“I cannot get enough of you,” he rasped. “My Evie. Mine.”
“I want you, James. All of you,” she cried.
“Then take me.”
Holding fast to the strap, he hammered into her. He took her like the animal he was—the animal he could only be with her, the mate to his soul. She arched her spine, her fingers digging into the cushions as she cried out again. Her sheath milked him, but he resisted heaven’s pull. He slowed his pace, prolonging her shivers. When she descended from the heights, he took her up again.
And again.
Only when she was boneless with satisfaction did he seek out his own.
“Look at me, sunflower.”
She did, and the love in her eyes spurred his race to the finish.
“I am going to spend so hard for you.”
“Do it, darling. Fill me.” Her face glowed with naked longing. “Give me another babe.”
The need to give her what she wanted—what was in his own heart—rushed through him. With a hoarse shout, he planted himself as deep as he could go and gave her everything he had. Everything he was. When his shudders eased, he remained buried in his wife. They exchanged tender words and kisses, soaking in the perfect ecstasy of the moment…and the blossoming hope of the future.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
After the triumph of Evie’s lecture, she and James attended to darker matters. They had planned to use their final day in London to learn more about Dr. Murdoch and the blackmailer’s glove. Since the tasks were delicate—they could not risk alerting the villain that they were on his trail—they’d decided to go incognito. Xenia had given Evie brown hair dye to darken her locks, as well as a drab gown she’d worn as a housekeeper. Evie had added a plain bonnet to the outfit and was satisfied that the woman in the looking glass could pass for a lady’s maid.
When James strode into the bedchamber, she burst into giggles.
“What are you laughing at, young lady?” he drawled.
“You, of course.”
He’d darkened his hair as well and added side whiskers and a dashing moustache. He wore a rakish frock coat of plum broadcloth, a waistcoat glimmering with gold thread, and a striped cravat tied in a fussy knot. In other words, he’d succeeded admirably in his goal: no one was going to recognize him as this boulevardier.
“The moustache makes you look like a villain from a Gothic novel,” she teased.
He swept her into a dip, his dramatic flair making her shake with laughter.
“Do not disparage the moustache, madam, until you have experienced its power.”
He nibbled the length of her neck, and her shaking took on a different quality as the bristly hair scraped sensually over her skin. He stopped, giving her a knowing look.
“After our errands, I shall keep this on and kiss you all over,” he murmured. “We’ll see where you like it best.”
“That is wicked.” Her lips curved. “I shall hold you to your promise.”
They headed to Perry & Morris first. Located on Oxford Street, the shop was narrow and neat, with plate-glass windows displaying gloves on velvet stands. Evie entered first. The place smelled of leather, dried lavender, and wood polish. Gleaming mahogany counters topped glass cabinets, where gloves were sorted by size, material, and color. Female assistants dressed in black were helping customers.
When the doorbell tinkled, Evie stifled a smile as James sauntered in. Her husband was enjoying this bit of intrigue more than she would have expected. Indeed, he seemed lighter and more playful in general. With her, he was not just a duty-bound husband and politician—or an untouchable god—but a flesh-and-blood man whose flaws and wicked desires made her love him more.
She liked to think that their reconciliation had helped them to grow. She felt comfortable in her own skin—felt free to love and play. Once the blackmailer was apprehended, she hoped she might shed the albatross of her history once and for all.
A young brunette approached. “May I be of service, ma’am?”
“Yes, indeed.”
As rehearsed, Evie posed as a lady’s maid whose employer had purchased gloves here some months ago and misplaced them.
“My mistress was ever so fond of those gloves,” Evie said, “and would like to purchase another pair. Alas, neither she nor I can recall the name of the model. She sent me to inquire if you might have a record of her purchase?”
