How to Plan a Wedding for a Royal Spy (18 page)

Some evil part of him whispered that she didn't want to answer the question, because she didn't
know
the answer.

“I . . . I . . .” she stammered.

“It's an easy question,” he murmured, letting his fingers drift in slow circles along her naked shoulders. “Do. You. Love. Him?” With each word, he let his hands slip a little deeper under the fabric of her sleeves.

Her gaze darted away, and she grimaced. “You can't ask me that, Wolf,” she whispered. “You don't have the right.”

He hated seeing that look on her face. Hated the idea that their past—and the hurt he'd inflicted on her—might be part of the reason for her pain in the present. He wanted to do whatever he could to correct the mistakes of the past and take that pain away.

“I don't,” he whispered back. “Just like I don't have the right to do this, but I'm going to do it anyway.”

He moved one hand to her jaw, cupping it while tilting her head back. Her mouth opened; whether in protest or shock, he couldn't tell. But it didn't matter, because he finally gave into the desire he'd been battling from that first moment he'd seen her on the lawn behind Maywood Manor. Bastard that he was, he took ruthless advantage of those parted lips to slip inside, taking her mouth captive. She made an odd, squeaky noise before freezing in his grip.

Her paralysis lasted but a few moments as he desperately searched for the girl who'd never shut him out before. Who'd once kissed him with a shy, innocent fervor he now realized he'd never forgotten. And when she finally responded relief flooded through him, as honest and true as what he'd felt on the battlefield when he realized he lived to fight another day.

As her arms stole up around his neck and she trembled within his embrace, the echo of their sweet, youthful kisses faded in the clamor of blood pounding through his veins and his heart hammering against his ribcage. Because it wasn't a girl he pulled close—it was a woman. And it wasn't just the lust-inducing feel of her generous breasts pressing against him that inflamed his senses, it was the way she opened up to him, responding to his invasion with an enthusiasm that both startled and thrilled him.

If he'd ever needed confirmation that Evie was not the young girl he'd once known and that she was all grown up, this was it. Anything that had ever happened between them in the past couldn't begin to compare with this moment.

He groaned deep in his throat and staggered backward against the desk, lifting her right off her feet as he moved. She gasped but didn't lift her mouth from his, instead twining her soft arms more tightly around his neck. Years of holding back—for both of them, he reckoned—fell away, replaced with a voracious need that blotted out every rational thought, every distraction.

Will managed to sit down on the corner of the desk, bracing his legs wide and pulling her between them. He slipped his hand from her jaw, gliding it down to her hip. God, he could feel the heat and softness of her body right through the thin layers of her dress and chemise. Spreading his fingers, he nudged her forward, until she was plastered against his cock. The notch at the top of her thighs framed him perfectly, and he couldn't help groaning into her mouth.

She went still again and Will mentally cursed. He'd pushed too far, but every instinct drove him forward, telling him it wasn't nearly enough.

Her lips came from his, allowing a breath of space between them.

“What are we doing?” she whispered in a bewildered voice. She sounded close to having second thoughts, but her arms were still wrapped around his neck and she held herself tight against him.

“I should think it obvious,” he said, swooping down to sweep a hot lick across her rosy mouth. She moaned, and her eyes went soft and sleepy-looking.

“I'm kissing you, silly girl,” he murmured as he trailed his mouth along her jawline. Her skin was as smooth and finely grained as satin. He wanted to see it all, every inch of her beautiful body exposed to his sight and touch. His hands followed the thought, carefully pushing down her sleeves to more fully expose her shoulders and chest.

“Yes, I know,” she said, her voice coming more strongly even as she trembled under his roving fingers. “But I think—”

Will never got the chance to know what she thought, since the next sound he heard was the library door opening.

“Evie, I've been looking—”

Beaumont chopped off his words, and the brief, fraught silence that ensued was like a bucket of cold water to Will's face. On a strangled cry, Evie pulled up straight in his embrace. Since Will's fingers were still caught in her sleeves, it had the unfortunate effect of pulling the fabric even farther down her arms, exposing the top of her stays and the generous breasts they barely contained.

“Oh, God, let me go,” Evie exclaimed as she struggled in his grip.

“Stand still,” Will growled. He was trying to get her damn dress back up where it belonged, but her wriggling wasn't helping. She was so frantic to escape from him that she didn't notice she was half-undressed.

“Let go,” she snapped.

For good measure, she aimed a kick at his shins. Will barely felt it but was afraid her struggles would send her tumbling to the floor.

Cursing God, fate, and Michael Beaumont, Will pulled his hands away. When Evie whipped around to face Beaumont, her bodice sagged below her stays. Will supposed he must be in some sort of shock, because the only thing he could seem to focus on was how voluptuous and tempting Evie looked in her pretty linen stays topped with pink lace ribbons.

“Michael, this . . . this isn't what it looks like,” she stammered.

She still had failed to notice the epic disaster afflicting her bodice. Beaumont had, and his furious gaze snagged right onto Evie's breasts.

Taking a step closer, Will tried to tug her dress back up from behind.

“Stop that,” Evie hissed, twisting around to slap his hands.

It was only then that she finally noticed the thoroughly debauched state of her clothing, and she sucked in a gasp of dismay that echoed through the room.

Beaumont remained nailed to the floor, his face frozen in a horrified mask as he studied her. His dark eyes held such a look of betrayal that Will had the impulse to toss Evie over his shoulder, throw open the French doors to the garden, and carry her off into the night.

Sadly, no such fortunate escape awaited any of them.

“Michael, I swear, it's not what it looks like,” Evie said in a choked voice as she struggled with her bodice. The despair and panic in her normally sweet tones made Will's throat close up.

She took a step forward but almost tripped over the hem of her sagging gown, prompting Will to reach out and catch her by the shoulders. So focused was she on Beaumont that she didn't even seem to notice.

“Say something, Michael,” she pleaded.

Before anyone could say a damn thing, a swift clatter of heels heralded the arrival of another participant in their ghastly little drama. Any hopes Will had harbored of explaining the situation to Beaumont—taking all the blame, naturally—died when Lady Reese marched into the room.

“Mr. Beaumont,” she announced in ringing tones, “I specifically asked you—” She stumbled to a halt as her evening slippers slid over the polished floorboards and made contact with the thick Wilton carpet that covered much of the library floor. She pitched forward and was forced to grab Beaumont's shoulders to keep from going down in an inelegant heap.

“What in God's name is going on in here?” Lady Reese screeched.

“Nothing, Mamma, I swear,” Evie said, still struggling with her bodice. Her hands trembled too badly to make much headway.

Heaving a sigh, Will reached around her, yanked the bodice up over her stays, and then pulled her ridiculous little sleeves back up on her shoulders. He mentally cursed those frivolous bits of fabric since they were responsible for his—and Evie's—downfall.

Evie wrenched out of his grasp again. “Will was helping me look for Papa's book,” she said. “And then we just started talking.”

“You call that talking?” Michael exclaimed, finally breaking free of the shock that had apparently held him immobile. He sounded almost as screechy as Lady Reese, and looked a great deal more upset.

Evie shook her head so hard one of the floral pins in her hair flew out and dropped to the floor. “It was nothing. I swear to you, Michael, it didn't mean anything.”

Will did
not
like the sound of that. “Now, hang on just a minute, Evie—” He choked back his words when he realized how supremely stupid his intervention would be.

Holding his silence, he reached behind him to retrieve Evie's spectacles then handed them to her. She put them on with trembling hands, looking dazed.

By that time, Lady Reese had shoved Beaumont out of the way, obviously recovered from her shock. In fact, if Will didn't know better, he'd say that her horrified expression of a few moments ago had been replaced with one of infinite deviousness.

He waited for his doom to fall upon him. To fall upon both of them, since Evie would share it.

Lady Reese marched up to her daughter. “Evelyn, were you and Captain Endicott . . .” She declined to finish the phrase, instead waving her hand in a windmilling motion.

“It's not as bad as it looks, Mamma,” Evie said, her voice breaking. “I swear.”

And that made Will's heart break. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and soothe her, telling her that all would be well. That's what he'd done when they were young, whenever her mother would tear a strip from her and Evie would flee to him for comfort. He'd always been able to make her laugh—to make her believe the sun would shine tomorrow. Damned if he didn't want to keep playing that role in her life.

“Evelyn, you've been alone with William for a considerable time
and
your bodice was practically down around your waist,” her mother retorted in a strident voice. “How do you intend to explain away that unwelcome fact?”

Evie cringed and took a step back, bumping into Will's chest. When he rested his hands gently on her hips to steady her, this time she didn't pull away. He had a feeling, though, that her response was instinctive, seeking comfort from a familiar source. If Eden were there, she would no doubt have gone to her.

Eden came rushing into the room as if conjured up by that stray thought. Alec, for some demented reason, followed in her wake. Will began to think they might as well invite the entire party down to the library and get it over with.

“What's going on?” Eden darted a worried look at her twin. “Everyone wants to know where you all are.”

“I was just about to find out what has transpired in this room,” Lady Reese said. She switched her gorgon-eyed gaze from Evie to Will. “On your honor as an officer and a gentleman, William, I expect you to provide an honest recounting of what occurred between you and my daughter.”

“It's not necessary to call my honor into question, my lady,” Will responded in a calm voice. “I will truthfully answer any question you wish to ask.” He glanced at Alec, now leaning against the doorframe and shaking his head with evident pity.

Lady Reese nodded. “Very well. Then please tell me if you were kissing my daughter.”

“Certainly I was.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a weight lifted from Will's shoulders. He and Evie had nothing to be ashamed of—well, they did, but he'd be damned if he apologized for kissing her. There was a sense of inevitability to this night's work, since he and Evie had spent years ignoring the unfinished business between them—quite obviously to their peril. This was not the result he had foreseen or would have chosen, but nor was it truly a surprise.

Evie clearly didn't feel the same way because she pulled from his light embrace and went straight for her sister. Eden met her in the center of the room. She wrapped her arms around Evie and gently led her to the chaise in a reading nook nestled between two bookshelves, murmuring in a soothing undertone.

Lady Reese flicked a glance at her daughters but came back to focus on Will. “And I take from what I saw when I came into the room that matters had progressed quite a bit beyond kissing.”

Alec made a snorting sound that he turned into a cough. When Will glared at him, his cousin held his hands up and gave him a wry little grin.

Will added
kill Alec later
to the mental list of tasks he was already compiling.

“Matters had progressed further than they should have,” he said, trying to hedge for Evie's sake. She was sitting on the chaise, trying not to cry. Right now, all he could hope was to spare her as much embarrassment as possible. “But I assure you I would not have continued in that vein. I have the greatest respect for your daughter, Lady Reese, as I believe you know.”

Well, that was probably a lie—not the respecting part, but the stopping part. If Beaumont and the others hadn't interrupted them, God knows where he and Evie would have ended up.

Will clamped down hard on that image and kept his focus on his future mother-in-law. The full realization that her ladyship was soon to be one of his nearest relations was appalling enough to wipe the enticing image of a naked Evie from his brain.

“That may be so,” Lady Reese carried on triumphantly, “but I think you will agree that quite a bit of damage has been done as a result of your actions. Since you
do
respect my daughter, I trust you understand your obligations to her.”