Gabe stared down at Mary as she rode her orgasm, his own need pushing him to the brink of his own ill-timed eruption.
“God, Mary,” he breathed. “Ye’re beautiful.”
Her expression was soft, her eyelids closed, her mouth fallen open on her echoing cry of delight.
Gripping the towel from about his waist, he tugged it off and flung it aside. He could not wait a moment longer to claim her as his own, but damn it, he could not hurt her. He would not hurt her.
Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled both of them so he lay on his back and she was sprawled across his chest.
“Ride me, Mary.” He shifted her legs so she straddled his hips, his throbbing erection straining eagerly toward the soft skin of her stomach.
She gazed down at him with foggy confusion written across her features.
“Ye set the pace. I donnae wish te hurt ye.” He guided her hips upward and over him, then lifted his hips to show her. “Take me inside ye and move as ye would ride a horse.”
Comprehension dawned and her eyes lit with anticipation. With one hand holding his member, she guided him inside her as she slowly lowered herself atop him.
Gabe hissed a breath as he made the valiant attempt to restrain himself.
He gripped her hips, his fingers digging deeply into her skin as he watched her. She slid slowly downward, taking in a small amount of him at a time, each fraction of an inch a small amount of torture, far more potent and effective than anything he’d endured before.
Finally, she had reached her barrier; there she halted. Gabe’s gaze bored into her warm, grey eyes.
He took a hard swallow. “Tha’ is yer maidenhead.” He could feel a sweat break out across his brow as he held himself back from taking her in wild, frenzied thrusts. He grimaced, “I donnae wish to hurt ye, Mary.”
She leaned forward, pressing her hands to the uninjured part of his chest. “Hush. I give this of my own will. You are not forcing me, Gabriel.”
Her gaze stayed locked with his as she abruptly lowered herself onto him, breaking through the barrier and taking him in to fill her completely. She uttered a small cry of pain and Gabe grimaced again.
She took a deep breath, then hushed him again. “It was scarcely a pinch. I do not know what all the fuss about maidenheads is about.”
He grinned, quick and wide, relief flooding him. “Then ride me, leannan.”
Gabe’s eyes rolled briefly backward as she began slow, learning her pace. The leisurely movements drove him nigh mad with need.
He guided her hips with his hands, gradually increasing her pace until he had her bouncing atop him with greater urgency. Her breasts swung with each movement, her hair falling over her shoulders and around his head, creating an auburn veil of privacy for them both.
He watched her features as she grew closer to finding her pleasure once more, and he held back. It pained him, but he held back, waiting for her to find fulfillment before he did the same.
She was a Goddess. She was a revelation. How could he have gone so many years without taking her?
Her breath came in quick gasps as she sped her pace ever more, and Gabe’s heart hammered against his ribs. Her nails dug into his chest and her head arched back as she cried her delight into the room, her hot sheath squeezing around him with each wave of her pleasure.
His stomach quivered and his ballocks tightened as he let out a hoarse shout of his own and spilled himself inside her.
Replete, Mary dropped forward to lie on his heaving chest. He brought a hand up to stroke her hair, clearing it away from her face, and then twining it around his fingers.
“I donnae ken wha’ te say, Mary. I have ne’er experienced anything akin te tha’ in my life.”
“Mmm,” she hummed sleepily against his chest.
With women he had always been aloof, always holding himself back from fully engaging himself with them. But with Mary… With Mary he felt it all. She evoked a plethora of emotions in him. He revelled in every movement, every sigh, every moan of delight. He felt just how connected two people could be. He now understood why they called it making love, because when you’ve found the right woman, it showed one just how much one loved—
He stilled, his eyes growing wide—even with the swelling his injuries caused—and his previously slowing heart rate picking up speed once more. It cannae be! Love? He felt connected to Mary as a friend, certainly, but to love her? It was far too dangerous for him to love. It caused poor judgement and opened one up to attack. Bloody hell, what if she became pregnant with his babe?
His pulse tripped over itself. Yes, he and Mary were both spies and could ordinarily defend themselves but having one’s emotions rule one’s thoughts could be perilous. He could not live with himself if something happened to Mary.
Wha’ have I done?
* * *
“What do you suppose we should do?” Lord Hale leaned forward, his elbows on the round table in their small, hidden meeting space.
Evelyn rubbed a finger agitatedly across her eyebrows, smoothing each one into a delicate black arch, while she listened to the others talk. She had explained in detail what had occurred in the dungeons and now they thought of what course of action to take.
“We go after him, eh wot?” Cecil Piper said.
“Naturally,” Hale replied. “But who shall go? What direction shall we take? And what of our rendezvous?”
“We will send Lady Kerr’s giant and another loyal brute so we might enjoy the last days of this house party, eh wot?”
Hale raised an eyebrow. “You trust them to carry out the task after the failure in the dungeons?”
“Indeed.” Lord Reddington tapped the table with his index finger. “How do we know we can trust them?”
Piper rolled his eyes at the others. “They will be more than eager to prove themselves capable of carrying out the task.”
Hale nodded. “Excellent.”
“As for where they will go,” Cecil continued, “we will send them to London. It is the most obvious place for a rendezvous with whomever is higher up in the chain of command.”
“But what of Miss White?” Lord Boxton asked. “Is she a target, as well?”
“No,” Evelyn finally cut in. “She was just as she seemed, a harmless—albeit remarkably talented in seduction—actress. I’m certain that she thought it all a grand erotic game. We must find Mr. Spencer, however. And when we do, we must kill him.”
* * *
A bird chirping an early morning song somewhere in the distance slowly brought Mary awake. She stretched her arms languidly above her head, a satisfied smile pulling at her lips. She was, she would grant, a mite sore, particularly after their third bout of lovemaking in the night. But she was most certainly happy.
She opened her eyes. The curtains had been opened sometime in the morn—had they closed them last night?—and sunlight streamed in to brighten the small, threadbare room. It must be nearly eight of the morning, mayhap even later. Perhaps she had better rouse Gabriel so they might be on their way.
“Gabe—” She turned her head to wake him, but his pillow was bare. No Gabe.
Sitting up, she looked around the room. “Gabriel?”
His trunk sat, closed, upon the only chair in the room, but all other evidence of his presence, or of the events of last night, was gone.
She flung the coverlet aside and rose, nude, from the bed. The sun warmed her bared skin through the window, but a chill ran through her bones. Why had he left? Surely if he regretted being with her, he would not have made love to her twice more.
She internally shook herself. There was no sense in having such thoughts. Gabe was probably arranging equipage or requesting a meal or tea brought to their room… Ooh. In which case, she had better dress.
Quickly performing her morning ablutions, Mary set about preparing for the day. She washed her hair with the new soap she had specially bought before their assignment.
Something felt different within her. Her body veritably vibrated with joy in the aftermath of her night with Gabriel. He’d described the ways that he’d imagined having her, and they’d certainly explored some last night.
Her stomach quivered and her heart leapt at the memory as she quickly dried her hair with a towel then left it loose to dry further. She packed the dress of last evening and selected a front-fastening cerulean blue travelling frock with petticoats and stockings and put them on.
Gabriel had been nigh insatiable in their lovemaking. He’d given particular attention to every part of her body, kissing nearly every bit of skin. She’d attempted to do the same with him, but as most of his torso was covered in bandages, she’d settled for what was left exposed. He was truly marvellous.
Removing her brush and hairpins from her trunk, she sat at the aging dressing table and brushed the tangles from her hair. Within moments, she had a serviceable knot at the base of her neck, secured in place with several hairpins. She pulled a silver chain with a single sapphire pendant and she put it around her neck. It was simple and understated and she adored it. In fact, it was her favourite piece of jewellery, which was why she so seldom wore it.
With one final gaze in the mirror, she glanced at the door. Where is Gabe? He’d been gone for far longer than she would have imagined if he was merely acquiring a meal and a means for travel. Could something have gone awry?
Worry began to buzz in her stomach and she wrung her hands. “Where are you, Gabe?” she whispered.
* * *
“Likey tol’ ye,” the innkeeper said, “I cn git ol’ Richie t’drive ‘e an missus a’ Lonnon ore ye takkey coach.”
Gabe carefully disguised his disgust as the innkeeper spat on the coarse wooden floor of the taproom.
Gabe said in his practiced English accent, “My wife does not care for the stage or mail coaches. I would prefer to hire Richie to drive a hackney.”
The large, aging innkeeper affected a sigh, his nauseatingly odorous breath wafting around Gabe and hovering there. “I cn see if’n Richie’ll go. But it’ll cost-ye.”
Gabe nodded once as the lumbering oaf left.
A stagecoach or the mail coach would be far easier for Gabe to control himself within, as they would have an audience. But they were also far more dangerous to their identities and their safe escape. So a hackney it would be. Alone. In a hack. For a minimum of ten hours…with a very tempting Mary.
Gabe cursed under his breath. It would be more challenging than ever before; now that he had experienced Mary in his bed, he knew what he was missing if he did not take her again. And damn it, she was too alluring by half. He knew he could not resist. He had already told himself last evening that he mustn’t continue on with Mary, that because of his feelings for her he must once more abandon their relationship.
But he couldn’t… He had sated his initial lust for her and then could not resist but take his time with her. Not once, but twice more he tasted, nipped, and kissed every inch of her before sinking himself deep inside her heat over and over…
Bloody hell. He was indeed in serious trouble.
“Richie’ll takkey. It’ll costey fi quid.”
Gabe’s eyebrows slid skyward. “Five quid? Good God, man, I am not purchasing a carriage from you.”
The bloated man picked something out of what few teeth he had remaining in his mouth with a thick, dirty finger.
Gabe sighed and pulled his purse out. He had no time to quibble over prices. He had already delayed returning to Mary long enough.
“Direct the maid with the food tray to our room. When we have concluded our meal, I will bring our things down. Have Richie and the equipage ready in the innyard, if you will.” He handed five one-pound bank notes to the greedy innkeeper, then turned toward the stairs, taking them two at a time.
He entered their room and closed the door swiftly behind himself.
“Gabe! Goodness, where have you been?” Her spine was stiff and her voice soft.
“Were ye worried, then, Mary?”
“Yes!” She spread her hands at her sides and sighed exasperatedly.
Despite himself, his heart warmed at her concern. He strode forward and clasped her shoulders in his hands. “No need te fret.”
She sighed again, and for the briefest of moments, he could have sworn that her chin quivered. Entirely helpless to stop himself, he opened his arms to her.
“There, now, leannan,” he muttered.
She curled herself into the circle of his arms. His lips pulled back in a hiss as he clenched his jaw. His wounds had not been so painful last evening, but, he supposed his exertions might have reopened the wounds at his chest; his thoughts had been so muddled, he hadn’t bloody well checked.
Pushing past the pain, he squeezed his arms a little tighter around Mary.
He pressed his mouth to the top of her head and inhaled her scent. Mmm… Wildflowers? She had changed her scent! Why would she do such a thing?
Although…
He took another deep inhalation. He rather liked it.
Blast. He really liked it, if his body’s reaction to her said anything.
A light knock sounded at the door and Mary sprang away from him.
Irritated at the interruption, Gabe answered the door.