Less Than a Gentleman

Booted footsteps approached the desk. It was the foot soldier named Pugsley. Edward called him Ugly Pugsley.

  “All is secure for the night, sir,” Pugsley reported.

  “Good. I’ll be retiring then.” Hickman stood, and with his glass of brandy in hand, he ambled from the room. The soldier followed and closed the door.

  Caroline considered what to do next. Wherever Jane’s son was, he needed to know about the bounty on his head. Then he could take appropriate measures, perhaps leave the Carolinas all together.

  The candle still burned on the desk, where Hickman had forgotten to blow it out. She could take a peek at the papers, even examine the handbill about Jane’s son.

  She twisted the latch to open the door. To her surprise, an entire section of bookcase swung into the corridor. Amazing. No one would ever suspect this was a door.

  She entered the library and pulled the door nearly shut. At the desk, she inspected the papers. On top was the half-written request to supply Jane’s husband with medical attention. Blast that Hickman.

  The sound of booted footsteps echoed outside the library. Caroline gasped. She had to leave. Now.

  She lunged back to the bookcase door. Damn! The door had shut completely! The weight of all the books must have pulled it shut. And she had no idea how to open it.

  The footsteps stopped at the door.

  She dove under the desk.

  The door creaked open. Footsteps approached the desk.

  “Ah, there you are,” Captain Hickman said. “So kind of you to join me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Matthias slipped into the china room and closed the door. He set the lantern on the table and opened one of the shutters partway. The flame inside flickered and grew, casting a shimmering orange glow on his mother’s crystal glasses. A mop and pail in the corner caught his eye.

  Betsy must have been cleaning in here.

  He opened the door to the servants’ passageway and immediately noticed the spotless floor and clean walls. So this was where Betsy had done her cleaning. He’d have to thank her later. But why would she leave a candlestick on the floor by the library door? And the peephole was open.

  He closed himself inside the passageway and set the shuttered lantern on the floor next to the candlestick. A faint light shimmered through the peephole.

  A man’s voice sifted through the opening. “Ah, there you are. So kind of you to join me.”

  He peered through the peephole and saw Captain Hickman standing by the desk, looking toward the library door.

  A woman’s voice answered, “I was feeling a little restless and thought a walk in the garden would calm me.” Agatha Ludlow sauntered into Matthias’s view. “Perhaps you would join me for a moonlight stroll?”

  “I’d be delighted, my dear,” Hickman replied.

  But something else caught Matthias’s eye. He blinked. Surely that wasn’t . . . Yes, under the desk was a huddled form in white. His innards clenched. It had better not be Caroline! He’d wring her neck. If the British didn’t do it first.

  Agatha allowed her shawl to slide down her arms, revealing an extremely low-cut gown. “I’m not interrupting your work, am I?”

  “No, not at all.” The captain smiled as his gaze lowered. “I only returned to extinguish this candle I left burning.” He leaned over to blow out the candle.

  Matthias squinted. Their figures were barely visible in the moonlight that filtered through the open curtains.

  “Are you afraid of the dark?” Hickman asked.

  Agatha answered with a throaty chuckle. “Not if I’m with a fearless warrior like you.”

  Gah. It was enough to make him lose his supper. Matthias watched them walk away, the door creaking shut behind them.

  This was the perfect time to try the corner telescope. The magnifying lens would help him identify the person under the desk before he or she made a quick exit out the library door.

  As he lengthened the telescope, a movement drew his attention back to the peephole. The person crawled out from under the desk, then moved so quickly that all he could see was a white blur coming straight toward him.

  He held his breath, waiting for the person to get close enough to identify. The faint smell of magnolia blossoms reached his nostrils.

  Caroline. Damn it to hell!

  “Blast! Where is it?” she whispered as she rummaged along the bookshelf.

  What was she looking for? He remembered the candlestick on the floor. And the open peephole. She was looking for the door latch!

  He jammed the telescope down to its shortened length. “Bloody hell.”

  She gasped on the other side of the door. He peered through the peephole just in time to see her eyes on the other side.

  She squeaked and jumped back.

  He wrenched open the bookcase door at the same time that she ran for the library door. Just past the desk, he caught up with her and grabbed her from behind.

  She squirmed and kicked.

  He cursed softly as her heels made contact with his shins. “Stop it, Caroline.”

  “Haversham?”

  “Yes.” Setting her on her feet, he loosened his grip so the telescope in his hand wouldn’t bite into her ribs.

  “How dare you! You gave me a terrible fright.” She burst from his grasp, twisting to face him.

  Her sudden movement wrenched the telescope from his hand. It hit the rug with a clunk.

  “Wait!” He grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t move. It might have broken.”

  “What?”

  “Stand still. There could be broken glass.” He squatted before her and searched the floor.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked.

  “I dropped a tool I intended to use.” His hand brushed over a bare foot, then rested on her other foot.

  “It is not sitting on my foot, Haversham.”

  He circled her ankle with his fingers. The skin felt thin and delicate, like butterfly wings.

  “And it is most definitely not wrapped around my ankle. If I were touching your tool, I’d be aware of the fact.”

  With a smile, he slid his hand up to her calf.

  “Stop that, Thomas. Your tool did not fall up my leg.”

  He caressed the skin behind her knee. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.” She jiggled her leg to dislodge him. “The law of gravity clearly states that all objects must fall in a downward direction.”

  He dragged his fingers back down to her ankle. “You obviously haven’t heard of the natural law of attraction.”

  “No. How does that one work?”

  “It causes certain objects to defy gravity.”

  She snorted. “How could anything go up?”

  “Believe me, it is happening as I speak.”

  Her toes tapped the floor as she considered his words. “Oh, I know what you mean. I’ve seen it before.”

  His hand stilled. “You have?”

  “Yes. I once saw a magnet attract a nail and move it upward. It was very interesting. But I can only imagine it happening with very small objects.”

  He gritted his teeth. “It is not small.”

  “Oh, it would have to be. Something too heavy could not possibly rise. The demonstration I saw was with a very small nail, more of a tack, actually.”

  “Bloody hell.” He grabbed the telescope off the floor and stuffed it in his pocket.

  “Did you find your tool? Where?”

  “Between your legs, dammit.” He straightened and nabbed her by the arm. He was sorely tempted to prove he was much larger than a tack, but with his luck, the redcoats would catch him with his tool hanging out. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Wait.” She dug in her heels as they passed through the bookcase door. “Show me where the latch is. I need to know how to open this door.”


  “No, you don’t.” He hauled her into the dark passageway and shoved the door shut. “Your spying days are over. Do you understand?”

  “You cannot order me about, Thomas. I won’t have it.”

  “I won’t have you risking your neck! I saw you, Caroline. You were under the desk with that damned captain hovering right over you.” Matthias knelt to find the lantern and lifted the shutters halfway up on one side.

  “That’s an interesting lamp,” she observed.

  He glanced at her. The light illuminated the bottom half of her thin shift, clearly delineating her legs. He swallowed hard. He was a great deal larger than a tack.

  “Can you control the amount of light on each side?”

  “Yes.” He straightened slowly. “Caroline. Listen to me. You must stop spying.”

  “I told you, you cannot give me orders. Besides, these corridors give me the perfect opportunity—”

  “How did you find the passageway?”

  She folded her arms below her chest. Perhaps she felt the gesture was defiant, but all he could see was how her movement tucked in her shift beneath her breasts. They rested upon her forearms, round and full.

  “I discovered it thanks to you. It was so dirty in here, you left a trail of dust directly from the third-floor entrance to my bedchamber.”

  Damn. He should have noticed that, but it had been dark. “Do the other would-be spies in your family know?”

  “No, I told no one. And I cleaned up the evidence you left behind. Really, Thomas. You are not suited for this sort of work.”

  “What?”

  “It was so filthy in here, the dust could have made you sneeze. How would you remain hidden then?” She turned to the bookcase door and slid the peephole shut. “And this squeaked so badly, they would have heard you. I worked all afternoon mopping the floors and greasing things.”

  “Thank you. You’ve been a great help, but your work is over now.”

  “I am not the maid! And you’re missing my point.” She crossed her arms again in the gesture that made it so difficult for him to concentrate. “I am clearly the best choice for a spy.”

  He dragged his gaze from her breasts. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m much more suited for espionage than you.”

  “Why? Because you’re more tidy?” He stepped toward her. “Do you understand the danger involved?”

  “Of course. I almost died when the captain came in.”

  “I almost died when I saw you.” Matthias planted his hands on the wall on each side of her, caging her between his arms. “I’ll tie you to a bedpost if I must.” He leaned closer. “In fact, that notion appeals to me greatly at the moment.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She pressed her hands against his chest to keep him from coming closer. “Oh, I can feel your tool. May I see it?”

  “Good God.” He dug his fingers into the wall.

  She slipped her hand inside his coat.

  He groaned at the sensation of her roaming fingers.

  “Ah, I found it.” She tugged the telescope from his coat pocket. “How does it work?”

  He lowered his hands and took a deep breath. “You look through the smaller end. I planned to use it to extend my range of vision through the peephole.”

  “How clever.” She turned her back to him and opened the peephole door. “Oh, dear. You realize your tool is crooked?”

  He winced. “It is designed to look around corners.”

  “Oh, I see.” She placed the narrow end to one eye.

  He touched one of her red ringlets and rubbed the silky hair between his thumb and forefinger. She didn’t seem to notice.

  She sighed. “This instrument of yours is not functioning properly.”

  “Believe me, I’m ready when you are.”

  “The shaft is too short—”

  “Bloody hell!” He wrenched the telescope from her hands. “You can lengthen the shaft.” He extended the telescope to its full length. “See?”

  She gave him an injured look. “You needn’t yell at me just because I don’t know how to handle it.” She took the instrument from him and jammed it back into its shorter length. “I just yank on the end here?”

  He ground his teeth. “I have had all I can bear.”

  “Is something wrong?” She turned to face him as she repeatedly lengthened and shortened the telescope.

  “Would you stop playing with my equipment?” He snatched it from her hands and snapped the peephole shut. “We have something serious to discuss.” He set the telescope on the floor next to the lantern.

  “If this is about spying, I refuse to quit. You should be the one to quit. I told you that I have no wish to involve myself with a soldier. A spy would be even worse.”

  He placed his hands on the wall once more. “You’re already involved with me.”

  She shrugged. “All the more reason why you should stop.”

  He moved closer to her. “Do you care about me then?”

  She swallowed audibly. “Perhaps.”

  “I think you do.” He leaned forward ’til his face brushed against her cheek. The sound of her breathing grew more rapid. “You’re so soft.”

  “Dottie has been insisting that I try all her creams and lotions.”

  “My compliments to the chef. You smell delicious.” He drew her earlobe into his mouth. She tasted as good as she smelled.

  She trembled. “Perhaps we can spy together. Or take turns.”

  “Hmm.” He nibbled a path along her jaw to her mouth.

  Her breasts pressed against his chest with each breath. “Then you agree? We will share the corridor?”

  He skimmed her lips with his own. “Let’s share everything.”

  “Yes,” she murmured in response and wrapped her hands around his neck. Her warm body leaned into him.

  He pressed her back against the wall and invaded her mouth. This time she welcomed him with her tongue. She followed his moves with such eagerness, he knew she would be no shy virgin in bed. Caroline. His sweet Caroline.

  With his fingers, he traced the neckline of her nightgown to the drawstring, then gently pulled. The ribbon came undone. With a gentle tug on her neckline, the opening widened. His fingertips grazed along the upper curves of her breasts. He followed their path with his mouth.

  She moaned and raked her hands into his hair.

  He unbuttoned the top button of her nightgown. His heart pounded harder. His manhood grew harder. And the damn buttons became harder to open.

  What was he doing? She deserved better than a cold, hard floor. Could he make her forget where she was? He kissed her hard on the mouth as he fumbled with the buttons.

  Three more undone and his patience wore out. He pulled away from the kiss and peeled back her nightgown. He heard her gasp.

  She was beautiful.

  The dark pink nipples tightened as he watched. “Good God.”

  Suddenly, as if she just remembered to breathe, she inhaled deeply and her breasts swelled. “Thomas, we shouldn’t.”

  He cupped a breast with his hand. “Just a taste. Please.” He bent down and kissed the warm, white skin. So full and firm, and so delicious. He kissed her again, closer to the nipple. Her fingers dug into his scalp. As her breathing grew more erratic, she moved against his mouth.

  “Thomas,” she whispered.

  He took her nipple into his mouth. A tremor ran through her body that almost exploded in his own. Her body arched.

  He heard a thump.

  “Ow!” She let go of him.

  He straightened. “Are you all right?”

  She glanced at the wall. “I banged my head on the knob to the peephole.”

  “I’m sorry.” He felt the back of her head. “I don’t feel a lump.”

  “I’m all right. ’Twas naught bu
t a small knob.”

  He groaned. Not that again. “A small knob? A tiny twig, a wee button, a small prick?”

  She eased away from him with a wary look. “Why are you angry all of a sudden? I’m the one with a sore head.”

  And he was the one with aching balls. Night after night. Not to mention the swollen member she never felt. “Caroline—”

  “The bump knocked some sense into me.” She pulled her nightgown close to cover her breasts. “We should stop this . . . behavior before it is too late.”

  “It is too late. The time has come for you to see the truth.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This!” He grabbed her hand and rammed it against his swollen manhood. “This is me, Caroline. I swell like this every time I’m near you. And I’m bloody close to exploding right now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The man was huge.

  “Aagh!” Caroline jerked her hand away. “How could you? That was inexcus—” The fierce determination on his face gave her pause. She stepped back.

  He moved forward.

  She pressed a hand against her chest. Her heart thundered in her ears. Was he seriously considering . . . here in the passageway?

  He removed his coat and laid it on the floor.

  Good Lord, he was more than considering it. He was planning on it. With a surge of panic, she ran for the stairs.

  “Caroline. Wait.”

  When she reached the first landing, she glanced back. Thomas had grabbed the lantern and was coming after her. Not running, but moving with a fast-paced stride.

  She dashed up the rest of the stairs to the second floor, then sprinted down the corridor to the next staircase. She glanced back. The glow of his lantern was visible as he approached the second floor.

  She raced up the long, narrow staircase to the landing on the third floor. In the dark, she fumbled along the wall, searching for the latch to open the door. There. Coated with grease, it slipped in her hand, refusing to turn. Blast!

  Breathing heavily, she wiped her hand on her shift. What was she doing? There was no reason to panic. Even if he followed her to her bedchamber, she could simply refuse him entry. Thomas was a gentleman. He would leave her be.