“Society of Angels business.”
“Do not bloody lie to me.”
“I amnotlying,” she retorted. “A young woman served by my charity has gone missing. We’ve been worried about her. I heard that she might have come here before her disappearance, so I came to make inquiries.”
“You expect me to believe,” he bit out, “that you came to a goddamned brothel in the middle of the night to question a bawd about a missing woman?”
“That is a gross misrepresentation. This is not a brothel, nor is Mrs. Swann a bawd. Actually, I don’t know quite how to categorize her.” Fiona cocked her head, as if contemplating how the madam fit into the order of the universe. “At any rate, I did not question her; we had a conversation.”
“Do not try to distract me,” Hawk said with lethal calm. “You claim that you are here in the spirit of volunteerism?”
“It is the truth.” She lifted her chin to a mutinous angle. “Now why don’t you enlighten me as to the purpose of your visit, my lord?”
Hawk studied his wife, buying time for his temper to cool. He was a level-headed man, yet Fiona had a way of getting past his rationality to his rawest instincts and urges. She did this even when they were getting along, which, he had to admit, was most of the time. Her presence aroused and bothered him…reminded him that he was alive.
With a stark flash, he realized that hedidbelieve her. As farfetched as her story was, it was precisely the sort of bold and reckless thing Fiona would do. She had once charged into an alleyway to save him from cutthroats, for Christ’s sake. His wife was loyal and brave to a fault.
Grudgingly, he had to admire her character and strength of will even as he wanted to shake some sense into her. What was she doing, risking her reputation in such a manner? Now that he was thinking clearly again, he saw that Fiona was dressed in a conservative cloak and walking dress. Hardly the type of outfit one would wear to a tryst. She was dressed for a practical purpose...such as a search for a missing woman.
He realized that his anger had been fed by an irrational fear that, once again, his marriage was headed for disaster. That he and Fiona couldn’t possibly be as happy as they were. Yet theywerehappy; in his gut, he knew that whatever Fiona was doing here, it wasn’t to play him false. She had too much honor for that. And, from a logical point of view, the frequency of their lovemaking ought to satisfy even the most wanton of appetites. Hell, his gorgeous young wife worehimout…and he’d had years of pent-up needs.
“I am waiting, Hawksmoor,” she said.
He had not known that a scowl could be adorable. Trust Fiona to make one so. Christ, she was a rare jewel, and she was his. All bloody his. Yet his relief was tempered by a deepening awareness of his husbandly responsibility. He had been too lax with his young countess. From here on in, he had to look out for her, protect her from her own worst impulses.
I failed Caroline; I will not fail Fiona.
Knowing that his wife needed an answer, he focused on his present, which presented a host of intriguing possibilities. With her hair glowing like embers, Fiona was the hot-blooded goddess of his fantasies. And they were in a club that catered to couples interested in exploring forbidden desires.
Hawk knew all about Swann’s since Devlin had filled him in and volunteered him for the assignment. As a newlywed groom, Hawk had a credible pretense for visiting the shop. His story was that he was in the market for equipment to enhance his marital relations. His plan had been to get his foot in the door, then question Mrs. Swann about the man who’d purchased Miss Farley’s vinaigrette. He’d only exchanged brief introductions with Mrs. Swann before she departed with a promise to return. Then Fiona had shown up instead.
Now Hawk realized that his cover might provide an adequate explanation for Fiona. A rationale that, as he contemplated the possibilities that Swann’s offered to him and his nubile bride, was growing more convincing by the moment.
“I am here because of you,” he said.
“Me?” Fiona’s gaze was steady, assessing. “Explain.”
His wife was no fool. In truth, her intelligence aroused him as much as her delectable body. He prowled toward her, his blood thrumming at the feminine recognition in her eyes. Heat that had naught to do with the blazing hearth swirled between them.
“An acquaintance of mine mentioned Swann’s,” he said. “I thought I might find things here to augment our bedroom activities.”
“Augment?” She wetted her lips. “How do you mean?”
“The shop caters to sexual fantasy and sells merchandise that enhances pleasure. I thought I would do some shopping for us. I would not wish for you to grow bored of my lovemaking.”
The last part, he realized with a prick of discomfort, was no lie.
A part of him still couldn’t believe that a woman as magnificent as Fiona was his. That she desired him as much as he desired her. He knew what it was like to be loved and depended upon as a husband. To be a lover used to scratch a sexual itch. But to be wanted for being a man—for beinghimself—was new and exhilarating.
With Fiona, sex wasn’t a duty or even a pleasant pastime. It was an expression of something deeper, of wants and desires he’d never felt comfortable exploring before. Perhaps because he’d never found a woman who was his match the way Fiona was. She roused his inner beast; with her, he could unleash his darkest yearnings because she was strong enough to bear his desires. To answer them with her own.
It was Fiona’s turn to study him. Whatever she saw caused her fury to ebb. With a pleasant jolt, he realized that she’d been feeling jealous too. While he didn’t want her to suffer unnecessarily, it was good to know that he was not alone in his possessiveness.
“Bored of your lovemaking?” She rolled her eyes. “That hardly seems possible.”
Her response puffed up his chest. His cock as well.
“I am relieved to hear it, my sweet wife. Yet variety is the spice of life.” He tipped her chin up, feeling her shiver in his balls. “Since you and I are both here, why don’t we browse together?”
