Chapter Twenty

Ellie pushed back her chair and stood, her heart beating wildly in her throat.

"If you want me to leave, you just have to say. Really. It's fine if you don't want to kiss me."

He stepped out from behind the table, and she took a nervous step back. "I mean, you can't have possibly known I'd choose that card," she continued breathlessly.

His lips quirked as he shook his head. "You think not? I'm disappointed you have such a low opinion of my skill."

He took another step, and she retreated until her bottom hit the bookcase behind her. "We could have played that game ten times over, and you'd have chosen the red queen nine times out of ten."

She didn't know whether to be relieved, or suspicious. He must have manipulated the cards so that she'd win. But how had he induced her to choose the queen? It seemed far-fetched, ridiculous, but she was beginning to think there was nothing he couldn't do, no end to his cleverness.

"If I'd chosen the jack, would you really have taken me home?"

His hot gaze held hers. "We'll never know, will we?"

Ellie pressed her shoulders back against the bookcase. "So, you do want to kiss me?"

"I do." His dimples appeared as he came closer still, stalking her. "So much that I'm willing to break rule number four."

That was the rule Ambrose had mentioned at Willingham's. "Which is…?"

He leaned in. "Never mix theft with seduction."

"That sounds like a very sensible rule," she murmured.

His lips were so close to hers she could smell the delicious scent of his skin.

"Sometimes being sensible is overrated."

He pressed his lips to hers and Ellie closed her eyes with a sigh of surrender. His hands came up to cradle her face, his long fingers stoking her jaw, and she reveled in the taste of him, so exciting and yet also strangely familiar.

He wasn't acting now. There was no one to deceive, no ulterior motive, and the fact that he wanted her, truly , made excitement bloom inside her like a fiery glow.

She kissed him back with wholehearted enjoyment, stroking her tongue against his, loving the deep groan of approval that rumbled from his chest at her enthusiastic participation.

His lips left hers as he kissed below her ear, then down her neck. His hand slid to her waist to tug her closer, and she tilted her head back with a gasp as he pressed a line of kisses along the neckline of her bodice, pressing his nose to her d é colletage. The slight scrape of his evening beard on the tender skin of her breasts made her shiver in delight, and she threaded her fingers through his hair to hold him in place as he licked and nipped the exposed curves.

"This is a wicked dress," he murmured. "And you are a wicked woman, to tease a man so. I could barely concentrate enough to pick Willingham's pocket with you standing there, looking so tempting."

Ellie let out an incredulous laugh. "It's your own fault. You chose it."

His hand squeezed her hip as he reclaimed her mouth. "True," he murmured. "I must be a glutton for punishment."

He kissed her long and hard, a thrilling statement of intent, and Ellie melted against him, weak-kneed. When they finally pulled apart, she was pleased to see his breath was as choppy and uneven as her own.

"Feeling sleepy?" he panted.

She shook her head with a gleeful laugh. "Not even a little."

"Good."

In one swift move he bent and lifted her against him. He carried her through a doorway, across the hall, and into what was clearly his bedchamber, and her heart fluttered in excitement.

God, she really was doing this! She'd always fantasized about being a wicked, wanton rebel, but she'd never imagined she'd truly get the chance. Yet here she was, in the room of a gorgeous scoundrel, determined to enjoy the miraculous experience to the fullest.

Harry deposited her on the edge of the bed with a bounce, kissing her again so quickly she didn't even have time to look around the room. Ellie put her arms around his neck and tried to drag him down onto the bed with her, but he pulled back with a deep chuckle.

"So impatient, Miss Law," he chided. "Surely as an investigator you know the importance of not rushing into an unfamiliar situation? One must take stock, observe. Be patient."

He stepped back and stripped off his waistcoat with a carelessness that almost made her protest, then untied his cravat and tossed it onto a chair in the corner of the room. His white shirt opened in a deep V at the front, revealing a deliciously tempting expanse of tawny skin, and her cheeks heated as she leaned back on the bed and studied him.

He really was ridiculously handsome. Maybe that book really had brought her luck?

"I must admit, I've never been in this particular environment before," she said. "I'm willing to bow to your superior knowledge of the terrain."

She studied his face, worried that her lack of experience would count against her, but the hot look in his eyes dispelled her fears, as did the prominent bulge visible in the front of his breeches. He definitely desired her.

"That's very sensible," he said. "I'd be delighted to show you how this particular investigation should be conducted."

He stepped closer, between her bent knees.

"I thought you said being sensible was overrated?"

His lips curved up. "Stop being so clever."

He rested his hands on her knees, then slid them slowly up her thighs, bunching the emerald-green silk with his palms as he went. Ellie shivered in anticipation.

Instead of kissing her again, he dropped to his knees and caught the hem of her skirts. There was no resistance from the slippery silk as he pushed it up to reveal her white silk stockings and garters, inch by inch, and Ellie let out a scandalized breath as the cool air wafted against the bare skin of her inner thighs.

"A sensible thief—I mean, investigator ," he amended drily, "always takes time to do plenty of reconnaissance. Open your legs."

Ellie sucked in a breath at his unexpected command. From her position, she could see his wicked face and broad shoulders between her thighs. Desire made her body throb, and she bit her lip as she held his gaze and slowly did as he asked.

Heat flushed her cheeks. She wasn't wearing any drawers. The dress had come with the sheerest of muslin shifts to wear underneath, and even the corset was built in to the bodice itself.

Harry lowered his gaze, and she squirmed in embarrassment as he pressed her knees even wider. Could he see everything? Or did the froth of her skirts and the shadows still hide her from view?

She tensed as he encircled her ankles with his long fingers, then drew his hands up her stockinged calves with deliberate slowness.

"I need to make sure you're not hiding any weapons under here," he murmured, and the gravel in his voice made her toes curl. The paradoxical combination of teasing rogue and stern instructor was playing havoc with her senses.

"I'm not, I swear," she gasped. "But by all means satisfy yourself that I'm telling the truth."

His dimples flashed. "Oh, I intend to satisfy both of us, my sweet. Lie back on the bed."

The butterflies in her stomach were almost insupportable, but Ellie slid her hands back on the soft coverlet and lay down. She gasped as he caught her hips and dragged her even closer to the edge of the bed, then let out a little yelp as he pulled off her shoes, draped her knees over his shoulders, and leaned in.

His warm palms slid up under her skirts, and he pressed a kiss to the bare skin on the inside of her leg, just above her garter.

"Oh!"

He kissed her again, even higher, and she wriggled in combined mortification and excitement. Tess had once shown her a naughty etching of a man kissing a woman between the legs, and the knowledge that Harry was about to do the same thing to her made her core clench and throb.

"No obvious daggers," he whispered, "but let me double-check."

Another kiss, so close to the slick, wet center of her that she could barely breathe. And then his mouth was there, his tongue probing at the entrance to her body, and she tensed her stomach, curling up toward him automatically to grab his hair.

"God," he groaned, and the word was a vibration against her skin. "Ellie, you taste so good."

Ellie closed her eyes in amazement. His wicked tongue lapped and teased, alternating between slow, languorous licks and harder, quicker stabs, and jolts of pleasure shot through her body like fireworks.

Just when she didn't think she could enjoy it any more, his clever fingers joined his mouth, his thumb sliding over the sensitive pearl between her folds, then sliding to her entrance and pushing in, just the tiniest amount, before he withdrew.

"Again. Oh, please!" she begged.

She was beyond embarrassment now. She clutched at his head, pushing him closer in a wordless demand for him to continue, and his breath fanned over her as he chuckled at her ferocity.

"Wicked girl."

He slid his finger inside her, then did it again, and the sensation was so delicious, so addictive, that she arched up into his touch. Every muscle in her body grew taut; he kept hitting a spot somewhere inside her that made her catch her breath.

She pushed down, matching his rhythm, and suddenly the pleasure became too much. He curled his finger, and the tension that had been building suddenly broke like a wave. Ecstasy rolled over her in great shuddering pulses, a dizzying release, and she choked out a cry that was almost a sob.

"Harry!"