How to Plan a Wedding for a Royal Spy (26 page)

“So you said, but just how do you know that?” Will rapped out.

“Because I can always tell when he's lying. He's not very good at it, as I'm sure you noticed. Beyond that, I've come to know him very well in the last few years—”

She stopped when Will's eyes narrowed, practically shooting blue sparks at her.

“Not
that
well,” she said with exasperation, “which should be clear to you after what happened in the parlor the other night.”

He didn't look particularly mollified. “Then perhaps you can explain exactly what you mean by
knowing him very well
.”

Evie threw her hands up. “We were planning on getting married, you foolish man. Do you think we didn't talk about what we expected our lives to look like? We are very good friends, or we were until you came along and blew everything up.”

He shrugged, not looking the least bit sorry.

“You are incorrigible, Wolf Endicott,” she sighed.

Will gave her a lopsided smile. “I know, my sweet, but you'll just have to put up with me. Go on with what you were saying.”

“Michael is not a devious or secretive person. Rather, he's ardent and open about what he believes in, and very principled. He's also a man of . . . elevated sensibilities, for lack of a better word. He abhors violence and killing.” She wrinkled her nose. “In fact, he's rather squeamish about it. He even refuses to hunt.”

“Huh,” Will grunted, not sounding very impressed. “That's all very well, but what if someone else is doing all the dirty work?”

“No,” she replied in a firm voice. “Michael would never become involved in something like that. Besides, I am just as much engaged in the business of the Hibernian Association as he is. I doubt he could hide evidence of a conspiracy from me even if he wanted to.”

“And yet he lied about the list,” Will said in a skeptical voice.

“Yes, that is the one thing he's lying about, at least in terms of what he
thinks
the list might indicate in addition to what it truly means.”

Will frowned. “I don't follow.”

“The list is exactly what he said it was—the names of four men who are having difficulty adapting to life in London. Michael takes very seriously the notion that those men have no future in England and would be better off in America somewhere, like Philadelphia or Boston. Michael even approached Terence O'Shay with the idea a few weeks ago. Terence turned him down flat, I might add.”

Will pondered that for a moment. “We'll get back to that detail. Let's say for the sake of argument that the list is what Beaumont says it is. What, then, is he holding back? Something's got him worried, or he wouldn't have acted the way he did.”

Evie drew in a long breath, marshaling her thoughts. This would be the trickiest part of the discussion. “Have you ever heard of the Battle of Garvagh?”

“I'm afraid I haven't.”

“But you have heard of the Ribbonmen, I'm assuming, by your reaction to the information that the men on Michael's list were from Londonderry.”

Will's mouth twisted up in a wry smile. “That was very perceptive of you, Evie. Yes, I know who the Ribbonmen are—a secret society of rural Catholics, mostly in the north of Ireland. They fight tenant laws and evictions by Protestant landlords. I couldn't help wondering if the men on Beaumont's list were members. Are they?”

“I'll get to that in a minute after I tell you about the battle. In 1813, at the conclusion of a county fair in Garvagh—which is part of Londonderry—fighting broke out between hundreds of Ribbonmen and members of the Orange Order. Michael calls the Orange Order loyalist volunteers, for lack of a better term.”

Will nodded. “I'm familiar with the Orange Order. They were as guilty of atrocities as some of the radical Catholic groups.”

“Correct. There has been brutality on both sides, with very ugly results, as you know.” She'd heard stories from women at St. Margaret's. Despite all the hardships they faced in London, she couldn't wonder that they'd sought to escape the tragic violence of their ancestral homeland.

Will leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs as he searched her face. “That list of names . . . the men were all from Londonderry, I'm assuming.”

“Actually, they're all from Garvagh,” she said softly.

Will jerked upright. “Good God, are you telling me that
all
the men on that list are Ribbonmen, and that they're here in London?”

She winced at the bark in his voice. “Michael isn't sure they would identify themselves as such, especially now. But they left Ireland after that unfortunate episode because, well . . .”

“Because they were fleeing arrest?” Will asked sarcastically.

Evie couldn't help feeling defensive on their behalf. “It doesn't necessarily mean they're guilty of anything, either in Ireland or here in England. According to Michael, some simply seem to have gotten caught up in the brawl.”

“What about O'Shay?”

“Michael says Terence makes no effort to hide his allegiance to the Ribbon Order—or his hatred for the English.”

“Yes, I noticed that,” Will said dryly. “So, Beaumont knew these men were fugitives and yet he chose to withhold that information. That doesn't sound promising for him, I'm sorry to say.”

“It's not like that, Will,” she exclaimed. “He had no inkling of any sort of conspiracy or plot until we told him.”

“Then why the hell didn't he just tell me the truth?”

“For one,” she said, trying to be patient, “he had no indication that any of those men were involved in some sort of assassination plot. He only knows their personal histories and the fact that they're unhappy in their new lives.”

“And is there a second reason Beaumont chose not to share his concerns with me?” he asked, clearly disgruntled by her reasoning.

“He's worried that the men will never get a fair hearing. That they'll be arrested and hanged for treason on the basis of nothing more than rumors and wild conjecture.”

Will started to argue, but Evie held up a hand. “Surely you realize how much prejudice and hatred exists for Irish Catholics, especially here in London. Many are treated little better than animals. Can you blame Michael for worrying about them?”

“I understand all too well,” Will said with a grimace. “And I sympathize. But why didn't Beaumont at least share his concerns with me? I would have assured him that I would do my best to gain fair treatment for those men.”

Evie weighed her words, but there was no getting around it. “Michael doesn't trust you. That's why he didn't say anything.”

Will's eyes narrowed to irritated slits. “Because I'm a soldier, or because I'm going to marry you?”

She stared at him, astounded that he could be so dense. “He doesn't trust you because you lied to me. You betrayed and manipulated me, and it's not the first time you've done it, either.”

He flinched, but then a slow wrath heated up his gaze. “Evie, did you really tell Beaumont about what happened between us in the past? That's
our
business, not his.”

She mentally winced, knowing she'd overplayed her hand. “Never mind that now. Please just tell me what you're going to do next.”

He rose, looking impatient to be off. “I'm going to take you home, and then I'm going to talk to Beaumont and get him to tell me where those men have gone to ground.”

Evie shook her head. “He doesn't know. You can check the church records, but I doubt it'll do much good. You know what a rabbit warren St. Giles is.”

He gave her a hard stare. “Are you sure Beaumont isn't holding anything back? Or you, for that matter, to protect him?”

Evie jumped up, outrage blasting away the lingering remnants of her exhaustion. “Of course I'm not holding anything back! Do you know how difficult it was for me to come here like this? To trust you when you so patently did not trust me?”

He didn't look the least bit put out by her tirade. In fact, one corner of his mouth kicked up in a wry smile. “I trust you, Evie. It's myself I worry about.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Don't you? Then never mind. Come, we must be on our way. I need to track down Alec and then take another run at Bridget O'Shay. This new information might shake something loose about her brother.”

Evie had already heard from Mrs. Rafferty that Will and Gilbride had spoken to Bridget. The girl, understandably, had dissolved into hysterics at the idea that her brother was involved in a treasonous conspiracy.

When Will reached to take her arm, she stepped back.

“You will help Michael, won't you?” she asked, unable to keep the anxiety from her voice.

He shook his head. “Is that the only reason you came here? To save Beaumont's hide?”

His hard demand flustered her. “Of course not! I want this to be over for your sake, as much as anything. But Michael is innocent, Will. Surely you see that. I need you to help him.”

“And what if I don't? What could you possibly do about it?” he asked in a cold voice.

For a moment, Evie felt like she couldn't catch her breath. Then she remembered how well she knew the man standing before her. “Don't make idle threats, Will. It doesn't become you.”

He took a stride toward her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Goddamn it, Evie. I don't want to see an innocent man dragged into this, but Beaumont is in trouble—have no doubt about that. I don't even know if there's anything I
can
do.”

She placed her hands on his chest, sensing the frustration and anger vibrating through his big frame. She'd been furious at what she saw as his betrayal, but he'd been under enormous pressure—not only from his father but from the very nature of the threat that loomed over them. If Will and Gilbride weren't able to prevent the threatened assassinations, the results could be dire for all of them. It would surely shadow them for the rest of their lives, and then what chance would she and Will have?

She stretched up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his chin. “I know. Please just do what you can, for my sake.”

When he lifted her off her feet, bringing them face to face, she could only gasp. His eyes blazed and his features were taut with a complex mix of emotions she had trouble deciphering. “Are you in love with Beaumont, Evie? Tell me the truth, once and for all.”

She felt her eyes pop wide. “What? No, of course I'm not. Didn't you learn anything from the other night, you stupid man?”

He didn't drop her to the floor, although she'd half-expected that given how she'd just insulted him. Instead, he mashed her against his brawny chest and took her mouth in a smothering kiss.

Evie tasted the wildness in him. She answered it, grabbing the edges of his waistcoat and hauling herself up to fight for the kiss. To fight for him.

Her nails dug in as she tugged, and she heard a rip. Will dragged his mouth away on a choked laugh. “No need to rip my clothes off, Evie. You simply have to ask.”

She shut her eyes, humiliated to be acting in so unladylike a fashion. Ripping one's fiancé's clothing hardly seemed appropriate behavior regardless of the provocation. And she
hadn't
really been trying to undress him, although the idea certainly appealed to her. But Will had made it abundantly clear that she needed to return home, and he needed to continue his search.

When she felt his fingers under her chin, swiftly untying the ribbons of her bonnet, she cracked open an eyelid. “What are you doing?”

“Undressing you.” He tossed the bonnet behind her.

“Why?”

“So I can make love to you,” he answered as he stripped her out of her spencer. He then spun her around and attacked the back of her dress. Faster than any lady's maid, he soon had her out of it and the dress joined the growing pile of clothes on the chair.

“But I thought you were in a hurry,” she said. As protests went that was a weak one, she had to admit. Not that she actually wanted him to stop what he was doing—not with the delicious heat starting to pool between her thighs.

He loosened her stays, then spun her back to face him. Evie's heart stuttered at the possessive, almost feral expression pulling his face tight.

“I
am
in a hurry,” he growled. From the way his gaze devoured her, Evie knew he wasn't talking only about the search that awaited him.

He swept her up in his arms, holding her high against his chest.

“Now what are you doing?” she asked.

“I'm taking you to bed.” He strode through to his bedroom. “I'll be damned if I make love to you in a chair again.”

Evie cast a quick glance around the plain but rather elegantly furnished room. The four-poster bed looked comfortable with its high mattress and thick quilt.

“Oh, I suppose that will make a nice change, won't it?” she said as he gently put her down.

When he laughed at her foolish reply, she couldn't help wincing. “Don't mind me,” she said with a sigh. “I'm just being an idiot again.”

Will paused in the middle of stripping off his waistcoat. “Evie, you do want this, don't you?”

She wasn't quite sure what she wanted at this moment except for Will to be safe and Michael to be free. And making love to Will, in her limited experience, did tend to complicate matters. But the avid, almost desperate desire that colored his gaze and the tension that gripped his big body clearly told her how much he needed this. Needed
her.

As much, she hoped, as she needed him.

She gave him a tremulous smile. “Of course I do, silly.”

“Thank God,” he murmured. A wry smile eased the lines that bracketed his mouth. “Because I need to feel my cock deep inside you, Evie, and I need that now.”

“Will Endicott,” she gasped. “That's an outrageous thing to say.”

Of course, she was the one standing there in nothing but her shift and stays, so she supposed she didn't have much business scolding him.

He dropped his waistcoat to the floor and reached for her. “Sweetheart, I'm just getting started.”

Quickly, he pulled the stays from her body, leaving her clad only in her shift, stockings, and shoes. He picked her up and tossed her onto the bed, ignoring her halfhearted protest. In fact, she found it all unbearably exciting, and his extravagant display of masculine power wound her insides into a knot.

As Evie came up on her elbows to steady herself, Will pulled his shirt over his head. He unbuttoned the fall of his breeches, freeing his erection, then climbed onto the bed and straddled her.

She eyed his gorgeous, half-naked body and his straining arousal. “You're still wearing your boots, and I'm still wearing my shoes. And my spectacles.”

He plucked the spectacles from her nose and placed them on the bedside table. “I wouldn't worry about your shoes, Evie,” he said in a distracted voice.

“That's hardly the point,” she replied, fighting an urge to moan as his hands came to her breasts. “It's not very—”

She broke off on a gasp when he dipped down and took her in his mouth, sucking her in through the linen of her chemise. When his tongue flicked over her nipple in a stimulating rasp through the fabric, she let loose a moan and arched her back off the bed.

He pulled the wet fabric taut over her nipple, avidly inspecting the stiff point. “I assure you, love, our footwear will not prove to be an impediment.”

His hands cupped her, shaping her curves into plump mounds, and then his head bent again. For a few delirious minutes, he sucked, teased, and tormented her breasts until Evie was writhing beneath him. She could feel herself going slick and soft, and tiny contractions had already started deep in her womb. It didn't seem possible, but she thought she might climax even before he touched her more intimately.

Abruptly, he sat up, his pale eyes glittering with a heat she felt dancing across her skin.

“It's not enough,” he said.

Evie came up on her elbows. “What's not?”

Instead of answering, he grabbed the hem of her chemise and shoved it all the way up to her neck. She squeaked, startled to be so quickly and thoroughly exposed, and in broad daylight, no less. Yes, he'd seen much of her the other night, but the room had been dimly lit and she'd still been partially clothed. Now, every part of her was visible to his hot gaze, painfully so in the morning sun. Her full breasts and pink nipples were on display, as was her unfashionably round body. Evie felt a flush start at her heels and move up her body in a swift tide of warmth.

“Christ, you're gorgeous,” Will growled.

He was looking rather flushed himself, and his expression was decidedly approving. Evie gave him a tentative smile, feeling slightly less embarrassed. Still, she couldn't help slipping her hands to the top of her thighs in an instinct to cover herself.

“Ah, none of that,” Will admonished.

He gently pushed her hands out of the way and then did the most astonishing thing. He nudged her wide open and pushed her knees up, then slid down the bed and settled between her legs. Evie came farther up on her elbows to peer at him, completely mystified.

“Good God, Will,
now
what are you doing?”

His lips curled up in a rakish smile. “I'm being outrageous.”

He clamped his hands on her inner thighs as if to hold her still, then he came down on her. When his tongue slicked between her folds and dragged over her taut bud, Evie let out a startled cry and arched her body, almost lifting straight off the bed.

No wonder he'd gripped her so firmly. Sensation stormed through her in an overwhelming wave. As his mouth caressed her, she found herself unable to do anything but give herself up fully to it.

Not that Will gave her any choice. His broad shoulders wedged her wide and his hands held her in place while he feasted on her. Evie fell back onto the pillows, her eyes closing as he lavished her with one delicious sensation after another. She squirmed in his grip, instinctively pushing into his mouth, trying to deepen the contact on the part of her that throbbed under his deft tongue.

Will's head came up. “God, how beautiful you are.”

In a daze, Evie came up on her elbows. Her stomach clenched at the sight of Will's golden head between her thighs. He played with her, his fingers drifting through her curls then spreading her soft folds wide to expose her sex. All of her was open to him—body, heart, soul—waiting for him to claim her.

He used her own moisture to stroke her, gently rubbing.

“So pretty, Evie. Everything about you is so pretty.” His voice was a husky rumble that knifed through her.

“Will,” she whispered, her voice breaking with need.

His hot glance flicked up to hers, then he swooped in and fastened his mouth tightly on her sex. He sucked her into his mouth and Evie came apart in a sudden, explosive climax. She let out a high-pitched wail and curled up to grab his shoulders, clutching at him with shaking hands.

A moment later, Will surged up her body, bringing her hands up and clamping them over her head. He pushed into her, spinning her climax to impossible heights. Evie threw her arms around his neck, holding tight as her channel tightened and throbbed around his erection.

Will groaned, pounding into her with fierce possession. Straight-armed, he loomed over her. His gaze, heavy-lidded and almost feverish, bored into her.

Evie could feel her eyes start to sting. “Wolf,” she whispered, her voice fracturing with emotion.

“Yes, love,” he said, in a tight voice. “I'm right here with you.”

She gripped his shoulders, staring into his gaze. She felt like her heart was splitting wide open.

“I love you,” she said.

He closed his eyes and came down on her, surging into her one last time before letting himself go, shaking in her arms as he found his release. Evie wrapped her legs around his hips, wishing they could stay connected forever.

After exhaling a shuddering sigh, Will slowly sucked in a few deep breaths before rolling onto his back, taking her with him. Evie rested, splayed inelegantly on top of him in a delicious, boneless daze.

After perhaps a minute, he lifted his head. “Are you all right?” He sounded cautious.

“Hmm,” Evie muttered into his chest. She was beginning to wonder if she'd ever be able to move again.

“Are you sure? I wasn't exactly . . .” Will trailed off.

She sighed and lifted a bit, meeting his gaze. “Gentle? No, you were a perfect beast. A wolf best fits the description.”

When concern flared in his gaze, she gave him a lazy grin. “But I thought it was rather splendid, if you must know.”

He let out a relieved sigh. “Thank God.”

She lowered her head back to his chest, enjoying the slow stroke of his hand down her spine. “You worry too much, Will.”

His hand stilled on her bottom. “Evie, why did you stop calling me Wolf back then?”

She thought back to their last summer together when she'd made a deliberate decision to start calling him Will. “Wolf was your childhood nickname and I didn't want us to be children anymore.” She sighed, thinking how foolish she'd been. “I was in such a hurry to grow up.”

To grow up and be with him as wife and lover, or so she'd hoped.

“I don't mind if you still want to call me that,” he said.

She pushed herself up, stacking her hands on his broad chest and resting her chin on them. “No, I like your proper name. It means resolute protector. Did you know that?”

He propped his hands behind his head, perhaps so he could see her better. She missed them on her bottom but had to admit the position showcased his muscular shoulders and arms.

“I did, and I intend to live up to my name, at least when it comes to you.”

She subsided onto his chest again. “Perhaps we can resolutely protect each other.”

He made a slight scoffing noise. “Yes, I'm sure.”

“Will Endicott—”

He swiftly cut off her scold. “I know the meaning of your name, too. Evelyn means light.”

The emotion in his voice had her looking up again. “Will?”

He reached down to cradle her cheek. “You are my light, Evie,” he said in a husky voice. “You've always been my light.”

She smiled at him, her throat too tight to speak. But then he let out a sigh, and she sensed a change come over him. Their brief respite from the perils of the world was about to come to an end.

“I'd like to spend all day in bed with you, love,” he said, “but—”

“I know, it's time to get up,” she said regretfully.

Evie slid off the high bed and found her spectacles. Will followed, retrieving a shoe for her that had ended up on the floor and helping with her stays.

He leaned down and kissed her nose. “You go in the other room and finish dressing. I'll be with you in a minute.”

As he strode to the washbasin in the corner, she made her way to the front room to retrieve her clothes. She struggled into her dress, leaving undone the buttons she couldn't reach. She then slipped her spencer on over it, knowing it would preserve her modesty. Her bonnet disguised her messy head, thank God, but she suspected she looked a wrinkled mess.

Evie made a few more attempts at smoothing her skirts, hoping she didn't look
too
much like she'd spent the morning doing exactly what she had been doing. She also hoped she'd be able to get herself down the stairs without falling, since her legs still felt shaky from her explosive encounter with Will. Right now, she longed for a hot bath and the time to think through exactly how she felt about things—including assassination plots and her impending marriage.

Will strode from his bedroom, cravat neatly tied and not a button out of place, blast him. Next to him, Evie felt like an undignified shambles.

“I don't mean to rush you, sweetheart,” he said as he took her by the elbow, “but I've got to get on O'Shay's trail before it goes any colder.”

She allowed him to tow her to the door. “And you'll do what you can to help Michael, won't you?” Though Will would never be unfair, Michael
had
deliberately impeded his investigation. Evie couldn't entirely repress her anxiety over that.