, let herself burn with the raw desire that blazed out of her. She was overwhelmed, lost in her feelings, only aware of a surge of joy that she would finally know the truth of a woman's pleasure. Nick would show it to her, and erase every terrible memory that lurked in the shadows of her mind. There would be no promises, for she needed none.

His kisses suddenly gentled, and his fingers traced patterns across her face. His lips followed, pressing against her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the curve of her ear. Gentle kisses created paths down her throat, and she dropped her head back, letting him do as he wanted. When his tongue swept the hollow at the base of her throat, she groaned.

As he began to undo the buttons of her bodice, she looked into his face. He frowned with concentration, as if he could not disrobe her quickly enough. The backs of his hands brushed her nipples, and she gasped at the sensation that shot through her. He glanced up at her and grinned, then spread her gown wide to push off her shoulders. When it pooled at her feet and she stood in her chemise, she expected him to relieve her of that as well. But instead he slid his hands down her shoulders, then over her breasts, pausing to cup them leisurely as he dropped to his knees, before spreading his hands wide as he spanned her rib cage and waist.

Her breathing came faster with anticipation and longing as his palms skimmed her stomach and his fingers curled around her hips. When through the fabric his thumbs brushed the curls between her thighs, she gave a shudder and had to clutch his shoulders to remain upright.

Then he rose to his feet, the hem of her chemise captured with his fingers. It slid up across her skin, a whisper of fabric. She felt the caress of air across her naked thighs, then the brush of his shirt against her breasts. When her chemise slid up and off her arms, he worked his fingers into her hair until her curls spilled free down her body. He stepped back and looked at her nakedness, and she wasn't embarrassed, only felt proud at his look of approval and desire.

Then he picked her up, took two steps and laid
her out on the bed with a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes.

With the back of his hand, he caressed her cheek and whispered, “How lovely you are.”

Then he stood up and began to pull off his clothes, leaving them wherever they landed in his haste. She laughed and lay back among the pillows, knowing that they shouldn't be taking this time, but that he was giving it to her. Her amusement died as his last garments fell and he put a knee on the bed and leaned over her. His body was corded with long, sleek muscles, and his erection proudly showed his desire for her. His dark hair fell forward over his cheeks, and between the strands his black eyes burned her wherever they touched.

“Are you frightened?” he whispered.

She shook her head, then gave a soft gasp as he came on his hands and knees above her. He freely dropped kisses wherever he could reach, from her bent knee to her hip to her toes. Pausing above her breasts, he smiled and passed on to nuzzle her shoulder. She groaned her disappointment and he kissed her mouth, softly biting her lower lip as she pouted.

“You're impatient,” he murmured.

“Yesss,” she answered, arching her back, displaying herself brazenly.

His smile died, and with a growl he began to spread tiny kisses and licks across her breasts, teasing their peaks with the tip of his tongue. She
could hear herself moaning and desperately calling his name, but she was awash in the pleasure that scattered along her skin. She reached for him and he came down on top of her, molding her to him, their chests and hips and thighs undulating against one another. His skin was hot against hers, the weight of him pressing her deeper into the mattress. When she spread her thighs, his hips slid away.

“But—” she began.

He put his finger against her mouth. “Shh. Wait.” He lay at her side, kissing her mouth lazily, while he moved his hand from her knee up her thigh. “Now you can open,” he murmured against her lips.

And she did. His hand slid between her thighs and he cupped her, gently moving the base of his palm against her in a circular motion. With a groan, she turned her head into his shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut at this new sensation. Every bit of her skin was sensitive, quivering with pleasure and tension in a reach for something higher, for the unknown.

“No, look at me, I want to see you.”

She looked up into his handsome face, communicating her urgency with her gaze.

“I know, I feel it, too,” he said, as his fingers took the place of his palm.

She cried out in wonder as he caressed her, circling, dipping, even moving inside her. Her every muscle tightened and she arched her back. Just
when she thought she could take no more, he lowered his head and licked his tongue in a long, flat caress across her nipple, repeating it as if touching a fuse to a low-simmering flame.

She hovered on the edge of a new wonder, a new understanding of what could exist between men and women.

“Let go,” he urged, as his caresses deepened and grew harder, faster.

Then she plummeted, letting herself fall into sensation, feeling shudder after shudder of aftershock take control of her body. When she looked up in wonder, he was there, watching her, smiling.

“Oh Nick,” she whispered.

He said nothing, just rose above her and parted her thighs to settle between them. Her newly sensitive flesh came alive again at the touch of him. She felt his hardness pressing against her.

She must have betrayed a touch of an old fear, because he paused.

“I'm not going to hurt you, Char. You know that.”

She nodded and looked up into his face, loving the way he shortened her name. It was almost an endearment. With a frown of concentration he moved against her, then sheathed himself deep inside.

There was no pain, only the sense of being filled, of feeling complete. She lifted her knees and he settled deeper, breathing heavily.

“Ready?” he said with an unsteady voice.

Then he pulled out and thrust inside. It was as if every nerve he'd just aroused had only slumbered, ready to be awakened once again. He rocked against her and she found his movement, meeting his hips with hers, feeling that new passion coming to life again.

Their mouths met and their tongues danced together, even as his hand moved between them to capture her breast. This time he joined her in a shuddering fulfillment.

For a moment they simply panted, their lips gently touching, their bodies as one. Then he lifted himself up by the arms and looked down at her. She smiled.

“I could look at you forever,” he said.

She stilled, and he must have realized what he implied, because he said, “But there's only today and Cox is waiting.”

With a groan she wrapped her legs about his hips and held him still. She put her hands on his strong shoulders, then ran her palms down his chest slowly, enjoying his quick intake of breath when she touched his nipples.

As he trembled, she tightened the muscles deep in her abdomen, the ones that held him inside her.

He groaned. “Witch,” he said, but made no move to go.

Very slowly she let her heel caress his backside, and her fingertips danced against his nipples. She
gently raked her nails across him, and he twitched and gasped. She could feel him grow hard inside her.

She grasped his head and pulled until he came down on his elbows. Against his mouth she whispered, “Again.”

He surged up hard, going deep. His motion was fast but she kept up with him, her legs holding him tight.

When he climaxed again, he groaned and rolled onto his back. “I can't move.”