His Lady Spy (The Star Elite Series) (4 page)

Portia didn’t know which she was fighting more, the man behind her
, or the wild panic that threatened to overwhelm her. Fear warred with the shocking realisation that she had never been this close to a man before. With her back pressed as tightly as possible to this unknown stranger’s chest, she could feel every muscle ripple and twitch as he carried her effortlessly toward the stables. Twisting her head this way and that, she struggled to catch her breath at the speed and agility he was able to move them both across the roughly ploughed field. She was about to wrench her head away and scream loudly when she caught sight of two heads running down the lane on the opposite side of the hedge. Something inside her warned her that if she didn’t do as this man told her to, they would face certain death.

The sight of the man in the woods stumbling
backward and glancing down at the gaping hole in his chest was something she would never forget. The horror of it was enough to keep her quiet. She had no idea who the man behind her was, or where he had come from, but she had no choice other than to do what he asked her to do.

Her thought
s flitted around so randomly that she struggled to make sense of the confusion. Why had the man been killed? What had he done? Who was the murderer? Was he local? Who was the man behind her? Where had he come from? She was almost certain that she had never seen either man before, but couldn’t be entirely positive. Was the man carrying her toward the stables with such determination one of them, taking her to her death? She eyed the stables as they loomed almost menacingly before her. Was that to be where she met her end? She had so much in life that she wanted to do yet, she couldn’t die this early.

She stumbled upon a particularly deep rut in the soil, almost tripping them both over. With a soft curse Archie cast a quick look behind them an
d swept her high into his arms. Within seconds they were inside the stable with the door firmly closed. Once there, Archie deposited her carefully onto her feet and drew her into the darkest corner of the narrow room.

“Keep quiet,” Archie
growled as though Portia really had any choice. The hardened warrior within him was tuned to any sign of movement coming from outside the stable door, but even he was struggling to keep his mind of the delectable warmth of the curvaceous woman in front of him. Despite the dangers they were now in, his wayward body reacted to her closeness and he mentally cursed at the unfairness of it all. She was beautiful; wilful, strong, and clearly in need of help. At any other time, he would have been more than willing to offer her any assistance she required to ease her burden, and the pressure in his loins, but not now. Not when her life, as well as his own was in such danger. 

Struggling the breathe against the firmness of the calloused fingers against her face, Portia grasped the hand covering her mouth and
pulled with all of her might, twisting her head to the side at the same time. Sucking in a huge breath, she didn’t think to object as the man grabbed her hand and held it. The feel of the rough, warm palm against her cold fingers was vaguely reassuring but did little to ease the hammering of her heart.

Inside the stable was dark and gloomy. The stench of animals was so pungent that her eyes watered. Her breath sawed in and out; the only sound within the small brick room they were now in. She hated to t
hink what they were standing in. Her skirts were most probably ruined, but it was the least of her concerns. She realised that she had yet to take a good look at the man behind her but knew that even if she did turn around, she would see very little in the darkness that seemed to enfold them in its malevolent grasp.

This was the man who had been following her down the road. He was taller than average, with dark blond hair and the most classically handsome face Portia had ever seen. The fleeting impression of rough but clean, white work shirt and dark breeches did lit
tle to detract from the intense masculinity of the man who seemed so determined to help her. She wondered where he had come from so swiftly because she was fairly certain that nobody had been on the road when she had climbed the fence out of the field. Was he the reason she had felt as though she was being watched while she was sitting beside the stream? Had he been watching her? Watching the murder? If so, who was he? Was he one of them?

Her mind raced with s
eemingly endless possibilities. Now that she was standing still, and her heart had begun to slow down a little, her thoughts began to fall into some semblance of order, allowing logic to take a small step in the right direction. 

“Stand perfectly still,” Archie warned, listening to the quiet footsteps approaching from outside. Drawing his gun, he stepped around her and placed himself directly between Portia and the door, his hand squeezing hers in silent warning. “Whatever you do, don’t make a sound.” Archie whispered, directly into her ear.

Portia’s eyes grew round and she swallowed harshly against the need to cry. Even the towering presence of the man standing between her and the stable door, together with the soft hint of sandalwood and soap that teased her nostrils, did little to offer her any comfort. She knew she should yank her hand out of his and put some distance between them, but couldn’t bring herself to break the contact. At first she wasn’t certain if the loud thumps she could hear was her heart hammering, or the thumping of something outside.

Closing her eyes, she felt sick as she stood listening to the stable doors along the row being kicked open. One heavy thud followed by a loud bang; louder and louder they grew until Portia was
n’t sure she could stand it anymore. Despite knowing that the door to the stable they were standing in would go the same way at any moment, she still struggled to stifle a gasp when a loud thud directly before them was accompanied by the slamming of the stable door against the wall. It was so loud within the small room that it made her ears ring. She bit her lip against the instinctive urge to cry out in fear. There was little she could do. There was nowhere to go, and no way out. They had to wait for whomever to appear in the doorway – then what?

She watched the white shirt of the man before
her stand taller, blocking her view of the doorway completely. Instinctively she sought the reassurance of his presence, and clutched the back of his shirt, resting her head against the hard muscles of his back as she waited. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for; death to claim her, maybe? Salvation?

She was
stunned when nothing happened.

A
rchie stared at the gap in the doorway and waited. He had seen the head glance quickly into the room but, luckily, they hadn’t searched the room thoroughly, or looked into the darkest corner of the stable, behind the door. Listening to the quiet French conversation, he remained perfectly still, his mind racing. His thoughts briefly turned toward Portia’s sister, and he hoped that she was still engrossed in flower arranging.

One thing Archie had learned about the Frenchmen was that they liked subterfuge. They wouldn’t want to raise the ire of the villagers by searching a place of worship
and they wouldn’t risk being seen by anyone they couldn’t permanently remove. These were ruthless assassins but were clever with it. They preferred to disappear to make their plans, and reappear when least expected.

He now had one mass
ive problem on his hands though; Portia. What the hell was he going to do about her? He could feel her physically trembling as she cowered behind him, her small hands clutching tightly at the folds of his shirt. He should shake her off, and check to make sure the Frenchmen were indeed leaving and not laying another trap, but didn’t want to run the risk that the killers were waiting outside to pick him off.

Glancing around the small stable in disgust, he was busy chastising himself for being stupid enough to confine them in a room with no secondary way out, when he became aware that the hands holding his shirt had suddenly vanished. He caught her just as he was about to sidle around him, sliding one long arm around her wa
ist and dragging her toward him as she tried to break free.

“
What
do you think you are doing?” Archie snapped, scowling down at her. She had looked beautiful sitting in elegant glory beside the gently flowing stream earlier. Up close, she was simply breathtaking. A thick fan of lashes framed the most glorious eyes he had ever seen in his life and, although pale, her green eyes against her smooth alabaster skin were simply stunning. He wasn’t ignorant of the lush feminine curves he now held tightly, and briefly tried to remember how long it had been since he had been this close to a woman. He couldn’t remember ever being so close to any woman who had such a profound impact on his senses. Mentally shaking his head, he closed down the stirring of masculine interest and tried to keep his mind on the business at hand.

“I think they have gone now,” Portia whispered, trying to ignore the heavy thundering of her heart.
“We need to get out of here.”

She didn’t know what had shaken her mo
re, the events of the morning, or the fact that she desperately wanted to rest her head against the broad expanse of his chest and seek comfort in his arms. This was a stranger. A man she had never seen before in her life. One who had undoubtedly saved her life, but a stranger none the less. He had already taken more liberties with her than anyone ever had in her entire life and, although she should be outraged, right now she couldn’t think of a single word of chastisement to issue him. He was holding her so tightly, so protectively, that she could feel his every breath. Despite her distrust of him, she couldn’t ignore the way in which he had so gallantly placed himself between her and the stable door. In doing so, he had effectively shielded her from the imminent threat to her life and had willingly placed his own life at risk. The urge to escape him, and the danger he posed to her feminine sensibilities, was so strong that she didn’t stop to think about anything other than getting away from him.

“You don’t know that,” Archie warned,
oblivious to her thoughts. Shaking his head, he drew her back into the darkest corner of the stable. “I’ll be the one to check.” He didn’t wait for her to agree, merely placed his fingers on the beam supporting the roof and drew himself bodily upward to peer through the narrow gap between wall and roof. Two of the men were walking rapidly toward the far end of the field. With his view of the rest of the field reduced, Archie couldn’t take the risk that the third Frenchman was waiting outside for them. Cursing his luck, he eased back onto his feet and turned toward her.

“Two have left but a third is missing. You stay here and I’ll go and see where he is
. Stand here, in the darkest part of the stable, and don’t move. If you stay still, he won’t hear you,” Archie whispered directly into her ear. He wanted her to feel a little frightened and unnerved, especially if it meant that she would obey orders. He wasn’t asking for her agreement, but didn’t expect an argument either. Desperately trying to ignore the fact that the top of her head reached his chin, he sternly reminded himself that if he didn’t focus on the task at hand they could both end up dead. He didn’t want to add that if he had to take the man out with the knife in his boot, he would prefer the young woman not to watch her second killing of the afternoon.

“I’m not -”

“Shh.” Archie scowled, lifting one finger to his lips in silent warning before touching his ear. He knew she wasn’t used to the hand signals the men in the Star Elite used when they weren’t in a position to talk to each other, but could only hope that he had been clear enough for her to understand. Until they were outside and he could get a proper look at her, he had no idea how much control fear had over her decisions and couldn’t run the risk that she would do something stupid.

Portia sighed and bit back an uncharacteristic growl of impatience. It wasn’t lost to her that for each moment she remained confined in this stable, her sister was
a minute closer to leaving the church. She couldn’t bear the thought of Cecily, dear Cecily, being mistaken for her and paying for it with her life.

Archie eased to one side and peered cautiously out of the door. He couldn’t see anyone
, but could feel the menace that hung in the air. One of them was still outside, he was sure of it. Moving back to Portia, he bent down to whisper into her ear and tried to ignore the delicate scent of apple blossom that assailed his nostrils. He fought hard not to inhale too deeply and alarm her, but the gentle scent of summer reminded him so much of home that he had a strange yearning to be back in Gloucestershire again.

“Tell me – quietly,” he issued her with a pointed look, “about the area around here. Does the churchyard
that backs onto this field have a gate?”

Portia
shook her head and pointed to the far corner of the stables. “The fence runs at the back of here is solid. The gate is at the top, a few feet from the main doors,” she breathed, unsure if he had heard her. “My sister -” Portia began, pausing when Archie nodded.

“At the church, I know.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do,” Archie sighed,
impatient to get her to safety and out of the stable before he did something they would both regret. “We have to get out of here and go and fetch your sister as quickly as we can, Portia.”

“Who are you?”

“I can’t go into that now, just trust me, and I assure you that I will do everything I can to get you out of here alive.”