“Damned bustle,” he muttered a short time later. “How the devil do women manage with the things?”
Her laugh was soft, husky and sensual. “Carefully, Mr. Sweetwater. Very, very carefully.”
He would have taken her there in the dark, intimate confines of the cab, the bustle be damned, but for the unfortunate fact that the drive to her town house was far too short for what he had in mind. Nevertheless he could not restrain his passions entirely. By the time the carriage halted in front of Number Seven, the interior of the cab was as humid and scented as an overheated stillroom filled with exotic herbs and mysterious spices.
Virginia’s hair had come free of her tightly pinned chignon, and he had one hand inside the partially undone gown. His own clothing was also in disarray. His tie hung loose around his neck, the front of his waistcoat was open, and so was the collar of his shirt. He was as hard, if not harder, than he had ever been in his life, with the possible exception of the last time that he had made love to Virginia.
“It seems we have arrived,” he said against her mouth. He moved his thumb over one delicate nipple.
“Already?” Virginia sounded breathless and a bit dazed. She slipped her hands out from under his shirt with obvious reluctance.
“Perhaps we might continue this very enlightening conversation concerning the progress of our investigation over a glass of brandy?” he suggested.
“Excellent notion.”
He smiled and raised the hood of her cloak back up over her head to conceal her tousled hair. She pulled the folds of the garment around her to hide the unhooked bodice. An edgy anticipation aroused his senses like a potent drug.
Somehow he managed a reasonably dignified exit from the carriage. Virginia’s hand trembled when he assisted her down to the pavement, but she appeared outwardly composed, as always.
He paid the driver and waved the vehicle on its way. The need to get Virginia into the house and out of her clothes was almost overpowering, but he took a moment to survey the darkened street, looking for shadows within shadows.
One particular shadow shifted in the front area below the steps of Number Seven. A hand appeared out of the darkness, waving enthusiastically.
Virginia stifled a small yelp and peered into the inky depths. “What in the world? There’s a man down there.”
“Good evening, Uncle Owen,” Matt said.
“Where’s Tony?” Owen asked.
“He’s in the garden, watching the kitchen entrance,” Matt said.
“You’re both supposed to be in the attic of the empty house across the street, damn it,” Owen said.
“This is closer to the muffins and the coffee, sir,” Matt said.
“What muffins and coffee?”
Virginia looked at him. “Owen, who is this?”
“My apologies, Virginia. Allow me to introduce my nephew, Matthew Sweetwater. He and his brother have been keeping an eye on this house for several days. Matt is the one who told me that you had not returned from the Hollister mansion the other night. Matt, this is Miss Dean.”
“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Matt said respectfully.
“Mr. Sweetwater,” Virginia responded automatically. She looked at Owen. “You said you had put watchers on my house, but I didn’t realize they were your nephews.”
“Didn’t I mention that?” He took the key from her hand and opened the front door. “Must have slipped my mind. I’ve been somewhat preoccupied lately. Matt, what did you mean about getting closer to the muffins and coffee?”
“The housekeeper came out onto the front steps earlier this evening and signaled to us.”
“Oh, dear,” Virginia said. “She saw you?”
“Mrs. Crofton is a very observant woman,” Matt said. “We realized she had spotted us, so we crossed the street to introduce ourselves. She invited us in for muffins and coffee.”
“So much for instructing you in stealth and camouflage,” Owen said. “Keeping watch on this house was supposed to be part of your training.”
“Did you tell Mrs. Crofton that you were guarding the house?” Virginia asked, very anxious now.
“Yes, ma’am,” Matt said.
“She must have been horrified,” Virginia said.
“She didn’t seem horrified, ma’am,” Matt said. “She left extra muffins and coffee in the kitchen for us after she went upstairs to bed. Gave us a key. Told us to make ourselves at home.”
“She’ll probably give notice in the morning,” Virginia said. “I’m certain her previous employer did not have the sort of personal life that required men to watch her house.”
“What’s done is done,” Owen said. He opened the door and urged Virginia into the hall. “Forget my nephews and your housekeeper.”
“Easy for you to say. I’m sure, given the Sweetwater status and fortune, that you and your family don’t have any problem obtaining good housekeepers.”
Owen got the door closed. “No, we don’t. Most of our staff have been with us for years. Their parents worked in our parents’ households. The positions have descended down through the family.”
“How convenient,” she grumbled.
He peeled off his coat and hung it on a hook. “If you need a new housekeeper, I’ll see that you get one. Now, if you don’t mind, I have something else I’d rather discuss.”
“What?”
“This.”
He trapped her against the nearest wall, pushed back the hood of the cloak and kissed her until her eyes heated and she was once again breathless. Only then did he raise his head.
“Right,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “We’ll discuss my staffing problems some other time.”
“Definitely some other time.”
He scooped her up, the skirts of her gown and the frothy petticoats spilling over his arms. Angling her so that she would not bang her head or her knees against the wall, he carried her down the dimly lit hall and into the study.
The curtains were drawn across the window, casting the room in deep shadow. The only light was the narrow wedge of illumination that came from the sconce in the hall.
He set Virginia on her feet and turned up one of the lamps so that it burned very low. He closed and locked the door, intensely aware of the flaring heat in his veins. When he looked back at Virginia she smiled. Her eyes were fathomless pools of promise. She did not say a word, but the energy of her desire flashed invisibly in the atmosphere.
She stepped out of her dainty evening shoes, raised her hands and undid the strings that bound her cloak at her throat. The thick woolen folds fell away, revealing her disordered clothing. He caught his breath.
“Virginia,” he whispered. For a moment he could only look at her. Everything inside him tightened with longing.
He shrugged out of his evening coat, removed his waistcoat and dropped both over the arm of the nearest chair. He went to stand behind Virginia. Setting his hands on her shoulders, he bent his head and kissed the side of her throat. He felt a tiny shiver sweep through her.
Gently he eased the cloak off her shoulders and tossed it aside. He took down her hair. She was so soft and delicate. His own body was hard and tight, making him feel clumsy and awkward. The soft pings that sounded when he put the hairpins on the mantel seemed very loud in the shadows.
He turned her around to face him. Slowly, deliberately, he finished the task of unfastening the stiffly boned top of her gown. The bodice separated and fell away, revealing the gentle feminine curves underneath. He stripped the tight sleeves to her wrists and eased the rest of her clothing away until she stood before him, wearing only her chemise and stockings.
He fitted his hands to her waist, lifted her free of the heap of skirts and petticoats and set her back on her feet. She unfastened the remaining buttons of his shirt and flattened her palms against his bare chest. The touch of her hands made his temperature climb even higher.