What the hell had he been doing with his life, and why had his father let him do it? He’d not encouraged it, but he’d certainly not cared about the duels and the drinking and the gambling and the women. So neither had Keats.
But now… He glanced at Lucy. She paced between the stalls, her hands clasped behind her back, waiting for him to finish.
“Is something amiss?” he asked.
“No. Yes. I’m merely… anxious. A new girl will be helping me tonight, and it’s a bit of a risk to take her. But it’s what she wants. And we no longer have Peggy, so there are more reasons than one to accept her help. I have never trained anyone before. I am afraid I will not give her what she needs to remain safe. Andif we are—ifsheis—discovered by anyone she knows, my plans are ruined.”
He looked left and right. They were alone, so he clasped her hand and led her into an empty stall at the back of the stables. “You will do anything for your cause, Lucy. No one is better prepared than you. From the first moment I saw you, you’ve been teaching me. More than you know. Your kindness. Your courage. They make me want to be a better man.”
Her face brightened, and she looked at him as if he weregood.
If only she knew.
“Do you have a knife?” he asked.
“Why?”
“I’d like you to be armed.”
She took his hand and slipped it past her cloak, past the slit in her skirts and straight to her thigh. No, not the creamy softness of that limb, but to a cold blade strapped to it. Damn but he was hard. Hard as that blade.
He swallowed. “Clever woman. You are well prepared. When you get to London, you will bustle the new lady into the coach, and you will take off with haste, no stopping. You will come back to me. Do you promise?”
“You’ll be asleep.”
He shook his head. “I will be waiting.” He had no other choice. His body and mind and damned racing heart would not quiet until he knew her safe. He kissed her. Long and deep, saying everything he could not with words because he’d never had occasion to use those words before, never truly knew the meaning of them.
The tension vibrating through her body drained away beneath his touch. Ah. Hecouldhelp her, in the only way a man like him knew how.
He deepened the kiss, walking her backward slowly, gently, so she didn’t notice until her back hit the wall. He stroked his tongue into her warm mouth and cupped her breast, rubbed his thumb back and forth over the nipple until it peaked, hard and lovely even through all those proper layers.
Not entirely proper. That slit in her skirts. Damn. Yes. He sought it out, raked his fingernails up and down her thigh, over the ribbon that held her garter up, over the steel of her knife.
He was harder than it, harder than he’d ever been.
But now was not for him.
He trailed kisses down her jaw, her neck, in the small space of skin visible above her bodice, and under her dark cloak. He licked the hollow between her breasts.
“Keats, what are you doing?” Her voice breathy as her hands tangled in his hair.
“Relaxing you. Making sure you leave Hawthorne calm and confident.”
She gave a small, gusty laugh. “We can’t.”
He hit his knees before her.
He swept her skirts over one shoulder. What a blessing that slit was proving to be.
And he raised a brow as his thumb found her center and teased it. “Won’t take long, angel. I know what I’m about.” He had to be quick, didn’t he? They were not well hidden. A clock ticked down the seconds someone would come looking for her.
He adored a challenge.
Her hands in his hair tightened, as if she might pull him to his feet.
She didn’t, and he wasted no time discovering the taste of her, licking the seam of her between the fine cotton of her pantalets. She shivered, a squeak of passion lodged in her throat.
“Shh.” He placed two fingers against his lips as he looked up at her then popped them inside his mouth, wetting them,sliding them out slowly. “You must make no sound, or we’ll be caught.” Holding her brown eyes prisoner, he slipped his fingers into her. She shuddered, tightened. He winked, grinned, then dipped beneath her skirts once more. Inhale, exhale, the scent of her everywhere. So damn good. A kiss, a lick, the taste of her even better. He kept one hand as busy as his tongue at her center and the other hand worshiped her thigh, her belly, her breasts. Every damn place on her delectable body he could reach, he did, those parts hidden and those parts revealed. All parts his in this moment.
