His Lady Spy (The Star Elite Series) (6 page)

Archie studied the Frenchman
carefully and knew that if it came to hand-to-hand combat, the spy wouldn’t stand a chance. Unfortunately though, he was outnumbered by three to one. Entering into any skirmish would mean he had no choice but to leave the women unprotected and his conscience wouldn’t allow that to happen. He was aware of Portia sidling toward him again and wished he could take a moment to reassure her that everything would be alright. It was more of a relief for him than it was for her when he felt her small hand clutch the back of his shirt again. He was strangely touched that she had sensed the dangers surrounding them and had instinctively sought his protection, but was at a loss to know of a way to get them out of their current situation without her witnessing more bloodshed.

It wasn’t that Archie had any qualms about doing what he needed to do, even in the middle of a church. They were in the midst of a war after all, but he hated the fact that either lady was going to witness death first-hand, in such a brutal manner. He could only fervently hope that it wouldn’t be his death they would witness. Although he was fairly confident of his own abilities, this was still a battle for
survival. Who knew what tricks Manton had up his sleeve? 

Archie
had the gun in his pocket of course, and the knife in his belt, but the Frenchmen were also armed, and he couldn’t kill three people in one go. The odds were stacked against him, even if he discounted the two ladies now cowering behind him.

“I just want to know one thing,”
Manton sighed, moving to stand beside the first pew, mere feet away.

Archie watched the man approach, fully aware that Portia was sliding the gun slowly out of his pocket. He had to work hard to fight the urge to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing but, given the Frenchma
n’s attention was locked on him and not Portia, and his bulk blocked both ladies from the sight of the two Frenchman standing in the main aisle, Archie could see no reason to draw anyone’s attention to what she was doing.

“How did
you know where the rendezvous was?”

Archie snorted, knowing his teeth would have to be pulled out before he told anyone
that.
Shaking his head, he remained silent. “You know that if you take me out then there will be ten more men coming after you, don’t you Manton?” Archie replied casually, seemingly unaffected by the menace that hung in the air between them. He wasn’t ignorant of the flash of temper that appeared on the Frenchman’s face at Archie’s use of his name. Clearly the realisation that he wasn’t as clever at subterfuge as he had first thought didn’t sit well with the tall mercenary.

Over the past
few months, Archie had discovered enough about the man opposite to know that the tall, lithe gentleman was a ruthless killer. Although Manton preferred to use his veritable army of trained assassins to do the job for him, he liked to direct the activities of his Guards personally, with a callous efficiency that made him one of the Star Elite’s most dangerous adversaries.

“Do you think that bothers me? For each one of your men, we have at least ten more
Guards ready and willing to step in. You cannot stop us,” Manton boasted.

“Oh, I think you will find
that you are not as clever as you think. After all, I managed to find you without too much effort. My associates and I have gathered enough evidence on you and your Guards to ensure that there is no possibility of any of you leaving English shores alive. You have lost your man in Bodmin, and will lose many more before this game is over. You can never win Manton, as clever as you think you may be.”

“I am afraid
that on this occasion, you are wrong.” Manton lifted his knife. Archie’s gaze locked on the Frenchman’s and held it in silent warning. “All I need is to meet with my contact one last time, and then we are leaving these fetid English shores for good.”

“
You
think
you have a boat waiting,” Archie replied thoughtfully. “Indeed, I am sure your boat is still at Haverlanding harbour where you left it, but I am afraid that your Guards won’t be so readily available. Even if you could get out of here alive, do you really think your contact is available to speak to you now?”

Archie
watched the malice in the Frenchman’s eyes waver just a little as doubt began to surface. He hadn’t considered the possibility that Archie had already taken the Frenchman’s contact out of the equation; a scenario that Archie himself wished he had been able to do. If he hadn’t been so busy protecting Portia and her sister, he would have had the chance to take the Frenchman’s Tissington-based financier out. The man, whoever he may be, was most probably still waiting at the small coaching inn in the centre of Tissington.

Still
, it wouldn’t hurt to bluff a little, especially if it bought them enough time for Archie to work out a way to escape this deadly situation. If he had been on his own, he would have taken his chances and fought his way out but he couldn’t do that with the two ladies in tow. 

“Tell me what I need to know
, and I will release the ladies.”

“Of course you will.” Archie shook his head, wondering whether Portia would have the ability to pull the trigger
the way he had told her in the stables.

“I don’t lie,”
Manton argued, ignoring the ladies cowering behind Archie with arrogant contempt. “I will let them leave unharmed if you tell me what I want to know.”

“What, so you and your men can hunt them down outside? I don’t think so
, Manton. I have seen enough of your callousness to know how your twisted mind works. There is no possibility you will risk either of these ladies talking about anything they have witnessed this afternoon, and you and I both know it. The ladies stay with me. Besides, I am telling you nothing.”

“Aahh, very noble of you, I am sure.”
Manton wasn’t lost to the fact that the man seemed to know his name. It irked him that he needed to ask the man for his name. He wondered why the arrogant young Englishman was so determined to protect the women. Of course they were beautiful, but there were prettier women in the country. Manton began to think over the situation more carefully and studied at the women closely. “You cannot save them, you know.”

Archie knew t
he Frenchman was probably right. Their predicament was about as dire as it could possibly get, and he wasn’t at all sure that they could get out of it alive. Still, he was a fighter who had been in worse situations than this. If he had to die protecting the lives of two innocent people, then that was fine. As long as they lived to see another day, and his death wasn’t in vain, then he had qualms about the sacrifice. Women like Portia and Cecily didn’t deserve to die at the hands of ruthless Frenchmen at all, let alone in a place of worship. He wondered if this was a way of escaping their father that either lady had ever considered before, and doubted it.

Portia watched the interplay with a mixture of horror and intrigue
, and fought to quell the rising panic. She had only taken one look at the gaunt-looking Frenchman and had instinctively recoiled from the visible threat that seemed to emanate from the foreigner. The man blocking her from the Frenchman’s threat was putting his own life at risk by doing so. Despite his bravery, Portia knew that there was no possibility of him fighting three men on his own. Their situation was desperate indeed.

Portia’s eyes met and held Cecily’s and she read the stoic calm in her sister’s direct gaze. A
lthough initially terrified, Cecily had managed to overcome her fear and was weighing their options herself, trying to think of a way to get them out of the church alive.

P
ortia used the broad expanse of the man’s back and nodded down at the small paring knife in Cecily’s hand. Cecily jerked and glanced down at the blade she held, clearly having forgotten it when the Frenchman – Manton, had arrived. She raised cautious eyes toward Portia who glanced down at the gun she held meaningfully.

“The
vestry,” Cecily whispered quietly. She felt rather than saw the man shielding them shift a little. Had he heard her? The vestry was several feet behind them, but was the closest room to where they were standing, and it had a door they could bolt that would bide them some time. It also led to the door at the rear of the church and the graveyard that would lead to freedom.

“I think you have bigger problems on your hands than the fate of two helpless females,” Archie argued, wondering if the ladies were going to try to sidle toward the
vestry. He thought he heard the word being whispered by Portia once or twice, or was that Cecily? It was hard to tell, they both sounded so similar, but at least they were logical enough to try to plot a way out of the current, temporary stand-off.

He hoped, for all of their sakes, that they would have the wisdom to stay where they were and keep quiet
for now. While Archie was standing before them, they were at no risk whatsoever. As soon as he moved, they would become moving targets.

He knew that he had to take a chance and fight his way out of the church,
preferably before more of Manton’s Guards arrived, but first he had to divert Manton’s attention away from the ladies, and give them the chance of escape.

“We know all about your little chain of miscreants who are helping you. The merchant in Tissington who is providing you with the finances in return
for being furnished with smuggled goods. We know all about his associates who are running messages for him, most of them without knowing it. The boat you have waiting for you is now without manpower, and Guards to protect you. We know who you are, and I know that you won’t get out of here alive.” Archie smirked when Manton’s arrogance visibly wavered upon learning that his well planned escape route had been disabled. In reality Archie had no idea if Jamie had managed to disable the boat, but the Frenchman didn’t know that.

“You have been very thorough, my friend,”
Manton intoned in a voice that was almost too amenable. “But I am afraid that you haven’t been as thorough as you had hoped. There are people involved who you wouldn’t possibly consider a danger.”

Archie went cold and wondered if he had just made a colossal mistake. The gun Portia had just slid out of his pocket was his main weapon. Had he just stood like a numbskull and allowed her – the enemy – to slide it out of his pocket? Ignoring the growing alarm, it took deep concentration to keep his face impassive and merely stare blankly back at the Frenchman.

“We know,” Archie declared flatly. He wasn’t lost to the fact that the Frenchman was turning his blade around, faster and faster, clearly growing impatient with Archie’s reluctance to make any sudden moves. It was only a matter of time now before the Frenchman lost all patience and made the first move. Only on this occasion, Archie had to be the one to control the situation. He was about to slide his own blade out of his belt when a flurry of movement from behind him was accompanied by the loud retort of his gun going off.

Archie’s gaze flew to the two Guards in the aisle who immediately lunged forward when Manton slumped to the ground, a large gaping hole in his neck. Twisting around he only just managed to drag Portia to the floor as the Guards opened fire. Raising himself up onto his knees he dragged Cecily down beside them behind the altar with a curse, and watched bits of dust and debris rain down around them.

“Stay down!” Archie
ordered, shoving both ladies together and shielding them from the worst of the debris by his bulk alone. He took the opportunity to study a visibly shaking Portia, who had a look of abject horror on her face. Her glazed eyes were staring down unseeingly at the gun in her hand.

“Look after her,” Archie snapped
at Cecily, taking the gun gently out of Portia’s stiff fingers. “Stay here.” He quickly reloaded the weapon and, throwing a quick warning look at Cecily, left the protection of the altar, rolling over and over across the chancel. Slamming into the wall, he pulled the trigger and watched one of the French Guards drop to the ground, blood pouring from the wound in his chest.

Archie
lifted the knife out of his belt and watched the third Guard spin on his heel and head for the main doors. The urge to go after him was so strong that he rocked on the balls of his feet with the forward momentum, only for common sense to prevail and he reluctantly turned back toward the altar. He couldn’t abandon the ladies in a blood soaked church. If the vicar or any locals were nearby, they would have heard the gunshot and would come to investigate. It went against all of his protective instincts to simply leave Cecily and Portia, to witness the macabre scene before them, and deal with angry locals, let alone their own father by themselves. 

Pushing to his feet, Archie puffed out his cheeks and glanced
at Manton’s body. Cursing fluidly, he wasn’t sure whether he should be glad that Portia was apparently such a crack shot, or intensely angry at the damage she had done. Even if he did ignore the fact that she had just killed the one man who could provide the Star Elite with valuable information they had spent months searching for, she had been lucky that she had managed to hit anything with the unfamiliar gun. At least now Archie knew that one of the financiers they had been trying to uncover was living in Tissington, and that financier was aided by the local merchants.

“Portia?”

His anger evaporated at the sight of her curled up on the floor with her arms around her knees. He could see her physically trembling from several feet away. The urge to gather her into his arms was strong, but he knew that she probably wouldn’t welcome him being so forward. Instead, Archie turned toward the church, shaking his head at the bloodied mess that covered the floor and the walls of the old Norman building. He briefly contemplated at least trying to clear up the mess, but there was too much blood for any of them to clean effectively. They couldn’t waste the time. Now that the Guard was on the run, he would undoubtedly head back to his base camp and report Manton’s death. Reinforcements would be sent out to capture all three of them, and seek revenge.

Time was precious, and if Archie had any hope of getting his part of the operation wrapped up, he needed to secure the ladies somewhere safe and go hunting for
French Guards.

Turning to Cecily, he studied her pale face
that was so very much like her sisters. Although deeply shaken, she was at least managing to hold on to her control – for now at least, and for that he was very grateful.

“Here, hold this.” He held out the gun to Cecily and watched her recoil in horror. “I don’t want you to use it, just hold it and keep your eye on the doors. Tell me if anyone comes in, Cecily.” When Cecily simply stared down at the heavy object in her hand and didn’t reply, Archie sighed and grasped her shoulders, immediately loosening his hold at the feel of her delicate
bones beneath his fingers. She felt so very fragile that he wondered how she had the strength to remain upright. “I need to look at your sister.” He waited and watched as Cecily seemed to jerk out of her trance and nod briefly at him. He could feel her eyes studying him as he moved around the altar and knelt beside Portia. “Watch the doors,” he growled, pointing toward the huge oak doors at the far end of the church, and the door to the vestry, waiting as Cecily seemed to give herself a mental shake before dutifully turning around.

“Portia?” Archie said gently
, easing her arms away from her knees and pushing at her shoulders in an attempt to get her to uncurl enough so he could get a good look at her. As far as his stunned memory could recall, there had only been one gunshot. He was fairly certain that she was unharmed, but she was clearly horrified at having killed someone for the first, and hopefully the last, time in her life.

“Portia, darling, I need you to listen to me,” Archie
whispered gently, not certain if he was getting through to her. “You had to do what you had to do. I know it is horrifying, but the man is a traitor. He was a French spy who had already cold-bloodedly killed many innocent people, including women and children.” He sighed deeply when she didn’t respond and didn’t appear to have heard him. Taking her shoulders in a firm grip, he shook them gently before grabbing hold of her chin and tipping her head backward until she was looking up at him. The sight of the tear-filled gaze she lifted to him almost unmanned him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, knowing that right now, she was in a dark place that nobody could help her out of.
He knew because he had been there many years ago when he had first killed someone. It wasn’t that killing got easier the more you did it. Archie had lost count of the number of lives he had taken, and although each death would remain with him, he had become more dispassionate about the act of putting someone to death. He had to sternly remind himself that he was killing to fight for king and country, and the safety and security of the people living in the country of his birth. It still didn’t ease the lingering horror, but it helped his conscience a little to know that these people would kill innocents if they weren’t removed. Innocents like Portia and Cecily.

“Right now, we need you to be strong and
get a hold of yourself, Portia,” Archie warned, his eyes locked upon hers. “Cecily needs you to be brave so we can get out of here and to a place of safety.” Archie had no idea where that place of safety would be right now, but he had to get her out of the church, preferably without witnessing the macabre scene she had created. “We need to move – now.” Archie knew he was being harsh on her, but had little choice.

“I killed him,” Portia whispered, feeling her stomach churn at the sight of the Frenchman’s shock as the wound opened up in his neck. “Oh Lord, forgive me,” Portia gasped.

“Please, Portia, you have to be strong and get through this, sweetheart. Stand up,” Archie ordered, pushing to his feet and dragging her up resolutely beside him. The motion of standing upright seemed to snap her out of her daze and she instinctively moved to turn around. Whether she was intending to take a look at Manton, or her sister Archie wasn’t sure, but he stopped her and kept her facing him with a firm hand beneath her chin. “I have no idea how many more of the Guards are in the area, so we cannot risk staying here a moment longer. I don’t want them coming back with reinforcements or there will be many more deaths. It is imperative we leave, Portia.” Archie glanced over at Cecily and nodded toward the door to the vestry. “Walk on, I’ll carry her.”

Cecily nodded, carefully keeping her gaze averted from the growing pool of blood
in front of the first pew as she scurried toward the door. “Check the room before you enter it,” Archie cautioned, pleased when Cecily did just that. Quickly closing the door behind them, he shared a look of relief with Cecily aware that clearly, looks were deceiving. Of the two of them, Cecily looked the more delicate; the one more inclined to wilt under the burden of responsibility and fear, but it was Portia who was the one who was struggling to keep a toe-hold in reality.

Still, she had just killed a man in cold blood, Archie reasoned to himself. He was lucky she hadn’t dissolved into a fit of hysteria
, and couldn’t find it within him to be harsh on her and criticise her in any way.

Portia took a hiccupping sigh and lifted her head off Archie’s shoulder. The change in room temperature did little to ease the chills she could feel right down to her bones, and she wondered if she would ever be warm again. The horror of the last few moments would remain with
her for the rest of her days. Her revulsion at her own actions was so strong that she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. In a brief fit of panic, she wondered if she would see that same revulsion in her sister’s eyes.

She longed to return her head to the man’s shoulder and seek the comforting warmth of his strong arms, but simply had to know. Easing back in his arms, she wriggled around until he had no choice but to put her down. Once her feet were on the floor, she brushed out her skirts, and took a moment to wipe the tears off her cheeks with a trembling hand.

“Are you alright?” Archie asked softly, astonished yet inordinately pleased that she was at least trying to help herself.

“I don’t think so, not right now,” Portia replied somewhat stiffly. She wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to say.
Oh, yes, I’m fine thank you?
Slowly, reluctantly, she glanced at Cecily.

“You did what you had to do,” Cecily declared flatly, anger building at the sight of the raw pain on her sister’s face. If it wasn’t for their father, they wouldn’t be in the wretched church at all, let alone in the middle of this farce. Right now, if she was near her sire, he would be on the receiving end of her
fury for once. Her blood boiled; her rage built, and she squared her shoulders, moving toward her sister with stark determination. Grabbing Portia by the shoulders she drew her upright until their eyes met.

“You listen to me Portia Tinsdale. We have to get out of this mes
s. You saved our lives back there. If it wasn’t for you, we would have been killed at the hands of Frenchmen, in a church both of us dislike, in a village neither of us want to live in.” Cecily’s voice was cold and hard. “This is our chance to change things. I don’t know about you, but I am sick of having my life dictated to. I am not going to be given to old cronies just to please my father. This is about us. You did what you had to do for a chance of life. Now we both have to do what we must to get out of here, and take that new life for ourselves. Are you with me?”

Portia stared at her sister
, wondering what had happened to her. Despite the lingering terror, she couldn’t withhold the small smile that stole over her lips at the militant glare on her young sister’s face. It was so unlike the Cecily she had come to know and love that she wasn’t sure what to make of it. But she wasn’t about to question it. If this was Cecily’s way of coping with adversity, then Portia owed it to her – to them – to be as strong as she possibly could be.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded once
, and squared her shoulders. “You are right of course, please forgive me,” Portia sighed, swiping a hand down her face to clear away the last traces of tears. She glanced at Archie almost officiously. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Archie was stunned. In all of his years in the army, he had
seen men lose their grip on reality on more than one occasion, especially when the cold brutality of war took hold. He had never, ever, seen someone throw the fear to one side, grab hold of their fortitude in such a firm grip, and change their demeanour so swiftly. He wasn’t sure whether to be shocked, proud or horrified. The last thing he wanted was two defiant, gun-toting females on his hands, and wondered briefly if he wouldn’t have preferred to carry the soft, delicate female he had been holding moments earlier.

“If you are
feeling up to it, I think we need to get out of here, and head away from the village.” Archie replied cautiously, struggling to gather his own thoughts together after what he had just witnessed.

“Right,” Cecily declared to nobody in particular as she headed toward the door. “Off we go then.”

Within minutes Archie was following the ladies as they clambered over the low stone wall that ran around the perimeter of the churchyard, mentally shaking his head in disbelief. If he hadn’t witnessed the last few minutes firsthand, he would never have believed they had happened. As it was, he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of them – the events as they had happened, or the two women who were now marching resolutely toward the neighbouring village; the furthest away from Tissington. Despite the damage to their skirts, they were stomping across the roughly ploughed field with their shoulders swept back and their heads upright. They were like a small army going into battle. Nothing and nobody was going to get in their way. Archie was humbled and humoured in equal measure.

Carefully hiding his grin, Archie kept a keen eye on the area around them, feeling more than a little proud of them both
, and wondered how anyone could even consider for one moment forcing them into marriage to men twice their age. There should be a law against it. The fire these ladies held within them was something that should be matched by their lovers and husbands, not quenched by overbearing and overweight geriatrics.

While he was prepared, for the time being at least, to follow meekly in their wake, the battle hardened soldier didn’t relinquish his careful control of the situation and kept one careful eye on the surrounding landscape for any sign of threat. Once or twice
, when they stumbled, he instinctively moved forward to give them a helping hand, only to hesitate and draw back at the last moment. Instead he was resigned to watching carefully as they righted themselves, drew their shawls tighter and marched onward. As the miles passed, he wasn’t ignorant of the slight wilting of their ramrod straight figures, or the heavy breathing of both women as they tried to maintain their fast pace, but resolutely kept quiet, giving them the time they needed to work off their fear and worry.