Napoleon's Woman by Samantha Saxon Read Free Book Online Page B

eagerly, hungrily. The armoire shifted beneath their arduous embrace, and her hands drifted to his neck so that she might have a better taste of him.
    Aidan winced at her touch, hissing in pain.
    Lady Rivenhall pulled away from his lips, asking, "What happened?"
    "Your ring cut my neck," he said as he looked down at the enticing woman’s swollen lips, at her full breasts and the pain retreated into the far recess of his mind. "No matter. Where were we?"
    He took her mouth and invaded her. She made soft mewling noises as her hands stroked his back and then descended to his backside. Undone by her bold caress, Aidan tore away from her lips and kissed down her neck to the delightful mounds of flesh revealed by her lavender gown.
    It would not be long before her tightened nipple was in his mouth as she lay naked beneath him. The thought made him lightheaded, and the candles flickered. He blinked several times in confusion and then looked at the stunning woman before him.
    "You bitch," he mumbled, and just before sinking into unconsciousness the Earl of Wessex remembered that Lady Rivenhall was a traitor…and quite deadly.

Chapter Six
 
    "Well?"
    "Nothing," Celeste said with a shake of her head. She stripped her hands of her white gloves and allowed Madame Arnott to unlace her demure gown. "I searched his study as well as his bedchamber and dressing room. There was nothing. And after meeting Lord Reynolds, I would say the man thinks of nothing more than horses and whores. I would be astonished if he were the man we have been asked to find."
    "But you cannot be sure."
    "I will not be sure of any of them until we have the traitor in custody," she answered, stepping out of her petticoats and laying them on the brocade chair. "However, I’m afraid we have a much bigger problem on our hands."
    Madame Arnott picked up the gown, examining the crushed flounces as if trying to understand how so much damage could have been done in one evening.
    "Yes, and what is that?"
    "The Earl of Wessex."
    "What?" The crunch of black taffeta erupted in the room as Madame Arnott walked to stand in front of Celeste, the damaged gown forgotten. "He was reported to be recuperating at his estate in Wessex?"
    "Well, he is here, and I can assure you the man is fully recovered." A flash of heat skidded up her spine and deposited itself in her cheeks. "He discovered me searching Lord Reynolds’s bedchamber and was quite determined to turn me over to the authorities."
    "How did you escape him?" Marie’s eyes widened with concern.
    Celeste’s cheeks turned positively red. "I drugged him," she said. "He should awake in two or three hours." Celeste sat at her dressing table and began unpinning her golden hair, trying not to remember the feel of his warm lips, his masculine hands on her body. "I shall need to contact Falcon. I see no other alternative, do you?"
    "No." Madame Arnott picked up the sterling silver brush and stroked the blonde strands that fell to Celeste’s waist, her intelligent blue eyes considering the possible effects of the Earl of Wessex on their mission. "You are in a great deal of danger, ma petite. We must devise a plan to neutralize Wessex."
    "I know," Celeste answered, staring at Marie’s reflection in the mirror, but she could not imagine any action that would turn the powerful earl from his course.
    However, one thing was certain, she would see the Earl of Wessex again, and Celeste wondered if she would be able to resist her attraction to the very man that threatened her mission and her life.
    ***
    Aidan Duhearst woke at half past three in the morning thoroughly delighted to be alive. His mathematical cravat had dissipated into an incongruous mass, and his normally tidy black hair was as rumpled as his cloths.
    He pushed himself to a standing position, but had to lean against the armoire when the room began to spin. Aidan waited for the ride to cease before staggering out into the dimly lit hallway, where he found himself