Kissing The Enemy (Scandals and Spies Book 1) Read online

Gravity befell him. “To the contrary. I like you a great deal.” His voice was soft. It carried no farther than her ears.

  Her arms dropped limp to her sides. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t speak.

  She liked him too, a great deal. More than she had any other man. And certainly much more than she ought to.

  When had she stopped hating him?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I like you a great deal.

  Tristan didn’t realize how much until the words left his lips. His chest tightened with a warm, expansive feeling. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her. Her arm, her cheek, it didn’t much matter where.

  ‘Like’ wasn’t a strong enough word for the depth of his feelings. He admired her resilience, her loyalty and love for her family, her cleverness. He cherished her smiles and the way she nibbled on her thumbnail when she contemplated a chess move. Heaven help him, but somehow in the last few days, he’d fallen in love.

  The realization was like a blow to the head. It left his ears ringing with the knowledge. The truth. He wanted to spend every last minute of his day with her. He never wanted to be parted from her, not tonight and certainly not at the conclusion of this house party.

  He’d never been in love before.

  He opened his mouth, then shut it again. What if she didn’t feel the same? They’d started out as enemies. His opinion of her had gentled, but hers might remain the same. After all, they’d only known each other for a few days.

  The way she treated him wasn’t just Tristan the spy, or Tristan the duke’s younger brother. She made him feel like she saw him, like she knew him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed that until she’d given it to him.

  “I…I like you, too.” Her voice was husky, her gaze vulnerable.

  For a moment, he couldn’t speak. Was she telling the truth? Lud, but he hoped so.

  He couldn’t think about the future. Right here, right now, they were two people who…liked each other. The word didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t confess the depth of his emotions when they had chosen opposite sides of a vital war. Tonight, he wanted to forget about that. At least for a while.

  He leaned close. “Maybe you’d care to join me in my room so I can show you exactly how much I like you. I trust you recall where it is.”

  His pulse beat painfully in the base of his throat as he pulled away, gauging her reaction. He’d propositioned women before, and been propositioned. None of those encounters mattered as much as this one. His body hummed with the desire to touch her and show her that in an ideal world, they weren’t enemies.

  Tonight, they could forget about the war.

  Her cheeks flamed as she caught his meaning. Swallowing, he stepped back. If she was going to reject him, it would be safer if he wasn’t exposed in front of so many people.

  What if she came to his room just to further her mission from Harker? If anything, that would be worse than if she stayed away. He clenched his fists. Without looking her in the eye, he murmured, “I don’t keep the book in my quarters, as you well know. If you come with an aim to find it, you’ll be disappointed.”

  With a stiff incline of his head, he turned on his heel and left the room. His heart thundered through the corridor. His reflection—paler than usual, a byproduct of his nerves—was thrown back at him from the myriad mirrors along the route back to the family wing. By the time he reached his door, his palms were clammy. He wiped them on his breeches before he gripped the handle and strode inside.

  The fire in the grate was out, a testament that his valet was still occupied with spying business. For once, he was grateful. Stoking the fire gave him something to occupy himself. Once the flames caught, he started to pace. His body was alive with nervous energy, far too much to sit.

  She might not come. In fact, if she had any sense, she wouldn’t. Now that he’d finally admitted to himself how much she meant to him, he burned with the need to touch her, to join with her. She was a gently-bred young lady, likely a virgin. If she joined him tonight, he should respect her virtue.

  But if she came and participated willingly, he would be lost. At that moment, he needed her more than he needed his next breath.

  She might not come. If she still viewed him as the enemy, she certainly wouldn’t.

  That thought should have consoled him, but it only increased his torment. He wanted so much more from her, even if they would be on opposite sides of the war come morning. With a sigh, he dropped into the armchair and rested his head in his hands.

  How long had he waited? Half an hour or more?

  She might not come.

  The latch on the door jingled as it was opened from the corridor. He lurched to his feet as a woman slipped into the room. Freddie. She shut the door behind her, but didn’t move away from the wall. Her hand rested on the latch.

  His chest ached and he realized he’d forgotten to breathe. He took a deep breath, hoping to organize his thoughts enough to put her at ease. She looked uncertain, just as nervous as he was. At least he wasn’t alone in that.

  “You came.” His hoarse voice sounded overly loud in the silence, its only companion the thunderous beat of his heart.

  “I did.”

  I love you. Tristan pressed his lips together before the words spilled out of his mouth. Now wasn’t the time to speak them.

  He crossed the room in ground-eating strides to enfold her in his arms and kiss her senseless. She met him halfway.

  The moment Tristan’s lips met hers, Freddie forgot her own name. She forgot to breathe. The jangle of her nerves faded. The only thing that mattered was the feel of his body pressed against hers. His arms encircled her, holding reality at bay. She sank into his hold, twining her arms around his neck to keep him near.

  He kissed her with a ferocity that stole her breath. As if he didn’t think he would ever get another chance.

  Maybe he won’t. They were on opposite sides of the war, after all.

  She didn’t care to think about that just now.

  When he broke away from her mouth to trail his lips over her jaw and neck, tingles erupted in his wake. Her breasts ached, as did the secret spot between her legs. She canted her head to give him better access. Her body tightened and she clutched his shoulders.

  Was she mad for surrendering to him like this? She had her future to think about. She gasped for breath.

  “Tristan, wait.”

  His hands tightened on her back. With a low groan, he raised his head from her neck. He rested his forehead against hers instead.

  Butterflies took wing in her stomach. When he held her like that, as if he cherished her, she could all too easily fool herself into believing he loved her. Because she loved him, and that notion terrified her. There was no future for the two of them. There was only right now.

  “Yes, Freddie?” His voice was hoarse. His breath played across her lips, close though he made no move to kiss her again.

  She swallowed. “Is there a way to…do this without losing my virginity?” She couldn’t risk pregnancy, after all.

  He nodded, his forehead still pressed against hers. After a moment, he separated and stepped back. He held out his hand to her. “There is. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.” The word left her lips without forethought. The color of his gaze deepened. She slipped her hand into his.

  They both wore gloves, muting the sensation. The clasp of his hand was a comfort as he led her farther into the room. Toward that big bed of his.

  The ache between her legs intensified. She wanted…she didn’t know what. Him, certainly. Her legs began to tremble as she neared the bed. When she met his gaze, her nervousness melted away.

  Tristan would never hurt her.

  Gingerly, she sat on the edge of the bed. Tristan kneeled in front of her, still holding her hand. He laid his lips to her silk-covered knuckles, then without taking his eyes off her, he slid his hand up to the top of the glove, just above her wrist. The movement pushed up her sleeves, bunching them aro
und her elbows to display a swathe of skin between them and the gloves. With his thumb, Tristan stroked that skin. Her lips parted at the surprisingly potent sensation.

  “May I?”

  She nodded. She could no longer find her voice.

  With a slow movement, he slid the glove down over her wrist. His glove was warm from the heat of his hand beneath. He pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, over her pulse.

  She gasped. Her heartbeat sped. When he flicked out his tongue, she couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped her throat. His gaze turned wicked as he stripped her glove the rest of the way off, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her skin as he went. She pressed her thighs together, squirming in place.

  After doffing his gloves and tossing them aside, he set to work on her other hand. The sensation, skin on skin, was magnified tenfold. As he dropped her glove and reticule to the floor, she cupped his cheek. The shadow of stubble scraped over her skin. He turned his face to press a kiss to her palm.

  Unable to resist, she leaned forward to meld her mouth to his. Their breath mingled an instant before their lips touched. The kiss was light, leisurely, exploring. When she broke away to catch her breath, he leaned forward, following the arc of her mouth as she straightened.

  “You taste like Heaven,” he murmured.

  She smirked. “Have you tasted Heaven before?”

  “Never. But I don’t need to in order to know that nothing on this Earth could taste as good.”

  She bit her lip as she ducked her head. Heat in her cheeks indicated she was flying her colors again. She didn’t mind. No one had ever professed anything so sweet to her.

  With deft fingers, Tristan removed her shoes. He wrapped his big hands around her ankles and slowly slid his palms up her calves. Her breath hitched as his hands disappeared beneath her skirts. She met his gaze once more. His eyes held a salacious promise. She pressed her thighs together, quivering, as he traced the outside of her legs.

  He found the ties to her stocking. Slowly, with great care, he pulled the bow free. He hooked his fingers beneath the silk and teased the fabric down her leg. She lifted her legs, eager to help him along. When the fabric pooled around her ankles and he shifted his grip to attend to one foot at a time, she ran her finger around the rim of his collar. A shiver coalesced on his broad back and he raised his gaze to hers once more. His eyes darkened. He licked his lips.

  All thought of proceeding with care disappeared beneath the weight of their hunger for each other. She fumbled with his cravat as he divested her of the stockings. Once the fabric around his neck was free, he stood.

  With his knees, he urged her legs open and insinuated himself between them. He planted one hand on the mattress, the other cupping her jaw as he kissed her deeply. He trailed his hand down her neck and over her shoulder, to the buttons on her dress. One by one they slipped free as she tackled the stubborn buttons on his waistcoat. Within seconds, he unlaced the short stays on her back and her dress gaped over her breasts. When he broke the kiss, his face turned downward, his gaze locked on the shadow of her cleavage. Desire etched across his face, unmistakable.

  Undeniable, too. She reached up, lacing her fingers in his hair as she pulled him down for a kiss. He shifted, toeing off his boots and shucking his jacket and waistcoat. When his arms returned around her, he urged her dress up her hips and over her head. They broke the kiss in a tangle of fabric that soon fluttered to the floor.

  She was bare before him, but he didn’t give her time to be embarrassed. He resumed the kiss, turning it urgent and demanding as he laid her back against the bed. He followed her. The press of his body against hers drove her wild. She clutched his shoulders.

  When she leaned her head back, gasping for breath, he kissed his way along her throat. He spread her legs wider, urging them around his hips. The thick bulge of his manhood pressed against her core. The rough tease of his breeches against her feverish flesh made her shudder. When she raised her hand to loosen the laces of his shirt, he caught her hands, pinning them to the mattress above her head.

  “Don’t I get to see you naked as well?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed behind his collar. When he shook his head, a lock of his hair curled over his forehead. “Not tonight,” he rasped. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself if we were both bare. It would be too easy to coax you to beg to take this farther than you want.”

  As if to prove his point, he dipped his head to kiss along the swell of her breast. Her nipples pebbled into hard points. By the time he reached the peak, she was trembling. He ran his tongue around her areola, making her gasp, before he took her nipple into his mouth.

  The pleasure mounted between her legs, as if an invisible string joined the two places. When he lightened his touch, moving away, she arched into his embrace.

  His mouth curved into a smile as he teased her with tantalizing flicks of his tongue. “Beautiful and passionate. You’re what every man dreams of waking up to.”

  If she’d had the breath to speak, she would have returned the compliment. As it was, the closest she could come was a moan.

  He kissed his way down her torso and abdomen. He lingered near her navel, inducing tingles over her skin before he continued down between her legs. Her cheeks heated as his big shoulders spread her legs wide. He studied her most private part, his gaze rapt. When her legs tightened, trying to close, he twisted to kiss the inside of her knee.

  “I want to see you,” he whispered. She barely heard him over the merry chuckle of the fire. “All of you.”

  He pressed another kiss to the inside of her leg, moving upward. By the time he reached the inside of her thighs, his tongue teased her skin with each kiss. And then he pressed his lips to her sex. Heat flooded her chest, but passion won out and she soon found herself lifting her hips to better meet him.

  His kisses turned frantic. Her breath came fast and quick. He worshipped her with hands and mouth until she unraveled in his arms.

  But he wasn’t finished. He nuzzled his way up her body until he took her mouth in a deep, conquering kiss. He tasted tangy with her arousal. As he fitted himself between her legs once more, the bulge in his breeches was bigger than ever. Kneading her breast with one hand and using the other to hold her heady steady for his kiss, he gyrated against her with increasing urgency. Soon, she matched his fervor. The pleasure built, higher and higher until she shattered. This time he followed, shuddering against her as he held her close.

  When he rolled to the side, he slipped his arms beneath her and pulled her with him to cradle her against his chest. His heart thundered beneath her cheek. His shirt was damp with sweat.

  “That was…”

  “Yes.” Her voice was breathy. She didn’t know what else to say.

  Instead, she burrowed her face farther into his chest as she fought to catch her breath. I love you. Don’t let go. She bit her lip, keeping the words walled away inside her.

  As much as she’d like to fool herself into believing he cared for her just as deeply, she couldn’t. When morning dawned, they would be enemies again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tristan seemed so much more innocent in sleep. His eyelashes formed a crescent on his cheeks. The stubble was just starting to darken his chin. Freddie was nestled beside him, his arm slung around her waist as he fitted her against him. She didn’t want to leave.

  She had to.

  With a light touch, she traced the curve of his cheek. Making a sleepy noise, he leaned into her touch, as if he craved more of her. An ache ripped open in her chest like a chasm. Gently, she eased his arm from around her waist. As she left the bed, he rolled over onto his stomach.

  The fire had dimmed as it ran out of fuel. It cast a soft glow, barely enough for her to see the silhouette of objects. It took her some moments before she untangled her clothes and donned them. Although she bent her elbows at an uncomfortable angle, she couldn’t properly reach behind her to lace up her stays. At some point in the night, her hair had fallen f
ree of its pins. She couldn’t begin to rectify her appearance. The river of her hair flowing down her back should cover the hastily-secured buttons.

  Before long, she tiptoed across the room to the door. She stumbled, catching herself before she introduced her face to the wall. Behind her, Tristan stirred. He softly started to snore. She laid her hand on the latch.

  She couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, but she didn’t want to wake him. Instead, she fished a handkerchief with her initials out of her reticule. More careful this time, she traversed the room to lay it on the pillow next to him.

  There. At least this way, she didn’t feel like a thief trying to steal out of the room.

  Although she wanted nothing more than to slip back into bed and lose herself in his embrace, she turned and marched out the door. The abbey was quiet. With luck, all the guests had gone to bed and she wouldn’t have to explain her ravished appearance.

  She turned away from the door and came face to face with the duke. Although the candles had burned down, shedding only enough light to make out his profile and the glint of his eyes, it could be no other. Her heart jumped into her throat, throbbing painfully. She opened her mouth, but no words emerged. What could she say?

  My virtue is intact. I won’t make him marry me.

  Even if Tristan asked, she couldn’t possibly say yes, could she? They were on opposite sides. Unless one of them bent, they had no future. For her family’s sake, if nothing else, she couldn’t back down. And for some unknown reason, Tristan had allied himself with the French. He had likely done that for family, too.

  She didn’t have any guarantee that he would want a future with her, regardless.

  The duke’s piercing stare paralyzed her. Her mouth dried and her palms grew sweaty. She couldn’t look away. Would he take her to task for seducing his brother?

  Or worse, tell someone else? If word got out that Freddie had been seen coming out of Tristan’s room, her reputation would be ruined. And so would Charlie’s, for her relation to someone with a less than pristine standing in the ton. Freddie’s chest burned as she stopped breathing.