Read Online One Night With a Spy by Celeste Bradley - Free Book Online
Authors: Celeste Bradley
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plain, unadorned key of a larder or a silver case. This ornately carved key was meant to be seen by more than mere servants.
He could discount the master's bedchamber and—much to the regret of his inner voice—the mistress's bedchamber, for he was in the presence of a mind that would never be so obvious… so what did that leave him?
Barrowby was huge, but it was also full of staff and was beautifully maintained—better than Ravencliff, in fact. What room in this house would see no traffic of guests or servants?
He looked down at the key in his hand and smiled slightly. Only a woman…
The journey up the stairs took too long, but he dared not allow a single squeak in such an overpopulated house. Two painstakingly silent floors later, he quickly searched the halls until he found what he was looking for.
The nursery was every bit as neglected as the rest of the house was looked after. Dust coated the empty shelves that would have held toys and the sheet-covered cribs were positively saddening.
Then again, children had obviously never been Lady Barrowby's goal.
There was a small dusty trunk standing in one corner of the room. Careful to disturb the accumulated dust as little as possible, Marcus crossed the room to kneel by it. The keyhole was tiny. Marcus tried the same key he'd used to open the ornate box in the parlor and was rewarded by a click.
Inside there were several leather-bound books with plain covers, the sort used for diaries or sketching. At last, her records. Marcus adjusted his candle for maximum lighting and opened one at random. The looping script was easy to read.
"—
his thickness drove into me with increasing fury as his hard hands lifted me above him again and again
—"
Marcus nearly dropped the book in his surprise. "What the
hell?"
The records were a diary—but what a diary! Page after page was filled with raw, sexual description and erotic darkness. Marcus read faster and faster, his own breath coming quick at the erotic daring on the pages.
He forgot to look for code, he forgot to scan for secrets, he only wanted to live each fevered page of her exploits and then the next, and the next. By the time he neared the end of the final volume, he was dripping in perspiration and his cock was as hard as iron.
It was going to take an hour of cold cloths on the back of his neck and a hundred press-ups before he was sure he would not have to take himself in hand to relieve the pressure!
Absorbed, he lost all awareness of the passage of time. A sound came from outside the house. Dear God, it was nearly dawn! Marcus put aside the last, unfinished volume and concluded that the only thing revealed by the diaries was that Lady Barrowby was no lady, no matter how highborn she was.
She was unchaste and unfaithful. He was repelled.
Oh, really? Repelled? Is that what you were thinking when your trousers nearly lost their buttons?
That wasn't the point. The point was that he had gained nothing useful in his night raid of Barrowby. He could try again, but he'd been most thorough.
He was going to have to start all over again.
In the meantime, the morning brightened. It was past time to leave.
5
« ^ »
The garden is warm and the sunlight glows through the petals and leaves of the roses. The sweet, delicious scent turns my senses to fire, making my skin tingle for my lover's touch. He walks beside me and I can tell that the perfume is affecting him as well, for his steps have slowed and his fingertips linger on the blooms as we pass. "They feel like you," he tells me huskily. "Like the inside of you."
I turn and walk slowly backward before him. I dressed to tantalize him and his gaze falls victim to my décolletage. "Are you sure of that?" His eyes meet mine. "I mean to say, don't you think you might need more experience to make such a comparison?"
He laughs, a low, heated sound that matches the passion rising in his eyes. With one hand, he pulls the petals from a few blown roses, then tosses
He could discount the master's bedchamber and—much to the regret of his inner voice—the mistress's bedchamber, for he was in the presence of a mind that would never be so obvious… so what did that leave him?
Barrowby was huge, but it was also full of staff and was beautifully maintained—better than Ravencliff, in fact. What room in this house would see no traffic of guests or servants?
He looked down at the key in his hand and smiled slightly. Only a woman…
The journey up the stairs took too long, but he dared not allow a single squeak in such an overpopulated house. Two painstakingly silent floors later, he quickly searched the halls until he found what he was looking for.
The nursery was every bit as neglected as the rest of the house was looked after. Dust coated the empty shelves that would have held toys and the sheet-covered cribs were positively saddening.
Then again, children had obviously never been Lady Barrowby's goal.
There was a small dusty trunk standing in one corner of the room. Careful to disturb the accumulated dust as little as possible, Marcus crossed the room to kneel by it. The keyhole was tiny. Marcus tried the same key he'd used to open the ornate box in the parlor and was rewarded by a click.
Inside there were several leather-bound books with plain covers, the sort used for diaries or sketching. At last, her records. Marcus adjusted his candle for maximum lighting and opened one at random. The looping script was easy to read.
"—
his thickness drove into me with increasing fury as his hard hands lifted me above him again and again
—"
Marcus nearly dropped the book in his surprise. "What the
hell?"
The records were a diary—but what a diary! Page after page was filled with raw, sexual description and erotic darkness. Marcus read faster and faster, his own breath coming quick at the erotic daring on the pages.
He forgot to look for code, he forgot to scan for secrets, he only wanted to live each fevered page of her exploits and then the next, and the next. By the time he neared the end of the final volume, he was dripping in perspiration and his cock was as hard as iron.
It was going to take an hour of cold cloths on the back of his neck and a hundred press-ups before he was sure he would not have to take himself in hand to relieve the pressure!
Absorbed, he lost all awareness of the passage of time. A sound came from outside the house. Dear God, it was nearly dawn! Marcus put aside the last, unfinished volume and concluded that the only thing revealed by the diaries was that Lady Barrowby was no lady, no matter how highborn she was.
She was unchaste and unfaithful. He was repelled.
Oh, really? Repelled? Is that what you were thinking when your trousers nearly lost their buttons?
That wasn't the point. The point was that he had gained nothing useful in his night raid of Barrowby. He could try again, but he'd been most thorough.
He was going to have to start all over again.
In the meantime, the morning brightened. It was past time to leave.
5
« ^ »
The garden is warm and the sunlight glows through the petals and leaves of the roses. The sweet, delicious scent turns my senses to fire, making my skin tingle for my lover's touch. He walks beside me and I can tell that the perfume is affecting him as well, for his steps have slowed and his fingertips linger on the blooms as we pass. "They feel like you," he tells me huskily. "Like the inside of you."
I turn and walk slowly backward before him. I dressed to tantalize him and his gaze falls victim to my décolletage. "Are you sure of that?" His eyes meet mine. "I mean to say, don't you think you might need more experience to make such a comparison?"
He laughs, a low, heated sound that matches the passion rising in his eyes. With one hand, he pulls the petals from a few blown roses, then tosses
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