Page 67 of His Wife, the Spy
Not nearly as fascinating as her new hairstyle.
“A nine-foot-long, thirty-five-stone cat who loves water. What’s not to love?” Jasper teased. “The illustrations of its habitat were intriguing as well.”
“Hacking through a thick forest full of snakes and spiders and having my blood sucked by insects I can’t see?” Annabel asked. “I can’t wait to go.”
She’d hung on every word of the lecture, judging by the way she’d squeezed his hand throughout. He couldn’t blame her. Five minutes after the speaker had begun, Jasper had forgotten to glare at the stodgy attendees who were staring at his wife either in outrage or with frank interest.
Not that he could blame the latter ones. Two weeks of waking with Annabel in his arms had done nothing but make him hungrier for her. Even now, on the road toward Ramsbury, every rock and sway made him think about sex in a carriage.
He swung across to sit beside her and smiled when she made room for him, but just enough that their bodies touched. He draped his arm around her shoulders, and her head fell to his shoulder.
“Have you been?” she asked.
“To India? No.” He’d never been farther than Paris, because heirs were packed with feathers and straw. “Kit is better traveledthan me.” Stapleton and Travis were better traveled than he was. “One meager benefit of serving queen and country.”
“Memories of the jungle are poor substitutions for the losses they risk.”
“I agree.” Jasper pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “The country should treat them better.”
“You are the country, you know?”
The landscape rocked past the window, dusted in silver moonlight and topped with stars. The quiet gave her words weight. Giving Kit a home, helping Gareth’s widow, solving the young man’s murder—these were all small steps. He had the capability and the connections to do more.
But not tonight. He was on holiday, and his wife was warm in his arms.
“How go your redecorating plans?” he whispered in her ear, and enjoyed the shiver that went through her.
“Are you anxious to be rid of me?” Annabel tilted her head, not to escape him, but to give him access to her neck.
He was happy to take advantage. Her skin was soft, but strong muscles flexed against his tongue. “Never. You can leave it pink, frilly, and vacant for all I care.”
“Now that I’ve begun, I should finish.”
“Mm-hmm.” He slid his hand along the curve of her knee and the inside of her thigh. “You definitely should.”
She put a firm hand on his wrist. “No, Jasper. Not now.”
“I owe you something for refilling my gin.” He nipped her earlobe. “I damn near coughed myself to death.”
Now, as then, her giggle unraveled him. He tangled his fingers in her skirts and pulled. She insisted on pushing them back to the floor.
“I’ve finally realizedyour mothercannot hear us, but I draw the line at male staff in the quiet countryside.”
“Fine.” Not to be completely deterred, he kissed her and groaned in relief when she opened for him eagerly. Her hum of anticipation tickled his tongue. “If you’re certain.”
“I am,” Annabel panted as she tangled her fingers in his hair.
Her collarbone gave him a path to the hollow in her throat and down her sternum. She arched into the caress, putting her breast in his hand. Jasper could swear his world was speeding to match the hammering of her heart.
“Highwaymen!”
Lawrence’s cry pulled Jasper back to reality, but it took a moment to clear his head. All he could see was a lantern, but the longer he stared, the clearer the shapes became. One rider in a dark coat on a black horse—a fast one.
“Blast.”
“There’s one on this side as well,” Annabel said. Her words were rushed, but her voice was steady. “Closing fast.”
He pulled her from the window as he extinguished the lantern. “Get on the floor.”
