Page 38 of The Scholar’s Spy

Forcing himself away from his own baser needs, and how wondrously good he was certain it would feel to be buried deep within her, Robert redoubled his efforts. His hands moved more thoroughly over Abigail’s tight little peak, hidden amongst her wet curls, the movement circulating and pressing again, eliciting a deeper cry from her and she started to edge toward utter abandonment.

When he finally tilted his hand upwards, first one and then his second finger slipped inside her, Abigail gave a sharp piercing cry, her body shaking in response, the grip of her hand on his shoulder tightened and the one on the table loosened, as color flooded her face, and she gasped out her release. He snatched up her mouth in a kiss, needing to feel her reaction, the movement surprising him as he kissed her fully. The moment was fierce and all-consuming as they both shuddered together with delight and shock.

“I never really knew,” she finally whispered, her mouth pressed close to his, seeking his own, keen for another kiss. Their foreheads were leaning against each other’s as they paused, trying to find the right words, the correct expression for what came next.

So, he kissed her thoroughly, his tongue sinking into her mouth and robbing her of further talk. He would rather kiss her than say what had rushed to the tip of his tongue. Admit what he feared he might say to her…

I love you.

The desire to say those three words to her had occurred to him as naturally as his next breath. In fact, he had to stop himself from making the declaration. Next came a rush to whisper an eager agreement with her earlier sentiments, to say ‘I never really knew either’—because he hadn’t. He could not have known how it felt. With her, it was entirely different from anything he had experienced before. This act somehow went further, tying them together in a way he had not ever expected when they’d entered the workshop and began this dalliance.

His mind was all too aware of this, that was why it sought out the explanation of love. This he reassured himself with—it was simply a newly intense set of feelings—surely it could not be love. No indeed, Robert Davenport did not feel such soft, warm hopeful emotions. No, it was too dangerous to give into those feelings.

But sadly, his body was all too aware of the difference, as Abigail eased back and started to straighten her skirts, adjusting herself back into her former appearance Robert forced himself to turn away from her. He was all too aware that he had entirely lost control of himself, and the evidence was now to be found beneath his pantaloons, with his own release having occurred as Abigail found hers.

If it was not so dire, he might have found it amusing.

“That was wondrous,” Abigail said, reaching out and touching his shoulder. He did not trust himself to turn back toward her. What if those desperate feelings reared their head again and he was let loose babbling away to her? “Robert?”

“It is better when a man and woman can truly be at one together, but I do not think a wooden bench so close to the walkway, an especially wise place for this to occur,” he said, forcing himself to turn back toward her, tucking any overt emotion away, and sidestepping away from her, so she could see the evidence of his own reaction to her.

But all Abigail did was smile. “I will have to come to your room again.”

“That is not what I meant to encourage. There would be a risk of…of you increasing…”

“I believe men might take certain precautions,” Abigail said brightly. Robert had to curse his desirous Abigail. How she could combine both the worldly and the naïve of viewpoints, to be so clever and yet to seek him out… They had agreed earlier for him to take her to London, to help secure the sale of her new discovery, the admittance of her ambitions. Robert knew whatever he might find down here that could be treasonous and involved smugglers would need to be fed back to the baron. He would also be required to help Abigail. It would not be done out of obligation or because of the dictates of his purses, no, instead he would do what she commanded because he needed to see that culmination of her joy and purpose united once more. It would not be enough to bed her, and leave, it would not be enough to simply take her to London with her discovery—he would have to do it all.

He sighed and realized that she was making toward the door, abandoning him as this realization formed in his mind.

“Where are you going?” His tone was sharper than he meant it to be, full of need for her to stay close, for the moment not to be broken.

“We need to fetch the hired men we spoke of,” Abigail said with a shrug, not understanding why he was not following her gist. “We had agreed we would need their help with our discovery. I mean to have it out by nightfall, and here in this workshop safe. I will just go to Pocock and Walsh, they and a few of their quarrymen will help. It will not be too long. They are efficient and will not cost too much. My father hired them before, and I know other treasure seekers use them too.” She blew him a kiss before darting out of the workshop, all brightness and excitement at the new world before her, aflame with both their actions and by the task of freeing the rest of her sea creature.

She was gone, leaving him alone with the task of cleaning himself up, and likewise condemning himself to hell for both his damned actions, which he set about doing. As he dwelt on it, and the confounded stupidity for loving her as he did, and on the irony that he had told he could never wed her. After all, that was the sad truth. How could he marry her when she did not even know his real name?

Chapter Fifteen

Abigail could not remember a better day. She was certain that she had discovered a true ancient wonder, something incredible that would rival her father’s find. This surety had only grown as the afternoon had worn on. Between the hired men, Robert, and herself, more of the sea creature had appeared. That sense of wonder as each vertebrate had slowly emerged into the sun. There had been confusion over Robert’s demand to know more of the area, but then there had been that beautiful moment with Robert too. She would not forget how her body had responded to him.

What more could a woman want?

In darkness, as everyone made their way back toward Abigail’s workshop, pride in her find, excitement in what it might mean, and speculation mounted within her body.

She stole a quick glance up ahead to where Robert was walking, straight backed and broad shouldered. He looked no different than before, but everything between them had changed. It sizzled in the air, alive, bright and shining rather like the stars. Abigail was fearful that one of the workers might notice it and say something. Yet so far, they had been lucky.

“You’ll want it up in London, miss?” Pocock said. He was the oldest of the men present, his tousled grey hair hidden under a wide brimmed hat, which Abigail suspected belonged to his rather colorful wife. Mr. Pocock was a dear friend of Miss Schillers, who Abigail had overheard Sophia theorize that the two of them might have been childhood sweethearts. They certainly went out walking after church on Sunday, fairly regularly.

“I hope so. Once it’s cleaned up and ready for the journey. But that could take months.” She looked at the giant mass of rock and grim. Her father’s discovery had taken him six months before it was ready for public viewing.

“My Lucy will want a look.”

“I wouldn’t dream of charging her,” Abigail said. When her father had found his monstrosity, he’d changed the locals a whole shilling to come in and marvel at its gigantic form. And another shilling if they wanted to touch it. Some people still talked of Mr. Fossey’s highhanded London ways, even though it was over a decade ago—Abigail decided not to make the same mistake. Besides, she was not charging anyone for her find, no this was all to be laid at the feet of discovery and scientific advancement.

“Right kind of you, miss,” Mr. Pocock said.

They had reached the safety of the workshop. They lowered the stretcher that the sea lizard’s hidden form still encased, down onto the floor.

“How long do you reckon you’ll be done with the cleaning of that skull?” Walsh asked her. He had removed his cap, and his gaze flickered between her and the sea lizard’s skull with the sort of curious tick that annoyed Abigail.