A Spy's Honor (3 page)

She must have noticed his frown, for she withdrew her hands from John’s. “I understand your hesitation. I can’t ask that much of you. I will just—”

He missed the warmth, the connection, of holding her hands. The brightness left her eyes.

An adventure? Scotland would be just the beginning; marriage to Claire would be the true adventure. An unknown future, yes, but he’d have a wife without having to suffer through an awkward courtship. A pretty wife, and one to whom he already felt more than comfortable talking.

He grasped her hand and pulled her back toward him. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “We leave for Scotland within the hour.”

Leaving Claire to make any arrangements she might care to, he went in search of Philip, their most discreet footman, and ordered Allerton’s third-best carriage readied. He also asked Philip to have a basket of food prepared, telling the servant he had to attend to an urgent matter at one of Allerton’s more remote estates. That fabrication should buy them a little time. And, true to his word, within an hour of proposing his rash plan, John slipped out the areaway door, valise in hand.

He wound unobtrusively through the members of the
bon ton
who milled about the pavement in front of Allerton House looking for their carriages. Though they were obviously leaving the ball early, all were in such good spirits after partaking of the duke’s largesse that they paid not a whit of attention to him, a bit of luck he hoped would continue a few minutes longer.

The carriage that awaited him was halfway down the block, behind a long line of other vehicles. He could just make out Claire in a dark cloak, hiding in the shadows of the neighboring house as planned.

He handed his valise up to the coachman, and while the servant was distracted John beckoned Claire forward. Not wanting the coachman to notice the extra passenger, he closely followed her into the carriage, nearly toppling her. He apologized, but she was giggling as she sat.

He crowded onto the squab next to her and put his fingers to her mouth. “Shhh.”

She stilled, leaving his fingers to linger on her lips. While not wafer thin like her sister, she had a fine figure. Despite what her father said, she looked quite splendid in her peach gown with her hair, a soft brown, curled and pinned up. She was curved and rounded in places John could only dream of touching. And he had, many nights running.

The urge to kiss her coursed through him. He leaned closer…

Her eyes widened, and he stopped himself.
Damnation.
She’d just been molested by Landry. How could he even think of kissing her?

The carriage jolted forward, bouncing them both against the seat. John steadied himself and forced himself to say, “Last chance to change your mind.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care how upset my father is; his opinions and feelings are no longer my concern. They never should have been in the first place.” She clutched her shawl tighter around her arms. “Home, hearth, and family have never been his priority. His only care has been rambling around the world, exploring this ancient wonder or sailing across that high sea. He destroyed my mother. I should have known he would try to destroy me too.”

“I’d like to hear about her, if you’d like to tell me.”

Claire nodded. “I would. My mother was beautiful like Emily and sweet. Well, most of the time. She doted on us, but now I think about it she was always a little distant. She would enthusiastically suggest a walk, but then not talk very much. Or she would make up elaborate rules for a game but then wouldn’t participate when we played.”

“Do you miss her?” John missed his father terribly. Now all he had was Allerton, who could have been a great brother but instead tried to fill the role of father too. He’d forced John to go to Gentleman Jackson’s boxing club, Angelo’s fencing academy, and rowing on the estate lake all in an attempt to mold him into a Corinthian of the first order. And while he was well-meaning, John had been miserable. He had other interests more pressing than the empty-headed activities of a gentleman. His passion resided in linguistics. He wanted to spend all his time studying the spoken word, not wasting his efforts on being something he wasn’t: the man his brother thought he should be.

“I do, but even if she were alive nothing would be different. She didn’t possess a very independent nature.” Claire rested her head against the leather seat and closed her eyes. “She loved my father beyond measure, and instead of treasuring that love he crushed it. He left her in Hampshire while he went off carousing, never caring how much pain his absence caused her. She walked on air whenever he came home and then crashed to the depths of misery when he inevitably left again. When she became ill, I wrote him daily, begging him to come back, believing his presence would restore her spirit, restore her health.”

“Funny,” John said, “how people are never quite what we want them to be. Is that our failing or theirs?” He’d always put the blame on Allerton.

Claire opened her eyes. “If you love someone, you’ll be what they need.”

He pondered her words as the carriage rattled into the yard of the coaching inn where they would change vehicles. Should he capitulate and be the blade Allerton wanted him to be? Could he even do it, or was that an impossibility?

As for romantic love, he was no expert on that subject—yet—but it wouldn’t take much for his soon-to-be wife to capture his heart.

***

At the Green Dragon Inn, Lord John hustled Claire out before the coachman climbed down with his valise, and in a matter of minutes he’d waved Allerton’s carriage off and hired a post chaise to take them north. But it was only as they left the streets of London behind and lumbered through the countryside that Claire breathed a sigh of relief.

Which did nothing to dispel the giddiness that had taken up residence in her stomach. She’d escaped what could only have been a nightmarish marriage to Lord Landry. She was out from under her father’s thumb. She was eloping to Scotland.

In a few days she would have a husband: the boy—
man
—sitting next to her. He would forever have her gratitude for riding to her rescue, but if she was going to spend the rest of her days with him she wanted to know him better. Here, in the semi-dark carriage with the comforting music of pounding hoof beats and wheels crunching across the macadam, they had nothing to do but talk anyway.

She touched his sleeve. “Let’s play a game.”

“But of course. Charades? Least-in-sight? Skittles?”

“Very amusing, sir,” she replied, secretly delighted to find that diffident John could be silly sometimes. Everyone needed a little silliness in their life. “Something that requires a little less space. I thought we could learn more about each other by asking questions in turn. Honest answers required.”

He took off his spectacles and pulled out a handkerchief to clean them. “I’m intrigued. You go first.”

“Do you like the theatre?”

He studied the glasses, looking for more spots.

“Tell the truth,” she prompted.

“Only if Shakespeare is being performed.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Did Emily tell you that was my preference too?”

The carriage hit a rut and her bottom jounced off the seat. When she landed, she lost her balance and ended up crushed against John’s side. He stared down at her, making no effort to return her to an upright position.

“No, she didn’t. You truly aren’t fond of the theatre either?”

His spectacles had slid halfway down his nose. Claire reached out and pushed them back up. She was close enough to see his pupils widen.

She straightened, though she was comfortable just as she was. While this newfound intimacy was much different than the horror she’d experienced with the baron, she was not at all certain how she would bear the ultimate marital intimacy. John might not be anywhere near as virile as someone like his brother Allerton, but he was still a man, and what man wouldn’t be disappointed by her body?

“Claire?”

At his prompt, she snapped her attention back to the moment, searching for the topic at hand. Then she smiled at John and said, “No, I don’t like the theatre. Unless it’s Shakespeare, and even then I am particular.
Romeo and Juliet
is a favorite, but I don’t care for
King Lear
.”

He nodded and shrugged. “I suppose we’ll have to find other ways to amuse ourselves in the evenings.”

The carriage was growing warmer by the moment. How was it possible she’d begun tonight as the forgotten sister of the bride and was now on her way to becoming a wife herself?

“Your turn,” she said, perhaps a little too brightly.

“If you have an hour to yourself, how do you spend it?”

“Reading.” Simple enough. “What about you?”

That rare smile made an appearance before he repeated her answer. “Reading. What sort of books do you prefer, my lady?”

She risked censure, as she had endured from her father, but she answered honestly, as required by her rules. “Novels. Gothic, romantic, both…” There, let her husband-to-be respond to that.

“Have you read Mrs. Radcliffe’s
The Romance of the Forest
?”

“Yes, and I adored it. Have you?” She couldn’t see serious John getting past the first few pages.

“No, but I’m glad you enjoyed it. I usually read travelogues or histories. We shall have to have quite a large library.” He blinked suddenly, as if this whole idea of marriage and living together had sunk in at last.

Perhaps it was best if neither of them dwelt overlong on the near future. “Your question, sir,” Claire prompted.

“Your favorite food, madam?”

Everything
. She ignored her father’s sneering answer that echoed inside in her head. “Biscuits. And you?”

“Cheese.”

She chuckled at that. “Your turn again.”

“May I kiss you?”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

“Honest answer, Claire. You can say no.”

His almond scent teased her nose again. Had he moved closer? He wasn’t the man of her dreams, but he would be her husband in a matter of days. She would have to become accustomed to his kisses. And, truthfully, she wanted to put the awful memories of Landry behind her.

“Yes.”

Her reply was barely more than a breath, but he must have heard for he leaned over and pressed his mouth to hers. At first that’s all it was: a meeting of their lips. Then he began to kiss her in earnest.

She tried to respond in kind, but things turned awkward when she opened her mouth just as he closed his and vice versa.

He pulled away, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry.”

Despite their clumsiness, Claire’s entire body prickled with anticipation. She put a hand to his cheek and whispered, “Practice makes perfect.”

His black eyebrows lifted but he wasted no time in accepting her challenge. His kisses were hungrier this time, more frenzied, firmer, and oh so much more tantalizing. He pressed her into the squabs and her nerves thrummed to life. She shifted her hand to the back of his head, marveling at the softness of his hair, and she kissed him back just as eagerly.

The awkwardness faded to the distant past. The carriage hit another rough patch and jostled them again. Neither broke the kiss. John put his hand on her thigh to keep himself from falling. A wicked little feeling balled low in her belly and she moaned.

The driver shouted out their stop just before the wheels ground to a halt. They sprang apart, John righting his spectacles and Claire smoothing out her skirts. When she smiled at him, he focused on setting his cuffs to rights. But not before she saw the heat blazing in his eyes. That combination of shyness and desire made her feel giddy all over again—not because she was eloping to Scotland but because she was eloping to Scotland with John, who might just possibly be her True Love.

***

After a brief stop to change horses and take care of necessities they were heading north once more, and John was glad. There would be nothing more than these short pauses until they reached Gretna Green, lest someone—Claire’s father or Lord Landry perhaps—decide to come after them and ruin their plan. Now, more than before, John wanted nothing to interfere with their trip.

He was falling for her—
fast
. He was comfortable talking to her, so much so that he’d even flirted with her. He’d watched Allerton woo countless women, but never once had he been able to work up the courage to try it himself. Just asking them to dance had been trial enough. With the results he’d achieved with Claire, he would most certainly try flirting with her again.

Once they climbed back into the carriage, he settled a blanket over Claire’s lap and advised that they should try to sleep while the night still lingered. He leaned against the side wall and pulled her close. She nestled in the crook of his arm without hesitation and was soon fast asleep.

Taking a wife was a huge responsibility, but John was ready for the challenge. He had a secure but somewhat dull position at the Foreign Office, and the inheritance he’d receive upon marriage would enable them to set up house. Perhaps in Portman Square. He would see what Claire thought about that. He turned and kissed her temple then closed his eyes to rest.

He awoke some hours later to weak sunlight slipping around the edges of the window shades. He’d been dreaming of Claire again, lying eager and naked on a bed, and had the evidence to prove it. Shifting uncomfortably he realized her forearm lay across his thigh, one lonely freckle dotting the olive skin. He ran his fingertips along her arm, stopping to gently rub his thumb over that freckle as if it were a piece of lint to be brushed away.

That’s when she woke and looked up at him with those dewy brown eyes. There was nothing he could do but kiss her.

He slid his hand around her waist and jerked her close, capturing her mouth in fierce want. She responded immediately, her silky lips dancing with his, opening to him without a protest so he could slip his tongue inside. Which didn’t dissuade her. She pressed her full bosom against him and rubbed her hand along his thigh. Until she encountered his erection.