Free A Secret Love by Stephanie Laurens Page B

need to consider our next move.” He’d already mapped out several; all could be attempted in a closed carriage rolling through the night.
    â€œIndeed.” Her tone was equable.
    â€œBut first, a point I should have made plain at the outset. You asked for my help and I agreed to give it. You also asked for my promise not to seek out your identity.”
    She stiffened. “Have you?”
    His lightheartedness evaporated. “I promised. So no. I haven’t.” Each word was clipped, each sentence definite. “But if you want me to play your game any further—if we’re to continue our alliance and save your stepfamily from ruin— you’ll have to promise to abide by my rules.”
    Her silence lasted for a good fifty yards. Then, “Your rules?”
    He could feel her gaze on the side of his face; he continued to look forward.
    â€œAnd what are they? These rules of yours.”
    â€œRule number one—you must promise never again to act without my knowledge.”
    She stirred slightly. “Your knowledge ?”
    Gabriel hid a cynical smile; he’d dealt with women long enough not to label it “permission.” “If you and I act independently, especially in such a delicate affair as this, there’s a good chance we’ll cross tracks to disastrous effect. If that happens, and we reveal our interest to the company too early, then all you’ve worked for will go for nought. And you are not sufficiently au fait with how matters are dealt with in the City to appreciate all the ramifications of what we might learn, which is, after all, why you sought my help in the first place.”
    She had none of her sex’s usual wariness of silence; again, she claimed it to calculate, to consider. As they swayed around a corner, she asked, “These rules—what are the others?”
    â€œThere are only two—I’ve told you one.”
    â€œAnd the second?”
    He turned his head and looked at her. “For each piece of information we gather, I get to claim a reward.”
    â€œA reward?” Wariness had crept into her tone.
    He suppressed a wolfish smile. “Reward—a customary token of gratitude given in return for services rendered.”
    She knew precisely what he meant, her knowledge clear in the fine tension that gripped her. After a moment, she cleared her throat. “What reward do you want?”
    â€œFor locating Thurlow and Brown—a kiss.”
    She went still—so still he wondered if he’d shocked her. But she could hardly be surprised—she knew very well who and what he was. From behind her veil, she stared at him, but if she was flustered, there was no sign of it—her hands, folded in her lap, remained still. “A kiss?”
    â€œHmm.” This time, he couldn’t stop his lips curving, couldn’t suppress the seductive purr that entered his voice. “Without the veil. Take it off.”
    â€œNo.” Calm—absolute.
    Arrogantly, he raised his brows.
    She shifted on the seat. “No. The veil . . . I . . .”
    He sighed resignedly. “Very well.” Before she could think of some pretext on which to refuse the kiss altogether, he framed her face with one hand, his thumb under the edge of her veil, lifting it from her lips as he covered them with his.
    Her lips had parted on a startled exclamation—as he caught them, she stilled. She didn’t freeze, didn’t panic—she simply sat, warm and alive, and let him fashion his lips to hers. He tilted her chin slightly; her face moved easily—she wasn’t stiff. But there was no response as he pressed the caress upon her.
    He wasn’t having that, but he knew when to be patient. He kissed her lightly, gently shifting his lips on hers, artfully dallying, waiting . . .
    Her first surrender was a shiver—piercingly sweet, a ripple of pure sensation. He sensed the hitch in her