“Oh yes, we will discuss this at some length.” Langdon quickly re-locked the drawer with ease. He stood upright and pointed to a heavy curtain at the back of the study. “We look there next.”
She wrinkled her nose at his departing back, unconcerned over his threat. It was mild compared to those she received from her father. She followed where he gestured, pushing thoughts of her acerbic father from her mind. Using a tinder box, Langdon lit a candle to reveal a small anteroom with bookshelves running from floor to ceiling.
Elizabeth followed him inside, her eager gaze scanning the bindings in the soft glow. “There doesn’t look to be anything here but rare works.”
He set the candle holder onto a delicate French rococo table and joined her at the bookshelf. “I have to admire his taste in books.”
“He appears to have a very eclectic selection. But the question is, where would he store the combination to the safe? He is not the smartest man, although he is cagey.” As well as deadly. It was now imperative that she find out the information to bring to the proper authorities. Although chances were nothing would become of it, she had to at least out the man to his peers.
“My recommendation would be to look for a hollowed-out book.” Langdon’s shoulder brushed hers as he methodically tugged one tome after another from the closest shelves.
“That is a brilliant idea.” She beamed at him, aware of how close he stood. The aroma of old parchment and leather, along with his woodsy scent, pervaded the room with an overtly masculine scent. Craning her neck, she spied a book binding that appeared flat and wide, unlike the slender volumes that flanked it.
“This book looks suspicious.” She tugged on the hard leather, and it slipped out of its place. It was heavier than she expected, and she nearly lost her balance. “Oh dear.”
Langdon splayed his fingers on her back, stopping her fall. “Oh dear is right.”
His other hand settled over her own, the rise and fall of his chest behind her a draw unto itself. The tiny voice in the back of her mind told her to step away; the woman in her ached to stay where she was.
He pushed the book back in place, his palm trailing down the bare skin of her upper arm. Soft lips settled on the exposed skin of her neck, causing a myriad of delicious goose bumps to skitter across her flesh.
“Elizabeth,” he rasped, using her hand still captured in his to spin her around. He placed her arm around his neck, drawing her closer to his length. Their eyes met, then he lowered his head as she lifted onto her toes. Seeking lips claimed hers, his mouth moving ever so slowly across her opened one. She hadn’t kissed a man since Harold’s death. At seventeen, he had still been a lad, rail thin and serious. While she had loved him, he never sparked the flame of need Langdon’s persuasive kiss evoked. Desire rushed through her in a wave, and she angled her head, needing more. Much more.
Chapter Twelve
Langdon nibbled at her top lip, discovering the fullness of her luscious mouth. Imprudent wasn’t a strong enough word for his untoward actions. The willing woman in his arms spoke to him on a base level, stripping away his resistance. He stroked the silky skin of her jaw with his thumb, plying her lips with languid kisses.
She released a tiny moan, the endearing sound a boon to his pride. Mrs. Adare challenged him like no other. She also distracted him with her lush curves and blue-black hair that refused to stay in its moorings. He angled his head and teased her sealed lips with the tip of his tongue. Her fingers clutched at the nape of his neck. She allowed him entry into her sweet mouth. The rush of her breath was a heady pull to his amplified senses. His palm gliding down to her bottom, he squeezed the taut flesh beneath her white gown.
Another moan, this one more pronounced, issued from her. She splayed her fingers into his hair, her tongue darting out to duel with his in a series of parries and thrusts. Each time she stoked his passion to the brink of need and beyond. His blood boiled with desire, and he pushed her against the bookshelf, his thigh coming to rest between her legs. It had been ages since he’d been with a woman, and she was all woman. He lifted his head, his lips moving from her mouth to the underside of her chin. The receptive woman in his embrace tilted her head, allowing him greater access to her many charms.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, placing kisses down the slender column of her neck, moving ever downward despite his words.
“No, we should not.” She did not try to follow through with her declaration.
Elizabeth drew her palm down his chest, her fingers exploring him through the weight of his clothes. She was no innocent, nor was he. He was a bachelor. She was a widow. Two people like themselves having an affair was not uncommon amongst the aristocracy. Would she be receptive to such an arrangement? Something inside of him balked at the idea of simply having an affair with her. Yet not exploring the passions growing ever stronger between them seemed equally intolerable.
The faint noise from outside of the room cut through the haze of passion. She stilled and sucked in a sharp breath. The sound of voices was like a rush of freezing water. He pulled from her embrace and extinguished the candle, plunging them into darkness. She seized his sleeve, her nails digging into his wrist. Ignoring the pain, he flattened himself against the wall, bringing her with him as he strained to hear what was being said.
“Did the shipment arrive as planned, Cane?” Lord Randell asked, his voice too close for comfort. The man need only walk the space of ten steps to reveal them. He prayed Randell stayed by the safe. The two men had a lantern, the golden glow barely reaching their hiding place.
From what Elizabeth had told him, Cane was the local magistrate at Upper Waverley who allegedly conspired with Randell to steal from the crown. Langdon made a mental note to have Henderson follow the man while he was in town.
The window behind the men caused him to compress his lips to stifle a curse. Not closing the drapes was sloppy work on his part. He had been careless, and his carelessness might out them.
