Desire Never Dies Page 13

  “Sherry,” she said with a smile.

  Henry inclined his head. “The same.”

  Once the attention had shifted from them, Henry looked up at her. “You’ll be fine, as long as Lucas is there to guide you. He is a talented spy.”

  She nodded. “Very talented,” she agreed and did not have to force that answer.

  “His creation of this ‘engagement’ was genius,” Henry continued, his voice dropping so no one else would hear. “And those emotions he showed tonight, they seemed so real. He’s always been especially gifted when it came to the playacting required by our position.”

  Ana fought the urge to turn away from Henry’s words like they were a physical slap, although his statement wasn’t a surprise. Emily had said the same thing many times. Lucas was a gifted spy. Lucas could use emotion to his advantage. And she had been telling herself all night that this ruse wasn’t real.

  Drawing a calming breath, Ana forced a smile. “I suppose we all have to play a role in our profession.” She hesitated as Lord Dannington handed over their drinks, then backed away. Once they were alone again, she continued, “You are a good example.”

  Henry’s eyes darted up, wary. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, some might dismiss you because of your injury, but clearly you’re just as active in your organization as any other man. You know a great deal about this case.” She hoped she looked merely interested, not suspicious.

  He frowned as his gaze slipped briefly to his legs. “It is very personal to me, of course.”

  “Yes, I can imagine. After all, you were attacked, and you are as involved with those who were injured or killed as anyone.”

  Now the frown lengthened, and his grip on the tumbler in his hand strengthened. “I would say I’m more involved than most,” he growled. “I sent the spies who were killed or injured to their final assignments.”

  Ana felt her eyes widen and she forced herself not to react to that surprising outburst. “I did not realize.”

  Henry blanched, his eyes going strangely wild as he stared up at her. His other fist curled around his chair arm as he opened his mouth to speak. “Well, I have many duties, you know.”

  She tilted her head, chasing his gaze. “But were you responsible for sending all the injured spies to their final duties?” she pressed.

  His eyes narrowed. “You were correct, Lady Whittig. This is not the appropriate place for such discussions.”

  Ana stiffened as he abruptly wheeled himself away. Henry had been so adamant that there was no common element to the attacks. He’d struck her theory down so swiftly. But he had not been correct. The men who had been attacked did have one thing in common.

  Henry.

  “You are lost in thought.”

  Ana jumped and spun around to find that Lucas had come into the room, walked practically into her arms, without her ever noticing. Some spy she was. Her gaze darted to Henry. He was across the room now, but he was watching them, his expression unreadable.

  “Yes, I was just…” She hesitated. What to say? That she believed his best friend had just let loose with information he hadn’t meant to share? That her intuition was going mad?

  “Ana?” Lucas murmured.

  “I was just thinking about what a pleasure it has been to know your family better,” she said with a stiff smile for the group.

  Lady Dannington nodded. “I agree, my dear.”

  Lucas also smiled, though the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. Still, he offered her an arm and led her closer to the circle of his family.

  “Can you tell us more about yourself, Lady Whittig?” Lucas’s eldest sister Elizabeth said as she threaded her fingers through her husband’s. Ana looked at the comfortable closeness the two shared with a twinge stinging her heart.

  She shook the feeling away and tried not to look at Lucas. “I grew up around Dorset, in a tiny little village called Risenwich.”

  Lady Dannington smiled. “Ah yes, a lovely place. And your parents were Lord and Lady Horchester, were they not?”

  Ana fought to keep her own smile. “Yes,” she said softly. “They died of a fever just before I turned twenty.”

  As the family murmured their condolences, Ana found her attention drawn back to Henry. He had positioned his wheelchair outside of the circle the Tylers had formed and was simply watching the group. Actually, watching Lucas. And now, as his gaze moved, watching her.

  Her thoughts returned to his comment about the spies who had been attacked and his admission that he’d assigned them all. He hadn’t meant to share that fact, of that she was certain. But why would he want to hide it? Unless…

  What if the attacks were orchestrated by someone inside the War Department? Someone who knew the identities of the spies and the kinds of cases they were on…perhaps because he was the one who assigned them, himself.

  She broke the stare when Lucas put a gentle hand on the small of her back. When she looked over at him with a start, he smiled. Comforting her. His gaze was full of encouragement.

  What would he do if she told him her suspicions? Would he embrace her theory and help her investigate it, or push her hypothesis…and her…away?

  Shaking her head, she pulled herself together. His reaction didn’t matter. He was her partner in this case. She needed to talk to him in private. As soon as possible.

  The clock on the mantel dinged out the time. Ana was surprised that it was already midnight. How had the hours flown so quickly? She had enjoyed her time with Lucas’s family, ruse or not. Folly or no.

  “Is it that late?” Lucas’s sister Charlotte asked, getting to her feet. “My goodness. We should get home, love. The children expect an outing bright and early tomorrow.”

  The rest of the family were already getting to their feet and Ana let out a sigh. She had survived their questions, their hopes for a future with her in their family.

  “It is very late,” Ana agreed as she gently squeezed Lucas’s arm. “But I had a wonderful time. Thank you, my lady, for having me.”

  Lady Dannington crossed the room, her smile as wide and bright as the sun and just as warm. She enveloped Ana in a second hug and clung to her just long enough that tears sprung to Ana’s eyes. That loving contact was something she’d tried to believe she didn’t miss. But she did. Desperately.

  “Good evening, my dear. You will hear from me in a few days. I hope you’ll allow me to call.”

  Ana nodded immediately. “Of course, I look forward to it.” She said her good-byes to the rest of the family, then took the arm Lucas offered.

  “I will escort Lady Whittig to the carriage and return in a moment.”

  Ana followed his lead into the hallway. But the moment he closed the door and they were alone, she half turned toward him.

  “I must speak with you alone,” she whispered. “Tonight.”

  There was a flash of something in his eyes. Dark. Dangerous. Sensual beyond words and her body clenched in unwanted and wanton reaction. She could scarcely catch her breath when he looked at her that way.

  “Of course. Tell my driver to take you to my home. I shall meet you there in half an hour.”

  She leaned away and gnawed her lip. The last thing she needed was to be caught in yet another compromising position.

  He seemed to read her worries. “My driver is discreet, I assure you.”

  She nodded. There was no choice. Her thoughts couldn’t wait until morning and she couldn’t tell him her tentative theory in the hallway of his mother’s home with Henry mere feet away. There was no telling how Lucas would react.

  “Very well. I will see you in a short while.”

  But as she ducked out the door and slipped into the carriage, she realized her heart was throbbing and a thrill had begun to stir low in her belly.

  In a very short time, she would be alone with Lucas. With no one to interrupt them, no one to stop them, nothing between them except her wavering resolve.

  Chapter 13

  L ucas cleared
his throat before he opened the door to his parlor where Anastasia awaited him. But as soon as he saw her, he realized what he should have tried to clear was his head. Every erotic fantasy, every inappropriate dream he’d had of her since the moment they met came roaring back to taunt him.

  She was standing in front of the fire, staring into the flames with a faraway look in her eyes. She didn’t seem to notice as he stepped inside and closed the door. Instead she reached up and caught a loose lock of chestnut hair between her fingers. He watched, mesmerized as she slowly twirled the curl around and around her delicate finger. Then she parted full lips and let out a sigh.

  He was taken aback, just as he had been earlier in the evening, by how drawn to her he was. How mesmerized he’d been by her smile that night. How her laugh enchanted him and made him long to hear it as often as possible. And how natural it was to see her with his family, like she had always been there in their loud and teasing ranks.

  And now here she was in his home. And it was just as easy to imagine she’d always been here, too. In his life. He wanted more of that. More of everything.

  Meeting with her alone in the middle of the night was a mistake. A very bad mistake. He should have been thinking about their case and whatever mysterious thing she wanted to reveal to him about it. But he wasn’t. Instead, he was pondering how there was nothing to stop him from what he was about to do: cross the room, draw her into his arms, and kiss her.

  It was inevitable.

  So he did. In a few long steps he made his way to her, grasped her shoulders and turned her. Ana gasped at the unexpected touch, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t run.

  “I’ve been waiting to do this all night,” he admitted before he brought his lips down on hers.

  He meant for the kiss to be slow, gentle, in the hopes that he could keep it from exploding out of control. But Ana had no such plans. Instead, she parted her lips and took more, demanded more. Lucas was strong in many ways, but not against that kind of assault.

  He speared his tongue between her lips, tasting the faint hint of sherry mixed with her natural sweetness. For a wicked moment he wondered if she tasted like that everywhere else and groaned at the unbidden thought that made hot blood rush to his ever-hardening erection.

  He slid his hands down the curve of her back, feeling her shiver in response as he pulled her closer and let her know how much touching her affected him. When he gently stroked against her, Ana gasped and pulled back, eyes glazed with need and dark with desire that she too-often repressed out of respect for a dead man he currently hated more than anyone else in the world.

  “Lucas,” she whispered, a plea, a question, a prayer for a lifeline more than anything else.

  But he wasn’t noble. He wanted her. And he wouldn’t pull back just because she feared what her late husband would think. He owed that man no allegiance. In fact, in his mind, neither did she. If he touched Ana again, he could see that she would surrender. Taking her, loving her until the dawn, it wouldn’t ruin her. She was no blushing virgin.

  There was no disadvantage to taking what he wanted. Nothing to stop him unless she said no.

  Which she wouldn’t. Because no matter how she trembled, no matter how many times she put Gilbert Whittig up as a shield between them, she wanted him. With as much fire as he felt in his own body. She might not want to admit it, or even fully recognize it, but it was there in the way she darted her tongue over her lips, in the way her back arched, just the slightest bit, when his arms tightened around her waist and he pulled her closer.

  “Just say no, Ana. If you don’t want this.” He brushed his lips against hers and she tilted her chin up for more.

  But she didn’t say no. Not when he delved deeper into the kiss. Not when he pulled her in closer, not when he rocked against her a second time. Her fingers curled into his coat, her breath hitched, and her groan was so low he wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t so utterly focused on her and nothing else.

  Lucas’s hands were moving and gliding in ways Ana had all but forgotten existed…and a few she’d never experienced before. There was a little voice inside her screaming to tell him to stop. To run away.

  But the voice was very tiny. And every time Lucas stroked his tongue over hers, it grew fainter. When he slipped his fingers up and found the ten little pink buttons that fastened her gown in the back, the voice disappeared entirely.

  Her dress drooped forward in a matter of seconds, then fell away. The point of no return had come and gone. She knew what would happen next. If she was honest with herself, she welcomed it. From the first moment she saw Lucas, she had been drawn to him in ways that terrified and excited her. Why couldn’t she have just one night?

  Lucas stepped back, leaving her cold. He stared at her and heat filled her cheeks as she lifted her hands to cover her barely clad breasts. What was she thinking? A man like him couldn’t want her. Now that she was standing in nothing but her chemise, he would come to his senses and send her away.

  Instead, he lifted a hand and pushed her protective fingers away, making her stand before him with no barrier but the thin fabric of her underthings.

  “Dear God, she even made you a new chemise.”

  She glanced down. She’d all but forgotten the pretty chemise Miss Mullany had brought along with her new gown. It was soft and pink and matched her dress perfectly. Now she blushed with the realization that Lucas was looking at her with pleasure, not disdain as she had feared.

  He wanted her. His eyes told her that. And even if they hadn’t, there was no denying the sharp ridge of the erection she’d felt against her belly when he held her close. She saw it now that he had pulled back.

  God help her, she wanted him, too. Which was why she didn’t step away when he kicked her rumpled dress aside and drew her back into his arms. It was why she didn’t resist as he turned her toward the settee and lowered her down on its cushions. It was why she sighed with anticipation as his heavier weight came down beside her.

  His mouth explored, teased, tempted and she found herself reaching for the kiss, chasing the pleasure he could give. Every fiber of her being seemed focused on the stroke of his tongue, the fresh taste of his breath and the way his hand was suddenly on her hip. His fingers branded her as they inched up, up the bodice of her chemise, and finally he cupped one breast.

  A shudder worked through Ana. His hand was so hot, so big that it covered her entire breast, so rough that she could almost feel the ridges of his fingertips even through the silk garment. Her head lolled back and she shut her eyes with a quiet groan. It was heaven.

  Then he moved his hand, and the sensation was better than heaven. Heat sparked from his fingertips as he stroked her breast, his thumb gliding over her hard nipple until a steady throb started between her legs. She arched and pressed her thighs together to relieve it, but that only made the needy feeling more pronounced.

  He watched her face, studying every reaction and motion as he tormented her with fingertips, knuckles, his flat palm. No move was rushed, each was designed to have her slipping under his spell.

  But she was already lost to it. Lost to him.

  And as he lowered his dark head and caught her distended nipple between his lips, she didn’t care about being lost. For the first time in years, she felt alive.

  She gripped his shoulders as he sucked her nipple through the thin scrap of silky fabric. She could feel that touch through every nerve in her body, but the pressure and pleasure seemed to gather between her thighs. She needed release, craved it like opium.

  “Please,” she gasped as she pulled at his jacket. “Please.”

  He lifted his head and smiled down at her. That cocky, sure smile that usually made her blood boil with frustration and desire in equal measure. Now all it did was stoke the need low in her belly. She glared at him, yanking his coat away from his shoulders in a silent order and praying he wouldn’t force her to voice what she desired. She didn’t think she could manage that. Not when she was shaking, not
when her body’s wants were roaring through her, clouding her mind.

  But he didn’t demand she beg. Instead, he shrugged out of the jacket and made quick work of the waistcoat and shirt beneath. As he tossed them away, she stared.

  Her husband had been a pampered aristocrat. He hadn’t done a day of manual labor in his life. In fact, he hadn’t even enjoyed sport all that much. His body had been masculine, but paler…softer.

  Lucas, despite his upbringing, had the body of a pugilist. Clearly, he used his body as a weapon in the field, trained it with physical exertion. It showed in the way the ropes of muscles shifted beneath his skin. In the way his broad shoulders worked as he slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her into a sitting position.

  “Touch me,” he whispered. His voice was dark and husky in the quiet room. “Show me what you want.”

  Her gaze darted to his, and Lucas realized that was both a terrifying and exhilarating order for her to follow. Want had never come into the equation when it came to her body before. Perhaps her husband had been what some women called a “considerate” lover. Which Lucas surmised almost always meant the kind of man who asked his woman to close her eyes, think of her duty to the Empire, and did his business with swift efficiency.

  If that was the case, what a waste. Ana was so responsive. The lightest touch in the most benign places could make her shake with pleasure. And when he dared to touch her in more intimate ways, her expression alone told him it wouldn’t take much to bring her right over the edge of release.

  She reached out, delicate hands trembling, and placed a palm flat on his pectoral muscle. He sucked in his breath. He’d thought her touch was electric before. Now it was lightning charged. Hot and soft and unsure, but naturally skilled as she glided her fingertips across muscle, down over his stomach, then hesitated at the waist of his trousers.

  Her brown eyes came up, soft and misty, but also questioning.

  “Touch me,” he said with a nod of encouragement, even though he could hardly hear his own voice over the rush of blood in his ears. “There is no ‘wrong’ way. Do what you want, what your body tells you to do.”