Page 77 of To Love A Spy
“Then I shall bite my tongue and let my hands do the talking.”
Laughing, she stroked a fingertip along the chiseling of his ribs, drawing a deep groan. Perhaps it was distant thunder, warning of an impending storm. But despite the tempestuous emotions that swirled around them, Valencia felt lightning tingle through her limbs at his responding to her. At this moment, she felt them free from all else but the essence of their bond.
Two bodies, stripped of the doubts, the fears, the differences in rank that had kept them apart for so long. For against all reason. There was a powerful connection between them—it was elemental, impossible to define.
Impossible to deny.
Nothing had ever felt so right.
Lynsley hadn’t allowed himself the luxury of mindless decadence since . . . since just once, a long, long time ago. The memory still brought the bitter sting of bile to his throat.
Valencia didn’t miss the tiny change in his expression. “Thomas?”
He tried to turn to the shadows.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
He shook his head.
“You share your strength with me. Share your pain as well,” she demanded.
He couldn’t bring himself to move his lips.
“Tell me.” Her tongue grazed over the grim line of his mouth.
A sweet taste of her essence seeped inside him. He licked his lower lip and groaned.
“Tell me.”
Ruthless, ruthless woman.She wouldn’t let him retreat.
Her arms came around him, holding him tightly. Like a child.
Lynsley suddenly realized tears were dappling his cheeks. Dear God—he was crying like a babe. “You asked me about the Academy.” He managed to murmur. “Do you really wish to know why I started it? It isn’t a pretty tale.”
“Your secrets are safe with me. Surely you know that,” whispered Valencia.
“It’s not you I doubt, it is myself.”
“Look at me.” She bracketed his face with her hands, refusing him any quarter. “You think that I might be repulsed by anything you can say? Revolted.”
“God knows, you should be.”
“Never!” Her voice was fierce. “You are such a good man, it makes me weep.”
“Don’t.” Lynsley tried to make light of things. “One wailing warrior is enough, else we might drown in salt water before weeven set out to sea again. The experience is not one I care to repeat.”
“A good try.” said Valencia. “But I won’t let you wiggle out of this. And gothere.”
“Where?”
“Lord Lynsley’s Lair. That dark, dank cave. If you aren’t careful, one day it will bury you alive.”
“I . . .”
“I think you should tell your story, and leave the judgment to me.”
“Alright.” A leap of faith. “Finding orphans for the Academy was not the first time I had ventured into the stews of St. Giles. I was sixteen, and had a friend . . . he was several years older, and I was proud when he and some others invited me to accompany them to a brothel there. I had never lain with a woman, but . . .”
