Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

Clockwork interiors. Flint igniters. All small and portable. Easily concealed.”


“How close would the agent have to be to the czar for this to be effective?” Olivia asked.

“Fifteen, perhaps twenty feet,” Clayton said.

“Does he have any records down there?” The workshop she stood in had been neat to the point of obsession. The worktable held

logs of every gear he used and when. That type of man would also track every ounce of gunpowder and every inch of fuse, too. She

couldn’t imagine his secret business would be different.

“What will they say? Deliver three bombs to— The devil! He did keep a ledger.” Ian paused. “He doesn’t give anything useful like

names. But he does the list size of the bombs and payment. Hmm . . . perhaps a trade worth looking into.”

“What was his last entry?”

Ian swore. “It was for a bomb containing fifteen pounds of powder.”

“How close would the killer have to be for that?” she asked.

Clayton’s hand tightened on hers. “He would just need to be in the same ballroom.”

“So now we—” She rubbed her temples, trying to clear her thoughts.

“Now we take you home to rest.”

“But the bomb—”

He ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “You haven’t slept in twenty-four hours. A spy quickly learns there are always more

crises to solve, and you can’t solve them if you’ve killed yourself from exhaustion.”

“Take her to bed.” Ian’s grin was far too innocent. “Oh, I meant put her to bed, of course.”

But the words couldn’t be unsaid. The deliciously wicked thoughts unthought. The heat of Clayton’s hand on hers was suddenly

nearly unbearable as he led her to the window.

There was no regret to stop her now.

Finally.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Olivia said. Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It was throaty, her syllables heavy with desire.

Clayton froze, his hand resting on the windowsill. “Which idea?”

“Both.”





chapter Thirty-one

Clayton couldn’t risk kissing Olivia on the walk back to Kate’s. He needed to keep his eyes on their surroundings to ensure they

weren’t followed.

But Olivia wasn’t making it easy.

And the devilish minx knew it. When she whispered in his ear, her lips caressed it as well. Her teeth worried her lower lip, leaving it

rosy, and as soon as she saw him notice, she slowly licked it.

“Hell, woman, if you keep this up, I’m going to take you in a bank of snow and there will be a decided lack of silk sheets and

candles.”

“Silk sheets and candles?”

His ears heated. “I may have pictured it a time or two.”

She lifted her brow, and it disappeared under the edge of her cap. “So have I.”

“What did you picture?”

She just smiled at him and sashayed in front of him, letting her hips swing. “We never made it to the sheets.”

Since they were only a block from the house, Clayton scooped her into his arms and ran the remaining distance. “Before we get

eliminated by a dozen revolutionaries I’ve been too befuddled to notice.”

He loved the quivers in her chest as she laughed at him.

He hefted her through the window with enough force that she nearly stumbled. “Sorry.”

But she’d regained her footing and had already grabbed his coat to help tug him inside. “Like your new word?”

“Yes, strangely enough.”

They climbed the stairs so fast they were both out of breath as they skidded to a stop outside his door.

He loved that, too.

How could he have considered a life without this?

He opened his door and they fell inside.

“I’ve wanted you every day since I met you.” Her hands already grappled with his buttons.

He swept off her hat and tried to trap her hands to remove her gloves. “There must have been some days these past few weeks

when that wasn’t true.”

She grinned. “Always so precise. But no, there weren’t.”

“Even when I appeared like a damned ghost at your mill, threatening you?”

“I dreamed of kissing you until I found the boy I knew.”

His body throbbed as her hand slipped inside his jacket. “Do you still hope to find him?” Despite the parts of him Olivia had

restored, he’d never be that person again. Too much had happened to him.

She shook her head. “No, now I dream of kissing you until I know the man that boy became.”

Clayton threw off his coat. “What precisely do you want to find out?”

Her lips curled with pure feminine satisfaction. “A good question. First, I’m desperate to find out how quick you’ve become at

unfastening a lady’s buttons.”

“Desperate?” He nipped the side of her neck.

“Completely.” She offered her back.

“I’m quite good at tests.” He’d thought to impress her with his speed, but he found himself unwilling to resist the delicate curve where

her shoulder met her neck. He pressed a kiss to it, then along the valley of her spine until he was stopped by the rest of her clothing.

“Sorry. That was a bit slow.”

He traced his thumb up and down where his finger had just been.

“It’s— I’ll let you try again sometime.” She let the gown pool at her feet, then tipped her head back so it rested on his shoulder.

He laid small kisses along her hairline. Her ear. Her jaw.

“I have also been wondering how you’d react if I bared myself for you?” She pulled away and faced him. Her petticoat fell to the

ground. Then she drew off her shoes and stockings.

She reached behind her for the ties to her stays. “Last time I didn’t quite get to finish. And I didn’t get to see your reaction. Would

your eyes darken?” Her stays fell to the floor. “Would your hands clench? Would you be able to resist coming closer?”

He was already stepping toward her.

She tapped him on the chest, stopping him. “You asked me what I pictured when I fantasized about us making love. It was this.” She

slipped off her shift.

Clayton did not know if it was a growl or a groan he made at the sight of her. Probably some portion of both. She was perfection.

The saucy tilt of her chin. The wild challenge in her eyes. The strands of her blond hair that had come loose to tease her breasts.

No wonder he’d never felt anything for the other women. They’d always been in competition with her. And nothing could compare to

her.

“This is all you pictured?” he managed to ask.

She leaned toward him and brushed her nipples across the linen of his shirt. “Not even close.”

“So you think my candlelight and silken sheets a paltry excuse for a fantasy?” Clayton stripped off his shirt, revealing those hard

rows of muscle.

She couldn’t resist reaching out to trace her finger down the line that bisected his abdomen and disappeared into his trousers. “Oh

no. Not paltry. Sweet, perhaps?”

Clayton’s hand snaked around her waist and pulled her to him. “Sweet? I thought you’d want to be wooed.”