He’d woken before Angelique and simply lay still for long, silent minutes.
He’d never brought a woman into his bed. Into his space, into his privacy, into his very being. But now, gazing down at the one who lay sleeping beside him, her hair a wild mess, her parted lips still swollen from his kisses, her lashes fanning over her beautifully freckled cheeks, he couldn’t imagine her anywhere else. She was right where she belonged.
He knew whatever pathetic attempts he’d made to deny that this was anything but business, that she was anything except an asset to his club, were meaningless. The moment he had gazed into her intelligent blue eyes, he’d been smitten. The moment she’d stepped between him and two warders’ blades, he’d been lost. And the moment she’d trusted him with her body, gifted him with her raw vulnerability and demanded the same from him, he’d fallen in love.
He’d revealed more about himself to her than to anyone. Which seemed natural and right, because she had done the same. And instead of the regret and disquiet that he had expected with such exposure, he felt…content. It was a strange sensation, this. Nothing that he had ever experienced before. A little like he had run a great distance and couldn’t quite catch his breath, all the while his heart thundered on and the joy of it coursed through his veins. All he knew was that he wanted nothing more than to keep her right where she was, where she could be his.
If he knew anything about this woman, it was that she was plenty capable of taking care of herself. What had happened last night certainly didn’t change that. But she still needed his help. And not the sort that involved satin sheets and soft whispers in the dark, but the sort that would give her the answers she needed—the answers she deserved—to help her move forward. And right now, there was nothing but an alarming collection of muddy questions and coincidences.
Had he not discovered that Angelique’s father had been blackmailed for years, coupled with the suspicious circumstances surrounding his death, Alex might have been more likely to accept the fact that Gerald Archer had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, albeit as a result of his own sheer stupidity. But his instincts were sounding an alarm, and Alex had long ago learned never to ignore his instincts.
He didn’t know who had been extorting the old marquess. He didn’t know who had sent the anonymous note to Hutton about the necklace. But the one name that continued to be linked to Hutton’s was Viscount Seaton. George Fitzherbert bothered him. Not only did the man appear to have suspicious ties to the darker side of London, he had been at the Trevane house the night Hutton was arrested.
And then there were Seaton’s motivations toward Angelique, both in the past as well as the present. It was possible that Seaton hoped to take advantage of Angelique’s perceived vulnerability or isolate her further. In his tenure at Chegarre, Alex had seen individuals so fixated on another that they lost touch with reality. They became so fixated on their desires and fantasies that they would do anything to achieve their ends. Even kill.
Yet if Seaton wanted to be rid of Hutton, for whatever reason, why not simply kill him? God knew no one would even raise a brow if the body of a young buck known for his reckless, irresponsible lifestyle was found in Smithfield, reeking of gin and stripped of everything of value. Why go to all the effort of setting up a complicated plan?
Alex slid silently out of bed and dressed, irritated that his thoughts were simply chasing themselves in circles. As much as he wanted to simply peel back the covers and kiss Angelique awake, and then kiss her some more, she needed to sleep. And he needed some answers. Facts, not suppositions. And he wasn’t going to get them here.
* * *
Angelique was woken by a knock on the door though, when she opened her eyes, she wasn’t sure if she had imagined it. What she did know was that she felt more rested than she had in days. Weeks, maybe. Hell, probably years. She stretched, feeling her muscles protest in places she hadn’t known existed until last night, and for a moment, simply reveled in all the delicious sensations. She rolled over, already sensing that Alex was gone, but she wasn’t concerned. She could see a sliver of light between the curtains that covered the single window of the bedroom. It must be midmorning at least.
There was another soft knock on the door, and this time, it swung open. Light spilled into the room from the office beyond, and Alex came in, closing the door behind him. He was dressed flawlessly, from the complicated knot of his cravat to the polished tips of his boots. He could have passed for a duke. He could have passed for a bloody prince.
“Good afternoon.” His lips curled up.
“Afternoon?”
“I was going to say good evening, but that seemed to be pushing it. It’s not quite four yet.”
“What?” She had slept the entire day? She started to lunge out of bed, stopping suddenly when she realized that she was still completely naked. And that she had no idea where her clothes were. The covers started to slide down her chest before she snatched them back up.
“Please, don’t let me stop you,” Alex said.
“I’m naked,” Angelique said, feeling her cheeks heat, both at the inanity of her statement and the fact.
“Nothing gets by you, does it?” Alex advanced toward the bed. “Though for the record, I approve.”
She made a face to cover the fact that a million butterflies were suddenly swarming through her insides. She watched him draw closer, her fingers curling into the sheets. He sat down on the bed beside her, and the mattress dipped under his weight. His hands rested on his thighs, and in an instant, she remembered quite clearly what he had done with those hands.
Her skin prickled, and arousal twisted through her.
“Your brother is well,” he said. “Or, as well as can be expected, I imagine.”
Desire was abruptly extinguished with guilt. She hadn’t even given Gerald a thought since she had woken. “Did you see him?”
“I did not. He is still denied visitors. Nor did I think it wise to press our luck and chance a repeat of yesterday. No, today I simply presented myself as an exalted member of the peerage verifying young Hutton’s welfare. Hervey was quite amenable.”
Angelique looked down. While she had been sleeping, Alex had been doing what she should have done.
“Don’t do that,” he said, catching her chin and tipping her head up, forcing her eyes back to his.
“What?”
“Punish yourself. There is nothing you can do for him right now that you haven’t already done.”
“I could have come with you.”
“And done what?”
She shrugged unhappily. “Just…been there.”
“You were exhausted.”
She pulled away from his touch.
“You’re not alone anymore, Angel.” He leaned forward and kissed her, a slow, sweet kiss.
She wanted to believe him so badly. That no matter what happened, they could remain like this. Confidantes, lovers, partners.
He pulled back, searching her eyes. “Wait for me here.”
“I beg your pardon?” Confusion distracted her. “Where are you going?”
“To have a conversation with Viscount Seaton. I’d like to clear up a few outstanding items with him and inquire just what or who might have drawn him to a tavern in Pillory Lane.”
“And he’s there now? At the tavern?”
“No.”
She felt her forehead crease in puzzlement. “Then where are you meeting him?”
“My neighbor’s. And I’m not so sure he’s expecting me.”
“Your neighbor’s?”
“More like the Duchess’s neighbors. Miss Winslow runs a very popular, profitable…establishment.”
“A brothel.”
“Something like that.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Odd. Because I’m sure you’re not asking me to hide in your rooms again.” She could hear the razor edge of steel in her voice. “What does one wear to a popular, profitable establishment?” she asked.
“Clothes,” he said darkly.
“Ah. You think that I will be shocked by what I see.”
“You’re a lady,” he growled.
“Sometimes.” She was being contrary, but he knew better than this. He knew better than to treat her like a shrinking violet. “And sometimes I deal cards at a gaming hell. For a man who might just be an assassin and a spy. And sometimes”—she let the sheet drop from her chest—“when it suits him, that man doesn’t wish me to be a lady at all.”
She saw the way he went perfectly still, saw the way every muscle in his body seemed to have tensed. His expression was almost feral, and she knew that she was playing with fire. Yet she didn’t care.
She shoved the sheet away from her and crawled forward until she was next to him, her mouth inches from his. “But he doesn’t always get to choose when being a lady suits me. I do.” She kissed him, her tongue sliding along his bottom lip. “And right now, I am not a lady.”
* * *
She was going to kill him.
She couldn’t possibly have any idea just what sort of erotic torment her words had wrought. The sight of that beautifully rounded ass, the sway of her generous breasts, the feel of her tongue sliding over his mouth sent all sorts of unholy thoughts through his brain and straight to his cock. Alex was so hard it hurt.
“Angelique.” He might have been warning her. He might have been begging her.
She deepened her kiss, nipping and teasing with more skill than any woman should ever possess. She had no idea what she was asking for. No idea what—
Her tongue slid into his mouth as her hand cupped his cock. He gasped, jerking to his feet. With a desperation that should have been mortifying, he yanked at the fall of his trousers. She had moved closer, and now she was on her knees on the edge of the bed in front of him, her hands pushing his away. She undid the last button, pushing the waistband down, freeing his throbbing erection.
He grasped the bedpost to steady himself, desire blurring the edges of his vision. He had never wanted a woman as badly as this. He had never lost so much control so fast. He felt the cool air touch the back of his legs, but in the next second, her hand was on him, stroking him to the tip and back down to the base. He shuddered and closed his eyes, feeling his cock jump in her grip. She did it again, adjusting the pressure and the tempo, reading his body and its responses as easily as she did her cards. And then he felt her hands slide around his buttocks and the cool silk of her hair sliding against his thighs as she took him in her mouth. Her lips dragged along his length, her tongue swirling over the tip, and Alex felt his balls tighten and the first pulses of pressure deep at the base of his spine.
His eyes flew open, and he moved away, though only long enough to climb onto the bed behind her. She was still on her knees, and she made to turn, but he grasped her hips with his hands and hauled her back toward him.
“Don’t move,” he rasped.
He set himself between her legs, his cock sliding against the cleft of her buttocks. His hands slid up the smooth expanse of her back and returned, once again caressing the curves of her hips. He rose on his knees slightly and drew back, and now the tip of his cock teased the folds of her sex. Bloody hell, but she was wet. He was never going to be able to get enough of her.
“Angel,” he said, pushing in a little farther, battling against the urge to simply bury himself to the hilt.
He heard Angelique’s breath catch, and in the next second, she spread her knees wider, her head dropping, and he nearly lost that battle.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Gritting his teeth for control, he pushed deep inside her, feeling her walls close tightly around him. He pulled out slightly and then thrust back in, that tiny friction sending sparks of unbearable pleasure shooting through him. He withdrew again, slowly, and she whimpered, a sound that was almost one of pain.
He stopped.
“What are you doing?” she gasped.
He was trying to think, but it was difficult. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She groaned. “You’re not.”
He swallowed, his entire body trembling.
“Move,” she panted. Her hands were fisted in the sheets. “Just…move.” She tilted her hips back and up, and he slid deeper.
Alex’s vision blurred slightly, and he thrust hard into her heat. Again. And again. Whatever control he might have had was gone, abandoned at her words. His hips pistoned, and he leaned forward, covering her, his hands finding the weight of her breasts, his fingers rolling her nipples. He heard her cry out, felt her tense and shudder beneath him, felt her heat ripple around him. He uttered a guttural sound, driving deep before he yanked himself out, coming harder than he ever had. His mind blanked, his entire world reduced to the powerful riptide of pleasure that tore through him.
He came back to himself presently to find himself slumped over her. She was still on her hands and knees, her head resting on the sheet, her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted as her breathing slowed. He straightened, wiping his semen from the small of her back with the corner of the sheet, realizing with horror that he was still fully dressed. He hadn’t even managed to take his coat off, so desperate had he been for her.
He, who had wanted to give this woman every incredible pleasure that bed-sport could bring, had been reduced to rutting like an animal. Reduced to a desperate, needy, selfish lover.
“Let’s do that again,” she murmured, her words somewhat muffled by the pillow.
He had retreated from the bed, trying to right his clothes, but he stopped suddenly, unsure if he had heard her right. “I beg your pardon?”
“You told me to tell you what I liked. What I wanted.” She rolled to her side and sat up. Her face was flushed, and she met his eyes, unflinching. “That. I liked that.”
Jesus. He was going to be hard again before they finished this conversation. He fumbled for words, but his brain seemed to have ceased to function altogether.
“I’ve made you uncomfortable.” She had turned his own words back on him, and he thought she might be laughing at him now.
He took a step closer to the bed, gazing down at her. “No. Never uncomfortable. But determined that next time, that will take longer.”
“I didn’t want longer. I wanted that. You. Hard. Fast.”
He shuddered, wondering just how he had managed to live before this woman. He knelt on the bed, leaning down to kiss her, ravaging her mouth and extinguishing her amusement. He pulled away to find her breathless.
He shrugged out of his coat and went to work at the knot of his cravat. He watched her expression change, saw the same hunger he felt mount.
“You’ll have all of that,” he said, tossing his cravat aside. “But trust me when I say it’s going to take longer. Much longer.”