head no. Her father would be leaving for his club shortly, if he hadn’t already gone. And Claire would give them some time.
Duncan and Grace rose and stepped toward each other at the same time. And when they came together she threw her arms around him. Their lips clashed in an explosion of heat, and she yanked him closer just as he wrapped his good arm around her and drew her flush against his body.
She moaned into his mouth. God, her body needed this. Needed his strength and heat and warmth. She’d known him for only a week, but some part of her had already grown addicted to him.
He drew back and cupped her cheek in his big, calloused palm, making her look up at him. He was breathing heavily, and the expression on his face was one of such awe, it made her chest constrict.
“Why?” he whispered.
She blinked at him, confused.
“You’re a fine lady. Beautiful, intelligent, good. Any man would be yours with a wee crook of your finger in his direction. Why me?”
She huffed out a laugh. “I could say the same. Why me? You’re a strong warrior, a powerful, capable, virile man. You could have any woman you wanted.”
He touched his forehead to hers. “I don’t want any woman. I want you.”
“And I want you.”
With that declaration, a rush of misery so powerful rocked through her that she almost sank to her knees—would have, if Duncan hadn’t been holding her up.
What were they going to do?
Nothing, that’s what. There was nothing that could be done.
“Don’t think about it,” he warned softly.
“I miss you already, and you’re not even gone.” She wanted to wail in frustration.
“Dinna do that.” A touch of sternness entered his voice. “I’m here now. That’s what matters.”
“But you won’t be soon.” Her eyes stung at the thought. Her arrangements and letters and invitations and dinner plans—all of it seemed so insignificant when her body was pressed up against this man.
“Are you going to be staying in London?” she asked hopefully. Maybe they could see each other again…
“Aye,” he said. “For the time being, at least. We’ve much to learn.”
She looked into his eyes, searching. “What kind of work will you be doing for the Home Office?”
He hesitated, but only for the briefest of moments. “We will be working in the service of the Crown. To protect it from those who might attempt to undermine it.”
“Like traitors and rebels? Anti-monarchists?”
“Aye. All of those.”
She shuddered. “That sounds like dangerous work.”
“It will be,” he admitted, “but no more dangerous than being in the army.”
“Still…I will worry for you. For your safety.”
He smiled and brushed a gentle kiss over her lips. “The thought of you thinking of me when I’m on a mission will steady me. Make me stronger.”
“It will?”
“Aye.”
Her gaze moved to his injury. “Tell me you’ve been caring for it.”
He chuckled. “Now that you’re not there to coddle me, Lady Campbell is taking up the task.”
“Good,” she proclaimed. “You’ll be in good hands with Claire. I trust her skills. You must do everything she says.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his eyes dancing with humor.
He led her back to the sofa where she’d been sitting with Claire. He sat and arranged her on his lap, their arms wrapped around each other, though she was careful not to upset his healing arm, which was still held tightly against his body in its sling. She laid her cheek against his chest.
“Will you tell me?”
“Tell you?” he asked.
“Yes. I want to hear everything that has happened since we parted.”
And to her great pleasure, he obliged her. He told her of how amazed he was that he’d been sleeping not in the stables or the servants’ quarters but in a true bedroom of the elegant Westminster townhouse. He told her of Claire’s easiness with the men, how they’d already grown to admire her pluck, how she put a feminine perspective on things, and how she
Duncan and Grace rose and stepped toward each other at the same time. And when they came together she threw her arms around him. Their lips clashed in an explosion of heat, and she yanked him closer just as he wrapped his good arm around her and drew her flush against his body.
She moaned into his mouth. God, her body needed this. Needed his strength and heat and warmth. She’d known him for only a week, but some part of her had already grown addicted to him.
He drew back and cupped her cheek in his big, calloused palm, making her look up at him. He was breathing heavily, and the expression on his face was one of such awe, it made her chest constrict.
“Why?” he whispered.
She blinked at him, confused.
“You’re a fine lady. Beautiful, intelligent, good. Any man would be yours with a wee crook of your finger in his direction. Why me?”
She huffed out a laugh. “I could say the same. Why me? You’re a strong warrior, a powerful, capable, virile man. You could have any woman you wanted.”
He touched his forehead to hers. “I don’t want any woman. I want you.”
“And I want you.”
With that declaration, a rush of misery so powerful rocked through her that she almost sank to her knees—would have, if Duncan hadn’t been holding her up.
What were they going to do?
Nothing, that’s what. There was nothing that could be done.
“Don’t think about it,” he warned softly.
“I miss you already, and you’re not even gone.” She wanted to wail in frustration.
“Dinna do that.” A touch of sternness entered his voice. “I’m here now. That’s what matters.”
“But you won’t be soon.” Her eyes stung at the thought. Her arrangements and letters and invitations and dinner plans—all of it seemed so insignificant when her body was pressed up against this man.
“Are you going to be staying in London?” she asked hopefully. Maybe they could see each other again…
“Aye,” he said. “For the time being, at least. We’ve much to learn.”
She looked into his eyes, searching. “What kind of work will you be doing for the Home Office?”
He hesitated, but only for the briefest of moments. “We will be working in the service of the Crown. To protect it from those who might attempt to undermine it.”
“Like traitors and rebels? Anti-monarchists?”
“Aye. All of those.”
She shuddered. “That sounds like dangerous work.”
“It will be,” he admitted, “but no more dangerous than being in the army.”
“Still…I will worry for you. For your safety.”
He smiled and brushed a gentle kiss over her lips. “The thought of you thinking of me when I’m on a mission will steady me. Make me stronger.”
“It will?”
“Aye.”
Her gaze moved to his injury. “Tell me you’ve been caring for it.”
He chuckled. “Now that you’re not there to coddle me, Lady Campbell is taking up the task.”
“Good,” she proclaimed. “You’ll be in good hands with Claire. I trust her skills. You must do everything she says.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his eyes dancing with humor.
He led her back to the sofa where she’d been sitting with Claire. He sat and arranged her on his lap, their arms wrapped around each other, though she was careful not to upset his healing arm, which was still held tightly against his body in its sling. She laid her cheek against his chest.
“Will you tell me?”
“Tell you?” he asked.
“Yes. I want to hear everything that has happened since we parted.”
And to her great pleasure, he obliged her. He told her of how amazed he was that he’d been sleeping not in the stables or the servants’ quarters but in a true bedroom of the elegant Westminster townhouse. He told her of Claire’s easiness with the men, how they’d already grown to admire her pluck, how she put a feminine perspective on things, and how she
Similar Books
