Page 98 of To Love A Spy
He gave a wry chuckle. “Maybe you have a point. As it is, I fear they see me as too ancient to wield a sword.”
Valencia teased a hand down across his ribs, the flat hard planes of his stomach. “It seems to me that despite your encroaching old age, you still can muster a show of life.”
She made him feel young, alive, gloriously aware of the moment—the smell of her perfume, the fire-gold glow of the candles, the whisper of salt air stirring the curtains.
“When my country has need of me, I do try to rise to the occasion.”
How sweet it was to banter with her. They were lovers, comrade-in arms. Most importantly they were friends.
“Dear me, the hardships you must endure for England.” Her lips feathered against his ear. “Come to back bed, Thomas.”
The sheets were still faintly warm, and scented with earthy essence of their passion. Valencia inhaled deep, the musk mingling with melancholy. Come morning, it would all quickly fade . . .
No, she would not let such depressing thoughts cloud these last few precious hours.
Brushing back her tangled hair, she rolled onto her side, and watched Lynsley drape his trousers over the chair. The tallow candle had burned itself out, but the sky had cleared, and the pearly moonlight was just strong enough to limn the muscled curves of his buttocks and thighs.
How she loved the shape of him, and the sweet intimacy of observing him naked, engaged in the mundane task of straightening his clothes.
He suddenly turned and chuckled. “Are you watching my arse?”
“It’s a lovely sight,” she murmured.
“Throw me my shirt, if you please. An even lovelier sight is your glorious body.”
Valencia eased the linen over her head, aware of his eyes following her every move.To the devil with brooding.She meant to squeeze every sinful, sensual sensation from these last fleeting seconds.
She gave a teasing wave of the cloth. “Come and get it.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“I’ve decided it’s my turn to issue orders.” She crooked a finger. “March.”
Lynsley slowly sauntered to the bedside, his sapphirine eyes never breaking contact with hers. There was something eroticabout the connection. It was a palpable, pulsing prickling over her naked body.
“And now?” he asked
“And now, make love to me again. And again.”Until night gives way to dawn—for who knows what the new day will bring.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Fog blanketed the harbor, muffling the cries of the gulls and the creak of the rigging. Lynsley turned from the misted windowpanes and finished dressing. The scent of the fresh starch was crisp against his just-shaven jaw.New clothes for a new day. Bailin had, as usual, been efficient in packing for their flight.
His shirt and cravat from the previous night were folded away at the bottom of his traveling valise.Mementos of madness?His hands clenched for an instant, recalling their desperate, delirious lovemaking.
Would her perfume linger in the linen? Could he keep them hidden in some private place, to sneak a sniff ofherwhen solitude threatened to squeeze the air from his lungs?
A gust rattled the casement, stale with astench of salty decay. Dawn was breaking. The tide was ebbing.
Time to go.
Valencia, her back to him, was slipping the final hairpins into her coiled curls. He moved around the bed, his gaze avoiding the tangled sheets, and tied off the last few fastenings of her gown. As he smoothed the collar into place, he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck. She tasted of salt and spice.
Neither of them spoke.
Taking up their bags, he shouldered the door open and shuffled down the stairs. A strange sense of sadness weighed his steps. It took a moment or two to realize he felt slightly ashamed of himself.
He wondered why. After all, he lived his life in a world of moral ambiguity. The lines between right and wrong were so easily blurred. His mouth pressed in a self-mocking grimace. Oh yes, the exalted Marquess of Lynsley was an acknowledged master of justifying his own actions. Noble ideals, righteous principles. All was fair in pursuit of the higher good.
