“Find him, find his weakness, and expose him to my father,” Lady Morgana of Carman said. “If he has no weakness, find his strength.”

“And for this task, I’ll receive?” Sir Beauregard asked.

“You should know this isn’t standard practice for me. In fact, it’s been nearly a year, but…” She arched her back, and her nipples poked through the bubbles. “Anything you want.”

Thoughts of the Secret Service fled his mind. At the moment, all he wanted was Morgana of Carman. “If I take what I want, you’ll no longer be chaste.”

She crooked a finger.

He leaned in close.

“I know how to use what I’ve got. My sexual status shan’t concern you as much as it will pleasure you, but surely, I’m of no interest to you. You aspire to be a soldier in the Brigade of the Secret Service. Save me from this vast maneuver, and out of sheer gratitude, my father will recommend you to my aunt, the queen.”

He swallowed hard. “And in the meantime, I’m to bathe you?”

“You could.” She scooped bubbles from the surface and rubbed them over her shoulders. “But I was thinking you might do something a bit more intimate than that.”

He snapped his gaze to hers. He’d been right all along. Lady Morgana was far from a lady. She was all woman, and thank heaven and hell for that.

She raised an eyebrow. “Tell me you’ve never considered it? You’ve been in my father’s employ for months now. I may be many things, Beau, but I’m not blind.”

“The Duke of Bismalle expects to lay with a virgin on his wedding night.”

Her wet hands traveled to his shoulders, and she unclipped the armor vest. Next, she tended to the button on his muslin shirt. “If you do your job, the duke will have no wedding night.”

“And the next man of status your father finds to take your hand?” He shivered when she grazed the hair on his chest. “What will he think of your—”

Her hand dipped down and cupped his ramrod penis. “You’re hard. Ready.”

He nodded. “God, yes. Look at y—”

“Then what on earth are you doing, thinking of my next dreaded betrothed? Perhaps you might like what you taste, should you ever acquire the balls to bite into it. For a knight, you’re certainly timid when it comes to—”

He took her mouth with his, and after a gasp of surprise, she whisked off his shirt to bare his chest.

“I’ll tell you all you wish to know,” she whispered between kisses. “How I’ve left each night undetected, where I’ve gone, whom I’ve met. I’ll tell you everything, information which will surely secure a position in the Secret Service, if only you’ll find him.”

“Everything I wish to know?”

“Everything, if you’ll spy on the Duke of Bismalle and pluck me from my role in this diplomatic union.”

He’d much enjoy plucking her all right. He closed his eyes in the heady paradise the bathing closet had become. “Tell me about the collection in the bottom drawer of your armoire.”

When she propped her legs in a straddle position on the sides of the tub, bubbles parted, giving him a view. She brought a hand down and traced her opening with delicate fingers. “A lady has needs, just as a gentleman.”

He’d already unfastened the first two buttons on his fly, if only to make room for his erection, but watching her expertly stroke herself, he ripped open the remaining three. “I cannot make love to you. My position as your protector prohibits me.”

“Who said anything about making love?”

“Unless I’m mistaken”—he pulled off his black leather boots and, unable to take his eyes from the sight between her legs, peeled off his socks—“you did, m’lady.”

“I didn’t, Sir Beauregard. Making love involves wooing, and I mentioned nothing of the sort. This is business. Call our intimate pairing a contract of sorts.”