My Lady, My Spy (Secrets and Seduction Book 4) (21 page)

“I had the same reaction, but he says he’s come to rely on my insights into the various missions he’s managing. He says I’m the person best suited to replace him.”

“And you’re considering it?”

“Yes. It would mean I wouldn’t travel as much as I do now. I’d need to be in London the majority of the time so I could easily communicate with my men.”

Consternation furrowed her brow. “But you love what you do. Would you be content giving up being a spy? Wouldn’t you miss going on missions?”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t give up missions entirely. Even Lord—” He stopped himself. “Even our current spymaster goes on them occasionally, and he doesn’t particularly like doing so. I’m certain there will be more adventures in my future.”

She gave an indulgent smile. “Apparently the name of the current spymaster is one of those secrets that isn’t yours to share.”

He tilted his head from side to side. “It’s not something I mention in passing, but I’ll tell you if you want to know.”

She held up her hand. “I don’t need to know right now. Perhaps I never will. You can keep that piece of information to yourself.” She paused. “Are you telling me about this because you want my opinion?”

“Partly. And partly because I want to be more open with you. Do you think I should accept the position?”

“It sounds perfect for you. You’re a master at chess. A strategic thinker. Being spymaster and planning the activities of an entire web of spies would suit you to perfection. I’m certain our country would be well served with you in that role. You’d also be based in London, wouldn’t you? You already know that would please
me
.”

“Then you approve of the idea?”

She paused. “Is it my place to approve or disapprove?”

He watched her closely. “You didn’t respond to my comment earlier.”

“Which one was that?”

“When we discussed going on a mission together— and I can assure you, we can do so quite easily once I’m spymaster— I mentioned that we’d need to pose as a married couple, or make it more than a mere pose.”

“You’re right. I didn’t respond.” She glanced toward the floor. “You asked my opinion on two important matters tonight. The first was whether you should give up your life as a spy for me, and the second concerned this new position as spymaster. I find your methods of imparting that information quite telling.”

Frederick tensed. He didn’t like the determined look on her face. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

“You weren’t being entirely honest with me. Not when you withheld your second piece of news until you knew how I felt about your leaving the Queen’s service. I feel manipulated.”

Frederick felt as though he’d suddenly fallen through a weak spot in the ice. He’d known he needed to be careful, but he’d never foreseen this particular reaction.

It galled him. He prided himself on his ability to foresee problems and prepare for them. It was why he was so good at chess. It was why he believed he was suited to the role of spymaster. But Josephine had just proved to him that he wasn’t nearly as good at this as he thought.

“I was trying to be more truthful with you,” he finally said. “It looks as though I went about it the wrong way.” He shook his head. “Maybe this change will be more difficult than I’d realized.”

She looked oddly pleased by his confession. “It’s a process. I don’t expect you to change in one fell swoop. You’ve been secretive for many years. This will take some practice.”

Practice— that meant— “Are you saying you’re willing to keep trying?”

“Yes, Mr. Woolsy, I am. You’re worth the effort.” Her gaze raked his body. “I’m afraid you’ve left quite the impression on me.”

He moved closer. Close enough to reach out and touch her. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. Close enough to catch the fresh scent of her hair. But he kept his hands to his sides.

“You’ve left a lasting impression on me, as well. I can hardly get you out of my mind. You’re my last thought as I fall asleep at night, and the first one when I wake up in the morning, which is probably because you fill my dreams. You’re never far from my mind. Every time I see a flash of blue, I think it’s you. I love you, Josephine. I’ll do anything to make you happy.” A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll even bring you on all my missions if that’s what it will take to convince you I’m trustworthy.”

As he spoke, he watched her reaction. Watched her surprise. Watched as her eyes filled with tears. Watched, but held back. Right now he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms. Kiss away the tears on her cheeks. Put a smile back on her face.

But instead, he waited. He wanted all that, yes. But he wanted more. Wanted it enough to wait for her to give it to him.

She opened her mouth wordlessly, as though too stunned to speak. “Frederick. Oh, Frederick.” Her hand shook as she brushed away the silvery gleam on her cheek. “I love you too.”

Frederick’s hand slid into his pocket and closed around the item there. Pulling it out, he held it in the low lamplight so Josephine could see the gleam of the celadon-blue stone on the ring.

“Then please, do me the honor of agreeing to marry me.”

Josephine seemed to melt as she stared at the ring. “I— I don’t know what to say. It’s perfect.”

“Say yes.”

She ignored the ring, instead looking deep into his eyes. “Did you know your eyes are nearly the same color as that stone? I’ve often wondered about that. Was it a sign we were meant to be together? Because of that stunning blue of your eyes?” She took a shaky breath. “I was about to say that I’d love nothing more than to be your wife, but it isn’t quite true. What I’d love more is to be the wife of a man I love who is honest with me. I’m hoping you’ll be that man. I think you can be.” She glanced at the ring again. “Can you accept a compromise?”

He tightened his grip on the band of metal and stone until it bit into his newly healed fingertips. “As long as you’ll be my wife, I can live with anything.”

“I propose a long engagement. One year, to be precise. During that time, I’ll accept your proposal and I’ll be your fiancée, but one year from tonight we’ll evaluate our progress. If we feel we’ve been truthful with each other, we’ll move forward with the wedding. If not, we’ll dissolve our engagement.”

His stomach tensed. “One year? That’s a long time.”

“But imagine the prize at the end of that time. A wedding. Us, together. And with the faith and confidence that our marriage will be strong.”

“Will you wear my ring?”

She glanced at it. “Happily. I want the world to know we’re together.”

“Even Lord Temple?” he asked, grinning.

“Certainly Lord Temple. But I doubt he’ll mind as much as you think he will.”

He took her hand and slid it onto her finger. She lifted it, admiring the glittering gemstone in the lamplight. “It’s perfect,” she said. Joy radiated from her.

He couldn’t stop himself. He pulled her into his arms, lifted her up, and spun around, twirling her in the air as he held her to his chest. “You’re amazing. We’re amazing.”

She laughed and tossed her head back, squealing in surprise and delight.

He slowed, letting her slide down his chest until her lips were scant inches from his. He closed the distance in an instant, pressing his mouth to hers. Tasting the saltiness of her tears.

Her lips parted, and he plunged his tongue inside her mouth, savoring the sweet warmth within.

He moved back, leaning onto Lady Palmerton’s gilt-trimmed desk and spreading his legs so Josephine could stand between them.

He wanted to slide his hand into her soft blond hair, and knock her hairpins awry, but he restrained himself. Instead, he pulled her to him again.

He’d been in this moment before with her— kissing her— worshiping her— but this time was different. This time he wanted more from her. He wanted everything she could give.

She let out a soft sigh of pleasure and slid her arms inside his evening coat, wrapping them around his waist. Her thumbs slid up and down the groove of his spine. She flattened her palms against his back and slid her fingertips beneath the waistband of his trousers. Teasing. Tempting.

When her fingers slid back out, she surprised him by moving to the fastenings of his trousers. She quickly undid them and slid her clever fingers inside. When she grazed the tip of his erection, he let out a groan. “Josephine, what are you doing?”

“Something I’ve been thinking about all week.” She pushed his trousers farther down his hips and then wrapped her hand around him, sliding it up and down his length.

He let out another groan. “Woman, you’ll be the death of me.”

He pushed her away just an inch or two, leaned over, and lifted the hem of her bell-shaped skirt. Lord, how he loved these hoop skirts. The man who invented them was a certifiable genius.

Beneath the hoops she wore a pair of white linen bloomers held in place with a drawstring.

Frederick held her skirts in place with one hand as he tugged at the bow holding up her bloomers with the other. He quickly loosened it and they slid down her hips, pooling at her ankles.

He stared at her pale-blond triangle of hair. “I’ve dreamed of this. Of you.” He reached out to touch her there, and she shifted closer, reaching her hand down to touch him as well.

He glanced up and found her staring into his eyes. Her face was soft with passion. As she stroked her hand from his base to his tip, his entire body trembled with his need for her. He wanted her, desperately.

He touched her soft curls, sliding exploring fingers between her folds. He found her liquid center, and he kept his eyes locked on hers as she let out a gasp of delight.

He quickly plunged one finger deep within her, and she let out a soft moan of pleasure. He glanced down, but her hoop skirts had dipped down and her soft mound of curls was now hidden from his sight.

He let out a groan of frustration and pushed her skirts to one side so he could watch what he was doing to her. Watch as he moved his hand inside her body. Watch as she thrust her hips rhythmically against him, whimpering in pleasure.

Her skirts slipped again, frustrating him. He needed to see her. Needed to touch her. Needed to be inside her.

He pushed himself away from the edge of the desk, grabbed Josephine by her hips, pushed her up to the edge of Lady Palmerton’s desk, and bent her forward over it so her bottom was thrust into the air. He quickly lifted her skirts, draping the hoops over her waist, and was greeted by the sight of her bare bottom. Perfect. Round. Luscious.

Lord, she was exquisite.

He slid his hand between her thighs and used his foot to edge her feet apart, opening her more fully to him. He gently slid his hand into her soft folds, seeking her opening. He slid his first two fingers into her silken warmth.

“Frederick!” The word came out with a gasp of surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you pleasure,” he murmured, moving his fingers in and out of her, and then using her own slickness as he began making circles around her clitoris.

She let out another gasp and arched her back, lifting her bottom even higher.

His cock twitched in response.

He reached into the pocket of his jacket and extracted a French letter. He opened it and quickly slid the thin bit of protection over his eager flesh. She wasn’t his. Not yet. The last thing either of them would want would be a pregnancy.

She trembled before him, open and wanting. He slowly, oh so slowly, moved his tip to her entrance. He held his breath as he pressed into her, savoring the warmth of her as her body wrapped around him. Accepting him. Welcoming him.

She whimpered as he filled her, inch by slow inch. She tried to press back against him in an effort to force him to move more quickly, but he held her hips firmly in place. He wanted this to last. He wanted to drive her to the brink of madness. He wanted to make sure she ached for him— yearned for him— for the pleasure he was about to give her.

This was bliss. This woman, this moment. He pressed into her, slowly filling her. He reached around her thigh to touch her soft curls, to slide his fingers into her folds. The moment he brushed against her hard nub, her entire body shuddered.

He began moving in and out of her warm sheath while simultaneously stroking gentle circles with his fingertips.

Her entire body shuddered again and again. She pressed her hand against her mouth as she let out a hoarse sound, a stifled cry of passion. Between the muffled sounds and her spasming sheath, his own breath suddenly froze in his chest as he found his own release. He pounded into her in hard thrusts as his world exploded.

He shuddered, his breath now coming hard and fast. He leaned over her, bracing his hands on the desk on either side of her hips. He could feel her trembling against his chest, barely able to support her own weight after the all-consuming bliss of her orgasm.

Pure male pride filled him. He’d done this to her. He’d brought her to this point.

He reached back into his pocket again and extracted a crisp, fresh handkerchief. He was careful as he withdrew from her. He slid the French letter off and wrapped it in his handkerchief. He’d dispose of it at home. He wouldn’t dare leave behind evidence of their tryst in Lady Palmerton’s office. He neatly tucked everything away into his pocket.