“Fourth row up, to your left,” he whispered. “Find the box that looks empty.”

Annabel lifted her glasses and found the box without a problem, noting that one of the chairs was turned away from the stage. The longer she watched, the more the details came into focus. Fingers curved around the seat of the chair; the lady’s skirts clung to the legs.

Her companion was a shadow behind her, though his buff trousers occasionally caught the light from the stage. The chair rocked in a familiar, intimate rhythm.

Another round of laughter took Annabel by surprise, and she dropped her glasses into her lap. Everything inside her ached with an emptiness that began at her center. Her clothing tormented her too-sensitive skin. Jasper’s solid thigh was her only anchor, but she couldn’t remember having reached for him.

His stare glittered in the dim light.

Embarrassed by her display, Annabel withdrew.

“Leave it.” Jasper pulled her back and curled his fingers around her palm. “Please. I like it there.”

She liked it there too. But every shift of his muscles reminded her of the man across the way. It made it difficult to focus on the stage, but she managed. It helped that she’d read Shakespeare so often she could recite it with the actors.

As the play ended, they stood with the other audience members for an ovation. Her hand was cool without Jasper’s, but anticipation hummed beneath her skin.

Once in the hallway, they moved with the crowd toward the doors. Frederick stayed on their heels. They reached the way out, and the crowd separated, everyone looking for the shortest route to fresh air. All but two men, off to the side, who were in a heated argument. Reginald Spencer and Charles Melton, the Marquess of Graydon.

“Jasper.”

“I see them. Keep moving so we don’t draw attention to ourselves.”

Once outside, they hurried to their coach. Jasper helped her inside. “Take the long way home, please, Lawrence. Through the park.”

He closed the door and extinguished two of the lanterns, throwing them into near darkness.

“Spencer and Graydon.” Annabel tempered her glee at the key discovery. Jasper had hoped the marquess wasn’t involved in this scheme. Bits and pieces of collected information shuffled in her brain.

They stuttered to a stop when Jasper’s mouth claimed hers in a hot, deep kiss. She returned it eagerly, hungry for him in a way that would have shocked her only a few months earlier. She had missed the thick silk of his hair under her fingers and the sweet, wild scent of his skin.

His greedy hands roamed her body, stoking the fire between them.

He pulled away, his chest heaving with every breath in a most complimentary way. “I promise we’ll pick through every detail, but I won’t be able to concentrate until I’ve had you trembling beneath my hands.” He delivered another shocking kiss. “At least once.”

He removed his gloves with a violence that should have ripped them to pieces and then struggled from his coat. His broad shoulders and strong arms stretched the fabric, reminding Annabel of how he’d felt under her hands and the pleasure they’d given each other.

She loved this man. If they separated after their mission was concluded, she would still love him. It made her ten times a fool, and considering sex with him doubled it.

Despite all that, Annabel peeled off her gloves. Excitement coursed through her, pooling at her center. It was foolish, yes, but she’d have memories like none other. “Travis said you shouldn’t exert yourself.”

“He has no imagination.” Jasper sat back on the opposite seat and swept his gaze around the carriage, as though he’d never seen it before. After a moment, he refocused on her. Her favorite wicked smile spread over his face. “I’m about to scandalize you.”

Yes, please. Cool night air brushed her ankles.

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “Stand up and turn around.”

Annabel obeyed his whispered command, pitching unsteadily with each roll of the carriage wheels. Then, mimicking the lady from the box, she bent at the waist until her elbows were on the seat and she was clutching the edge of the upholstery. She had to spread her legs to keep from toppling forward.

Her corset stays dug into her breasts and her waist, making her wish she was naked. In a coach, rocking down the streets of London, where one shift of the curtains could expose her to the ton. It should have been shocking, but all she could think of was the man behind her and his touch on her skin. How eager she was to have him.

“You never cease to amaze me,” Jasper said as he ran his hands under her skirts, gathering them as he went. The air chilled her knees, then her thighs, and finally her behind, but his fingers left trails of heat in their wake.

It was nothing compared to his hot breath over her hip before the rasp of his teeth and the wet flick of his tongue.

“Spread wider, love. I’ll need more room.”

The action pushed her breasts against the cushion and her behind higher in the air. It would be horribly embarrassing if she stopped to think about it, but she had no time to consider it.

Jasper stood behind her. His trousers teased her thighs as his knuckles brushed her hip. In this close space, she felt his buttons give way. Then he was there, prodding her center. She bit her lip to muffle her needy whimper.

A thud against the wall of the carriage startled her.

“Just me,” Jasper rasped. “This damn thing wasn’t made to stand up in.”

He pulled her to him with one hand and filled her deeply. Annabel’s groan of relief ended in a smile as she heard him echo it.

He withdrew and returned with greater force, hitting a spot that shattered her relief and replaced it with hot, shivering pleasure. She buried her face in the upholstery to muffle her scream.

It continued stroke after stroke, again and again, the same cushion rescuing them from discovery tormented her breasts with delicious pressure. Her nipples were likely wearing a hole in her corset. Her head nudged the wall, and Annabel braced her hands there, pushing away to avoid breaking her neck. The result brought him deeper and ripped a cry from her throat as her toes curled in her shoes.

“God yes, like that,” Jasper growled. “Take me, Annabel.”

She did, answering every delightfully brutal stroke with one of her own, coming apart as her husband snarled and swore above her. Her throat was raw, her dry tongue stuck to the velvet, and her shoulders trembled from exertion. She’d be on the floor if not for Jasper’s bruising hold as he poured himself into her.

It was incredible.

*

“Did I hurt you?”

Jasper found it difficult to do more than whisper as they rode through Hyde Park, piled together as though they were in bed. He was sated, exhausted, and more than a little in awe of his wife.

She brushed his cheek with a kiss. “I may have a bruise or two, but it was worth it.”

He’d have a crick in his back for days—and he’d smile with every twinge.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“I watched you in the theatre.” He’d almost taken her then, sent Frederick to fetch the carriage and pulled Annabel into the shadows against the wall. But he didn’t like public sex, and she would have had to be quiet. Neither of them would have enjoyed that.

She was as honest about her enjoyment as she was with everything else. Just thinking about it made him want her again.

“I’ll admit I thought it would be easier to do than it was.” He looked to the dimly lit walls and inconveniently low ceiling. “We need a larger coach.”

Annabel snuggled against his chest and pulled the blanket to her chin, which only worked to expose her feet. “We need a longer blanket first.”

We. The word warmed him from the center outward in a way he’d never expected. Jasper pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her disheveled hair. As much as he liked her perfume, he enjoyed the scent of the real her, crisp and slightly sweet, with just enough salt to remind him of a few moments ago. “Certainly.”