Page 83 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
“We should go,” Callahan muttered. “Before he sobers up enough to recognise you. He’s sounding reluctant to continue.”
He stood, lifting Isabel with him. She kept her face turned away from Harrington, burying it in Callahan’s neck as if overcome with passion. “If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen,” he said with a rakish grin. “Duty calls.”
But as they moved to leave, Harrington’s hand shot out, grabbing a generous handful of Isabel’s backside. She stiffened, a small sound of surprise escaping her.
“Now, now, Ashford,” the man slurred, glassy-eyed with drink and lust. “No need for selfishness. Surely you wouldn’t mind sharing?”
A chorus of agreement from the other men. Scarlet bled into the edges of Callahan’s vision.
But Isabel pivoted, hiding her face behind a fall of hair, and stroked a finger down Harrington’s cheek. “You naughty boy. I’m flattered. Truly. Alas, my hands are quite full.”
“I’ll occupy you,” Lily cooed to Harrington. “Perhaps we could find a private spot?”
Before the bastard could reply, Callahan swept Isabel up and strode for the nearest empty room. He shouldered the door open, slamming it behind them.
The moment they were alone, he set her down and rounded on her. “What in the nine hells was that?”
One arched brow. Utterly unruffled. “That was called improvising. You’re welcome, by the by.”
He raked fingers through his hair. “You could have been recognised! Hell, you nearly were! If he’d gotten a clear look at your face—”
She scoffed. “Please. Half the men out there couldn’t see past my tits if they tried. Including you.” She smoothed her skirts. “Besides. We have a better idea of what Harrington was so hostile to Ramsgate about. Dangerous science, ethical violations. He might have been working on a chemical weapon for Favreau and sought the expertise of a colleague to perfect his work.”
“Ethical violations? That’s what you took from that?”
“Among other things. What part of me doing my job are you struggling with? Is this because you heard precisely nothing out there? Is that it? You’re too easily distracted, Agent.”
Callahan’s control snapped. In two swift strides, he had her pinned to the wall. “It was a little difficult for me to concentrate with you grinding on my cock, Isabel.”
Her eyes flashed. “Is it that I was grinding on you or that I was doing it where other men could see, and you’re a selfish, greedy fake husband who wants me all to yourself?”
Rational thought vanished, and he crushed his mouth to hers. She met him with equal ferocity, hands twisting in his hair to drag him closer.
He lost himself in the slick friction of her mouth, her tongue stroking his. His hands slid down to her thighs, shoving at the fabric until he found skin. A growl rumbled up from his chest as he hitched her leg over his hip, fitting their bodies together. The hard ridge of his cock nestled against her core, only a few thin layers between them.
She tipped her head back with a moan as his fingers traced higher, skating over smooth thighs. Up and up until he reached the slit in her undergarments. A choked whimper caught in her throat. He needed to touch her, taste her, take her apart until she shattered—
A shrill scream cleaved the air.
Isabel froze. “What in damnation?”
Callahan’s lust-drugged mind struggled to parse what had just happened.
Another cry, panicked. Coming from down the hall.
He pushed away from Isabel and seized her hand, hauling her out of the room. They burst into the chamber at the end of the passage to find Lily still screaming, and—
Harrington.
The viscount lay on the floor in a pool of blood.
23
Callahan bit out a curse. “Well, this complicates things.”
Isabel slanted him a withering glare. “Your penchant for stating the obvious never fails to astound.”
Already, alarm was beginning to spread through the club. Murder, it seemed, was the only thing scandalous enough to disrupt the Veil’s debauchery.
