Passion for the Game (Georgian 2)

She felt the same.

The ride to Mayfair was lamentably long, and after the night’s exertions, her injury throbbed and tormented her. Battered by her roiling thoughts and confusion, her equanimity was askew. Once again, she was reminded that she was a pawn and valued only for her usefulness. But one day she would be rid of all of the people who chose to exploit her. She and Amelia would leave, start anew, find happiness.

Once they reached home, Simon escorted her up the stairs. He dismissed Sarah, preferring to undress Maria himself, his large hands gentle and mindful of the ache the permeated every cell in her body. He tucked her gently into bed and then changed her dressings, murmuring his concern at the fresh blood that stained the cloths.

“At least it is a clean wound,” she whispered, her eyes closing in relief as she settled back into the down-stuffed pillows.

“Here.”

A spoon was placed at her lips and a moment later laudanum slipped down her throat. It was quickly washed down with water, and soon the potent effects were evident by the easing of the pain that plagued her.

“How do you feel, mhuirnín?” Simon’s fingers drifted across her brow and kneaded gently into her temples.

“Grateful for you.” Her words slurred together, ending in a soft purr as his lips brushed across hers. She inhaled deeply, absorbing the beloved scent of his skin deep into her lungs. Her hand caught his and squeezed.

“Rest now,” he admonished, “so you can heal. I need you well.”

She nodded, and drifted into sleep.

Her dreams were unpleasant, her heart racing with distress as she chased after an elusive Amelia while Welton’s laughter echoed through her mind. Maria thrashed, which aggravated her shoulder. With a whimper, she awoke.

“Easy,” rasped a voice beside her.

Turning her head, she found her cheek pressed to a warm, nude chest. Coarse hair cushioned her head and strong arms held her as immobile as possible without hurting her further. Moonlight poured in through the windows, revealing the one sash that was pushed upward, inviting in a cool evening breeze—as it had apparently invited in the man who shared her bed.

“Christopher,” she breathed, finding comfort in the familiarity of his embrace.

He exhaled as if the sound of his name affected him, his chest falling and then rising beneath her. The room was dark, and though she could not see the clock, she knew that hours had passed since she’d first fallen asleep.

“Why are you here?”

He was silent for a long moment, then, “I don’t know.”

“How did you slip past my men?”

“With great difficulty, but obviously, I managed the task.”

“Obviously,” she said dryly. Her fist, which rested over the taut cords of his stomach, relaxed, opening to press her palm against his skin. Her touch slid downward, reaching his waistband.

“So you are not entirely undressed,” she noted.

“Would you wish me to be?”

“I admit the thought of you caught without your breeches does have its amusements.”

“Bloodthirsty vixen.” His raspy voice was tinged with affection. He pressed a hard kiss to her forehead and pulled the dislodged counterpane over her injured shoulder. “I came to berate you for leaving me as you did. My temper was high and in need of release.”

“Are you enamored with me?” she teased, hiding the strength of her anticipation for his answer.

“I expect the promises made to me to be kept.” The warning was clear.

“You made a like promise to me.”

“I kept mine,” he murmured. “Can you say the same?”

Maria leaned back to look up at him. “What sexual feat can I perform in this condition?”

“A touch, a kiss.” He stared down at her with glittering eyes. “A suggestive glance would be too much.”

Maria considered him a moment, carefully taking stock of her reactions to this man. She wasn’t quite certain why he appealed to her so strongly. As much as there was to like about him, there was even more to be wary of. “You kissed a woman.”

“It was worth it to see your reaction.”

A soft laugh escaped her, a sound both wry and derisive. A heartbeat later he joined her, the rumble of his merriment a joy to hear.

“We are an unfortunate pairing,” he said.

“Yes. If we had the option, I would suggest we stay far away from one another.”

Christopher’s hand stroked down her back. “The woman you saw was Angelica. Quinn knows her quite well.”

“Ah.” Maria nodded.

“Quinn occupies the room next to yours. If his position in your household is so important,” he asked gruffly, cupping her chin and forcing her to once again meet his gaze, “why is he not at your side?”

“You should not care about Simon or Eddington. I should not care about Angelica. What we do when we are apart should be of no consequence to any business between us.”

His lips firmed. “I agree that is the way it should be. But that is not the way it is.”

“It was sex between you and me. If we indulge again, it would remain nothing more than sex.”

“Very good sex,” he corrected.

“Did you think so?” She studied what she could see of his features in the darkness.

He smiled and her breath caught. “I knew it before the fact.” His fingers drifted across her lips. “You need to heal so we can resume our bedsport. In the meantime, tell me. What did Welton want of you that forced you to go out in this condition, rather than recuperating as you should be?”

“Why did Sedgewick approach me as if he knew me and assume that you were my escort?”

They stared at each other in silence, neither willing to make an admission. Finally, she sighed and snuggled tighter against him. How she missed the feel of a man in her bed, the comfort of a strong embrace and the warmth imparted by a handsome man’s desire. Somehow the things left unsaid brought her closer to Christopher. There was no denying that they were impossibly alike.

“My brother was an agent,” he said suddenly, his breath blowing warmly into the hair at her crown.

Staring out the window at the starry night, Maria blinked and held her breath, wondering why he would reveal such a thing to her.

“He learned information,” he continued, his voice devoid of emotion, “and shared it with me. You see, he needed funds quite desperately and I acquired them the only way I could.”

“Illegally.” Suddenly, the occasional sightings of goodness she had witnessed in him became explainable. She, too, functioned outside of the law for the welfare of a sibling.

“Yes. When he learned of my activities, he was furious. It did not sit well with him that he benefited at the risk of my neck.”

“Of course not.”

“So he came to London to assist me, which spared me many times. I was always aware of traps before they were sprung.”

“Dastardly,” she whispered, her hand running down his side. “And quite brilliant.”

“We thought so. Until his actions were discovered.”

“Oh.”

“Our cooperation was then extorted using my brother’s safety as leverage. It was messy, and in the end, deadly. Nigel wanted to save me and he did, but it cost us his life.”

“I am sorry.” She pressed a kiss to his chest, her lips clinging to his skin. How well she knew what it was like to lose a sibling. At least she had a chance of recovering Amelia. Christopher’s brother was lost forever. “I trust you were close to one another?”

“I loved him.”

The simple statement rocked her to the core. The words detracted not at all from his seeming invincibility. They were imparted with such strength that the admission could never be construed as a vulnerability. “Is that your grievance against the agency?”

“In part. There is more.”

“You tell me this to gain my sympathy and my assistance?”

“Partly. And partly becaus