He tried again to spin each dial, but none of them would shift even slightly. “It’s as if a piece is missing.” He tapped on the center of the medallion. “Something right in here that would allow the joints to turn.”
She walked over to him, and, mimicking his earlier actions, she leaned against the desk. With determination, she picked up the book to re-examine it. Her teeth caught her bottom lip as she contemplated.
Desire surged through him. There was something about the way she stood there, holding his book, concentration furrowing her brow.
He cradled the decoder in his palm, frustrated that the damned thing wouldn’t cooperate. Hell, he’d searched for this for years, and now it didn’t even matter. It wasn’t useful. Vanessa still stared at the book, her index finger following along as she read. There was nothing particularly seductive about her stance, yet she beckoned to him.
He moved to stand in front of her, so close their thighs touched. His mouth hovered a breath away from hers.
She looked up. He became trapped in her blue eyes. “What are you doing?” she asked. There was an innocence to her direct gaze that called to him more strongly than a thousand seductive glances.
He removed the book from her hands and placed it on the wooden chair she’d been sitting in earlier, along with the decoder. He leaned forward, and her arms fell backward until she was bracing herself on the desk. Still, he was caught in her stare.
“I’m trying to read that to assist you,” she told him. His mouth found her throat, her collarbone. He nibbled and kissed, the feel of her soft skin sultry against his tongue. Her head fell back, relishing the feel of his lips. She caught herself and tried to stand straight, pushing slightly against his chest.
“Graeme, we have work that needs to be done,” she said. “What of the decoder? Certainly we can take a closer look, see if there isn’t something we can do to fix it.”
He agreed. There was work to be done. But first he needed to have her. Needed to touch her, to love her, every last silken inch of her. With his hand, he tilted her chin up, then met her lips. Slowly he kissed her, a gentle but passionate seduction. She stopped pushing against his chest. Now her hands clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, kissing him more deeply.
It was enough encouragement for Graeme. God, he wanted her with a bone-deep need that startled him.
He left her lips, trailed kisses down the column of her throat, and bit her where her neck met her shoulder. Vanessa released a little moan, then craned her neck, giving him better exposure. He continued kissing her while his hands worked the back of her dress, one button at a time, until the fabric gaped open. Slowly, intentionally, he slid the wool down her arms.
He wanted it to rub against her skin, to increase the sensations as he undressed her. The other night when she’d come into his room, removed her dressing gown, and stood before him as God had made her, he’d responded with lust as any man would have. Tonight, though, he wanted to see her, look at her, as his wife. Memorize every line and curve of her flesh.
With the bodice at her waist, he was able to pull the dress completely off her body. Impatience ate at him, spurring his desire and fueling his urgency. Without another thought, he took her shift in his hand and pulled. The fabric gave way with a tear as he ripped it from her body. He nuzzled her close.
“I’ll buy you another,” he managed to say.
Next, he pulled off her drawers until she stood before him, still pressed against the desk, in nothing but her shoes and stockings. He bent and pulled one nipple into his mouth. She didn’t have large breasts, but they fit perfectly into his hands. He cupped one, suckled the other.
Suddenly her nimble fingers were at the fastenings of his trousers, deftly unhooking them as if she removed men’s trousers all the time. The unexpected expertise was a sharp contradiction to her clumsy seduction from the other night, and he realized that, seductress or virgin, he wanted her any way he could have her.
He pushed her down onto the desk. Her loose hair spread behind her like a russet waterfall. She arched up to him, her pert breasts beckoning him.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he gritted.
He stepped out of his trousers and plunged into her. The desk was a perfect height, and with her lying back like some Grecian nymph, he pounded into her. With one hand, he cupped her right breast, flicking her nipple. With the other, he found her center and ran his thumb across it. Her eyes widened and then fluttered closed. With every thrust, he brought her closer to release—he could see it in her abandoned expression, hear it in her labored breaths. His own climax approached, boiling inside him and threatening to explode. And then hers hit. She slammed her hands against the desk, arched upward, and whispers of “yes, yes, yes” fell from her lips.
He was lost to her then as his own release thundered through him.
CHAPTER 12
Vanessa lowered herself to her bed. She sat on the edge, the soft coverlet cushioning her, but she felt no comfort. The envelope was clasped in her hand, as yet unopened. Before she’d left Graeme’s study, he’d handed it to her. Vanessa had instantly recognized the graceful, swirling penmanship. It was a letter from Violet.
It shouldn’t come as a huge surprise considering Graeme had written to her family and told them they were married. But Vanessa had never guessed anyone would write. Least of all Violet. She must have somehow sent the post by special courier to get it here so quickly.
Vanessa released a puff of air. She could sit here all afternoon and try to imagine what the letter said, but she may as well simply read the bloody thing. With renewed fortitude, she tore open the envelope.
My dearest sister,
It began. Vanessa rolled her eyes. Dearest sister, indeed! Where was that affection when Violet had been stealing Vanessa’s fiancé?
I began this letter the day after you ran away. I’ve re-written it so many times, I believe I’ve used all of Mother’s fine stationery. But now thanks to your new husband, we have your address. We were all so relieved to hear that you are safe. Mother worried so.
Vanessa set the letter down. Mother would only worry about how Vanessa’s actions would reflect upon their family. Still, Vanessa could not deny there was a hope that perhaps her mother had shown true concern for her welfare. She went back to the letter.
A mere apology seems incapable of expressing my sincere regret. But please know, dear sister, that it was never my intention to hurt you. My relationship with Jeremy started innocently enough. I had gone to him because I’d always longed for a greater understanding of what Papa had worked on. You and Victoria knew him well, but I was so young when he passed. And I’d always been curious about his research and studies, but knew Mother would never approve of my curiosity.
