Daniel paused, somehow divining her alarm from the widening of her eyes, or the cessation of her breath, or the way she was holding his wrists in a white-knuckled grip.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Alice blinked. Releasing his wrists, she exhaled slowly. “It’s fine. A mere reflex on my part. Kindly move on with all promptitude.”
“Are you su—”
“I can complete the A.U.N.T. level three obstacle course; I can do this.”
He paused, shifting back with a concerned look—
“If you stop,” Alice told him, “I will write you up for dereliction of duty.”
“Yes, Mrs. Blakeney.” He regarded her with a thoughtful expression, trying to decide the degree of her vulnerability or the chances of her murdering him. “Perhaps I should just get straight to the point?”
“Yes. I dislike fiddling about unnecessarily. In most ventures, brisk penetration of details and a straightforward thrust to the core of the matter is the best tactic.”
Daniel made a small, odd sound. Alice wondered if he had developed some sudden malady of the throat, but he pulled himself together and returned her gaze implacably. She felt a sudden thrill. Not even the Academy instructors had looked at her with such unwavering dominance. This was a man who knew exactly what he was doing and who felt not one shred of fear about what she might do in turn. It made her feel safe in a way she never had before.
Somewhere in the brightly lit, well-polished lobby of her mind, Memory tapped the mission dossier pointedly. But Alice was moving through low, dark tunnels of instinct and desire, and if anyone had asked her about the dossier, she wouldn’t know it.
“Spread your legs,” Daniel ordered.
The instruction was simple enough—and yet somehow akin to a passage fromLes Liaisons Dangereuses. Swallowing dryly, Alice did as she was told. Daniel moved his hand beneath her nightgown and through the silk-hemmed center opening of her drawers, placing it firmly upon the warm, damp place it found there. Such a jolt went through her, Memory flung the mission dossier aside and ran to hide under a stack of Bible verses.
“Try to relax,” Daniel said.
“I am relaxed,” Alice replied in a voice so taut the final syllable cracked under its strain. After all, what could be more restful than lying in a houseful of maniac pirates while a man to whom one was ridiculously attracted inserted his hand into one’s drawers?
“Hm,” Daniel murmured doubtfully. And then he stroked a finger...
And stopped, consequent to having been shoved onto his back while Alice knelt astride him, two of her own fingers pressed sharply against his windpipe.
“Um,” he said.
She moved her hand back. “Oh dear. Another reflex. Light touches, you know? My apologies, Mr. B-Blakeney.”
“No, the apology is mine,” he answered somewhat breathlessly. “I propose—er, I mean, I suggest we postpone this exercise until another night.”
Alice frowned. Postponement was the last thing she wanted. She had not reached the pinnacle of A.U.N.T.’s ranks by postponing difficult tasks or shirking her professional responsibilities. And plainly her responsibility to A.U.N.T., the Queen—nay,all of humankind—was to have Daniel Bixby continue fondling her. Preferably without her killing him in response.
“I’m sorry, I must insist on begging your pardon,” she said. “It seems duty acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.”
“You are not strange, merely sensitive, like the most finely constructed pistol.”
He smiled up at her, and Alice became aware that his center of marital activity was aligned directly below hers, with only a few inches of hot, empty space providing a bulwark against depravity.Get off the man, she told herself sternly.
Make me, her body answered.
“We must have done enough now to pass as married,” she said, although it was less a statement than a tentative reconnaissance. Secret question marks lurked behind every word.
“Hm,” Daniel said. And taking hold of her hips in a firm grip, he lowered her so that their bodies met.
Alice gasped. The open crotch of her drawers left her exposed to something for whichdepravityseemed far too mild a word.Sinfulwould be more appropriate. Or better yet,throbbing.
Daniel guided her a few inches forward and then back, dragging her against the hard ridgeline of him. The texture of his linen underwear scraped her bare flesh. The sensation was even more electrifying than if she had drunk tea with several tablespoons of sugar. Suddenly she apprehended the vast field of experience she had yet to cross—and how many land mines it contained.
Keep going, her heart pleaded.
