Again and again, he moved powerfully over her, thrusting deeply into her, smoothly, rhythmically, taking her, possessing her. Imprinting the feel of him deep within her.
He didn’t stop when she dragged in a huge breath, thrust a little faster as she raised her arms, ran her hands down his sides, over his back, then helplessly clung.
And started riding with him, her body undulating beneath his, actively receiving him.
Giving him all, everything he wanted.
All of her, every last gasp, every moment of passion he wrung from her. With his free hand, he reached down and gripped her thigh, raised it. She lifted it further, wrapped that leg, then the other, around his hips, opening herself even more.
So he could fill her even more deeply, take even more of her luscious heat, bathe even more deeply in her scalding glory.
Eyes closing, he rode on, harder, ever more powerfully pushing her on. He could feel his grip on reality fracturing, feel the siren call of her body as it tightened around his, inexorably racking the wheel of passion to the last degree.
He raised his free hand, blindly searched and found her face, framed it, then bent his head and sank into her mouth. Filled it to the same primal rhythm with which he filled her sheath.
Swallowed her scream as she climaxed beneath him, as bucking and straining she fractured, and ecstasy took her, racked her, raked her.
As she pulled him with her, hands clutching, her sheath a velvet fist clamping around him until he surrendered, until, on a long, hoarse groan, one she drank in, he gave himself to her.
Sometime later, Linnet awoke, immediately reassured by the weight of the heavily muscled leg entwined with hers, by the warmth of the hard chest wedged beside hers. Opening her eyes, she saw Logan propped on one arm alongside her. The narrow bed forced him to lie half over her-no bad thing in her opinion.
The moonlight had strengthened, pouring through the stern portholes to bathe his face, limning the chiseled angles in silver. Revealing his expression, the firm set of his lips, but drowning his blue eyes in shadows.
A long moment passed, then he said, his voice deep, low, but definite, “I meant what I said. I can’t believe you can conceive of anything in this world powerful enough to make me give you up. Make me not return. Only death, or something close to it, will stop me coming back for you.”
She said nothing; there seemed nothing she could say. In this, their views were diametrically opposed, and no amount of his loving was going to change that. But… “I believe you believe that.” She had to allow him that. “I don’t think you’re just saying it, a sop to your conscience or mine. But-and yes, there is a but-I don’t have your faith that, once back in your real world, away from my world, you’ll still see things the same way.”
The twisting of his lips told her clearly what he thought of her lack of faith, her inability to believe. But after searching her face for a moment more, he shifted, then slumped over her shoulder, laid his arm across her, holding her half beneath him.
If their minds weren’t in accord, their bodies were. Sleep drifted over them, inexorably drew them down.
Before it captured them completely, he murmured, his voice a dark, faintly Scottish rumble by her ear, “One of us is wrong. Bone-stubborn witch that you are, it’s going to be glorious when you realize it’s you.”
Linnet fell asleep smiling.
Daniel strode into the bedroom he and Alex had been sharing, brushing lingering snowflakes from his coat. By the flickering firelight, he saw Alex rise to prop in the bed, brows arching in question.
Closing the door, Daniel headed for the bed. “The snow’s coming down heavily. I’d forgotten how wet snow here is. The roads are slush.”
“I thought you and dear Roderick were off to deal with Hamilton in Surrey.”
Daniel grimaced, and sat on the bed to pull off his boots. “So we’d thought, but by the time we reached the area, he-or those with him, guards like Delborough had, according to the few of ours left to tell the tale-had removed those of our men sent to trail their party, and before you lose your temper, the party split into four, so there were only two men at most following any group.” Boots off, he stood and stripped off his coat. “With our followers dispatched, the devil and his henchmen went to ground. But all is not lost.”
Tossing his coat aside, he started on his waistcoat. “Roderick and I managed to track our men well enough to get a reasonable idea of the area in which Hamilton’s bolt-hole is. We’ve left men enough to trail him whichever way he runs, and they’ll send word as soon as he does.”
“Hmm.” Alex resettled in the bed. “I still think it’s close to certain he’ll head in the same direction-toward the same ultimate goal-as Delborough. Somewhere in Cambridgeshire, northern Suffolk, or Norfolk, to whoever is the puppetmaster pulling all their strings.”
Daniel tugged his shirt from his breeches. “Did you have any luck with finding a new base closer to the action?”
“Yes. Creighton proved most useful. From his description, the house he’s found in Bury St. Edmunds will be just the thing. I’ve organized for our removal there tomorrow.”
Undoing his breeches, Daniel nodded. “You’ve sent word to all our scattered commanders?”
“I have. I thought it best to get the word out before the weather closed in.”
“So what’s happened with Delborough?”
“Larkins is, apparently, confident his little thief is terrified enough to deliver Delborough’s scroll-holder to him- he seems very sure, but I’d rather Roderick went up there tomorrow to make certain nothing goes amiss.” Alex rolled over as Daniel lifted the pale blue silk covers and climbed into the bed. “As for Monteith and Carstairs, we’ve had no further news.”
“With any luck, both are already dead.”
Alex grimaced. “Much as I’d like to believe that… Delborough and Hamilton, too, were supposed to be dead by now. Yet they live, and still have their scroll-holders, and what’s more, are steadily getting closer to their goal- wherever that is. Regardless, our cultists are having a harder time of it here in England. Not only do they stand out, but they’re also having difficulty comprehending that they can’t simply kill, torture, and intimidate as they do at home in India.”
“Sadly true. And they can’t gain access to places like Grillon’s.” Daniel turned to Alex, smiled through the shadows. “I suspect we might have to take a hand ourselves.” His smile widened. “I know how much killing distresses you, m’dear, but you’ll simply have to grin and bear it.”
Alex laughed and reached for Daniel. “I will. For you, I will. Still, I just hope we’ve brought enough assassins to assist.”
Ten
The day was overcast, dense clouds in myriad shades of gray blocking out the weak sun. A cold wind strafed low over the sea, sending whipped gray-green waves spraying in plumes over the rocky breakwater.
Standing beside Linnet at the helm, with the wind raking chill fingers through his hair, Logan watched the gun emplacements of Castle Cornet slide away to starboard as, under limited sail, the
The Channel swell lifted the prow high. Linnet held the wheel, held course, her gaze locked on the breakwater to port. The instant the stern cleared the line of tumbled rocks, she snapped out orders, relayed by her bosun down on the main deck. Sailors leapt to obey, many already hanging in the rigging above. Her gaze now following their movements, as more sails unfurled, Linnet turned the wheel, hand over hand, and steady and sure, the
