Tension gripped her, tightening with every thrust, with every thudding beat of her heart.
They raced on. And that tension ratcheted tighter. Tighter.
They climbed, pushed on—higher, farther. She reached. Stretched…
Abruptly, the tension fractured into a million shards of brilliant, scintillating sensation that streaked down her every nerve and frazzled what remained of her senses. A wave of reaction caught her, swept her up, and once again, sensation soared.
He held her there. Together, for one finite instant, they quivered on the pinnacle of ecstasy, then they fell.
She shattered, broke apart, her mind overwhelmed by pleasure beyond her wildest imaginings even as she sensed his own release take him.
Head tipping back, he went rigid above her. Deep inside, in the heated cavern of her womb, she felt the fierce spurt of his seed. Her limbs were too weak to cling, but when he collapsed upon her, she wrapped her arms about him and cradled him.
As oblivion reared and rolled over them.
An irresistible tide, it swelled to engulf them. A sea of golden calm, the aftermath of pure, incandescent pleasure, it claimed them both.
Buoyed on the soothing waves, sated and reassured, they lay together and let slumber have them.
CHAPTER 45
Drake woke before dawn. Regretfully rejecting the numerous alternatives his overactive libido suggested, he forced himself to carefully ease free of Louisa’s clinging warmth. Leaving her sleeping, he rose, found the robe she’d discarded and shrugged into it, then he crossed the room, turned up the gaslight above the desk in one corner, sat, and wrote a letter to her father.
It was without question the trickiest letter he’d ever had to write. Explaining to a duke—one who happened to be a close friend of his own father—why said duke’s only daughter wasn’t, as that duke had every right to suppose, innocently asleep in her own bed but instead sprawled bonelessly in his, wasn’t a communication that could be dashed off.
Claiming the right to keep her, now she was where she was, didn’t require quite so much erudition.
Once the letter was completed, signed, and sealed, he penned notes to Sebastian and Michael. That done, Drake paused, thought, then quickly scrawled two separate notes to Antonia and Cleo. The four notes had required little thought, merely calling for a meeting over breakfast downstairs.
He rose from the desk and turned out the light.
With all five missives in hand, he checked on Louisa and found her still sound asleep. He stood looking down at her for several minutes, drinking in a sight he doubted he would ever get tired of—asleep and with the warmth of satiation still tinting her skin, she looked like a well-pleasured angel. Finally, he stirred, crossed to the bellpull and tugged it, then headed for the door.
The household had started stirring some time before; maids and footmen were crisscrossing the front hall.
Drake met Finnegan, dressed but still rubbing sleep from his eyes, in the gallery at the top of the stairs. After handing over the five letters and instructing Finnegan to arrange immediate delivery, Drake headed for his parents’ apartment.
The clocks around the house were striking seven when he tapped gently on his parents’ door.
He didn’t have to wait long. Wrapped in a dressing gown much like the one he wore, his father joined him in the corridor, gently closing the door behind him.
His father rarely missed an implication. He met Drake’s eyes and arched a brow. “I take it you have something of significant importance to tell me.”
Drake tried not to grin. “I thought you and Mama would want to know that I’ve just dispatched a letter to St. Ives House, to the duke, requesting Louisa’s hand in marriage.”
“Ah. I see.” After a moment, his father went on, “I feel I should have warned you to think long and hard about venturing in that direction, but there really is very little to be gained by attempting to resist the inevitable.”
Drake wryly nodded. “Just so.”
“Well, then.” Smiling, his father clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations! And welcome to the club.”
Drake refused to ask which club; given the mock-commiserating look in his father’s eye, he suspected he could guess.
“I’ll tell your mother.” His father turned back to his room, then halted, looked back, and caught Drake’s eye. “I take it you’d like me to warn her not to plan anything until after this current mission of yours has ended.”
“Please.” The thought… “Both Louisa and I will be unavailable, socially speaking, until the mission is concluded. Hopefully, that won’t be longer than a few days—a week at most—so if Mama and Honoria could hold off until then…”
His father grinned a touch evilly. “I’ll suggest that if they will pretend to ignorance for a few days to a week, then you—and Louisa, of course—will be suitably grateful.”
Drake grimaced. “I wasn’t intending this to happen now, but…” He shrugged.
“Fate runs to her own timetable, which is beyond the bounds of all mortal influence.”
“Indeed.” With a last filial nod, Drake parted from his father.
He returned to his bedroom to find Louisa still sprawled as he’d left her. But when he slid into the bed beside her, she turned to him, eyes bright under heavy lids.
She scanned his face, then smiled lazily. “What have you been about?”
He told her.
Unsurprisingly, she approved.
As it transpired, she was as little interested in further sleep as he. But celebrating their new relationship in decidedly uninhibited fashion was her—Lady Wild’s—idea.
Given that in light of her novice status, her direction commenced with a sensual version of tit for tat, Drake decided it behooved him to lie back and let her have her way.
Later, of course, he had his way with her.
Consequently, it was long after eight o’clock when they finally stumbled from the ruins of his bed.
They made it to the breakfast parlor, with Louisa wearing Meredith’s gown, a bare five minutes before the doorbell pealed.
Pausing in the act of sipping tea, Louisa caught his eye and smiled a distinctly smug smile.
He found himself smiling back. After they’d served themselves from the platters adorning the sideboard, he’d settled her in the chair alongside his.
Hamilton had been in and out, ferrying in coffeepot, teapot, and toast. Now, he returned to announce Sebastian and Antonia.
Sebastian appeared, leading Antonia by the hand; both were smothering yawns. But when, without a word, Drake waved them to the sideboard, they fell on the offerings with obvious appetite.
The doorbell pealed again, this time heralding Michael and Cleo. Apparently, Michael had gone first to Clarges Street to fetch Cleo, whom he ushered into the room.
To Drake’s eyes, despite their appetites, the others all looked more tired than he felt.
He glanced sidelong at Louisa, taking in the bloom in her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. Evidently, spending the night in his bed had agreed with her as much as it had agreed with him.
He waited until the others had taken their seats, and before Antonia, frowning as she noticed Louisa’s not-quite-perfectly fitting gown, could make any comment, he stated without preamble, “I suspect you have yet to hear the news, but there will be another Cynster wedding.” He inclined his head to the other four. “Following yours, of course.”
It took Sebastian and Michael a second to work it out.
Their ladies, however, were far ahead of them. Antonia’s and Cleo’s eyes had flown wide, then with sounds startlingly like squeals, they were up and out of their chairs and rounding the table to hug Louisa, kiss her cheek, and exclaim and hug her again.
By then, Sebastian and Michael were grinning. Hugely.
Sebastian studied Drake and, still grinning, shook his head. “Of all the females in the ton…how the mighty have fallen. Still, I’m glad it’s you.”
“Ind
eed.” Michael pushed back his chair and rose. “She and all her works will henceforth be on your head—and of all the gentlemen in the ton, you’re arguably the most likely to survive.”
Drake laughed. He rose as Michael and Sebastian came to thump his back and wring his hand.
Then Antonia and Cleo pushed Sebastian and Michael Louisa’s way and took their turn to hug Drake and kiss his cheek.
The exclamations and questions continued for some minutes, then Drake called everyone to order and waved them back to the table.
He resumed his seat and looked around the faces. “As with Michael and Cleo”—he glanced at Louisa—“our news will be held strictly within the families until this mission is concluded.”
They all nodded and turned their attention to their breakfasts. Hamilton came in, bearing more coffee. He poured, then glanced at Drake.
Drake nodded a dismissal. Once Hamilton had left and quietly closed the door behind him, Drake said, “Louisa and I spoke with Greville last night. We succeeded in getting his agreement to a search of all government and Parliament buildings, said search to be disguised as an exercise intended to reassure the public that a plot such as that shortly to be commemorated on Guy Fawkes Day will never be permitted to occur again.”
“The Home Secretary has also accepted,” Louisa added, “that should the climax of such a plot be imminent, it would not be appropriate to expect us to keep the information to ourselves and not warn—for instance—the officers in charge of the guards on duty at the various sites around town.”
Sebastian’s brows rose. “Greville agreed to that?”
“Not so much agreed,” Louisa said, “as understood it to be inevitable.”
Sebastian’s lips twitched. He glanced at Drake, who shrugged.
After a second, Drake went on, “As we discussed yesterday, it would be best to organize and conduct the search today. Being Sunday, there’ll be hardly anyone other than the guards about. Even if the gunpowder has yet to be moved into position—meaning we find nothing—we can’t ask for a better time to do a dry run, as it were.”
Sebastian and Michael exchanged glances, then Michael said, “Consider us at your disposal.”
Sebastian set down his cutlery and pushed away his empty plate. “I assume you expect to have to conduct another search in the small hours of Tuesday morning.”
Drake nodded. “That would be my guess.” He leaned back in his chair. “However, while we’re organizing our search today, we’re also going to whisper that warning of ours to all the officers in charge. At this point, for their ears only. We’ll ask that, in the wake of today’s exercise, they instruct their men to keep their eyes peeled for any strangers, anything unusual, any barrels of anything that seem out of place.”
“You might suggest,” Antonia said, “that they tell their men that it’s possible a test might be conducted to see how alert the guards truly are.”
Drake tipped his head to her. “An excellent idea.” He paused, then went on, “While we hold no real hope of finding the barrels today, we should at least pinpoint all the possible places in which a cache of gunpowder of that size might be assembled. Then, if we haven’t located the gunpowder by tomorrow night—the night of the fourth of November—regardless of any ructions it might cause, I propose rousing all the guards and conducting a thorough search, starting with the seventeen army messes the Phoenix Brewery supplies with ale, and continuing through every last store and cellar until we locate the gunpowder—even if that takes us all day.”
Grimly, Sebastian nodded. “Acting might cause ructions, but not acting would be worse.”
“Which”—Drake met Louisa’s eyes—“brings us to the other relevant happening of the night. Namely, the fire that destroyed Chilburn’s lodgings.”
“What?” came from several throats.
Succinctly, Drake outlined why they’d returned to Cross Lane and described in bare-bone terms the subsequent firebombing of Chilburn’s rooms.
“You were in there at the time?” Aghast, Cleo stared. “You might have been killed!”
Beneath the table, Drake felt Louisa’s hand brush his thigh; he reached for her hand and felt her fingers grip, then twine with his.
But there was no hint of even mild perturbation in her face or her tone when she stated, “But we weren’t.”
A second passed, then Sebastian asked, “Did whoever threw the bomb know you were in there?”
“He must have known someone was because, of course, we’d turned up the lights,” Louisa replied.
“Plainly,” Drake dryly observed, “he didn’t care.”
“Such callousness fits our garrotter,” Michael said.
“Indeed.” Drake drummed a finger on the table. “And while we don’t know if whoever flung the bomb was still there to see us leaving, given he knows someone was in Chilburn’s rooms—his locked rooms—then I believe we can assume he now knows someone is investigating. That someone is after him.” Drake glanced around the table. “I don’t see that as a problem. If it increases the pressure on him enough to push him into a mistake, well and good.”
“But,” Louisa said, “we’re under pressure, too. We have to find that blasted gunpowder before it’s used.”
No one had anything to add to that.
Drake, Sebastian, and Michael discussed the arrangements necessary to conduct their search-cum-exercise. It was agreed that while Drake drew up a list of all the relevant buildings and army messes, Sebastian would walk Antonia home to Green Street, and Michael would take Cleo to Clarges Street, then both Cynsters would return to Wolverstone House and, with Drake, would head to Whitehall.
The three couples rose from the table and walked into the front hall. Hamilton assisted with greatcoats and cloaks. While Drake found Louisa one of Meredith’s cloaks for the short walk to St. Ives House, several unwelcome scenarios evoked by his recent words circled in his brain.
Arm in arm, he and Louisa followed the others out of the door, down the steps, and onto the pavement.
Michael’s carriage was waiting; Michael helped Cleo up, then with a wave to the others, followed her.
As the carriage rattled off, Sebastian and Antonia led the way west along the north side of Grosvenor Square. They paused outside St. Ives House to farewell Louisa and Drake, then continued on, heading for the Chillingworths’ town house in Green Street.
Drake followed Louisa up the steps of her home. When Crewe opened the door, Drake ushered Louisa into the front hall and allowed Crewe to shut the door behind him.
Crewe came to take Louisa’s cloak. Lifting the garment from her shoulders, the butler looked faintly puzzled.
Drake caught Louisa’s eye. “I’ll get Hamilton to send over your cloak.”
She inclined her head. “Thank you. I’ll have Sukie deal with it.”
Drake hesitated, searching for the best way to state what he felt he had to say. In the inimitable way of first-class butlers, Crewe read the undercurrents and vanished toward the rear of the hall.
When Louisa opened her eyes wide and arched a questioning brow, Drake sighed and simply said, “The man who flung that bomb was most likely one of the plotters. As Michael pointed out, he might well have been our garrotter. He might have seen us leave Chilburn’s lodgings, might now know it was us—you and me—searching the rooms.” He paused, his gaze on her eyes, watching for her reaction. “It’s unlikely, but so much about this plot has been unexpected that I have to assume it’s possible that he, whoever he is, might consider taking a hostage, especially at this late stage.” He drew breath and evenly continued, “I would be very much obliged if you would remain indoors for the rest of the day.”
Louisa blinked, but she didn’t shift her gaze from his eyes. She saw—because he allowed her to see—lurking behind the beaten gold, the impulses that prompted his…request.
No order. Definitely a request.
Such as a nobleman might make of a noble lady who was his acknowledged Achilles’ heel.
&nb
sp; She understood that—understood that the position she had for so long coveted and now had claimed was precisely that.
This, then, was a part of their new relationship, indivisible from all the rest. Last night, or rather early that morning, she’d seized the rest with both hands—this could, thus, be seen as her moment of reckoning.
Or to put matters in a slightly different light, her first challenge.
Slowly, she nodded. “I believe I can manage to find distraction within doors, at least until we meet again at four o’clock.” They’d arranged to meet at Wolverstone House so the ladies could learn of the outcome of the search.
Relief showed fleetingly behind Drake’s eyes.
She widened hers. “But I do have one question.”
Wariness overcame relief. “Which is?”
“If I agree to remain indoors until you come to fetch me, just how obliged are you going to be?”
His gaze sharpened. “Very—as in extremely—obliged.”
She smiled delightedly and patted his arm. “In that case, we have a deal.”
He laughed softly and shook his head at her. Smoothly, he caught her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed her fingers, then his eyes darkened, and he drew her closer, bent his head, and brushed a tempting, over-far-too-soon kiss across her lips.
He straightened and met her eyes. “Behave, and I’ll come to fetch you at four o’clock.”
Her expression was all expectant delight as he released her and she stepped back. “Just as long as you deliver on being extremely obliged, and I don’t have to behave later.”
Drake was smiling as he left the house—a revealing expression he spent the short walk to Wolverstone House attempting to wipe from his face.
CHAPTER 46
They gathered in the library at Wolverstone House at the end of their day.