Page 86 of His Betrothed
Spencer watched her lick her dry lips; just thesight of her pink tongue made him stir to life. His hand on her breast trembled, and he could no longer control the longing that swept through him. “You would have traveled more safely as a widow.”
When shedidn’t answer, he tipped up her chin. Her wide eyes gazed at him, and her lips were parted with her rapid breathing.
“Are you finished with mourning, Rose?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
“No.”
“Yes,” he whispered, then leaned down to press his mouth to hers. Roselyn was trembling, ready to flee his embrace, or perhaps wanting to stay. It was as if he was being given one last chance to make amendsthe only way he knew how.
He gently parted her mouth with his tongue, willing her to receive him, to receive all of him. He stroked the roof of her mouth, her teeth, her tongue, each time probing deeper until her head was pressed to his shoulder, her body quivering in his arms. He slid his hands down her back and cupped her backside, pulling her hips hard against his.
He groaned, wanting togrind himself against her, to be a part of her, to surrender to these new feelings that swept through him.
Only Roselyn had ever made him feel likethis; only Roselyn could make everything else go away but the two of them.
With a little cry, she turned her head from his kiss and buried her face in his shirt.
“We must stop,” she said haltingly.
He brought his hands back up to her breasts, caressingher through her clothing. “Rose—”
“But there is more you must know!” she cried, tipping her head back.
For just a moment he saw her hunger for the pleasure he could give. He let his thumbs rub her pointed nipples in little circles. “Tell me later,” he whispered.
She broke away from him, bumping into the beams that supported the roof. “No, you must hear it all now. A man came looking for youyesterday.”
Spencer felt as if he’d jumped headfirst into an icy pond as he stared at her flushed face. “Who was it? Did he ask for me by name? By God’s precious soul, did he hurt you?”
“I am fine. He didn’t give his name, and made me feel suspicious. After I brought Francis to him I hid nearby to listen. He never said your name outright, but he had heard about the dead Spaniard, and was lookingfor another Spanish spy. He left soon after.”
Spencer sat down heavily on the stool and rubbed his hands down his face. Wearinesscrept over him, but he could not give in to weakness, not with Roselyn in harm’s way. “You’re certain he never said his name?”
“I’m certain. But he wore the clothing of a gentleman, not a soldier—which I found peculiar—and he had brown hair and an arrogant manner.”
“It must be Shaw. Did he say where he was going next?”
“To ask questions in Bonchurch, farther south on the island.”
“I was worried my broken leg would enable him to catch us, but there’s still time—perhaps even a day or two,” he said, swiftly coming to his feet. “I was going to send you back to Wight for your safety, but that would put you right into his path. We have to go—tonight.”
