“My husband.”
“Damn right, I am. You belong with me, Persephone. You may go away for a little while, but you’ll always return to me. Because I am your king. Your ruler. And you need me.”
She was so close. So close. If he didn’t let her fly this time, she was going to die. But he stayed with her. Stroking deep. Strong, deep thrusts that tightened something within her. Then his hand curled around her hip, insinuating itself between the swollen lips of her sex to stroke her pearl.
She shattered, screaming in ecstasy. Wave after wave of blinding release coursed through her. He stayed with her, in her. Hard, strong, relentless. Until the last spasms of her orgasm had left her. Until she collapsed. Worn out and spent and floating in bliss.
He still stroked deep within her. Once, twice. Suddenly, he was gone, and a moment later, she felt the warmth of his seed splatter on her back amid his roar of release.
Various other grunts and moans floated in the air, coming from beyond the walls of their room. Good God, did they have an audience? Possibly. Maybe on the morrow she could muster some embarrassment over their wanton excesses. But right now, she only felt a wicked titillation. She didn’t mind if faceless, anonymous people watched her and her husband perform.
Except he wasn’t acting as her husband at all, was he? His words about her being his wife and he her husband were all part of the Hades and Persephone fantasy. His last words about him being her king and ruler proved that.
As did the fact that he didn’t release inside her. He was avoiding impregnating her. Which meant he probably still meant to continue with the divorce. As a lord, he needed an heir. And if she were really his wife, nothing would be more natural than trying to get her with child. But this was just sex. An escapade brought about by their physical compatibility and their surroundings. It meant nothing. She meant nothing to him.
A warm, moist towel touched her back. Cleaning his spend.
“Are you quite all right?”
His voice radiated gentle concern, and the dissonance with their previous wild lovemaking, and her own less than happy thoughts was too much to bear. She drew her shield around her. Sitting up and retrieving her discarded gown.
“Yes, of course.”
She wrangled with her gown, striving to put it on. He helped her, patiently holding, tucking, lacing. Fixing her until she was presentable again. Damn him, why did he have to be so considerate, as if he really cared for her, when he didn’t really care enough?
She should be glad he at least had the consideration of avoiding impregnating her. Certainly, a baby right now, as things were between them, would be a great complication. They were in the middle of divorce proceedings, for goodness’ sake! They had just fucked in a pleasure club with the possibility of strangers watching. It was not the time or place to conceive a baby. And yet…a yearning she didn’t know she harbored until this very moment unfurled in her, taking her entirely by surprise.
She would have wanted to bear his child. She would have wanted to still be his wife.
CHAPTER 8
Nomatterhowmuchshe would prefer to hide in her bedroom and dwell on the turmoil of feelings her encounter with Nathaniel had stirred, the needs of the investigation took precedence. So the next morning found Alice seated once again across from the Duke of Dalton’s imposing desk.
Nathaniel sat beside her, perfectly dressed, looking fresh and satisfied, completely at ease in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other, as if he were merely visiting an old friend rather than debriefing their spymaster about a mission teetering on the edge of catastrophe. And why wouldn’t he be? He had satisfied his lust. Got what he wanted from her.
Alice, by contrast, kept her gloved hands folded in her lap, her posture straight and formal, though her mind was anything but calm. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been; that was the problem. One touch, one kiss from Nathaniel, and she had come undone. She had missed him so much. Not only the sex, but him. Her partner. Her friend. Her rock.
For a few brief moments, she thought she had recaptured that. But of course, that was not the case. The things that separated them—his responsibilities to the title, her unsuitability to that life—had not changed. He recognized it.
Their interlude had not changed his mind. After desire was satisfied, he had been considerate and kind. As he always was, but then they had parted ways. He had dropped her off at their home—even though he had not occupied it for over five years, she would always think of it as their home—and had departed for his own family townhouse without a backward glance.
What had she expected? That one tumble would change his mind? Would make him forget everything that stood between them? Would make him abandon his family and his title for her? If anything, it had probably convinced him more of how unsuitable she was. Surely no real lady would allow herself to be tupped like that, in a pleasure club, with the possibility of being observed by strangers through a peephole, and reveling in it. The memory still had the power to make her face warm with embarrassment and…something else she didn’t want to analyze.
Because while for him last night appeared to mean nothing, for her, it had been cataclysmic. It had undone every barrier she had erected around her heart. It had destroyed every defense she thought she had formed against her husband.
Her husband.
The word, what it meant, traveled through her, making her tremble with longing. But it was impossible. Because he wouldn’t be her husband for much longer, and she would have to re-learn to live without him.
“Report.” Dalton’s voice, commanding and curt, pierced through her woolgathering, and she made a supreme effort to focus on the task at hand. But his gaze flicked between them, and Alice had the impression the formidable spymaster knew something was up.
Nathaniel spoke first, his voice smooth, betraying none of the tension that had knotted Alice’s stomach through the restless hours of the night. “One of the men from the Russian embassy was indeed at the Black Swan. They spotted the widow, and were clearly searching for her, but they came up empty-handed. They mentioned something about a certain Lord A. I got the impression the man was English. The one the clerk was working for. Eventually, they retreated to one of the private chambers with a courtesan.“
Alice kept her expression neutral, though she could feel the heat threatening her cheeks once again as she recalled her own…lapse in professional focus with Nathaniel. She buried it ruthlessly. Dalton didn’t need to know everything.
“For your part?” Dalton asked, eyes narrowing slightly as they focused on her.
Alice swallowed, feeling as if Dalton could read her culpability on her face.
