Chapter Twenty-Four

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T HEY ARRIVED IN London late that evening, tired from their journey. Verity's house was a welcome sight, and Verity sank onto the couch with an enormous sigh.

"I should have known better than to wear new shoes on a trip," she said, unbuttoning the red leather half boots and pulling them off. She dropped them on the floor and lay back on the sofa, resting her head on the arm of the couch and idly watching Nathan kneel to light a small fire in the fireplace.

When he was finished, he joined her on the couch. Lifting her feet, he set them on his lap and began to massage them.

"Ahh." Verity let out a blissful noise. After a moment she said, "You've been very quiet today."

"Have I?" He glanced at her, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint smile. "No doubt I've been nursing my wounds after having my theory about Lord Arden squashed."

The truth was he had been feeling strangely let down, the feeling increasing as they drew nearer to London. It was absurd. He should feel overjoyed that they'd proved that he was his father's legitimate son and heir.

He was glad of that, of course, and it was even a bit heartening to learn that his actual half brother was not the one threatening to bring scandal down on the Dunbridges. His world had been restored; he could go on just as he always had. And yet...

There was something in him that mourned a little. The prospect of a new life had been exciting, even if it was somewhat alarming. He was sorry to let go of the plans he had daydreamed about—becoming a detective, working with Verity... being with Verity. In short, continuing to live as they had the last few weeks.

But he wasn't going to tell Verity that. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how she would react. So he said only, "I've been thinking about what we should do tomorrow. Where to start. I can't think Shoemaker and Hill would return to the places where we found them before."

"You're probably right, but it's worth a try. Old habits are very hard to break, even when you know they're foolish. I could set ‘my' urchins to looking for any of those three men. They can roam around everywhere without rousing any particular notice."

"Perhaps we should get out and about tomorrow, make calls, go shopping. The theater—we should go to a play."

"Why?" She looked at him quizzically. There was something else in her expression—something guarded. Nathan wondered if he would ever look at Verity and not be curious as to what secrets lurked behind her eyes. Probably not. But it didn't bother him as much as it used to. Perhaps there was something to be said of a relationship where the past was not known, unlike his courtship with Annabeth. A certain allure of mystery and continual discovery.

"Well...because I want to. It'd be nice, don't you think?"

Verity hesitated, and Nathan felt a pit in his stomach as he waited to hear the words he had been dreading for days. Their affair was coming to an end.

"Yes," she finally answered. The cloud he had seen before left her eyes, and her face grew relaxed and warm. The foot rub was obviously having a good effect on her. He wondered if it was awakening feelings having nothing to do with her feet, as it was him. "I'd like that."

"And, to be practical about it, we have been out of town a good while, so if our blackmailer has tried to call on us again, he's had no luck. He may be on the watch for us."

"For you ." Verity's tone was one of correction. "You are the one the imposter will be looking for. I think perhaps I will wear a disguise. A wig, at least."

"Really?" Nathan wasn't sure why he cared. Yes, he loved the brilliant hue of Verity's hair, but it wasn't as if she looked any less beautiful as a blonde or a brunette. Still, it felt...as if she was hiding herself from him. "Why?" He frowned.

"I've stayed quite long as Mrs. Billingham, I think. I worry that I might become a bit too well-known amongst the ton at this rate. I still need to be able to do work for other clients."

"But the ton already knows of our courting. I can't very well just be seen out with someone that looks strangely like Mrs. Billingham. No wig could hide your beauty. And I'm assuming you aren't suggesting I take a street urchin to the theater."

Verity laughed. "No, I suppose that would draw even more attention. It can't hurt to take out Mrs. Billingham once more."

"How about twice?" Nathan paused, then added, "I also thought we might pick up some sweets."

"Fairborn's Confectionary." Verity gave him a crocodile smile, all teeth and wicked intent. "Clever boy."

"I thought so. If we want to catch sight of our targets, it's one place we know at least one of them goes regularly." Nathan pressed his thumbs into the instep of her foot, and Verity let out a soft groan, sounding so much like a woman in the throes of passion that it sent a lance of fire through Nathan. He drew a shaky breath and continued his work, though now he was less rubbing away the soreness as tracing idle patterns on her skin.

Nathan studied Verity's face as he stroked her feet and ankles. She'd closed her eyes, her lips faintly parted, and a blush tinged her cheeks. Her breath was a trifle faster, and he could see the throb of the vein in her throat. His loins tightened. "But right now..." He slid a hand farther up her leg. "I have something much better in mind."

Verity sucked in a little breath as he teased at the soft skin of her inner thigh. She opened her eyes and cast him a demure look. "Why, Mr. Dunbridge, are you trying to seduce me?"

"Am I succeeding?"

"Hmm. Let me think." Verity crossed her arms beneath her head and sent him a tantalizing smile. "It might take some effort to convince me."

"In that case, perhaps I should try harder." His hand went up, sliding beneath her undergarments and over her skin to the juncture of her legs. His finger moved over the sensitive skin, hot and slick, flooding with moisture at his touch. "Why, Verity...I do believe you're lying. You seem very receptive to me."

Her only response was to bend one leg at the knee, opening herself more to him. Desire pulsed through him now, but Nathan was patient, reveling in the buildup of hunger inside him, the knot growing ever tighter, as he watched Verity's face. He could see every new pleasure as it went through her, each soft gasp and sensual smile, the golden eyes growing ever more lambent and dreamy.

Nathan pulled his hand back, and Verity's eyes flew open. "Don't stop."

"Trust me, I won't go far." He leaned over, bracing one arm on the back of the couch and ran his hand slowly down her body, caressing her breasts and stomach.

His hand went to the ties of her dress, undoing them and shoving back the bodice. Her nipples were dark beneath the thin cotton of her chemise. He trailed his thumb over each one, then bent to suckle them through the cloth. Nathan lifted his head and gazed down at Verity's breasts, the cloth now wet and transparent, clinging to her pointed nipples.

"Nathan..." Verity moved her hips beneath him. "Aren't you going to do more than look?"

"Oh, yes, a great deal more. When I've had my fill of looking."

Nathan unfastened the bows of her chemise and pulled the loosened cloth down so that it cupped her breasts. He trailed his forefinger down the hard center line of her chest until it met the cloth.

"You should have ties all down the front of this, as well."

"You could just tear it apart."

Heat surged in him at her words, and he clenched his hand on the back of the couch, fighting down the demand of his hunger. "I think not. This is a very nice view."

He ran his finger slowly over her breasts, circling the nipples, then gently squeezed them. He laid a soft kiss on each one before he straightened. Shoving her skirts up to her waist, he grasped her underpants and pulled them off, leaving her legs clad in her stockings and garters. And that, he thought, was a very nice view, as well.

He was hard as a rock, his erection straining against his breeches, but still he took his time, caressing her legs, sliding close to the juncture of her legs, but not quite touching. Verity said his name again, urgency in her voice.

"Patience, love, patience."

Verity let out a low growl that made him smile, and he went down on his knees beside the sofa, his hand moving up at last to caress the soft and vulnerable flesh between her legs. His fingers roamed the hot wet core of her desire, first exploring, then stroking with sure rhythmic movements. She moved beneath his touch, the tension mounting in her.

"I want you inside me," she whispered, her voice thin with the strain of control.

"Not just yet, love." He pulled his hand away.

Verity shot him a fierce look. "I will get you for this."

He chuckled softly. "I hope so."

Nathan slipped his fingers inside her, his thumb sliding over the slick nub. He could see the climax building in her—the tightened cords of her neck, the short sharp breaths as she pushed up against him. Then it burst upon her, a blush sliding up her chest and neck, her back arching, face taut as the wave of pleasure rippled up her body. She was glorious, so beautiful it made his heart clench, and he was torn between the joy of watching her and the ache of the desire to be inside her.

She let out a long groaning sigh and went limp, every part of her soft and yielding in a way Verity almost never was. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and she opened her eyes to look up at him, her gaze glowing and a little dazed. She was, he thought, the very vision of a woman well pleasured.

Nathan positioned himself between her legs, his hands on her thighs, sliding slowly up to touch her hipbones with his thumbs, then back down, as he gazed at her. He bent to kiss her lips softly and murmured, "Are you satisfied?"

Verity shook her head slowly, her smile full of sensual promise, and her fingers teased lightly over his hands and arms.

"Ah, well, we shall have to see what we can do about that." Nathan's thumbs slipped between her legs, opening her more fully to him, and he leaned down to kiss her in that most intimate place.

Verity let out a little yelp of surprise and delight, and her fingers slid into his hair. "Nathan..."

After that, she uttered no more words, as his mouth worked on her, emitting only little sounds that pushed his own arousal into a searing mixture of pain and pleasure. She came quickly, and he eased back, caressing her with long, lazy strokes, then drove her to the heights again.

Nathan straightened and looked down at her, taking in the glow that radiated from her. He buried his face against her chest. "Sweet heaven, but you are beautiful."

His arms went around her and he rolled onto the floor, taking her with him. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his breeches, but Verity sat up, straddling him, and pulled his hands away. "No, no, no," she said, her voice light and teasing. "Now it's my turn. I intend to have my way with you."

Verity smiled wickedly as she settled in, wriggling a little. Nathan had thought he could feel no fuller or hotter, but he found his limits went far beyond that.

She shoved the sides of his jacket down to his elbows, then untied his neckcloth and draped it around her own neck, the cloth skimming over her breasts, tantalizingly concealing and revealing the points of her nipples with her movements. It looked, he decided, infinitely better on her.

After unfastening the buttons of his waistcoat, she pushed the cloth aside and went to work on the ties of his shirt. The second one knotted, defying her efforts, and she simply ripped it apart, and the sound went all through him, nearly shattering his control.

Baring his chest, she was true to her word, kissing and stroking every bit of his exposed skin, pausing to nibble his flat nipples into life. Nathan felt as if a volcano was building in him, and he throbbed with hunger, aching to plunge into her and find his release, but he clamped down on his control, wanting even more to feel the full extent of Verity's sensual revenge.

She sat up, lightly dragging her nails down his chest, provoking such a shot of desire through him that he bucked beneath her. Verity smiled, tightening the grip of her legs around him, which immediately inflamed his senses even more.

Scooting back a little onto his legs, Verity unbuttoned his breeches, freeing him at last. "My goodness," she made a face of amused surprise. "Eager, aren't we?"

"Yes," he told her through gritted teeth.

She gave him her seductress smile again, her eyes gleaming, as she grazed her fingernails along his shaft. At his choked noise, she laughed softly and bent to kiss the soft skin of his stomach, her tongue making tiny swirls across it.

Stripping his breeches down his legs, Verity journeyed over his legs and abdomen, tasting and teasing, her touch so light it made him shiver, then stroking him with a firm hand or her agile tongue.

Nathan groaned, his fingers digging into her thighs. "You'll drive me mad."

"Mmm. You know I always like to win."

"Then I yield." Sweat bedewed his brow, and his entire body felt aflame. "I have to be inside you."

Verity's eyes were molten gold as she moved forward and slid slowly down onto him. She moved with exquisite slowness, and finally, with a growl, Nathan rolled over, taking her under him. His thrusts were hard and fast, hunger riding him. He was desperate to have her, to meld with her. At last he came in an explosion of fierce pleasure and utter release and collapsed against her, his breath ragged. He rolled onto his side, still holding her, unwilling to let go.

Verity held him, laying a soft kiss on his shoulder, her voice barely audible as she murmured, "I love you."

Later that night, lying in bed with her, Nathan played that moment over again in his mind.

Had Verity really said she loved me?

It had been so brief and soft, and he had been so dazed, sated, and still spellbound, that he'd been incapable of stringing a thought together, much less asking a question or making a reply.

He had fallen asleep, of course, and when he had awakened a long time later, he found himself alone, one of the pillows from the sofa under his head and an afghan thrown over him. Verity had also left a glass of wine and plate of cheese for him and taken his clothes. She'd certainly been busy while he slept, all without waking him up. The woman could be as silent as a ghost. It was a little disquieting.

Nathan had been glad for the food and drink, as he'd awakened starving, and he had downed them as he wrapped the afghan around him and went in search of Verity. She was asleep in bed, her hair a cloud upon the pillow, dark in the dim light of a low-burning lamp. He slipped into bed beside her and propped himself up on his forearm, watching her and thinking.

He wasn't sure whether she'd been too kind to awaken him or if she had wanted to be by herself after the intense intimacy. He knew her body well now and was rarely astonished anymore by the things she said or did, but Verity was still a mystery to him in so many ways.

She'd left a lamp burning for him. He wished he knew exactly what Verity thought, what she wanted of him, how she felt. If she had indeed murmured that she loved him, had she regretted it? It seemed too late, too awkward to bring it up now. He was sure he would get an unwelcome response if he awakened her to question her, and tomorrow in the light of day, Verity was likely to slide out of it some way. She held her feelings close, guarding them like a treasure.

Which made what she had said tonight even more important. His instinct was to respond to her, to tell her that he loved her, too. Because, God help him, he did.

It wasn't the sort of love he had felt for Annabeth, that low yearning, but a seemingly insatiable desire to be with Verity, a compelling need. He had fallen into passion with Verity at first, but Nathan had known from the beginning that there was no future for them. Still, in the past few weeks, all his preconceptions had fallen by the wayside.

They had been together almost constantly on this journey to Scotland and back. One would think he would have felt constrained by the close quarters or irritated by something Verity did or said, that they would have quarreled or their passion would begin to pall.

But it had been both thrilling and comfortable being with Verity, and it seemed as if his desire for her only grew with each passing day. They were close in a way he'd never felt with any other woman. It had been almost as if they were married.

That thought brought him up short. Did he want to marry her? Was that even a possibility? Verity had told him most decidedly that she would never marry anyone. And no matter how much he loved her, he couldn't deny that Verity was in no way the wife he had always imagined—the mistress of his house, the mother of his children.

His chest warmed as he imagined her in his home, sharing his life, and, really, a brood of wild red-haired children would probably be the menace he had once imagined, but they would be fun . Just like their mother. And he would love them beyond all reason. Just as he did their mother.

It made perfect sense that he had never imagined a wife like Verity—he had never met anyone like Verity.

Could he be happy with her for the rest of his life? He gazed at her, studying her profile, the curve of her eyebrow, the line of her jaw. She turned toward him, as if sensing his presence, and snuggled close to him, and his heart stuttered in his chest.

The real question was: Could he be happy for the rest of his life without her?