At the Spy's Pleasure Read online

  His eyes blazed with sudden anger, and she feared she had pushed him too far.

  “I’ve never needed to intoxicate a woman to get her to share my bed,” he said.

  She thought of Lady Preston, who looked at him with lust. She didn’t doubt his words. There was something about this man, something dangerously scintillating in his rugged, dark looks that tempted a woman. She was honest enough with herself to admit that Simon’s appearance may have initially drawn her eye, but he did not captivate her like Gareth Ramsey.

  His words were starting to set in, but still her mind floundered. “Why would Simon need to get a woman foxed when he’s so—”

  “When he’s so very handsome,” Gareth said, repeating her earlier words. “I cannot answer that question. I can only tell you that some men take gross pleasure in using and abusing women, demoralizing them.”

  Could it be true? Simon’s cryptic words came back to her in a rush. To experience all life has to offer you must share it with friends. Hartley likes you.

  She shivered, this time in revulsion. She was sheltered when it came to men’s sexual urges. Charles had been consumed with his horses, not with the bedroom.

  What did she really know of Simon Marbury?

  He was the heir to a wealthy industrialist and a sought-after guest by the society hostesses as a gentleman of fashion. He was also a sworn bachelor, but maybe his aversion toward marriage was because of his profligate preferences, and he did indeed have a sinful reputation.

  She’d never inquired before. And Olivia, as an unmarried lady, wouldn’t have heard all the rumors.

  The truth of Gareth’s words suddenly struck her, and she looked up at him.

  “If what you’re saying is true—”

  “It is.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “Would you have believed me?”

  She hesitated. The truth was, she would not have believed him. She would have doubted Gareth’s word.

  Her bottom lip trembled. “Then I do believe I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  Gareth let out a sigh. “You’re not going to faint, are you?”

  She straightened her shoulders. “I’m made of sterner stuff. I never faint.”

  “Good.” He grasped her hand. “Come with me.”

  She pulled against him. “But I don’t want to return to the group,” she protested.

  “You’re not. At least not for long.”

  She allowed him to lead her out of the seclusion of the tall hedges. Retracing their steps, they followed the main gravel path to the supper box.

  Simon rose from his seat as they approached. “Where have you been?”

  Gareth stepped close, effectively preventing Simon from taking Jane’s arm. “Be grateful, Marbury. She spent the past half hour spewing in the gardens,” Gareth said.

  Simon’s face wrinkled in disgust.

  Jane’s face heated, but she didn’t contradict the statement.

  “I’m taking her home,” Gareth said.

  He didn’t wait for a response. Fetching her cloak, he turned and steered her toward the exit.

  Jane struggled to keep up. Her vision was spinning now. She should protest; she shouldn’t allow him to escort her home.

  He was dangerous, unpredictable. He was every inch a dominant male, and she could feel the power that coiled within him as he walked beside her. She ought to be wary and afraid.

  So why was her stomach tight with anticipation instead of anxiety? Her heart jolted at the realization that his size and strength no longer intimidated her, but made her feel safe.

  They made it to the quayside where a boatman awaited. She halted, grasping her skirts and wondering how on earth she would step into the gently swaying boat when she was already unsteady on dry land.

  Her quandary was resolved as Gareth easily picked her up, stepped into the boat, and set her down on the wooden seat across from him.

  The boatman pushed off from the quayside.

  “You’ve had too many drinks of punch, my lady,” Gareth said.

  She didn’t argue with him. Instead she met his gaze. “You’re not the hard, emotionless barrister you portray to others.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You saved the boy in the park.”

  “Anyone would—”

  “Simon didn’t. And your concern for me tonight.”

  “Again—”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You’re kind-hearted, soft beneath your gruff exterior.”

  He flashed a crooked smile. “Soft? Now that’s an insult.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “I don’t mean it as such.”

  He placed a finger under her chin and forced her gaze to his. “Don’t turn me into a hero, Jane. I stated my intentions quite clearly. I want to be your lover. I want the privilege of showing you how pleasurable it can be between us, how passionate.”

  She nearly gasped out loud at the raw lust in his eyes. A rush of heat washed over her and spread to her limbs. Gathering her courage, she swallowed and held his stare. “What if I told you I want that, too?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Gareth inhaled sharply. Jane looked up at him with doe-like eyes…innocent and temptress at once.

  “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said gruffly.

  “I assure you I do,” Jane insisted.

  “Only moments ago you wanted Marbury, remember?”

  “No. I tried to convince myself, but I never felt a spark when Simon kissed me.”

  Jealousy flared, dark and tumultuous inside him. “When did the bastard kiss you?”

  “It no longer matters,” she said breathlessly. “I find myself drawn to you. Perhaps it’s the punch talking, but it’s made me bolder, able to speak the truth.”

  Reaching out, she touched his cheek…softly, sensuously. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

  Sweet Jesus.

  Her words inflamed him, and her touch aroused him.

  The boat came to a stop, and the boatman jumped out and anchored the little craft. Gareth assisted Jane to dry land and into his awaiting carriage. He gave the driver her Piccadilly address.

  “Not your address?” she asked boldly.

  His tone was hoarse to his own ears. “No.”

  She leaned against him in the carriage. Locks of blond hair had escaped her topknot and caressed her high cheekbones and tops of her shoulders. Her eyes fluttered closed and he thought she would doze. He inhaled her tantalizing fragrance of faint summer lilacs. She nestled against him, her soft curves molding to him.

  When he shifted, she opened her eyes, and tipped her face to his.

  Just one taste of her lips.

  Just one.

  It took very little pressure to draw her fully into his arms. His lips claimed hers, searing and passionate. He sucked her plump lower lip into his mouth and she made moaning noises that ratcheted his desire. He tried to pull away, but she didn’t let him. Reaching up, she grasped the back of his head and thrust her tongue into his mouth.

  She would drive him completely mad. She tasted of arrack and strawberries and he knew one kiss wasn’t enough. His body grew taut and heavy with lust. His tightly leashed control snapped; his reason fled.

  He pushed aside her cloak and cupped her full breasts. His thumbs traced hardening nipples through the blue satin, and she gasped and pulled him closer, urging him on. A bead of sweat formed on his brow. It would be so easy to lower her to the carriage seat, lift her skirts, and bury himself deeply inside her.

  She was eager and willing.

  And very intoxicated.

  A gentleman would escort her safely to her door, thrust her into her housekeeper’s arms, and leave.

  But he had never been a gentleman, had he? It didn’t matter that he was the younger son of a baron; he’d never acted the part. And more often his employment as a barrister had been a foil for his covert activities for the Home Office. Espionage was his true calling. Deception an
d trickery had become second nature.

  But this was Jane. And she deserved better than a quick toss of her skirts in the back of a carriage.

  With a ragged breath, he drew his hands away from her. Wiping his brow, he said, “This isn’t a good idea.”

  She stiffened. “You’re worried about complications, aren’t you?”

  He couldn’t answer. Looking into her brown eyes, he detected no deception, only innocence, and heaven help him, trust.

  She trusted him.

  She should be wary of him. If she knew all his past sins, she would surely flee. It didn’t matter that they were carried out for King and Country. He’d used people, destroyed their lives, and not all had been guilty of treason.

  Yet there was no mistaking the emotion shining in Jane’s eyes.

  “You needn’t worry, Gareth. I don’t want a commitment or a relationship from you. There will be other men in my future,” she said matter-of-factly.

  His muscles clenched. He didn’t like the thought of other men in Jane’s life let alone her bed. He wanted to be her sole lover.

  Now where did that notion come from?

  He’d never been a jealous man or had a problem leaving a woman. He’d preferred it simple.

  No emotional bindings. No hysterical women, no tears.

  But now the thought of another man in Jane’s life made him want to hit something. She was inebriated, he reminded himself, she had no idea what she was saying.

  “It’s still not a good idea. You’re—”

  She grasped his sleeve, her full breasts rising and falling in her low bodice. “You don’t have to worry about pregnancy either. I’m barren, you see.”

  Once again, she took him off guard. “That’s not what—”

  She leaned closer, her magnificent breasts pressing against his arm. “There’s no risk. We can share a passionate night and pretend ignorance tomorrow,” she said breathlessly.

  His cock jerked in excitement. But something was wrong about what she offered—wrong in a way he’d never before experienced. He stared at her kiss-swollen lips and her eyes smoky with awakened passion, and cursed.

  “You’re drunk,” he said again, more gruffly this time.

  “So? For the first time in my life, I know what I want.”

  And she wanted him.

  His trousers stretched tighter, a feat he’d thought impossible. But would she regret it in the morning? When the alcohol burned away, would she bury her face in her pillow in shame, or worse, hate him for taking advantage?

  He’d never cared in the past. He’d only sought lovers for a night. But now he wanted more.

  The carriage stopped before a red brick town house. The footman lowered the step, and Gareth helped her from the carriage. She leaned on him as they climbed the steps of her porch.

  “If you won’t take me to your home, will you come inside?” Her lips grazed his throat, soft, wet, inviting. She clung to his arm, those lush breasts still pressing against him.

  Gareth clenched his jaw with iron control. He leaned her against the side of the town house, held her by the waist to keep her pinned against the wall, and banged on the door with his other fist.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in alarm.

  “Damned if I know,” he ground out.

  After a long minute of Jane pressed against him, Gareth started to doubt his sanity. “Where’s your butler,” he growled.

  “Graves is in his eighties and has trouble hear—”

  Gareth banged on the door, louder this time. He was surprised the neighbors didn’t come running.

  At last the door opened. An old man appeared dressed in black and white servant’s garb with tufts of gray hair and thick spectacles. The butler’s face was incredulous as he looked at Gareth, then at Jane held up against the red brick.

  “Lady Stanwell?” the servant asked.

  A second later, an elder, plump woman appeared at the door. Her robe was hastily donned over her night rail, and her cap looked like a large mushroom atop her head. He assumed she was the housekeeper.

  “See to your mistress,” Gareth said, thrusting Jane into the astonished woman’s arms.

  Turning quickly, he fled to the waiting carriage.

  …

  Gareth had rejected her.

  Jane couldn’t believe her ill fortune. Stunned, she turned to find Aunt Eleanor and Graves, her butler, staring at her. Concern etched on their features.

  Just splendid. She’d woken her elderly household once again. Only this time it wasn’t from screams of terror due to another nightmare over Charles.

  “What happened?” Eleanor asked.

  Jane’s voice cracked. “Nothing.”

  Jane grasped the banister tightly as she climbed the stairs. Eleanor was right beside her with her cane.

  “I’ll never find a lover,” Jane muttered miserably.

  “Hush, darling.”

  Jane rubbed her temple. “He banged on the door and fled.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Mr. Gareth Ramsey. He rejected me.”

  “Hmmm. As you’re clearly foxed, he seems like a perfect gentleman to me.”

  They reached the top of the landing. “That’s what I told him earlier, but he denied it.”

  Eleanor opened Jane’s bedroom door and led her inside. “Denied what? That you’re foxed?”

  “No, that he’s really a gentleman beneath his rough façade,” Jane said.

  Jane’s maid entered the room, efficiently unhooked her mistress’s dress, and helped her into her nightgown and beneath the covers before quietly leaving. Aunt Eleanor remained.

  “You need sleep,” Eleanor said.

  Jane yawned. “He doesn’t want me.”

  “I don’t think that’s the case. Not by the look of him. I’d say you have him wound up like a top and you won’t have to wait long to see him again.”

  Jane blinked and focused on her aunt. “Really? You truly think so?”

  Eleanor chuckled. “I was married to your uncle, remember? I can recognize desire in a man.”

  Jane yawned. Her lids felt very heavy and she pulled the coverlet up to her chin. “I hope you’re right. Or perhaps this whole evening is a nightmare that I will awake from tomorrow morning.”

  …

  After dropping Jane off, Gareth directed his driver to Daniel Forster’s town house on St. James’s street.

  Daniel’s butler didn’t blink an eye to find Gareth on the porch well past midnight. The servant was accustomed to the unconventional hours of Daniel’s espionage activities and acquaintances.

  Daniel turned the corner into the vestibule and halted when he spotted Gareth. “You look like hell. What happened to you?”

  Gareth handed his cloak and hat to the butler. “Nothing.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Can’t a friend drop by for a drink?”

  Daniel eyed him strangely. “Aren’t you supposed to be entertaining Simon Marbury tonight?”

  “I was, but there was an unforeseeable complication.”

  Daniel motioned down the corridor. “I was in the study.”

  Gareth followed Daniel down the hall and into the study. Daniel closed the door behind them. Two lamps burned brightly on a large oak desk. Rows of bookshelves holding colorful leather bound volumes lined the walls, and a globe rested on an end table in the corner of the room.

  Daniel went to a sideboard, poured two glasses of whiskey, and handed one to Gareth. “Tell me what happened.”

  Gareth took a swallow before answering. “Simon arrived with Lady Stanwell and his friends at Vauxhall Gardens. They proceeded to get drunk.”

  Daniel shrugged. “So?”

  Gareth stared at the remaining whiskey in his glass. “Jane became intoxicated and was to be their entertainment for the evening. I had no choice but to take her home before she was violated.”

  Daniel sipped from his glass and regarded him. “You’re not supposed to warn Lady Stanwell away from
Simon Marbury. You’re supposed to get close to Marbury by whatever means necessary, even if that means using the lady to do so.”

  “I know,” Gareth growled. “I just couldn’t allow Marbury to drug and rape Jane.”

  “You care for the lady, don’t you?” Daniel said.

  Gareth’s gut tightened. He didn’t like where the conversation was heading. “Care for her? I don’t care for any woman.”

  “Your actions suggest differently.”

  Daniel could be relentless in his questioning. Gareth knew his friend’s ability was one of the reasons he’d been appointed as undersecretary of the Home Office. At other times Gareth had admired the trait, but not when Daniel used his talent on him.

  Gareth drained his glass in one gulp. “I desire her. I want to bed her. Is that what you want to hear?” He knew he sounded surly.

  “You still could have bedded her after Simon had his fun with her tonight,” Daniel said.

  “Don’t talk about her that way,” Gareth snapped.

  A log crackled in the hearth. Several seconds passed before Daniel spoke. “Our work is never easy, Gareth. It takes a high emotional toll. Even Robert wasn’t immune, remember?”

  Robert Ware, the earl of Kirkland, had been the first to be recruited by the Home Office and first to marry. No one thought Robert would remarry after his first wife had been murdered, but he’d surprised them all.

  “My actions tonight have nothing in common with Robert’s past,” Gareth said.

  Daniel shrugged. “I can assign your mission to another.”

  “No.” The denial came out quickly and revealed more than Gareth intended. He cursed himself silently at Daniel’s knowing look. Gareth ran his hand through his hair and let out a breath. “I’m perfectly capable of completing the mission. Besides, Marbury trusts me and we are already business partners. He’d never work with another now.”

  Daniel placed his whiskey on the mantle and casually leaned against the back of a leather chair. “Still, I understand if your feelings for Lady Stanwell are getting in the way…”

  Gareth’s cravat felt tight as a noose, and perspiration beaded on his brow. He knew Daniel was manipulating him and he should tell him to sod off, but he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “I don’t love her, if that’s what you’re suggesting. Lust isn’t love.”