Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (16 page)

She let out a low, hungry moan that echoed in the still, cool air. He swirled his tongue around the thrust of flesh before he pulled back.

“Was that ‘oh’ or ‘no’?”

She glared down at him. Bastard.

He reached up and pulled her chemise down until the very edge of the top scraped across her breasts. She arched into the rough sensation.

“I wouldn’t want for there to be confusion tomorrow,” he pressed, not moving any further. “So if you want me to continue, I’m going to have to hear you say it this time.”

She whimpered, her mind warring with her body. The silky fabric stroked back and forth over her skin and her hips bucked reflexively against his pelvis. The motion only increased the burning ache between her thighs.

“Damn you,” she rasped. “You know I want this.”

“You want me.”

He stared at her, his gaze glittering even in the dim light. Her breath was short, she could feel her pulse pounding, hear her blood rushing.

“I want you.”

He pulled the chemise down and his lips surged to catch hers. Suddenly he was sitting and she was straddling his lap, her dress caught between them as a last barrier between herself and surrender.

But not enough of a barrier that she couldn’t feel the hard jut of his erection. But this time it wasn’t pressed against her belly. It was pressed against the juncture of her thighs, pressing, insistent against the building ache.

She couldn’t help herself. She rocked against him, feeling the stroke through her clothes and biting her lip as the tingling increased instead of dissipated.

Lucas smashed his mouth against hers, rough and demanding, sucking her tongue, rubbing her breasts against the rough wool of his coat. And she felt a sudden thrill as she realized that he was just as out of control as she was. He, too, was spiraling into madness.

And only she could bring him sanity.

He cupped her backside with one hand, rocking her against him as he hitched her skirt up with the other in jerky movements. The fabric seemed to go on forever, billowing at her waist, around their legs as he got closer and closer to the heated core of her desire.

And then she felt the stir of a breeze and shivered. He let out a low groan into her mouth before he brushed his thumb over her cleft.

Sparks seemed to flow from his touch, lighting her on fire as he rubbed a slow circle around the bud of pleasure there. She broke away from the kiss, her neck arching as the throb of pleasure intensified.

He brought his lips to her throat as he circled faster, harder, demanding with his touch, purposeful as he reached for her release. Her hips were rolling wildly, and she tightened her thighs around his hips.

Her vision blurred, and she forgot to breathe as he pressed down one final time. Then she cried out, a sharp sound he muffled with his lips as the bubble of desire burst and pleasure overwhelmed her.

Her sheath clenched, tremored and then she tensed. Lucas shifted as he tugged at the waist of his trousers. Suddenly the head of his erection nudged her slick opening. He started to move forward, but she was faster. Adjusting her position, she surged against him.

He slipped inside of her to the hilt, and the tremors of release that had been rocketing inside her doubled in their intensity. Her body milked at him as she thrust her hips.

Lucas shut his eyes at the pleasure of her body wrapped around him like warm, wet silk. Ana was wild, now, her bare arms wrapped around his shoulders, her hips lifting, circling. With each thrust, she bore down harder on him. Like an untamed thing inside of her had been awakened.

He looked at her. Even in the dim light, he could see pure pleasure on her taut features. She didn’t care about the past. She didn’t care about the consequences. She was alive in the moment.

And she wanted him.

He bucked up, lifting her with every thrust. Her grip on his shoulders tightened as she panted out low moans. Her fingernails scraped against his coat, her pelvis swirled as she reached for another release.

He cupped her neck and pulled her mouth to his and
she found what she craved. Her back stiffened, her body trembled and her sheath clenched so tightly that he nearly blacked out from the pleasure. He groaned against her lips as his seed flowed into her.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as his breathing began to slow, return to normal. Hers still came in pants, but to his surprise, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she let her cheek droop down to rest on his shoulder as she clung to him.

It felt almost as good as being inside her. It felt right, holding her, smoothing his fingers along her back, feeling her heart slam against her chest.

He could have stayed like that forever.

Except he heard the voices. Female voices, two of them. And they were coming down the path toward them.

L
ucas cursed. How stupid was he to lose track of everything but lust in the middle of a garden, for God’s sake?

“Ana, people are coming,” he whispered.

Her head wrenched up and she began to shake.

“No, oh no!”

She was off his lap like a bullet, pulling at her dress as she peered over her shoulders toward the footsteps and voices that were coming closer by the second.

Lucas refastened his trousers, then reached for her. She flinched back and his heart sank. It seemed every time he made some headway with her, she found a reason not to trust him.

“Let me button you,” he explained, pulling the
shoulder of her gown up. She swallowed, her lip trembling, but didn’t argue as she turned her back to him. He fumbled with the little circles of mother-of-pearl, fastening as fast as he could even though he could tell he wasn’t going to be fast enough. The voices were right on top of them now.

And blast. One of them was his mother.

Ana was shaking so hard that he could hardly button her gown at all. Guilt rushed through him. He had put her in this position by forcing her to admit to wanting him. Forcing her to say she wanted more.
He
should have been the one to stop the encounter, to let her go.

But damn, she’d felt so good. Making her throw caution to the wind was one of the most powerful experiences in his life.

One he couldn’t regret even as two women came around the bend on the garden path and walked right up on top of them.

It was his mother and one of the women in the line of dancers who had expressed her concern when Ana twisted her ankle. Lady Westfield, he thought it was.

“Oh my!” His mother turned her face and Lady Westfield’s eyes went wide as saucers.

Ana jumped to her feet and Lucas joined her. She was holding her hands up to her chest like she could shield herself from what had been done, from what the two women had already seen.

“I was—we were—” Her breath came in pants. “It…”

She trailed off as she looked down at her twisted, grass-stained gown. “Oh.”

Lucas took her hand. She didn’t pull away, in fact, she squeezed his fingers like he was the only thing keeping her upright. Slowly, he maneuvered her behind the barrier of his body.

His mother stared at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Then her stare darted to Lady Westfield. Both women were pale.

“Ladies,” he began, not that he had a ready explanation for anything. He struggled to find one, but Ana’s disheveled appearance said it all.

“They are marrying by the end of the week,” his mother blurted out.

The other woman folded her arms as a ghost of a smile tilted one corner of her lips. “I would hope so. Er, pardon me.”

Lady Westfield shot one final glance around him at Ana, then went toward the house. The moment she was gone, his mother’s eyes narrowed.

“Lucas!”

He winced at the tone of her voice, the expression in her eyes. What a situation he’d gotten himself into this time. And there was only one place it would lead.

“A special license, Lucas.” His mother pointed toward the house. She was using her very best “motherly” tone as she marched Ana and Lucas forward. Ana had yet to lift her gaze and her cheeks darkened with every word. “You will procure a special license
tomorrow. You will marry before a week has past.”

Ana’s eyes shot up, wild. His heart sank further. This engagement had never been meant to end in an actual marriage. And now the truth of that matter was sinking in.

The position they had put themselves in was not one he could avoid. They would have to marry now. A real marriage. For real reasons that had nothing to do with a case.

“Not in the house, Mother,” he muttered as she started up the terrace steps.

“What?” She spun back on him.

He motioned with one hand toward Ana’s gown. In the brighter lights that the house provided, the grass stains on her damp dress shone clear, practically telegraphing what they had done.

His mother nodded. “Very well.”

Lucas led this time, taking them around to the front of the home and through a gate that lead to the drive. He found his carriage in a few moments.

“Wait here,” his mother said with a glare for him. “I’ll join you momentarily.”

As he handed Ana into his carriage, he sighed. “Why do I feel like I’m nine years old all over again?”

She didn’t smile. In fact, she hardly reacted at all except to stare at him, her face so pale that it scared him a little.

“She doesn’t mean it.” Ana shook her head. “She doesn’t mean we’ll be married.”

Lucas shut his eyes as pain flashed through him. She looked sick to her stomach with the thought that this false engagement would soon be powerfully and irrevocably real. He wasn’t sure what to think of that idea, himself. His mind was spinning too wildly.

Ana’s reputation would be ruined if Lady Westfield talked. And even if his mother was correct and the other woman wouldn’t speak about what she’d seen, it was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

“It is one thing for a widow to have a private, discreet affair,” he said softly. “It is quite another to be found half naked in a garden.”

He saw the light of acknowledgment in her eyes. Now that the shock was wearing off, they both knew marriage was unavoidable.

“I can’t marry you, Lucas,” she whispered, making one last, lame attempt at an argument.

He looked at her, still disheveled from his fingers, his mouth, his body. It was a powerful thing to recall her little moans of release, to remember the way her arms had wrapped so tightly around his shoulders as she found her pleasure.

It was even more powerful to realize that because of their actions, he would have her in his bed every night for the rest of his life. The thought wasn’t so very unpleasant to him.

But it was to her. Because she still thought herself in love with a dead man. Someone he couldn’t even make an attempt to compete with.

“We have no choice, Anastasia,” he said with a shrug. “Not anymore.”

Ana fought the childish urge to slouch back against the carriage seat and wail. Going into hysterics would not change the current situation. It wouldn’t make her feel better, at least not for long.

What was happening…it was her fault. Lucas had given her choices. He’d offered to stop, both last night and this evening in the garden. Instead, she had let her body lead her to ruin.

Now she would suffer the consequences. Because if she refused, not only would her reputation be shattered, but the Sisters of the Heart Society for Widows and Orphans would be too. No one would give their funds to such a woman.

Not to mention the real work she and Meredith and Ana did would be compromised. Invitations would cease. The case she was currently investigating would be destroyed…

What a price to pay for passion. She stole a glimpse at Lucas and found him watching her. His face revealed nothing of his own reaction to this turn of events. He was still stoic, still calm. How she wished she could see his heart. Did he hate her for this? Was he sorry?

Did he even care?

And what about tomorrow? The day after? The
year after? Would he grow to resent her? Bore of her? Somehow that thought troubled her most.

The door to Lucas’s carriage opened and Lady Dannington stepped inside. Ana turned away, too humiliated to face her after what she had witnessed. Dear Lord, what she must think of all this!

The carriage began to move.

“Anastasia.”

She looked up, surprised that Lady Dannington was addressing her by her given name, and so kindly. “Yes, my lady?”

“Lavinia,” she corrected with a soft smile. “I believe we have crossed any barrier that might have prevented you from calling me Lavinia.”

Ana shook her head in disbelief. “I never intended—”

Lavinia raised a hand. “Of course you didn’t.” She shot her son a dirty look. “That is the way of passion, I suppose. Sometimes you have no intention, only consequence. Ah well. A rushed marriage would not have been of my choosing, but it is only hurrying what the entire family was already looking forward to greatly.” She reached out and covered Ana’s hands with her own. “I believe Lady Westfield to be discreet. This does not have to be a scandal. A quick marriage will put a halt to any talk that does crop up. Society already seems to be enthralled with the romance between you two. They’ll forgive, even if there are a few whispers.”

Ana could hardly breathe. The weight of this situation
was coming down upon her fully. It was crushing and overwhelming to think that within a few days she would have no choice but to exchange vows of love and forever with a second man.

Yet behind the fears and guilt that wracked her, she couldn’t ignore another reaction. A dark, delicious thrill that she wanted to squash, but it was persistent. She looked at Lucas. He was still watching her. Just as he had while she shivered with pleasure. Just as she sometimes found him doing when they spoke, when they worked side by side.

What had he said to her in the park a few days earlier? That he would only marry for passion? Somehow she doubted a marriage to her, forced or no, would be any different.

The carriage came to a stop, and Ana looked outside to find they had come to the home she and Emily shared. Lucas shifted as the footman opened the door. Lavinia squeezed her hands.

“We will discuss this more tomorrow evening. You’ll come to our home for supper.”

Ana found herself nodding, powerless in her numb state. The servants helped her down and Lucas followed, catching her hand to put it in the crook of her arm before he took her to the door.

“I’m sorry, Ana,” he whispered, still holding her hand for a moment.

She shook her head. “You offered me a way out…more than once. You told me to say no.” Tears stung
her eyes. “This is no more your fault than mine. We can discuss it tomorrow.”

He nodded as her door opened. She slipped inside and peeked around the curtain beside the door. Lucas stood staring at the closed door for a moment, then headed back to the carriage, shaking his head.

As she let the curtain drop, Ana pressed her forehead against the wall beside the door. Tears she had been holding back began to slide down her cheeks in an unstoppable waterfall.

What in the world had she done?

Ana paced to Emily’s window, then back to the fireplace, ringing her hands in front of her with every step. She felt Emily and Meredith’s sympathetic expressions, but they couldn’t help her. Not anymore.

“Won’t you sit down and have a cup of tea?” Meredith asked, motioning to a seat beside her. “Please. You hardly slept at all last night, and I know you refused breakfast this morning.”

“How do you know that?” Ana asked, wrinkling her brow.

Emily smiled, but it was distant, a little sad. “We aren’t the only spies in this house, you know.”

Ana managed a smile. House servants must have been the original spies.

She took the seat Meredith offered, but refused to touch the cup of tea that was poured for her.

“I want to ask you something,” Meredith said,
exchanging a brief glance with Emily. “And you may not like it. What will you do now?”

Ana started, sitting up bone straight. “What do you mean?”

Except she knew exactly what her friend was asking. It was the same question she’d repeated over and over to herself since last night.

Emily met her stare with an even one of her own. “Do you plan to make this marriage real or will you continue to keep Tyler at a distance?”

Trust Emily to be so blunt. Ana leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. She rested her head in her hands as a mass of emotions raged in her. Fear, sadness, lingering pain from the losses of the past…but also desire. Anticipation of the future. There were so many things in her heart, so many new sensations, she wasn’t certain what to do or feel or say.

“I just don’t know,” she whispered.

“Lady Whittig, there is a guest waiting for you in the parlor,” Benson’s voice intruded from the doorway before either of her friends could provide council.

She rubbed her fingertips over her eyes, wishing she could block out the world as easily as she could block out the light. “Let me guess. It’s Mr. Tyler.”

“No, madam. It is the Dowager Lady Whittig.”

The world Ana had been wishing to block out suddenly came into stark relief, sharpening and brightening to a painful degree. Her ears rang and her heart throbbed as she staggered to her feet.

“T-Tell her I will join her momentarily. And be sure she has whatever she desires while she waits.”

Benson bowed away. When he was gone, Ana covered her mouth and turned to her two friends. Both of them looked as pale as she felt. “I did not know my mother-in-law was in Town,” she whispered, but her voice sounded far away, like she’d slipped beneath the surface of the water.

Meredith got to her feet. “Would you like me to come with you?”

Ana pondered that for a moment. It would be so easy to hide behind Meredith, but she couldn’t. “No. I owe Francesca a private audience.” She shivered as she moved to the door. “She’s heard of this engagement, I’m sure. And if she desires to let me know how angry and hurt she is…well, I owe her that, as well.”

The walk down the hallway was the longest one of her recollection. With every step she was bombarded by memories of Gilbert and of his family. Francesca had been nothing but kind to her, like a second mother. She dreaded the moment where she lost that welcoming embrace or kind smile.

But there was no avoiding it. She had made this particular bed. She had surrendered to her body’s desires, even let her emotions become involved. Now she would suffer every one of the consequences.

Opening the parlor door, she put on a smile that she did not feel. Francesca got to her feet as the door opened. For a long moment, the two just looked at each other.

Gilbert had inherited his mother’s bright blue eyes. It always shocked her to see them, but never more so than today. It was like having her husband look at her, his stare full of questions and worries…perhaps even judgments. Then she shook her head and the moment was gone.