Page 14 of His Wife, the Spy (His Enterprising Duchess #4)

A nnabel couldn’t stop watching her husband. Less than two hours ago, they’d been locked together on the floor of his office, their lips swollen, and their eyes glazed with passion. Now he was across the room, teasing his sisters and talking to his mother about his Uncle Edgar’s health.

We can do anything.

The growl in his voice, the spark in his eyes, had been full of a promise she didn’t quite understand, but she wanted to know. Dinner had only heightened her curiosity. Every time he savored his food or his wine, she felt his lips on her skin. His laughter was like his hands on her body, warming her until it was difficult to concentrate.

Which was why she had removed the same five stitches from her embroidery for the last half-hour. When she closed her eyes, she was back in his arms. When she opened them, he was staring at her like she was a rabbit, and he was a hound.

She was likely the only rabbit in Britain who hoped she was devoured. But was that wise, given her purpose in his house?

Was he a spy?

She’d found nothing to indicate it, and Jasper didn’t appear to be hiding anything from her. No door was locked, no question unanswered. He’d even given her free access to his finances and his correspondence.

No Society husband did that, did he?

Of course, he wouldn’t write his schemes in his ledgers, and he could have his private mail sent to his office at Parliament or to White’s. And if he wasn’t a spy, then he’d spent all last evening with another woman after promising, in church, to be faithful to her .

Most Society husbands did that.

But then again, she’d made promises, in church, while working as a spy. She’d turned their marriage contract into a negotiation to benefit her family, and she kept the door locked between their bedrooms. She’d even told him he could have a mistress.

With a disgusted snort, Annabel tossed the fabric aside.

“Are you all right, dearest?”

She met her husband’s gaze. Perhaps she should just ask him. Are you betraying your country for the love of a French widow I want you to reject for me?

Jasper would answer, but it would also open the door for him to ask her the same question, and Annabel wouldn’t be dishonest. Not the best trait for a spy, she knew, but she was a horrible liar. Her eyes always betrayed her.

He winked at her.

She didn’t want to tell him the truth tonight.

“I find myself out of sorts this evening.” She returned her embroidery to the basket at her feet and stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Barnes was already waiting for her upstairs, and Annabel wondered if they taught lady’s maids some sort of translocation spell.

Annabel watched herself in the mirror as propriety was removed layer by layer, leaving her naked for only a moment before her nightdress, made of cotton as fine as silk, floated over her head.

She didn’t want to be hidden her whole life, naked for only a moment and only when it was someone’s job or when she was alone. Never touched as Jasper had done this afternoon.

But what if—

Enough.

Barnes reached for her hairpins, and irritation shivered down Annabel’s spine. “Thank you, Barnes. I’ll finish from here.” She met the maid’s wide-eyed stare in the mirror. “It’s nothing. I’d just like to be alone.”

The older woman squeezed her shoulder, her smile full of pity. “I understand, my lady.”

The door closed and Annabel risked another look at her reflection, finding a woman who wanted to be anything but alone. Her eyes always gave her away.

She unpinned her hair and unwound her braids.

“You have never listened to anyone other than yourself,” she said to the woman in the mirror. “Your instincts have never betrayed you.” She’d known Chippenham was a cad the moment he touched her on the dance floor. In a sea of gossip full of silk-clad sharks, she’d found true and loyal friends. “What do you think of him?”

Jasper’s irreverence was contagious. She had laughed more since the house party than she had in months. It was freeing, like racing down the hill with her heart thudding in time to her horse’s hooves. She lacked for nothing, but she was also valued. He didn’t love her, but he acted as though he liked her. He certainly wanted her.

Her nipples drew tight against her nightdress. She definitely wanted him.

Was he dangerous? Yes, he was. He was intelligent, observant, and disarming. But, more than that, the pleasure he offered required her to reach for it, and she believed freedom waited on the other side of it. Finding that, only to lose it, would be devastating. Never reaching for it, however, would be tragic.

She smacked the brush to her dressing table, making the hairpins jump. “Your husband is not a traitor.”

The words soaked through her, and they felt right. True. They brought along an emotion that also felt true, one she didn’t dare acknowledge.

A breath of air fluttered the hem of her nightdress against her ankles. Annabel turned to find Jasper in the open doorway between their rooms, staring at his hand on the knob.

“How long has this been unlocked?”

“Since last night.” She rose from the chair on shaky knees and walked toward him at what she hoped was a normal pace.

“Annabel, I—”

She didn’t want to talk about last night. She didn’t want to know where he’d been or what he’d done. “Why did you try it?”

His blue dressing grown was tied at the waist, resulting in a vee that displayed dark gold hair swirling over the center of his chest. The hem stopped just above his feet. Seeing his bare toes made him seem as vulnerable as she felt. It made this easier.

“Wishful thinking, I suppose.” He took her hand and tugged her over the threshold.

Where her room was painted a color that reminded her of fresh cream, his was a blue as dark as the night sky. What wasn’t painted was covered by mahogany panels.

There were probably other differences. She knew there was other furniture because he guided her around it as he walked backward toward the bed. Where her drapes were trimmed with fringe, his had ribbon. Her sheets were edged with lace. His were plain and square.

“I like your room better than mine.”

“Change yours if you wish.”

He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her until she was dizzy from it. The only thing anchoring her to the ground was his hand covering her breast as it had been in the library, as she’d wanted all through dinner.

“Do you have an idea of what to expect?” he asked before sweeping his tongue along her jaw to her ear.

All Annabel could do was nod. Her mother’s explanation had been hurried and likely incomplete because, as Jasper circled his thumb around her nipple, she believed there was nothing she’d have to endure .

His other hand loosened her gown, and the laces slithered against her skin as they gave way. “If I make you uncomfortable, we’ll slow down.” Heat pooled in places that were only warm with him. “If I hurt you, we’ll stop.”

There was a breath of warm air against her shoulder as he covered her breast with his hand. She thought his fingers might have been shaking, but that was impossible, especially when he rolled her nipple between those same fingers. Zings of pleasure ricocheted through her core to her knees, then her toes.

“Otherwise, anything we do to one another, all pleasure we give each other, is allowed.”

Her gown slithered from her shoulders, past her hips, to her feet. His gaze flicked over her like firelight. Her breath sped as though she’d run for years to get here.

“Christ. You are stunning.”

Any woman would be beautiful in shadow.

“Don’t, Annabel.” He swept his hand through her hair. “Topaz.” Down her back. “Silk.” Around her ribs. “Strength.” He brushed his lips over her forehead. “Wisdom.” Over her eyes. “Kindness.” Across her lips. “Sweetness.”

Tears flooded her eyes as she wound her fingers through his thick hair. “Jasper…”

“You are my wife,” he whispered against her mouth. “And you are the loveliest woman in London. And if you don’t put your hands on me, I’m going to shake to pieces.” He tugged her fingers from his hair and slid them under his robe. “Please, Annabel.”

The hair on his chest reminded her of sheep after shearing—short, soft curls clung to her fingers, coaxing her to explore his broad chest and hard muscles. His bones were thick, but she still felt his heart thudding against her palm.

The tie at his waist gave easily under her fingers, and then he was naked in front of her.

During her mother’s explanation of wifely duties , Annabel had been tempted to confess that she’d found Father’s illustrated anatomy encyclopedia on the top shelf of the library years earlier. She wasn’t sure whether Mother would be scandalized or relieved.

Annabel felt…cheated. The flagging manhood in the drawings had little relation to the erect specimen in front of her that was almost as wide as her wrist.

Butterflies went through her stomach as she swept her tongue over her much-kissed lips. Men and women did this all the time. No one died from it. “It will be fine.”

Jasper curved his fingers around her waist and pulled her close. His stiff shaft was hot against her stomach. His eyes glittered like a satyr’s. “If it’s not better than fine , I’ll chew off my tongue.”

Her laughter ended on a gasp as he avoided kissing her, but then he closed his lips over her nipple and sucked it deep into his mouth. Annabel’s knees buckled as a deep moan rushed over her tongue.

Embarrassment heated her skin. “I’m sorry.”

Jasper lifted his face from her body but didn’t release her. “For?”

“That noise was—”

“Darling, I’m praying that’s the most ladylike noise you make for the rest of the night.” To prove his point, he returned his attention to her breasts, twirling his tongue around one nipple while his fingers teased the other.

Her moans became a litany that sharpened whenever he switched his attention. Soon she was twisting in his arms, demanding his mouth on her skin, needing the tug she felt go through her with every pull of his lips.

It wasn’t enough now. She tangled her hand in his hair and grasped his solid shoulder, urging him closer. When that didn’t work, she wrapped her ankle around his calf and pulled. “Please, Jasper.”

The sheets were cool against her heated skin, and his hand was solid against her back. She pushed against his chest, lifting his lips from hers. “Your hand.”

He freed it with ease and ran it along her hip until it rested between her legs. “This is the only reason I want to you worry over my hand.”

Sparks pricked her skin as he stroked her there, tracing her folds as he nudged her knees wider. Cool air brushed over her wet skin, but Annabel didn’t have time to worry over it. He brushed the spot that had been aching since he’d kissed her last night, and the sparks doubled.

Jasper tormented that spot, caressing it, flicking it, rotating his thumb over it, catching it between his fingers as he’d done with her nipples, which were now aching with jealousy. Annabel slid her hands over his sweaty shoulders as her heels scraped the sheets. Every breath chafed her dry throat.

Warm air was her only warning before his mouth closed over her center and his tongue delved inside to drink her in. Fireworks exploded against the back of her eyes and her body tried to expand and contract at the same time, ripping a cry from her as she clung to Jasper to keep from flying apart. It was terrifying.

And the minute it shivered to a stop, she wanted it again.

“You are going to kill me,” he breathed against her skin as he kissed the inside of her thigh, his tongue drawing sinful circles. “But it beats the hell out of hanging.”

He moved up her body then, forcing her to release her grip on his hair, which she didn’t remember doing. His kisses had always tasted of him, but now his tongue had a different flavor. Sweeter, darker.

She closed her hand over his shaft. Hot and heavy against her palm, it was difficult to wrap her fingers around it. Her mouth would be a challenge as well, but it was soft enough that perhaps… If she tasted him, would the flavor of their kisses change again?

Jasper lifted his mouth from hers. “I can hear you thinking.”

She stroked him and watched his eyes darken. Heat bloomed in her chest, threatening to choke her words. But it was just them, and he’d never laughed at her. “May I do that to you? Is it the same?”

“Dear God, you are going to kill me.” He lifted her hand from his body and kissed her knuckles. “Yes, I’m fairly certain it feels the same, but no, you can’t right now. I don’t want to be distracted, and I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Annabel contented herself with putting an open-mouth kiss to the side of his throat, adding a swipe of her tongue for good measure. His salty flavor made her hungry, and the tease of his chest hair made her nipples ache.

He dragged his hand down her body and slid one finger inside her, then two, then three. Annabel closed her eyes and rocked against them as she’d done his tongue.

Then his fingers were gone, and Jasper was between her legs, his strong ribs against her thighs. He slid inside her, stretching her, filling her with heat.

“Look at me, Annabel.” He traced her cheek with a sex-scented finger until she obeyed. His jaw was tight, and his smile looked more like he was gritting his teeth. “Breathe.”

She drew a deep breath, exhaled, and felt him go deeper. Another breath, deeper still. Then he withdrew, leaving her emptier than she could remember. He returned with a groan that made her smile.

The next time he left her, his fingers returned. Just as tempting, but not as satisfying. Still, the fireworks built again, only to sputter when he filled her again, pushing deep and withdrawing until her muscles shivered, only for his fingers to return.

Growling, Annabel pushed to her elbows to glare at her husband. Jasper sat on his heels, covered in sweat, his blond hair dark around his face. His grin hitched at one corner, matching the question in his eyes as he withdrew his hand and positioned his manhood at her entrance. Feeling him inside her was delicious; watching him get there was decadent. It put them nose to nose.

“This?” Jasper asked as he drove his hips forward. “Or that?”

Desire flooded through Annabel, making words impossible, but she knew the rhythm of the game. When he went to withdraw, she grasped his muscled behind and held him to her. “This.”

He stayed, but the strokes changed. Shallow circles and short thrusts alternated with deeper ones that stole her breath and banged the headboard against the wall. After one round of torment, Annabel knew what she needed, and she put her heels on Jasper’s thighs to keep him there. “This. God, Jasper, please. Give me this.”

“Yes.” The word ground out of him as he lifted her hips from the mattress and slammed into her again and again. Annabel’s world narrowed to hearing her body accept him, feeling him hold her in a grip like iron, as he claimed her. Her heart felt ready to explode as she raced toward the sun.

Jasper dropped his forehead to hers. His breath sawed out of him like he’d climbed a mountain. “Fly, sweetheart. Fly.”

And she did, keening his name as she tumbled, only to rise again and again, until he was with her, racing to get closer as his muscles twisted under her hands and his shouts filled the air.

She floated back to earth, but kept her eyes closed as her breathing returned to normal and her senses returned. When she opened them, Jasper was propped on one elbow, watching her with a satisfied gleam in his eyes. He pulled the bedclothes over them. “Better than fine?”

Annabel chucked the nearest pillow at him and squirmed across the bed when he threatened to do the same. He caught her, only to pin her to the mattress for a lingering kiss.

“The sheets are warm over here,” she whispered.

“Travis has warmed the whole bed every night since we married. Hope springs eternal, I suppose.”

“Barnes does the same.” The words were a reminder. She had a bed, a room, on the other side of the wall. Her mother had always been alone in bed in the mornings.

Annabel tossed the covers aside.

Jasper kept hold of her hand. “Where are you going?”

“I thought I should gather my nightdress and—”

“You should stay in this room, which you prefer to the other, and stay naked, which I prefer to your nightdress.” He pulled her back to bed.

“Sleep naked?” Annabel slid back under the bedclothes. “Here?”

His grin was wicked. “I only wore the dressing gown so I wouldn’t frighten you.” He kissed her slowly, but the heat between them built quickly. Boneless as she was, Annabel didn’t realize her ankle was on his shoulder until he was nudging inside her. “Besides, it saves time.”

He was as hard as he’d been when she’d undressed him. “Hope is not the only thing that springs eternal.” Her giggle ended on a lustful moan as he went deeper and she melted around him.