Chapter Nine
Diana could hardly breathe, but she managed to keep her voice calm as she said, “You are tenacious.”
He smiled at her, but she saw the falseness of it, heard it in his voice as he said, “It is an investigative prerogative.”
She pressed her lips together. She liked his teasing most of the time. It made her comfortable. In this moment, it felt false. A way to make the tension fade, to get whatever it was he wanted from her.
“Am I being investigated?” she asked softly.
His gaze grew hooded and heated as he reached out to touch her leg through her skirt. “Most intimately.”
She frowned more deeply. If he was using what they’d shared against her, that cut her to the bone. And yet she still felt driven to tell him the very truth he sought. If she did, it might make him understand who she was on some level. And perhaps to drive him away a little too.
After all, a person like him would not want a woman who had given herself so easily. That would put a wall between them, and perhaps that would keep her from being so needy when it came to this man.
“He was a friend of my father,” she said, and hated how her voice shook. “He came to our country home as a visitor. Or so I was told.”
Lucas sat up a little, resting on his elbows. She saw pain on his face, but not as intense as it had been days before. They were making progress.
“What do you mean, so you were told? That wasn’t the truth?” he pressed.
“I think he was…” She hesitated, for she had never felt comfortable with this part of her story. “He was part of a case my father was working on.”
Lucas stared at her, his expression hard and suddenly cool. “Oakford told you he worked on cases?”
“From time to time, yes,” she said. “I know he was mostly meant to be a surgeon for the men, but he had a brilliant mind, and sometimes he worked on other things.”
“I see.” Lucas was quiet a moment. “So this other man came as part of something your father was working on. For the War Department.”
“They had their heads together quite a bit and always suddenly grew silent if I entered a room unannounced. I was helping my father with his household by then, and he barred me from his study and told me not to review his paperwork while his visitor was there.” She shrugged. “I’m not a fool. I understood what was happening. Does that surprise you?”
“That you are not a fool?” he asked. “Not at all. I am surprised to hear your father worked on cases. I did not know he took them on. But I can see how his mind would be a good fit for the work. As you say, he was brilliant. I often turned to him to help me problem-solve.”
She drew in a long breath to keep herself from the tears that inevitably rose in her when she considered her father too long. “I’m sure this man was doing the same.”
“Who was he?” Lucas asked.
She turned away, fists clenched at her sides. “No, I will not tell you that. I will not have you discussing me with your cronies, comparing experiences.”
“Diana!” he said, his sharp tone forcing her to look at him. He was sitting up now, staring at her. “You cannot think I would ever disrespect you or what we’ve shared in such a manner.”
She lifted her chin. “I don’t want to think it,” she said. “But what do I know of how you talk when you are alone with the others?”
“Not like that, I assure you,” he said, his tone laced with disgust at the very thought. It was so real that it actually gave her relief.
“His name doesn’t matter,” she said, and moved to the tub to test the water. It was almost perfect now and it gave her an excuse to stay away from him, to stare off so he wouldn’t see her face when she continued her story. “In the end, I cannot even blame him completely for what happened.”
“How can you say that? You were an innocent, he was a visitor in your father’s home.”
She shrugged, like it didn’t matter. The biggest lie she’d ever told. “I was lonely and foolish. I took flirtation for something more. And when he kissed me…” She trailed off as she remembered that moment in full detail. Then she had been thrilled. Now she felt empty. “Well, I felt like a light had been turned on inside of me. One that had always been there, but I’d never known it.”
“How long ago did this happen?” he asked, his voice rough.
She forced herself to look at him. He was unreadable as always. “Two years,” she whispered. “I was not quite one and twenty. That probably sounds so foolish to you, as most women have more sense at such an age.”
“It is not so old,” he said softly.
“To me, it certainly wasn’t. I had not gone to balls or had suitors. In some ways I was naïve about the ways of men and women, of love, of…matching. He offered me an…an illusion. And I let him have what he wanted because I thought it meant love and a future.”
His cheek twitched. “And once he had it?”
She bent her head. “Everything changed. I discovered he was married, for one. That broke my heart. And then my father found out the truth about our tryst. He was angrier than I’d ever seen in all my life. I thought he might kill his friend. But he didn’t. The other man left and…”
She stopped. There was so much more to the story, but it was impossible to say those things out loud. She never spoke of them, she certainly wasn’t about to start with a man who’d already told her he offered her nothing but pleasure.
“And?” he said.
“And now I’m here,” she said, her tone falsely bright. “And you know what happened. Now, why don’t you get into your bath? It is the perfect temperature to help those muscles loosen. It will relieve your pain.”
He held her stare for a long moment and she felt him reading her. Felt him analyzing as he’d been trained to do. She knew in that moment that he sensed there was more for her to tell and she held her breath as she waited for him to accuse or demand she give him the whole story.
Instead, he got up, silent and slow. As the sheets fell away, she found herself looking at his body. She couldn’t help it. He moved toward her, and when he reached her he caught the back of her head and drew her in for a kiss.
She sighed, flattening her palms on his bare chest and reveling in his taste and how he washed away all the pain that had been burning inside of her during her confession.
When he pulled away at last, he looked into her eyes. “I am not using you, Diana.”
She caught her breath. “I know,” she said. “I know that. This time I am entering our arrangement with eyes wide open. No one can be hurt if there aren’t any lies.”
“Diana—” he began, but she shook her head.
“Get in now,” she said, offering him a hand to balance himself as he did so. “That’s enough seriousness for the moment, I think.”
He pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. Instead, he sank beneath the hot water with a shuddering sigh and his eyes fluttered shut with his head rested back on the tub edge. She let out a sigh of her own. The subject had passed. At least for now.
And if she was careful, they would never have to broach the topic again.
Lucas had no idea how long he had been reclining in the tub. Long enough that the water was beginning to bleed out some of its heat. He had been seduced by the bath. By the warmth that seeped into his body, by the sweet, soft fragrance of the herbs Diana had added, by the way his muscles had begun to relax and the pain that was his constant companion eased.
And yet he wasn’t fully comfortable. His mind still turned, running over what she had confessed about the man who took her innocence. She had been very honest about a remarkably painful subject. To have been seduced and discarded by a friend of her father, another spy…it brought up an anger in his chest that was far more powerful than it should be.
And questions. It brought up questions. He had known George Oakford his entire life as a spy. He’d never known the surgeon to work a case, nor to assist in one. That day Lucas had been injured had been an aberration, a moment of opportunity when he needed backup and Diana’s father had been there.
Oh, he’d talked to the man about thorny problems, of course. Oakford had a mind like a steel trap and was quick to offer advice or solutions. But he could not picture a scenario where he would have actually gone to Oakford’s home, where he would partner with him in a case. The idea seemed…off.
“Here,” Diana said, her soft voice breaking through his thoughts.
He opened his eyes and took the soap she now held out toward him. “Ready for me to be finished, are you?”
She smiled. “The water is cooling and you should wash before we get you out. Sitting in the cold water will be no good for your injuries.”
He nodded and began to wash himself. He was keenly aware of her watching him as she retook her chair a few feet away. Watching him with erotic interest that set his body on edge in a most pleasant way.
Wanting her was easy. Knowing her? That was another story. Her confession had brought him a bit closer, of course, but he still felt her withholding. There was more to her past. More to the man who had hurt her.
But right now wasn’t the time to push. Perhaps it never would be. After all, he wasn’t here to get to know this fascinating woman. He wasn’t going to be with her long. She said it over and over—they both knew what this was. An affair, meant for pleasure.
Nothing more.
“Your father was a good man,” he said.
She shifted in her seat and her eyes darted away with discomfort at the intimacy of that statement. “Yes,” she said at last. “He was that.”
“He spoke of you sometimes,” he continued, and then questioned himself on why. Didn’t this go against what he’d just decided with himself? That this was a temporary affair that did not require any deeper knowledge or connection?
She bent her head farther. “Did he?”
He could not read her tone, didn’t know if that information he’d provided hurt her or helped her, was a surprise or something that inspired anger.
“Yes,” he continued, despite all the things telling him to stop. “He always said how clever you were. How proud he was of you.”
To his surprise, her expression grew suddenly harder. Slowly, she stood up and paced away, her hands clenched at her sides. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “I know all about how he valued my usefulness.”
He shook his head, sitting up in the tub and setting the soap on the edge. “It was more than that, Diana,” he breathed.
She pivoted, and now she speared him with a look. “He talked about you, too,” she said, clearly trying to change the subject. “The Undercover Duke, he called you, though I never knew your real name. He teased about it and told me you were a member of a very prestigious duke club, but that somehow you were still good at what you did.”
Lucas turned his face. His club. He tried so hard not to think about that. About them. His friends. The ones he hadn’t talked to since…well, since…that was all. “They are the best of men,” he said softly.
She tilted her head, and there was a moment of silence before she said, “Well, my father considered you a…a…”
He looked at her, wondering why she struggled to find a word that was so simple. “A friend?” he suggested.
She nodded. “Yes, that, of course. But it was more than that. He made it very clear he saw you as a—a son, I think. Sometimes I was actually rather jealous of your bond with him.”
“A son,” Lucas repeated in shock. “That means a great deal to me.”
He said no more, he couldn’t. But that didn’t stop Diana. She stepped forward, her bright green gaze focused on him. Reading him as only she seemed capable of doing. As always, it made him uncomfortable because it felt so damned vulnerable.
“What is it?” she asked.
He clenched his teeth and shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s more than nothing,” she whispered. “After all, I told you about my past—you cannot tell me one thing in return?”
He sighed. That was fair. And what he would say would reveal nothing important. At least not anything she would understand the importance of.
“My own father didn’t view me as a son,” he said, every word stinging as it came out of his mouth. “In fact, he could scarcely stand the sight of me. So your father’s acceptance on that level, it means more than you could understand. I…I’m sorry I failed him. So sorry.”
She moved closer, and now those bright eyes snapped. “Stop saying that. My father was involved with spies and their duties for decades, Lucas. He knew the risks.”
“As do we all,” he said. “Some of us are destined to die for our country. I just didn’t think that was your father’s destiny.”
Her face twisted in horror. “Are you saying it is yours?” She swallowed hard. “Is that why you avoid taking on the mantel of your title?”
“Partly,” he admitted, and that one word felt like a thousand-pound weight dropped on his damaged shoulders.
“What is the other part?” she pressed.
He shook his head and then slowly pushed to his feet. The water ran down his body and he watched as her attention shifted from his face to his chest and his stomach and his cock.
“I don’t want to talk anymore, Diana,” he said softly.
She held his gaze for a long moment, and then she closed the remaining distance between them. She reached out and pressed her palm to his stomach, stroking her fingers over the firm muscle there.
“I see,” she whispered as she reached back with her opposite hand and caught up a fluffy towel from the table behind her.
She shook it out and handed it over, but he didn’t unfold it. He didn’t cover himself. He just steadied himself on her shoulder and stepped from the tub. He caught her, cupping her backside and drawing her firmly against him. She squealed as his wet body molded to hers, but any playful protest was lost when he dropped his mouth to hers.
As always, she responded. He loved that about her. Her body was made for his. Made to be touched. Made to be worshipped, and he was up to that task, although sometimes touching her made him want to be whole again more than anything else. Whole so he could take her and hold her and pleasure her in a dozen new ways. Ways she hadn’t even thought about before.
But for now, this would be enough. He backed her toward the bed and they fell together. He reveled in how their bodies fit, even as he struggled to keep himself perched on his good arm as he kissed her and kissed her until everything else faded away.
She arched beneath him, little sounds of pleasure already escaping her throat as she drove her tongue against his in needy, powerful desire. His cock ached, his body ached, he needed to be inside of her. Now.
“Roll over,” he grunted as he pulled away.
She did so, sprawling onto her stomach on the bed. He grabbed her hips and tugged her until she was bent over the side, her delectable backside giving him the perfect view of pleasures to come.
Slowly he fisted her skirt in his hand, tugging it up and up her body, over her calves, her thighs, up over her hips and bunched it against her back. He reached around her, rocking against her gently as he untied the waist of her drawers. They dropped around her ankles and left her in just garters and stockings and gorgeous bare skin.
He cupped her backside and she shuddered beneath him. His name escaped her words in a soft breath and she lifted up, offering him everything.
He wanted to take it. He massaged the firm flesh there, tugging her back so he could slide his cock into the crease. She gasped at the shock of him against that forbidden place, but she didn’t protest. She just looked back over her shoulder at him, uncertain.
“I could,” he drawled, holding her stare as he stroked his cock over the rosebud entrance to her entirely distracting bottom. “And you’d like it.”
She bit her lip. “Would I?”
He nodded. “I’d make sure of it. But I have nothing here to ease the way. So not today. Not this time. This time I’ll take…” He trailed off as he slid his cock down, around to the entrance of her sex. When he touched the tip to her, he found her wet, hot, ready. “…here,” he gasped.
She pushed back and he slid in an inch. One inch of heaven as she gripped him like a well-fitted glove. He’d been with many women in his day. He’d always liked pleasure and had done nothing to deny himself.
But this was different. When he thrust into her, filling her from base to tip, it was different. It was unique. It was everything. He entered her body, and there was part of him that felt like he was coming home. To a place he’d never really had. That he belonged with her, joined with her physically and perhaps more than that.
The thought jolted him and he thrust again to erase it. Pleasure skirted up his cock and it did make all these musings fade. He gripped her hips, digging his fingers into her skin, denting the flesh there, probably leaving little bruises. But she moaned in desire and he didn’t stop. He just began to pound against her.
She met him stroke for stroke. Her body clung to him, making him work for the movement, work for the release. And it came, hard and fast and heavy. He focused hard to keep it at bay, for he wanted her to milk it from him with her orgasm.
“Touch yourself,” he grunted.
She looked over her shoulder at him a second time, and he nearly came undone at the sensual expression, the glazed passion and naked longing on her face.
She didn’t say anything. Just held his stare as she snaked a hand between her legs and began to rub her clitoris. He felt her bearing down against her fingers, against his cock and he shut his eyes. She would unman him and he couldn’t wait.
He felt her jolt beneath him and she let out a gasp, a groan, and then her pussy was gripping him in wave after wave of release. He thrust through it, reveling in the rippling pull that urged him to release.
When it came, he nearly spent inside of her. Only barely did he withdraw, letting out a cry as he poured himself out against her skin and felt her shiver beneath him.
Then he fell against her, tucking her to his side and letting the connection warm him, the release heal him, and her presence soothe him, even though he knew full well that it wouldn’t last.