He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her body as she hugged his cock. Hoping he would not be on the dawn boat to France. “You need to move, love. You need to ride me.”
“Give me a second to appreciate this moment.” A deep sigh breezed from lips he was about to devour. “I love feeling full with you, Nicholas. I love you more than life itself.”
“I love you,” he whispered, pushing into her.
They touched foreheads, but then her mouth found his, and they were soon lost in a frenzy of breathless kisses and thrusting tongues.
Lust fired their blood.
Love had them panting each other’s names.
Fear had them clinging on, praying nothing would ever tear them asunder.
ChapterEighteen
Ivydean was a fitting name for Mrs Russell’s small Jacobean manor house. The evergreen climber had devoured the roof and facade, leaving nothing visible but a few tiny windows and a dark oak door.
When obtaining the address from Mr Hatton, he’d informed them Captain Russell had died three years ago. Indeed, it was as if nature had reclaimed ownership of the house.
The lady’s butler was a stocky man with hard eyes and a scar on his chin. The power in his strides and stance said he was once a military man and knew showing any sign of weakness might prove fatal.
“I’ll see if Mrs Russell is receiving callers.” The butler was sharp and to the point and marched through a door at the far end of the dark hall.
“Mr Hatton seemed convinced his sister knew about the debt,” Helen said as they waited patiently. Her eyes still carried the languid look of desire despite him pleasuring her thoroughly en route. “Yet the fact he has no clue why leads me to believe it has something to do with a blackmail demand.”
Nicholas found himself smiling. Maybe because he meant to make love to Helen again during the journey home. Maybe because Sebastian had been forced to relinquish control for the first time in his life.
“If she refuses to reveal what she knows, we’ll tell her about the murder, make her think her life is in danger.” He disliked frightening women but would do anything to escape a death sentence.
The rhythmical click of the butler’s shoes alerted them to his presence. He strode through the hall and stopped abruptly. “Mrs Russell will see you now. Please come this way.”
Like a mourning procession, they followed the servant into a large drawing room. The beamed ceiling was only a foot higher than the door, and the fireplace was so wide four men might hide inside the chimney.
A timid-looking lady with pale cheeks rose from the chair next to the hearth. “Good afternoon. I am Marjorie Russell. Sykes said you know my brother, and he gave you my direction. May I ask how you’re acquainted?”
Nicholas introduced himself and noticed a flicker of suspicion in the woman’s eyes. “I believe you knew my mother, Esther Howard, and have come to discuss a matter of the utmost urgency. I met Mr Hatton while discussing the Oakmere Estate.”
Mrs Russell seemed to shrink a little. “Sykes, would you have Mabel bring tea and some of the currant cake she made this morning?”
Sykes clipped his heels together and went on his way.
“Please, do sit down.” Mrs Russell gestured to the sofa positioned opposite her chair. “I imagine you may be here for some time.”
Nicholas waited for Helen to sit and then settled beside her. “My colleague, Miss Smith, is an enquiry agent hired by Lady Brompton to solve a murder on her estate.”
With wide eyes, she scanned Helen from head to toe. “An enquiry agent? Good heavens. They employ women to do perilous work?”
“Only competent ones,” Helen said proudly.
“My husband would turn in his grave at the mere thought.” Her smile was sad and empty. “A woman should be quiet and submissive. He was very particular about that.”
Helen did not question the captain’s misconceptions about the fairer sex. “Perhaps I should explain what we know about Esther and what information we seek from you.”
Having already met two people with feeble memories, he expected this woman to make the same claim. But she surprised him by saying, “I remember it all as if it were yesterday. When a woman is quiet, she has plenty of time to reflect.”
“What can you tell us about Robert Holland?” From Nicholas’ tone, she could be confident he despised the man.
Quietness loomed as Mrs Russell’s frown deepened. “Next to the devil, he was the evilest man I’ve ever known. He could seduce a saint to sin. A man with no conscience is a dangerous thing.”