Page 63 of His Wicked Secret
She settled into her favorite nightgown and wrapped a comfortable dressing gown over herself before she sat in a chair so she could read by the fire. During the house party, she and Jonathan had sat side by side, reading long into the night before finally going to bed. How she missed him already. It felt empty without him beside her, turning the pages of his own book and sliding his fingertips along her arm in sweet little caresses as they sat cuddled in bed.
She heard some commotion outside the hall and wondered what on earth was the matter.
“Sir! You must not go in there! She isn’t receiving visitors!” the butler shouted. A second later the door to her bedchamber crashed open.
The vengeful and beautiful visage of Jonathan stood before her, panting. Two footmen gripped his arms, trying to hold him back. Rather than worry her, it aroused her. He was unstoppable.
Had there been any doubt in her mind about his feelings, the sight of him here now with footmen dangling off his arms laid them to rest.
“Send these fools away so that you and I may have a private discussion.”
“Please, let him go. It’s quite all right,” she told the footmen.
“Are you sure, miss?” the one hanging off his right arm asked. “He seems a bit put out.”
She set her book aside and stood up from her chair. “I’m certain. This is a private matter, but I am in no danger.” They released Jonathan, but they both stared hard at him.
“You say the word, miss, and we’ll toss him out,” the braver of the young men said, though he didn’t seem confident in his ability in carrying out that promise.
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” she assured them. After waiting a few seconds for Jonathan to stop seething, the two men finally exited the room.
Jonathan straightened his coat, which had almost been pulled off during the struggle, and then stomped inside, closing the door behind him. The energy building between them only seemed to intensify now that they were alone. She sat back down in her chair, trying to remain calm and not show him how glad she was he was here.
“Aren’t you supposed to be helping some young lady shop for a wedding trousseau?” he asked quietly. His green eyes were bright, and his sensuous lips were in a firm line.
“Don’t be silly. It’s clearly too late for shopping. Shouldn’t you be attending a house party in Kent?” she countered casually and closed the book in her lap and set it aside.
“My reason for attending seemed to have vanished.” He removed his coat and took a seat close to her, resting his elbows on his knees as he faced her. She was almost giddy about being so close to him again, especially given the way he was looking at her, like he wanted to eat her in the most sinful way possible.
“Tell me, what are you up to? And don’t spin that story about helping some woman find a trousseau. Lies do not become you.”
Audrey bit her lip. The last thing she wanted to do was tell him the truth. He wouldn’t let her go to France. But he was also right. She couldn’t lie to him; it was why she’d written the note and slipped away before he could stop her. If he had seen the truth in her face, he would have found a way to make her stay and forget about her promises to herself to become something more.
She idly twined her fingers in the fabric of her dressing gown.
“If I tell you, you will become angry, and I’d rather not endure your outrage at the moment.” She reached for her tea and sipped it while avoiding looking at him directly.
“The only thing that upsets me is you putting your life in danger.” He said this slowly and deliberately, as though puzzling his way through her deception. “That means you must be up to something risky. Is it that spy nonsense?”
She smacked her teacup back into its saucer as anger rose up fast and hard inside her. “It isn’t nonsense.”
“It is.” He stood up abruptly and started to pace in front of her. “It’s dangerous, foolish nonsense.”
She leapt up in front of him. “Because I’m a woman?”
“No.” He towered over her, hands on his hips. “Because you haven’t been trained properly. Men like Avery Russell have spentyearslearning the art of espionage. You haven’t.”
“I have been trainedbyAvery Russell. If he thinks I am ready, then who are you to argue?”
“Because you could get yourself killed!”
Her eyes burned with tears. She wasn’t ready, was she? In that moment she hated him, hated him for being right and hated him for crushing her dreams. No, worse, crushing her belief in herself.
“You don’t care about me, so why don’t you let me go off and get killed?” she shouted at him, keeping her tears at bay.
Jonathan grasped her wrists and gave her a shake. “By God, woman, you drive me bloody mad!” He bent, shoved her over his shoulder, and carried her to the bed. She gasped as she tried to brace herself against his back and wriggle free. It didn’t work. She was dumped back onto her bed. For a second, they stared at each other, both of them panting before he gripped the edges of her dressing gown and wrenched it open, leaving her only in her nightgown. She twisted around as he pulled it off her as she crawled deeper into the center of the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked, but she knew. Any woman would know. Finally, he was acting the way she wanted, like a man who had to have her.
