She bristled, and his lips twisted into a cynical smile. “Sheathe your claws, Rachel. You better start listening to me.”
“Really,” she said, giving him a negligent shrug. “I didn’t listen to you before. Why should I start listening now?”
“In my entire life, I’ve never seen evidence of anyone I could characterize as stubborn as you.” He stood next to her, dominating her with his broad shoulders and her hands itched to undo the buttons on his shirt, to feel his warm crisp hairs graze her fingertips.
A flight of fancy she must stop immediately.
With her nightgown plastered in front of her, Rachel pivoted, knowing he’d have a fair view of her posterior. She had seen how the women in Gwendolyn’s Delights were dressed and how they manipulated men.
A favorable answer to her prayer arose as her eyes fixed on the table where blank sheets of paper lay. She had forgotten about the papers she had taken from Elm Street. She sashayed like one of the ladies of the evening, allowing him to view her in nothing but her garters and stockings and rewarded when she heard a ragged oath. Oh, to wield such power.
“Lucas, I took these from the Rebels. They must have some importance.” She lifted them for his perusal.
“Why didn’t you show me these before?” He plucked a lemon next to a teapot and squeezed it over the papers. “It’s an old trick. When messages are written in soda bicarbonate and dried, they are invisible. Adding an acid makes what they’ve penned appear.”
Shoulder to shoulder, they stood while magically letters formed and whole words appeared. She allowed a lock of her hair to fall on his shoulder. She drew it back and his nostrils flared. Good, he’d fall for her charms a little at a time. She had to hurry for Jimmy would be back soon. “Lucas, these are their names, all their contacts.”
She pressed a hand to her abdomen. “Except Lieutenant Bowman’s name is not listed.”
“You will end your obsession with Bowman, and despite your finger-pointing at him, there is no evidence. Impossible. Do not allow your naivety to get the best of you.”
She pushed away from him, knowing full well he suspected Bowman. “And you’re being conceited. I’m telling you of my concern. You won’t find me nodding my head at everything you say, and I’m going to tell you what I think and feel. I have the oddest feeling about him, like I know him from somewhere. “I learned tonight at the ball from Walsh who made a mysterious last minute appearance that the Copperheads will finalize their plans at Steeple Ridge, five miles from here.”
He swept his arm across the papers and they flew to the floor. “Not one more word.”
“We’ll have tea and discuss further,” she said, bending over to give him a full view of her breasts while she poured tea. Thank God she had sent off the information before her run-in with Lucas.
“Tea?” He looked her up and down.
“Brandy then?” With the practiced ease of a courtesan, she slowly stooped, and swayed her hips as she snatched the brandy from the floor. She tamped down a smile when she saw the surging heat in his loins. She ran the tip of her tongue across her lips, and turned her back to him, affected by the heat of his gaze and the warm gush in her nether regions. Hands trembling, she yanked a vial from her reticule. For every defense, she now possessed a shaft in her quiver, knowing he was under her control. She popped the top and dumped in the contents, and then offered the brandy tainted with a sleeping draught to Lucas, hoping he’d not seize upon the bitter taste.
Must keep him talking. She turned, poured herself tea, and then swiveled to survey him over the rim of her cup. “I found out at the ball everything is going to occur tomorrow night. You must telegraph New York, Baltimore and Chicago and warn President Lincoln and Secretary Stanton. It’s important we move as quickly as possible to round these men up.”
“Not we. I will.” His smile could freeze the equator. “I’m tired of your recklessness. You are going nowhere. I’m tying you to that bed. I will leave here and make sure the telegraph office sends out warnings.”
“I won’t back off, not even for a minute.” Her resolve was final, and she cringed when he tossed back the last two drops of his brandy and slammed the bottle on the table.
“I thought not.”
She stood her ground, her heart drumming in her ears. He grasped a tendril of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers, as a weaver assessing the quality of rich silk. The color of his cobalt eyes deepened, almost black, too fiendishly clever, and penetrating, eyes that could spark fire and turn her loins to molten liquid. His features were hard, his expression, unrestrained.
He was living, breathing sin.
Standing right in front of her.
When will the sleeping draught begin towork?Keep him busy.
Lightning blanketed the sky in blinding brilliance, shifting the deep hollows and chiseled planes of his features into a queer light. The raw intimacy of only a filmy nightgown lay between them. “You could leave, Lucas.” Her hopeless compromise faded away.
“Is that what you really want me to do?” His voice was warm and rough. It frightened her more than his vehemence.
“Yes.” She smelled the rich brandy on his breath combined with his raw masculine scent.
“You’re a lousy liar.” He made the accusation. “You are quivering like an aspen. I thought you had more backbone.” He challenged her, and then smoothed his knuckles over her cheek. She half-closed her eyes and blushed, remembering the power of his fingers touching her. Her throat constricted, and her senses reeled with conscious perception.
Light coming from the lantern slid along the dark strands of his hair, and his mouth…oh, his fine mouth with lips, smooth, firm, and far too close to hers. Those fine lips brushed against hers, softly, ever so lingeringly, teasing her with intent.
“Tonight, Rachel I’ll take care of the rest of the world.” He whispered sultrily to the curve of her ear.” It’s me, you desire.” His white teeth grazed her neck. “Badly.” He tore away the nightgown, the last barrier between them. “I want you naked.”
