Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow. Anne O'BrienЧитать онлайн книгу.
he needed.
‘It must be so. For you are too alluring to resist any longer.’
With sure and elegant strength he moved to pin her body with his own and thrust hard and deep. Held himself there to prolong the pleasure for her, for himself. So intimate an invasion that enclosed him, filled her, overturning the mind of both except for their joy in each other. Slick skin against slick skin, her legs entangled with his, his body owning hers. She watched him, eyes caught and held, emotions naked to his gaze. For a moment he thought that she might have more than an affection for him. Then the fleeting shadow was gone. Hunger and desire, potent and dark, swept over him as Sarah bit her lip to prevent her expressing her love in words that might still return to haunt her. But now she could show him in other ways. So he began to move within her and she mirrored the thrust with innate delight. Until he pushed them both to that precipitate edge. To fly and fall, taking her with him, feeling her shudder again as his own control shattered.
‘What was that?’ Still pinned beneath him, Sarah could only glory in his power and weight. It seemed to her that any sensible thoughts she might have were still scattered through the heavens, as her limbs were heavy with splendidly overwhelming exhaustion. It was outside anything in her experience. She did not think that her heart would ever again settle into its old pattern.
Joshua raised his head, lifted his weight on his arm, brushed back the fall of hair from her face so that he could kiss her lips with exquisite tenderness. A tenderness that made her heart tremble.
‘A miracle, I think. A miracle.’
‘Yes. So I think.’ And after a little pause: ‘I do not know what came over me, Joshua.’
‘Thank God for it.’ She caught the glint of his smile in the moon’s brightness. The candle had long since burned out. And she sighed in an unexpected and strangely moving happiness.
Joshua felt her smile against his shoulder, and his heart rejoiced. She trusted him. He could ask for nothing more. Because, as he slid into sleep with her, it mattered more than anything other in his previously selfish and wilful life that she did.
* * *
‘My Lord Faringdon. I did not expect to see you here.’ Wycliffe rose from his seat in his unremarkable office in the City, his face set in deep lines of disapproval. Nothing in the austere surroundings, in the inconspicuous building off Fleet Street, would point to the importance of this man to national security.
Lord Faringdon was not in a mood to be impressed by the standing of his host or his efforts to remain invisible. ‘I am sure you did not.’ He bowed with controlled grace.
‘Perhaps it would have been better, my lord, if you had not sought to draw attention to yourself or to me.’
‘So you might think, sir. On this occasion, I do not.’
If Wycliffe was critical, his lordship was icily correct.
‘You look in the best of health again, my lord. I trust your bones have knit well.’ For a compassionate enquiry, it was delivered in a distinctly unfriendly tone.
‘Yes.’
‘If I might be permitted to say—’ the two men still faced each other, standing, across Wycliffe’s desk ‘—you should not have found it necessary to make contact with me other than by discreet channels. You must be well aware of this, my lord.’ Wycliffe’s lips thinned with displeasure.
‘I understand you perfectly, sir.’ Joshua’s jaw was rigid with suppressed anger. ‘In fact, I wrote you a letter—but decided to come in person, so that I might express myself more effectively. And be assured that you did not simply consign my complaint to your fire-grate and continue to issue instructions against the well-being of my wife.’
‘So it is a matter of some importance?’ Wycliffe’s voice rose sufficiently as to make it just a question. His hard eyes expressed no acceptance, but they failed to intimidate.
‘I find it so. My wife is being followed by an individual who looks suspiciously like Felton. I wager that it is your doing. Felton was always a favoured employee of yours in such surveillance work.’
‘Of course. Felton is very good.’ There was no guilt here.
‘May I ask why?’ Lord Faringdon remained remarkably calm when faced with this clear admission of Wycliffe’s involvement.
‘We were not informed of your intention to marry again.’
‘I was not aware that I must inform you on a matter of so intimate a nature.’
‘Of course you should have informed us. Your previous marriage was a disaster of the first order.’ There was an edge to Wycliffe’s patience. ‘We learned a hard lesson with Marianne de Colville. It could have destroyed our whole espionage network, here and in France. It was pure chance that one of her letters was intercepted before any further damage could be inflicted. I would not wish for history to repeat itself with the lady who is now Lady Faringdon. It surprises me, my lord, that you need to ask or question the matter of my… my concern.’
‘Damnation, Wycliffe! Of course I need to—’ He drew in a breath. ‘Sarah is not Marianne. She is nothing like Marianne! There is no similarity in the situation.’
‘Perhaps not—on the surface. But how well do you know the lady? Do you trust her—absolutely and implicitly? It is my understanding that you have not had a long acquaintance. She has lived in New York. Why did she suddenly return to England? Have you ever considered that she might be in the pay of some foreign interest and saw marriage to you as the perfect entrée into government circles? America is not totally disinterested in European events.’
‘What? Sarah a spy?’ Joshua laughed in harsh incredulity. ‘It takes my breath away that you should even consider it. How can you suggest something so patently ridiculous?’
‘Mrs Russell…Lady Faringdon…spent some considerable time in New York. You cannot possibly know what her contacts were there.’
‘My wife went to New York to accompany Eleanor, widow of my cousin Thomas. She remained there with her and my cousin Henry.’ There was now a dangerous calm in Lord Faringdon’s reply.
‘And your cousin, Henry Faringdon, my lord, is well known to have republican leanings. He would have no reason to love the British monarchy—or any attempt on our part to support the democratic monarchies in Europe. He is not above suspicion.’
Joshua’s brows snapped together, all pretence at equanimity abandoned. ‘My cousin might respect republican views, but Henry is hardly likely to be involved in a plot.’
Wycliffe made no reply, but cynicism deepened the lines engraved around his mouth.
‘My wife,’ Lord Joshua continued, ‘is sister to Theodora Wooton-Devereux. Daughter of Sir Hector, who has been British Ambassador to Paris as well as Constantinople and any variety of such places. At present he is in St Petersburg. You must have some acquaintance with him. Hardly the background for an enemy spy.’
Wycliffe was implacable. ‘But your wife was not brought up with her sister, was she? The Wooton-Devereux interest would have no influence whatsoever on your wife’s sympathies.’
‘You have been very busy, sir.’ Joshua suddenly found it very difficult to prevent his hands from curling into fists, and making use of them against this man who could so calmly accuse his wife of such devious plotting. He gripped hard on the reins of temper. ‘You are remarkably well informed of me and my family.’
‘It pays to be so.’
‘I find, sir, that I resent it more than I could have believed possible. It is insulting to a lady of supreme honesty and integrity. If you knew my wife, we would not be having this conversation.’
But Wycliffe remained unmoved in the face of such anger. ‘There are no guarantees in this profession, my lord, as you are aware.’
‘My wife is no spy.’ All Joshua