His Lady Spy (The Star Elite Series) (3 page)

Her gaze wandered
lazily over her surroundings. Besides the wooded copse on the opposite banks of the stream, and a handful of trees behind her, and the church of course, there was nothing for miles around. So why was she still feeling as though she was being watched? As far as she could tell there was nobody else in the area. Cecily had gone off to church to carry out Papa’s orders, leaving only herself beside the brook.

A gentle breeze whispered across her skin and made her shiver. Tugging her shawl tighter about her shoulders, she eased off the hard boulder and stood, arching her back as she smothered a yawn. She r
eally should be heading off to church herself. It was very selfish of her to expect Cecily to arrange the flowers all alone, but she something deep inside her refused to adhere to all of Papa’s dictates. He had positively ordered them to do the church flowers and be back in time to get dinner ready by the usual time of eight o’clock. Portia couldn’t ignore the feeling that he had wanted them out of the house for a while, and briefly wondered what he was up to, before deciding that she didn’t really want to know. She didn’t care what he got up to when she and Cecily weren’t around, as long as he wasn’t plotting anything to do with them.

Portia lifted her face toward the sun and basked in the gentle warmth for several moments, absorbing the simple peace and tranquillity of her favourite spot.
As she listened to the birds and the gentle trickle of the stream, she slowly became aware of the quiet sound of distant footsteps intruding on her pleasure. Her heart leapt at the thought of being discovered sitting by herself, beside the bank of the stream. Glancing around frantically, she quickly dodged beneath the large, low-slung branches of one of the huge oak tree, and stood with her back to the trunk. She was certain she had heard someone approaching, but nobody was walking across the field toward her. Frowning deeply, she studied the trees opposite. Could she hear voices?

She briefly considered leaving only to wince as she caught sight of the source of the noise.
There, through the trees were the clear outlines of three, no, four men talking quietly. Portia had lived in Tissington all of her life and knew practically everybody. As far as she could see, the men in the woods weren’t local. Her stomach lurched as she thought about the dangers of being found alone, in the middle of nowhere by four strange men, and she felt her hands begin to tremble. Reminding herself that she was hidden in the branches of the tree, and wasn’t altogether visible unless they were looking for her. She stood frozen in place, not daring to move, or breathe, for fear of discovery.

T
hey are only talking,
Portia chided herself sternly. If she left the safety of the tree now, they would undoubtedly see her. She could hear faint murmuring, but it wasn’t loud enough to decipher the words. Strangely, she felt as though she was being watched still, and that unnerved her. Cautiously glancing at the surrounding area did little to reassure her that there was nobody around.

Sighing deeply, she stood motionless and
watched two of the four men disappear deeper into the woods and simply vanish, leaving two men standing just inside the tree-line. They seemed to be arguing. One of the men was gesticulating wildly with his hands. He seemed to be protesting against something. Or was that pleading? Curiosity piqued, Portia knew she should turn away and allow them their privacy, but couldn’t bring herself to leave.

Deciding she had no choice but to wait until the men had left, Portia settled back against the tree to wait.

Archie smothered a curse and stared down at the dark, glossy head directly beneath his feet. Could life get any worse? He shook his fist at fate for bringing the ladies to the stream in the first place, especially at a time like this. Now though, one of them appeared to be as nosy as she was beautiful.

When they had first appeared below him, Archie had been intrigued by the beautiful ladies who had invaded his hiding place. With nothing else to do, he had listened to them lament
their fate at the hands of their stern father, and make their plans of escape. He wanted to caution them both as to the folly of their intentions, but his own predicament forced him to keep quiet.

Archie wi
nced as a particularly sharp piece of bark bit into the back of his thigh, but he daren’t move. Mentally cursing his luck, he studied the small group of men who had appeared in the trees opposite. They were undoubtedly the ones he had been sent to Tissington to gather information on. He strained his ears to listen to what was being said, studying the landscape for any sign of the two guards while trying to figure out what he was going to do next, preferably without alerting the unfortunate witness beneath his feet.

Trust me to pick the wrong woods,
Archie thought with a rueful shake of his head, glancing down at the intriguing young woman again. She should have left with her sister, and then she would have been out of the way. As it was, right now, she was watching two of the most notorious spy smugglers England had ever seen and, he suspected, about to watch a murder.

Over the course of the past few months, the men deep in conversation on the opposite bank of the stream had, along with their French counterparts, managed to establish a chain of English and French people from all walks of life. Those people were smuggling French spies into the country, providing them with a place to stay while furnishing them with new papers, before helping them
disappear. One or two had re-emerged in the halls of government, in menial jobs that left them with plenty of time to watch those around them carefully. Others had yet to be found.

T
he Star Elite had been tasked with finding those culpable; breaking the chain and making sure everyone was brought to justice. Slowly but surely, French spies were being either captured for interrogation or removed – permanently. So far, Archie and his associates had discovered where they were being brought into the country, and which house in St Issey they were being held at before they were moved further inland, to the small village of Much Hampton nestled in the wilds of Bodmin Moor. Thanks to his friend, Simon’s recent endeavours, they had found the master forger who produced the false papers, and uncovered the very place where the French spies were furnished with new identities. Lindsay, the man responsible for that particular part of the chain, was on his way to Bodmin jail for questioning.

Jamie and Rupert
, two other members of the Star Elite, had discovered that a meeting was going to be held between the smugglers near Tissington. They were panicking because they couldn’t get hold of Lindsay, or Archembault, their master forger, who had disappeared at the same time.

Archie had been tasked to watch the meeting, and gather as much information on what was discussed as possible.
They were aware of someone in Tissington providing the smugglers with finances to carry out the English part of their operation, but the Star Elite hadn’t managed to uncover who that particular traitor was. For now, Archie had to find out which of the French spy leaders were in the area, and follow them to their next meeting with the unknown Tissington contact.

It should have been so simple, especially for someone as adept at hiding as Archie was.
It would have been easy too, if he had chosen the right group of trees, and the two ladies hadn’t chosen that moment to seek privacy to discuss running away from home. He briefly wondered why neither lady was already married by now. They were certainly of marriageable age, and both were beautiful in their own right, so what was wrong with the men in Tissington? He had overheard enough of their conversation to know that it probably wasn’t the ladies, but their father and it was a shame to think of such wonderful ladies being handed over to lecherous old men.

Shaking his head at the strangeness of rural folk, Archie turned his attention back toward the woods opposite.

From the look of the two men who were left, the argument was going to be fierce. Archie had seen first-hand just how ruthless this group of spy smugglers were, and could only hope that on this occasion his instincts were wrong, and there wouldn’t be any bloodshed.

G
lancing down at the lady standing at the base of the tree he was sitting in, Archie knew she had spotted the activities across the way, and cursed his luck. She had yet to look up. If she had, she would have seen him wearing his very effective disguise of workman’s clothing, his dark brown breeches accompanied by a rather rough, yet clean white shirt accompanied by a leather waistcoat. The rather grubby and well-worn riding boots he wore were years old and were barely fit for purpose, but fitted his outfit perfectly.

On the one
hand, he was glad that she hadn’t looked up and spotted him sitting high in the branches. It saved him from having to make up excuses to explain his strange behaviour. The last thing he needed was for her to forewarn the men on the opposite bank to his presence in the tree. On the other hand though, he wasn’t able to warn her to leave the area, and circumstances had just been taken out of his control by the ill-timed arrival of the men opposite.

Portia
. A beautiful name for an equally beautiful woman
, Archie thought. At any other time he would have been more than happy to make her acquaintance, just not today.

H
e had heard enough of the heated conversation going on in the woods to know that they were the Frenchmen he was here to spy on. If either of them were to glance across the stream, they would see the gentle fluttering of her walking dress. Archie knew from past experience that the men had no hesitation in silencing anyone who was unfortunate enough to witness their activities. It didn’t matter if they were male or female, they would be ruthlessly silenced. For her sakes, she had to remain perfectly still and keep quiet. If only he could tell her that.

Archie watched as
one of the men, Manton, lifted his gun. The man opposite began to back away, waving his arms in desperation as he stared helplessly into the face of death.

Archie hear
d rather than saw the lady beneath his feet gasp as the gun retorted loudly in the quiet afternoon. The dull thud of the body hitting of the floor was accompanied by the startled squawks of several birds as they left their nests in a flurry of terrified feathers. From his position hidden in the large branches of the tree, Archie’s gaze flickered between the gruesome scene of murder to the lady below. A word of warning hovered on his lips as she instinctively moved away from the base of the tree. For one brief moment he wondered if fear would make her run, and mentally prayed that she had the logic to keep quiet.

He had heard enough of her conversation with her younger sister to know that Portia was the more logical one. If she applied that logic now, she may well stay alive.

Across the stream, Manton was dragging the body into the depths of the words.

Portia gasped and stumbled backward, her initial shock of witnessing the murder was rapidly replaced by rising panic. Glancing quickly around her
, she felt her stomach lurch and wondered if she was going to be sick. Swallowing harshly against the lump in her throat, she stumbled around the tree, her unfocused eyes staring blankly at the gate across the field.

Archie cursed and watched her
hurry away. At first he thought she was going to faint, but at the last moment she seemed to gather herself and half-run, half-walk across the field. She didn’t look back. If she had, she would have seen Manton just inside the tree-line, staring at her rapidly retreating back. Archie wanted to chase after her, and warn her to get out of the area – and fast. But to do so would mean breaking his own cover, and the last thing he needed was to be the murderer’s next target. Now though, he had one hell of a problem on his hands.

Wincing at the dull ache in his backside, Archie sat on the thickest branch and watched Manton disappear into the woods.
The Frenchman had just vanished from sight when Archie left his hiding place and took off after Portia. There was no cover, and no way of knowing if Manton had seen him too, but he couldn’t run the risk of Manton’s associates being despatched to silence the woman who was now running as fast as her heels could carry her toward the church, and her innocent, yet equally in danger, sister.

As he ran after Portia, Archie
was torn. The ruthless warrior in him warned him that he should have stayed in the tree to protect his identity. He should leave the woman to face the dangers she had put herself in but the softer, more human side of him refused to allow someone so young, so beautiful, to become a victim of such ruthless killers. Not that he felt any pull toward her. He had no desire to protect her, whatever the cost. He just wasn’t cold-hearted enough to simply watch and see what happened. It went against every instinct he possessed to sit back and allow an innocent life be simply snuffed out for no other reason than she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Despite his logical reasoning, a small voice deep within asked him if he was being entirely honest with himself.
The woman’s life was of no concern to him. He had a duty to king and country to remain alive, and ensure his part in the mission is completed to the best of his ability. Failure to do so would mean that the lives of the rest of the men from the Star Elite were put at risk. Yet here he was, chasing across the fields as though the hounds from Hell were nipping at his heels.

Cursing fluidly, Archie
quickly blocked the little voice out, his eyes firmly locked on Portia’s back as she disappeared from sight. There was no way of getting through the thick hedgerow running around the perimeter of the field. Shaking his head in disbelief at his own soft nature, Archie gave chase.

At the gate, a quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Manton had broken his own cover and
was now headed toward him. Had he sent his associates to head them off? Vaulting over the gate, Archie lengthened his stride, his eyes locked firmly on the slender back of the woman before him. Although she was in a hurry, she moved with a lithe grace that was seemingly effortless, and almost sensual to watch. She wasn’t overly large, and probably came up to his shoulder. The thick mop of jet black curls bounced and bobbed with each step she took, making his fingers twitch with the urge to run a finger through one of the curls to see if it would cling to his finger, and feel as soft as it looked.

“God
, Archie, get a hold of yourself,” Archie whispered, shaking his head and puffing out his cheeks. Continually scanning the hedgerow, he had followed her about half-way down the lane toward the church, when he became aware of the faint thud of footsteps behind him. Portia must have heard the footsteps too because, for one brief moment, she glanced back at Archie, her fear-filled eyes wide with panic. He knew she considered him one of them; the murderers, but could do little to assure her of his innocence.

His eyes met and held hers. Sensing her rising panic, he tried to keep his gaze calm and reassuring and wished he could call out to her
. Instead he remained quiet and clenched his teeth as she turned to face forward, lifted her skirts and started to run.

He briefly caught the flicker of movement over the hedge, and knew that someone was
heading down the lane toward them. There was no way of knowing if they were Manton’s associates, but Archie knew that neither he or Portia had any chance of surviving if they didn’t find some place to hide. Quickly.

Glancing upward, he wished he could just clamber up
the large oak tree further along the road. As a young boy he had spent many hours sitting in branches, watching people go about their daily lives. More often than not, he had gone undetected and, as he had grown older and had joined the Star Elite, on more than one occasion, he had been forced to seek shelter in height. But there was no possibility of Portia getting up there in her skirts. Even if he ignored the fact that she was a lady, he knew that females were less adept at climbing, even if she had been willing to go with him without a fight.

As they rounded the corner, for one brief moment they were out of sight of
both Manton and the people heading toward them. Archie took his moment. Lunging forward he slammed one rough hand over Portia’s mouth and, with one thickly muscled arm held tight across her waist, lifted her clear off the ground. Wincing, he cursed fluidly when one booted heel caught his shin and she began to struggle.

“Keep quiet, or you are going to get
us both killed,” Archie snapped into her ear, as they crashed through a gap in the hedgerow to the side of them. When she ignored him and continued to fight, he rolled his eyes, making no attempt to smother a curse as her booted foot landed with far too much accuracy on his shin.

“For God’s sakes, I’m trying to save you,” he snarled, dragging her resolutely toward the
long row of stables lying at the far corner of the field. Archie glanced at the churchyard that ran adjacent to the rear of the stables but immediately dismissed the possibility of dragging Portia to the church, and getting them there alive. He could only hope that her sister remained inside the church, and the gunmen chose not to search the place of worship.