The Silver Coin (The Colby's Coin 2)

“Better?” she murmured, tipping up her chin to study him.

He smiled, a rare gesture that reached up to his enigmatic eyes. “Much. Finally.”

She laughed, rubbing her thigh against his. “It did take more vigor than usual to quiet your rage. You've been in my bed for hours.”

“And I'll be here hours more.” He pulled her over him, his anger transformed once again into that bot­tomless lust that made their reunions so frenzied and so satisfying.

He drove into her with a violence she found thrilling, and her eyes slid shut, her body tightening as if to meet his violence with her own. He groaned, impaling her again, battering her with the force of his thrusts.

This climax was even more shattering than the last.

Afterward, she leaned up on her elbow, her hair a dark curtain sweeping his chest. “You really are edgy,” she murmured, when she was able to catch her breath. “Usually your job drains you. Not so this time. To whom do I owe my good fortune—or need I ask?”

He regarded her from beneath hooded lids. “I won't rest until she's dead. The torture is taking longer than expected. She's acquired a knight. He has to be diverted—or eliminated.”

“I see.” Maurelle nodded, leaned up to nibble on his chin. “So that explains the rapid delivery of this shipment—and the fact that you came with it?”

“Partly. The rest is simply because I missed you.” His good hand reached up, fingers combing her hair off her face. “It's been too long. And I don't intend to let you slip away again.”

Maurelle smiled, shifting to bring him more fully inside her. “I'm not going anywhere.” Seeing the fa­miliar scowl, she added, “I told you why I left last time, darling. I felt unworthy. Things are different now. I won't be disappearing.”

“Soon I'll be here to stay,” he told her, the scowl fading as quickly as it had come. “We'll spend the winters where it's warm. And summers we'll spend anywhere you want—Paris, the Far East—anywhere.”

She trailed her finger down his chest. “Will I be enough excitement for you, I wonder.”

“I could ask you the same.”

“Oh, yes, quite enough.” A melting smile. “We're well-matched, you and I. In business and in bed.” Thoughtfully, she contemplated his promise for the future. “Until the day comes when you're here for good, I'll have to settle for these visits. How long can you stay in Paris this time?”

His hand stilled its motion. “Only a day. I must complete things.” A flicker of interest crossed his face. “It should be fascinating to see what Lady Breanna's protector has done during my absence. If he's half as clever as I suspect, he's probably looming over the desk of that Bow Street runner Marks, telling him the killer who shot Glynnis Martin is the same one who's hunting down Breanna Colby.”

Maurelle started. “If that's true, won't Bow Street be closer to finding you?”

“Not at all. Linking the two killers tells them noth­ing. Chadwick has to uncover my flawless plan—end my equally flawless aim. My guess is, he'll figure out the latter—eventually. He w

on't deduce the former.”

“In other words—?”

“In other words, you're quite safe, my love. Chad­wick will make the connection between the precise method I used to murder those noblemen and the one I intend to use on Lady Breanna. My gifts alone should have shown him that. As to who I am, why I chose those particular men and, most particularly, my relationship with you, that he'll never pieee together. But, if he should, I'll either have finished my business in England and be here with you permanently, or hell be silenced, permanently. Either way, raising the stakes has made this a much more exciting chase. Don't you think?”

“It certainly sounds that way.” She inclined her head, more curious than worried. She knew Ansel and he was too brilliant to leave any stone un­turned—most particularly any stones that might en­danger her. “What about Bow Street?”

“Bow Street?” A scornful laugh. “They're less of a threat than Chadwick. By the time they've absorbed all the information bis lordship provides, decide what to do with it, you and I will be sailing the world.”

“Mmm. That sounds heavenly.” She gave him a quizzical look. “Chadwick—is that the name of Lady Breanna's knight?”

“Indeed it is. Lord Royce Chadwick. Eminent loca­tor of missing people.” The hard edge had crept back into his voice.

“Really.” Maurelle kept her tone light. “Then I have more than Lady Breanna to thank for your fervor. It seems I have Lord Royce Chadwick to thank, too.”

A breeding stare. “Excitement comes with its price, Maurelle. So if you're probing to find out if my earlier rage extended to Chadwick, I'll save you the trouble. The answer is yes. The man might represent a chal­lenge, but he's also an unwelcome intrusion. I look forward to either besting him or killing him— whichever comes first.”

Sensing it was time to change the subject, Maurelle settled herself closer. She could still feel the undercur­rents of violence rippling through him, and she draped herself over him, cloaking him like a comfort­ing blanket. “Obviously, some of that rage and excite­ment are still lingering. Give me an hour to regain my strength. Then, I'll burn away the rest.”

He didn't answer. He just lay silently beneath her, savoring her softness and continuing to twine his fin­gers in her hair.

The clock ticked on, and he felt her breathing even into slumber.