She nearly melted as Lucas swung her up into his arms and gently positioned her on the bed. Heart pounding, she lay overwhelmed by the full-blooded male and the power coiled within him. Of her own accord, she unbuttoned his shirt then flattened her hands on his chest, pushing, gliding over his silky skin.
“Lucas, we have more important issues,” she whispered amazed she possessed any faculties at all. Was he resistant to the dosage? She had dropped in enough to knock out five bulls.
“Dare you try my patience? I am between you and that door.” He caught her nape and kissed her with a hunger that insinuated his need. “Never again.” His tongue probed her mouth, but the impression succeeded as an overall invasion.
She entwined her arms around his neck and a sob of yearning welled in her throat.
Lucas stopped and pulled her arms from him. He jerked out of his shirt and pants and threw them aside. His body was a profusion of swells and divots of strength and bone. A voice of reason dictated her to move her eyes away, but another more powerful inclination refused to let go of the brain-numbing sight before her. His chest expanded in hard disks, and his ribs scaled down a broad, flat torso, narrowing to obdurate mounds of stomach muscles. She stared at her magnificently nude husband.
“Enjoying yourself?” he smiled and lay on top of her.
His kisses were more demanding, hotter as if he had a whole lifetime to make up for his need of her. She writhed beneath him, terrified of how he made her feel, losing all control. Shameless, she arched her back when he took a soft dusky breast into his warm mouth. He nibbled at it, pulling taut with his teeth, then lavishing his tongue around the swollen peak.
Rachel could scarcely breathe or think, feeling his rapid heartbeat on her breast as he moved his knees between her thighs, her womb clenched on an aching emptiness. Shameless again, she spread her legs and he ground his loins against her softness, rock-hard he thrust into her, and she cried out with erotic pleasure coming from every pore of her body.
Oh, his body. Long and lithe and lethal, it rocked against her in a percussion so ancient, so achingly necessary, it called to the very soul of her. Lucas carried her from one pinnacle of pleasure to another, hypnotizing, and tenderly worshipping her, like a crusader would a relic. His eyes were bright and savage as she soared and shuddered in endless ecstasy. Shameless.
Cries broke out between them. His. Hers. She couldn’t be sure. Low. Guttural. Animal. And they were followed by a violent reaction on his part.
She pulled him with her into a glorious place. One made of harsh breaths and moans. Time blended with the storm, as a flash of lightning pierced the night, striking them as its equal impaled through their joined bodies. The gratification just as hot and searing. The pleasure just as striking. And the emotions as obligatory as an agreement one signs with destiny.
“Rachel,” he whispered, simply for the pleasure of saying her name. No sooner was the word out of his mouth than his lips found hers again. She moaned, and he deepened his kiss.
He pulled back and shook his head, hanging on to her. The drug she gave him was beginning to have its effect. The look he gave her, she’d never forget. When Judas kissed the savior, selling him for thirty pieces of silver, the look of raw betrayal.
“Why?” He collapsed next to her, and she stroked the damp hair across his forehead. He slept deeply, the drug she’d slipped in his brandy had achieved its predicted result. Rachel flipped her pillow, found a cool place to rest her cheek, and tried to ignore the tears falling down her face.
“Lucas, I love you.”
For a moment, she thought he’d heard her. A slight grunt escaped him, and his jaw flexed. He snored…at peace.
Her fate was sealed. No. He’d never forgive her. He’d despise her for what she had done to him. There was only so much a man of his proud bearing could take. She didn’t blame him.
Rachel agonized over deceiving him. But he left her with no other option. She had to stop the evil before it commenced. With her network backing her, she had to save President Lincoln and put a halt to the war that brought with it the chains of slavery and reaped so much misery. And as much as there was a crushing foreboding spanning her heart, she must stop the plotters who were going to kill Lucas.
She dressed, her throat choked as she bent to kiss Lucas on his warm lips. He was safe here. Away from any would-be assassins. He’d sleep most of the day and into the night. Just to make sure, Rachel took the key from his pocket and locked the door.
Chapter Thirty
Rachel and Jimmy had circled the property, frustrated with no conspicuous activity. The farmhouse appeared as any other farmhouse in the Piedmont, white clapboard, shingled roof, porch, hitching rails, barn out back and orchards running up the hillside. Except it remained vacant. She motioned to Jimmy to tie up their horses.
Her sides trickled with perspiration. She shouldn’t feel so panicky. She’d been in worse straits. A wind whistled through the trees, snatching at her hair, chilling her bones. “Wait here. I want to move in closer.”
“No,” Jimmy spoke sharply. “It’s too open. We’ll move through the trees and keep out of sight. I have a bad feeling. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so quick to have Colonel Rourke locked up. We could have used him.”
She kept her gaze on the farm below. Jimmy echoed her thoughts. “This is a surveillance. I need to learn what I can.”
A harsh bark of laughter rolled over the ridge. They crept across a jagged slope. A group of men, some on foot, a number on horseback, all civilians, stopped on an apex of a bare knoll. Behind them, the last of the setting sun illuminated the landscape in vermilion and gold, and beyond laid a wooded valley, fenced pastures and shadowed glimpses of a stream. Why they were in the open proved their careless regard and open disdain for the country they’d come to ruin. Their excess of passion would be their undoing if she had anything to do about it.
Wild blackberry briars tore at her hands. She inched through a thicket, her tread light.
“You want to go to hell,” the cold muzzle of a revolver shoved against her neck, “I can give you a ticket there.” From out of dark shadows, they had been stalked. She turned, sickened, realizing Jimmy had also been taken unaware. The young Irishman shrugged to her.
“I can explain…” she began, trying to shoehorn them out of the situation, “this young man and I were going to pick apples over in yonder orchard when we heard a commotion. If you’ll just let us go, we’ll be on our way.”
In one fluid motion, she pushed the gun away from her and kicked the man in the shin. She rolled to the ground, grabbed dirt and threw it into the other guard’s eyes. “Run, Jimmy. Run!”
Hurtling through the brush like a jackrabbit, Jimmy sprang. The guards fired off a couple of shots. Long gone, Jimmy disappeared into the forest like a phantom. She exhaled, saying a prayer. He escaped.
