Chapter 34

34

A drian's heart refused to slow. It continued thumping wildly against his chest as he helped Samantha from his carriage and led her across the field. She'd suggested they stroll while they crafted their plan and he'd been in full agreement. He'd felt like a wolf trapped in a cage for the past half hour.

The tension gripping his body was like an insatiable hunger. It had to be satisfied somehow and since a violent fight and a shag were both off the table, he had to settle for walking.

Dog's bollocks, the woman had him vexed, anxious and overheated, all at the same time. Hands clasped behind his back, he glanced at her, matching her paces while she began stitching a plan together. Had she been offended when he'd invited her to become his mistress? It hadn't seemed that way, but he could be wrong.

At least she'd said she'd think about it, but would she accept? He desperately hoped so. Now that he'd had a small taste, he wouldn't be satisfied until she came to his bed. Not just to sate his desire, but to mend his damaged soul.

"It will involve the two of us showing an increased interest in one another," she said, her suggestive comment sending a thrill down his spine.

The edge of his mouth quirked. "That shouldn't be hard."

She rolled her eyes but the twitch of her lips was evidence of her amusement. "We have to be very public about it to make sure word spreads."

"Although I'm not supposed to attend social functions at present, a ball would probably serve as the best location. With hundreds of people in attendance, the killer is bound to hear what happened even if he's not there himself."

"Agreed. The one Harlowe's hosting will make for the perfect setting. I'll make sure you're not turned away at the door." Halting, she faced him. "We'll need help though. From someone we can rely on to be discreet."

"Why?"

"So we can be absolutely sure the killer will know I'm the sort of woman he's after." When he failed to respond she reminded him boldly, "There tend to be two men in the victim's life – the one who believes she'll make him the perfect wife, and the one with whom she's finding her pleasure."

"In other words," Adrian murmured while tamping down the sick feeling that roiled in his stomach, "you need to be courted and compromised at the same time."

"Yes."

A series of deep breaths helped fight the red haze before it descended over his eyes. He'd never believed himself capable of jealousy, but the idea of anyone other than him so much as touching Samantha put murderous thoughts in his head.

She was his. No one else's.

"Adrian?"

"What?" His muscles were straining so hard he was practically shaking.

"You look…furious."

He glared at her while trying to come to grips with his increasing feelings for her. They were bloody inconvenient, made worse by the terror of knowing their plan, however good it might be, could fail. That he could fail. And that going ahead with it put him at risk of losing her forever.

He slammed the door shut on that thought and leaned toward her, shoulders tense. "Which one will I be? The lovesick fool or the scoundrel who gets to push up your skirts?"

"Naturally the first," she said with a bite to her voice. "We've spent enough time together at various social functions for a courtship between us to look like a natural progression. I can't sell that with somebody else."

Her comment appeased him a little, though not nearly enough. He flexed his fingers. "And your seducer?"

She crossed her arms. "What about Marsdale?"

He opened his mouth, prepared to argue, only to close it once more as the idea sank in. There was no denying the wisdom in it. Edward could certainly be trusted, but could they convince him to help? "He's a stickler for law and order. When I met him last night he urged me to leave the killer to Bow Street. I'm not sure we can get him to help."

"Will you let me try?"

"Certainly, but we'll need an alternative if he refuses." Honestly, he could not believe he was saying this. It sounded ludicrous to his own ears. And yet, he still told her, "I'll give it some thought."

She nodded. "The Clearview ball is on Friday. It would be good if we could be ready by then."

"If you're free tomorrow afternoon, I'll make arrangements for you and Marsdale to meet."

"Thank you." Happy the conversation had come to an end, Adrian turned with every intention of heading back to the carriage, but her hand caught his arm and kept him rooted. "Whatever happens between him and me, it won't be real. Not like it is with you."

No sooner had she spoken than he hauled her against him and pressed his mouth to hers. She gasped, lips parting, allowing him to deepen the kiss – to claim that part of her for himself.

Whatever they'd shared in the carriage, this was rougher, more elemental, a dark reminder of what he wanted and what he would give in return. It ought to have scared an innocent woman like her, and perhaps it did, though only for a brief second.

After that…

She matched him every step of the way, pressing her body to his, hands roaming and gripping, exploring every spot she could reach. And the taste of her – the soft little sighs of pleasure that spilled from her lips when he touched her in just the right way – drove him wild.

It pushed him straight to the brink of madness. For even though his most burning desire right now was to lay her down amidst the flowers, his heart, that part of him that had felt like a charred piece of coal for most of his life, resisted.

The resulting effort caused him to growl in frustration. He grabbed her wrists and stilled her movements, then pushed her back gently. "We should stop, before I forget myself completely."

"I…" She brought her fingertips to her lips and suddenly blinked. "Good lord. Whatever must you think of me?"

"That you've the same inclination as I to get carried away." He offered his arm. "Come. Let's return to the carriage and get you home. We've much to do if we're to be ready for Friday's ball."

* * *

A smoldering heat still singed Samantha's skin when Adrian dropped her off. The pleasure she'd found in the kisses they'd shared was something else entirely. Unexpected was one way of putting it. Life-altering, enlightening, and altogether astounding also worked.

Standing on the front steps of Clearview House, she watched him drive away while doing her best to convince herself it was merely a means to an end. And yet, there was no denying he'd made her insensible. Even now, she longed for additional kisses and in that field…

Heaven's, she'd have let him do whatever he wished– would likely have begged him for more – had he not ended things.

Unacceptable.

Cursing herself, she spun on her heels and continued inside, only to find Harlowe leaning against the stairs, his elbow on the newel post. "How did it go?"

Schooling her features as best as she could, she forced herself to meet his gaze directly. "I managed to make some progress."

"Oh?" Harlowe pushed himself upright and gave her a studious look. "How so?"

She wouldn't lie. He'd see straight through that. "Croft kissed me."

Harlowe's expression remained unchanged. It was impossible to tell what he might be thinking. "Did you welcome it?"

Yes.

"In light of what we hope to achieve, I thought it unwise to push him away."

"Naturally." His sharp gaze lingered on hers. "Anything else?"

"He made his interest in taking me to his bed abundantly clear."

A slow smile materialized. "And did you accept?"

"I told him I'd think it through."

"Good. You made the right decision." He swept his hand toward his study. "Join me for a drink. We've much to discuss."

Harlowe poured them each a glass of port and handed one to Samantha. Eying her with that inscrutable expression of his, he asked, "Are you prepared for what comes next?"

"How do you mean?" Just to be sure she understood him.

"Croft's proposition. It's not exactly what you trained for." He leaned against the edge of his desk and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. "Might be useful to bring in an expert to walk you through the details. So you know what to expect."

No question as to whether or not she wanted to do it.

Her interest in discovering what it would be like to have a man like Adrian Croft as her lover was beside the point. Harlowe didn't know her mind. In his eyes she was an agent, raised to serve the country, and apparently to sacrifice her innocence in the process, if need be.

She was expendable.

Not loved or cared for, as she'd believed, but a weapon. To be used without thought for the impact it would have upon her.

She sipped her drink slowly. Allowed herself time to process what he was saying. All the while eyeing the silver letter opener on his desk. It would be so easy to stab him in the throat and watch him bleed out.

But what would that lead to? A quick hanging or a life on the run?

She'd no desire for either. And besides, pretending nothing had changed might prove useful. In case she needed Harlowe later.

So she did what she had been trained to do and buried her anger as deep as it could possibly go. "That's not a bad idea. Thank you for looking out for me."

"It's what I'm here for." He swirled the contents of his glass while considering her. "I'll have Blush's owner drop by in the morning. Mrs. Butler's her name. She'll give you the information you need and answer whatever questions you have. Any idea of when you'll be sealing the deal?"

Deep breaths kept Samantha grounded. She'd not considered it yet, but the intensity of Harlowe's gaze pressed her to answer. "Perhaps after the ball, if I'm able to tempt him with the suggestion."

The edge of his lips curled with approval. "I'm sure you'll manage. Just be sure you're prepared when you go to him. I recommend that you take a vial of laudanum with you. Put a few drops in his drink so he doesn't disturb you while you search through his things."

No suggestion as to how she would make sure Adrian drank the concoction she served him. That would be up to her. Provided she did as Harlowe instructed. Assuming Croft brought her into his home instead of using an inn.

She drank the last of her port and returned her glass to the sideboard. "If that's all, I'll go write a message to Kendrick. Make sure he's kept up to date."

Not until she'd reached her room and locked the door behind her did she permit her mask of agreeability to slip and her rage to show. She'd never felt so used or betrayed in her life.

Snatching her pillow from her bed, she pressed it firmly against her face and screamed, allowing the down-filled item to block out the sound. She punched at her mattress next, forcing the anger and hurt through her fists until exhaustion took over.

Sinking to the floor, she sat with her back to the bed and her knees curled up under her arms. Hard breaths followed. She tilted her head back, stared at the ceiling, and contemplated her next move. For now, she'd feed the illusion of following orders without asking questions.

But if she went to Adrian's bed, she'd damn well do so for herself.

Not for Harlowe.

Not for Kendrick.

And not for some bloody Prince Regent she'd not even met.