“I have told Miss Tina that we are ‘walking out’ together, Archie. I’m sorry but it seemed best. I wanted to continue to see you, to discover what you were up to, and I needed a subterfuge.”
Archie chuckled in delight. “Walking out, Maria?”
“You can break it off with me if you wish,” she said, gazing at the river in a studied manner. “I do not mind. It is all pretend anyway. My heart will not be broken.”
“Is it? All pretend, I mean?”
His tone brought her head around. He was watching her almost shyly, and Maria didn’t pretend not to understand.
“Perhaps it is not quite all pretend,” she conceded. “And perhaps my heart would be a little bit broken, after all.”
Archie smiled. “Then let’s just carry on as we are, Maria. You help me with my spying, and I will help you with yours. Will we shake on it?” He held out his hand to her.
It was a typically masculine thing to do, but solemnly Maria shook his hand. “Here’s to spying, Archie.”
His smile broadened, and his eyes twinkled. “Here’s to spying, Maria.”
Richard knew he must stop. He wasn’t sure what Tina’s objective was, but she was playing a very dangerous game for a woman who wanted to marry someone else.
The reminder that she was to marry Gilfoyle was like a hot dagger in his brain. He wasn’t sure whether that was because he wanted her for himself or because Gilfoyle might be the Captain, but if he kept kissing her like this, then all his plans would be undone.
Reluctantly he pulled away.
She lay against him, compliant, her breasts rising and falling quickly, her eyes closed, long, dark lashes lying against her flushed cheeks. Her mouth was pink and swollen from kissing.
Richard couldn’t help but smile in pure male satisfaction. He hadn’t lost his touch then.
He should be asking her questions about Gilfoyle, using her as a source of information, gathering all her secrets. But he wasn’t. Instead he felt protective of her and he was reluctant to spoil their little idyll.
To feel that way made no sense at all.
He might tell himself she was just another woman, and he’d had plenty, but it wasn’t the truth. There was something different about this one, something that was turning his usually sharp intelligence—his ability to make sacrifices for the greater good—to heroic mush. Tina was becoming his priority; Tina was what he thought of when he woke up, and it was Tina again when he went to bed.
“Tina? Sweetheart, wake up,” he murmured gently. “Your maid will be back in a moment.”
That brought her to her senses. Her eyes sprang open, and she sat up, a hand to her tumbled hair. She was a mess. Had he done that? Of course he had. Well, it must not happen again. With a new sense of resolve he began the search for her hair pins.
A moment later there was a quiet knock on the door, but by then they were ready to face the staff.
“Miss Tina? I’m very sorry we were so long,” Maria spoke quickly. She was rather red in the face and short of breath, obviously more concerned about her own shortcomings than her mistress’s.
“I’m afraid we lost track of time, sir,” Archie added apologetically but didn’t appear very sorry.
“Well you are here now,” Tina said.
Richard watched admiringly as she rose calmly to her feet and held out her hand to him. She was so poised he doubted his own memory, but no, it was true; a few moments before they had been clasped in each other’s arms on the verge of doing something irreversible. Damn it, but her acting was getting better by the day.
“Good-bye, Mr. Eversham,” she said primly. “I shall be in t-touch with you soon.”
Oh dear! Tina almost groaned aloud. Why did she stumble over that particular word? “Touch.” Why was it that a word that had never had a secondary meaning before now have so many? The feel of his hands against her skin, the touch of his mouth against hers, against her throat, against every inch of her he could find without actually taking off her clothes. In fact, oh Lord, had she asked him to take them off? No, surely not. But yes, she remembered her breathless voice, pleading . . .
Tina swallowed and lifted her chin, hoping Maria hadn’t noticed her agitation. Richard certainly had. His gray eyes sparkled with wicked laughter although his face was grave. Oh yes, he was a man who was good at keeping secrets.
“Good-bye, Miss Smythe,” he said, holding her hand briefly, as a gentleman would. She turned and tried not to run down the stairs to the front door. Escape, it was all she wanted now. Escape from him . . . and herself.
The door to Number Five closed. She had taken two steps before Maria began to castigate her. Yes, yes, she knew she was behaving in a dangerous and reckless manner, yes, she knew she was risking her reputation, this was all fact, but it was for a purpose. That was her defense.
“Maria, I know you are worried about me, but please believe me when I tell you that I am perfectly safe. I know what I’m doing.”