Authors: Shirl Henke
This time she opened when his tongue rimmed the seam of her lips. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his arms as he deepened the kisses, slanting his mouth over hers with a more possessive abandon. They were both trembling, but no longer from the brush with death. This was something infinitely more dangerous...at least from her point of view.
She'd been hurt once before. How could she bear it again? Yet the magic of his kiss was mesmerizing. Her fingers trailed up his arms to his nape, then splayed into the thick night-dark hair curling around his collar. She pulled his head down to her, arching against him like a kitten being petted.
Josh could feel the pressure of her breasts against his chest and taste the delicate sweetness of her mouth. He was losing control, and he knew it but didn't give a damn. The ache in his groin was becoming unbearable. In a moment, if he shifted his weight—and it was imperative that he do so or risk injury—she'd feel very physical proof of his arousal beneath that delectable bottom of hers.
But she won't know what it means.
At least he hoped she wouldn't, being a very prim and proper lady, and a virgin to boot. That very thought should make him want to let her go. But it didn't. He couldn't stop kissing her as long as she clung to him and returned his ardor. His dilemma was solved a moment later when the sounds of hoof beats and laughing voices grew louder. A party of riders was drawing near.
Sabrina heard the noise but failed to register what it was until Josh gently disengaged from their embrace, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose as he smiled down at her. “I'd hate to ruin a lady's reputation,” he said with a smile.
Idiotically, Sabrina found herself smiling back at him. “Even if you just saved her life?”
“Especially if I did, since I was the cause of her almost losing it. I didn't mean to spook you, Sabrina.”
“Oh, my lord, but you do...you do,” she whispered as he lowered her to the ground. He quickly swung off the big bay, who stood obediently still, reins trailing on the ground, while Josh walked over and gathered up the reins of the gray. Hungrily, her eyes drank in the grace of his long-legged stride, the strength of his sun-bronzed hands as he patted the mare, examining her for injuries.
Sabrina fumbled with her hair, knotting it into a bun and securing it as best she could with what few pins remained. Visions of those brown hands on her pale flesh made her knees go weak. She closed her eyes tightly and blinked, then steadied herself against the bay's saddle. What a fool she was, imagining all sorts of things that must never—could never—be. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to him and took Cloudy’s reins.
“I can ride now,” she said in a voice that was not as calm and authoritative as she wished. In fact, it sounded more like a breathless squeak. Mercifully, the passing of the party of riders disguised her tone from him. Fortunate also that the party paid little attention to the two riders standing at the side of the swale.
Josh looked up at her pale face and glowing eyes. Earlier they had held the sheen of tears, then passion. Now he was not certain what he read in their sapphire depths. Could it be fear? Of him? Or of how she reacted to him? “Are you sure?” he asked dubiously.
“If the mare is not injured, I most certainly am not,” she asserted, beginning to sound more like her old self. “Please give me an assist up.”
“As my lady commands,” he said, but instead of offering her his cupped hands, he did what he'd wanted to do earlier and placed his hands around her waist, lifting her like thistledown and placing her on the saddle.
“You know that was not the proper way to do that,” she accused as she gathered up the reins, refusing to look at him.
Josh grinned. “Nope, but it surely was more fun than having that pointy little boot sole dig into my hand. I'll remember the proper way next time,” he promised solemnly.
“Why is it that I don't trust you, my lord?” she could not resist asking any more than she could resist meeting his wicked green gaze. With that, she turned the mare and trotted sedately back the way they'd come.
Josh swung up on Comanche and followed her, cursing horses, women and life in general. He knew he'd be well advised to pay more attention to what Zarenko was doing with that young clerk who worked for his uncle than to Sabrina Edgewater. But, damn it all, she was so much more interesting.
* * * *
“She's his cousin?” Josh echoed incredulously. He felt as if he'd been gut-kicked by a pack mule as he stood in Michael Jamison's apartment late that night. A glass of his own bourbon sat untouched beside the bottle he'd brought along with him.
“Afraid so, old chap,” Jamison replied. “They were raised together like brother and sister” He outlined Edmund Whistledown's childhood history. ‘‘When I received your note this afternoon, I made a few inquiries. Young Whistledown appears to have something of a gambling problem.”
“At what?” Josh asked.
“Take your choice,” Jamison replied. “Cards, horses. He's even been known to bet at the spring regattas. He loses. Frequently.”
“And he works for my uncle, but that can't be the source of his information.” Josh paced back and forth, combing his fingers through his hair. “How much would the earl know about this treaty with Japan? Parliament's not even in session.”
Jamison knew about Hambleton's work at the Foreign Office but had been explicitly instructed not to disclose the fact to the viscount. “It's possible he may have a bit of information since he spends more of his time here in the city than he does at his seat in Suffolk,” he hedged. “He's friends with several members of Lord Lansdowne's council. He might be a source that a man desperate for money could use.”
“Like Whistledown?”
“I wonder if his dear cousin Miss Edgewater is involved as well,” Michael said speculatively as he sipped his brandy. “She's also been most conveniently employed by the earl.”
“No.” Josh's voice was soft but firm. “I don't believe Sabrina'd do such a thing.”
Jamison's eyebrow rose at the use of her Christian name, but he said nothing as his companion continued speaking.
“She's too inherently decent, too loyal.”
“Ah, yes, but she's lent him money. He made a payment to some rather nasty chaps at the Epsom racecourse several weeks ago. One might wonder where she acquired the funds.”
“She's been saving to start a school. That's why she agreed to take me on—Uncle Ab agreed to pay for it if she'd teach me manners.”
Michael almost choked on his brandy. “Teach you manners?” he echoed.
Josh's expression darkened. “What's so damn funny about that?”
“Nothing, nothing at all, old chap,” Jamison soothed, smothering his laughter as he watched the Texan take a gulp of that dreadful American corn whiskey directly from the bottle.
Josh started to wipe his mouth with his hand, then stopped himself, grinning. “I reckon I am quite a tribulation to the lady.” He paused thoughtfully. “I wonder if she knows her cousin's a sporting man? No,” he answered the mostly rhetorical question. “If she knew he was doing anything so wicked, she'd skin him.”
“Well, if she doesn't, the unsavory characters to whom he's in debt will do far worse, believe me. I imagine the money Zarenko gave him was a godsend. Now, what I need to do is lay a trap to ensnare the Russians.”
“How do you figure we can do that?” Josh asked, still shaken to learn of Sabrina's connection to this assassination business.
“We? No, no ‘we,’ my lord. You may keep an eye on the lady. I shall take responsibility for planting a bit of false information that will find its way to the earl...and thence to our Mr. Whistledown. If all goes according to plan, he'll soon be whistling at his own hanging. A pity the power of the Russian ambassador's office will keep the likes of Zarenko and his sister from joining our homegrown traitor.”
“If you can't arrest them, what's the sense?” Josh asked in frustration. He hated the intricacies of diplomacy.
“We eliminate the seepage of information from our Foreign Office and send that whole nest of Slavic vipers back to Saint Petersburg. Good riddance,” Jamison said, polishing off his brandy.
“Personally, I'd shoot Zarenko,” Josh said, following suit with his whiskey. This time he remembered to use the glass. Sabrina was a good influence on him.
* * * *
Lordy, he hated the noise and soot of trains. Josh would much rather have driven his Mercedes, but Uncle Ab was adamant about the unreliability of automobiles for long-distance travel. All arguments about the craftsmanship and roadworthiness of his vehicle were countered with arguments about the condition of English roads. The earl had finally pulled rank on him. They were traveling by rail.
Josh stared disconsolately out the window of the private car his uncle had secured for their journey to the Chiffingtons' seat in West Sussex. For the past hour or so, the countryside had grown less and less interesting. From picturesque hills and quaint cottages, it had gradually changed into flat, sandy stretches, much like the southern parts of the Texas coast. He'd never much cared for the ocean.
But at least the view inside the plush car was much better. Sabrina opened the door and returned to her seat directly across from him. As soon as he saw it was she, not his uncle, he stood immediately. “See, I am learning my manners,” he teased.
“I do believe you're capable of turning courtesy on and off like water from a faucet, my lord,” she replied with only minimal exasperation.
“I'll be as well behaved as a Sunday-school teacher at a preacher's convention while we're at the marquess' place. I figure if they see you can beat some culture into an ignorant cuss like me, they'll realize you'll do just fine for their daughter.”
She ignored the teasing light in his eyes, wishing the earl would return, but he was absorbed in a chess game with a friend in the common car. He'd urged her to return and keep his “rapscallion nephew” company. What else was she to do but agree? It would scarcely work for her to confess her shocking attraction to that “rapscallion.” Or his to her.
“You have been a challenge,” she replied carefully. “I doubt I'll find Lady Drucilla Palmer a fraction so troublesome.”
Josh chuckled. “It's right funny, you know.”
Sabrina stiffened. Was he laughing at her? At what he considered the frivolity of her chosen profession? “What amuses you?” she asked defensively.
“We're both on display, sorta like a pair of heifers at an auction. Just to see if we're worth bidding on.”
“Your crude livestock analogies will leave those in the aristocracy quite baffled, Lord Wesley, and those not baffled will be appalled,” she replied in her best teacher's voice. She did not want to discuss why he was spending the weekend in the company of Lady Eunice Palmer, eldest daughter of the Marquess of Chiffington.
“It appears to me we're both being looked over to see if we're up to the jobs of work they have in mind for us—you to teach Lady Dracula—”
“Drucilla,” she corrected with a twitch of her lips in spite of the uncomfortable topic.
“Yep, right, Drucilla. And me to measure up to being a marquess' son-in-law. Eunice.” He grimaced. “Why do folks pick such fool ugly names?”
“You well know they are both classical Greek names.”
“That's fine if you're a classical Greek. Plug ugly for a modern female.”
“Drucilla means soft eyes, and Eunice means gloriously victorious.”
He studied her with heavy-lidded eyes. “Aren't you just a fountain of information, Miss Teacher. Well, one thing I know for sure 'n certain. Lady Eunice Palmer isn't going to be victorious when it comes to catching me, gloriously or any which way. I don't figure on being hogtied into marriage, leastways when it's all been arranged before I even set eyes on the female.”
“What if she's a dazzling beauty with wit and charm?” Sabrina could not resist playing devil's advocate. How else to make him realize that he would have to wed in the upper class someday?
“I don't care if she's as pretty as Lillie Langtry. I pick my own women,” he said stubbornly, a dare in his eyes as they met hers.