Shana Galen (17 page)

She could hardly speak. “Yes,” she breathed.

He moved again, this time slow and languorous, stroking her until her toes were curling and she thought she would die from the mounting pleasure. “
Yes.
Yes. Please.” She did not even know what she was asking. She only knew she needed him and only him.
“Winn.”

His hands lifted her hips, bringing her into closer contact and making her moan. He slid in and out, driving harder and faster until she was clenching him so tightly her legs began to ache. But she could not let go. She was so close, so close…

And then he groaned and thrust fast and hard, and she shattered. She bit down on a scream, and though it seemed impossible, she clenched Winn more tightly. The pleasure seemed to go on and on until she was floating, weightless and tingling and sated.

“That’s going to leave a mark,” Winn said, rolling off of her.

She was vaguely aware he had spoken and did not even open her eyes when he pulled her close, cradling her in his arms. Drowsily, she realized he had never done this before, never shown her tenderness
after
their lovemaking. “Hmm?” she said on a sigh. She was so tired. She knew there was something she wanted to discuss with him, something important, but right now she needed to sleep.

“My shoulder,” he was saying. “You bit it when… never mind.”

She felt his lips brush against her cheek.

“Sleep now. I’ll stay right here beside you.”

And she drifted away, safe and warm in his arms.

Elinor rolled over to a cold, empty bed. She opened her eyes and shivered, pulling the counterpane over the bare skin of her shoulders. It was draped around her legs, which meant at some point someone, presumably Winn, had attempted to cover her. But she must have thrown the covers off. And now the room was dark and cold.

And she was alone.

She thought about ringing for Bridget. The girl would not usually have allowed the fire to burn down, but after her dismissal by Winn earlier, poor Bridget was unlikely ever to enter again without an invitation.

Elinor dragged herself up and peered out the window, whose drapes were still open. Winn would not have thought to close them. It was dark now, probably past the dinner hour, judging by the rumbling in her stomach. She heard footsteps patter on the runner outside her room, but knew by the light tread they were not Winn’s. Where was he? Had she only dreamed he had said he would stay with her?

But why should she start believing him now? He’d lied to her for years. And now that she finally knew the truth, he wanted her to forget she’d ever learned it. He wanted her to go back to her mundane life of balls and soirees and music lessons for Caro and Georgiana, and pretend he wasn’t living a parallel existence full of mystery and intrigue.

Absolutely not. If he would not give up his position in the Barbican group, why should she not agree to assist if asked? Lord Melbourne had said she might be useful. Lord Melbourne had said she had skills.

No one had ever remarked upon her skills before. Well, that was not strictly true. Mary and Lady Hollingshead both praised her entertaining and organizing skills, but Elinor wanted more than days spent choosing the perfect engraving for an invitation or the best arrangement for a dinner party.

She loved her daughters, but they did not need her as much anymore. Oh, there was much to look forward to—their come-outs, presentation at court, their first Seasons. But what happened after the girls were married? What would she do then?

She rose and moved to close the draperies. Her room was dark, but she did not intend to give a passing footman or gardener even an inadvertent view of her nakedness. But as she loosed one side of the drapes, a movement in the garden below caught her eye. She paused and peered from behind the material.

A man was standing in the garden with a lone figure. The man was facing away from her, but she knew immediately it must be Winn. Winn was so tall and broad shouldered, one could not mistake him. He was dressed in coat, trousers, and boots, so he must have been up and about for some time. He seemed to be listening intently to what his companion was saying. The companion wore a cape with a hood, and Elinor could not see the man. Why did Winn not invite him inside and converse in the library?

Or was the other man a spy? But Winn had said he did not involve his home and family in his activities for the Barbican group, so the other man must be—

Elinor’s jaw dropped as the hood of the cape fell back, and she caught a glimpse of the woman’s face. It was not a man at all, but a woman with golden-blond hair and smooth, porcelain cheeks. The woman was young, hardly more than a girl, and she looked up at Winn with undisguised adoration.

Elinor felt her face flush with shame. This could not be what she thought. But if this woman—this girl—was not Winn’s mistress, who was she? And why would she come in the dark, in secret?

How could he? How could he leave her bed to meet with his mistress?

And how could he take a mistress only a few years older than Georgiana? It made Elinor feel sick and angry at herself. She was such a fool to ever believe what had passed between them this afternoon made any difference. To ever believe that Winn cared for her as more than the mother of his children and the woman bearing the title of Lady Keating.

When would she ever learn?

She moved to close the other drapery, and the movement must have caught the girl’s eye. She looked up, and Winn followed. Elinor allowed the drape to close, but she could not be certain Winn had not seen her standing there.

And so what if he had? She had not done anything wrong. He was the one conversing with his mistress under his wife’s window.

Elinor stalked to her dressing room, performed her usual ablutions, and pulled on a dressing gown. She could not dress without Bridget’s help, but before she called her maid, she had best determine her plans.

She would go to Melbourne. That was what she would do. She would offer her services and tell him Winn could go to hell. He might not listen. Technically, she was under Winn’s authority, but perhaps Melbourne was more freethinking. After all, Lady Smythe was a spy. Would a man who stood on outdated customs and practices employ a woman as a spy? Elinor did not think so. She walked back into her room, heading for the servant’s bell to summon Bridget, when the door opened, and Winn stepped inside.

He had come from the corridor, not his room, which meant he had probably come to her room directly from the garden. Elinor paused with her hand on the bellpull. “What do you want?”

He sighed. “I was afraid of this. It is not what you think.”

“Oh, really? So you were not conversing with a beautiful woman under my window just now?”

“Tell me you did not conclude she was my mistress.”

Elinor put her hands on her hips. “Why would I assume that? Because it is dark outside and you were meeting her in secret? Because I’ve never seen her before, which means she must be someone with whom I am not acquainted? Because she was looking up at you adoringly?”

“Ellie—”

“Don’t call me that.” She pointed a finger at him, mostly because she could tell he was thinking about moving closer to her, and she did not want him to touch her.

“She is not my mistress.”

“Then who is she?”

He paused. “I cannot say.”

“Of course not.” She rolled her eyes. “How silly of me to demand an explanation. I forget you are an all-important spy, and the rules that apply to the rest of us do not apply to you. Very well, then, I shall behave as a good wife and pretend I know nothing. In the meantime, I have a call to make myself.”

He frowned. “You’re going out?”

“That’s right.” She reached for the bellpull, but he moved quickly and caught her hand. She snatched her fingers away, loathe to touch him. How quickly her desire for him had evaporated. “Get out of my way. I need Bridget to help me dress.”

“I know where you’re going, and I forbid it.”

Elinor raised her brows in the same manner she did when Caroline attempted to defy her. But Winn was not a twelve-year-old girl, and he did not back down. “You are not to call on Melbourne.”

“I see. So working for the Barbican group is acceptable for you but not for me.”

“I have training.”

“Your own Melbourne said I have skills. I am certain I can be trained, just as you were.”

Winn’s look grew dark, and he took several steps toward her, until Elinor was forced to back up against the wall. Winn put his hands on either side of her shoulders and bent close. “I’m trying to protect you,” he growled in a most unprotective manner.

“I don’t want your protection.”

“You have it regardless.”

Elinor decided to try a new tack. “If the work is so dangerous, then why do you not retire?”

“I have training.”

“Yes, I saw the results of your training earlier today.” She poked his bruised ribs, and he inhaled quickly. “Your daughters need you as much as they need me. Retire, and I will forget I ever heard of Melbourne or the Barbican group.”

Winn shook his head. “I can’t do that, Ellie. Not with the Maîtriser group at large and the prince in danger. Perhaps when they have been decimated—”

“Then you will find another mission. No. If you refuse to retire, then I refuse to stay uninvolved. After all, I am involved with the apprehension of Foncé and the Maîtriser group now as well.”

Winn’s hands fisted beside her head, but Elinor held his stare. She was not afraid of him. Whatever else Winn was—liar, cheat, spy—he was not a man prone to violence. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Perhaps I am tired of being kept safe. Perhaps I find it tedious and want some adventure.”

“Risking your life is not adventure!”

“Then leave the group.”

“I don’t want you to be hurt or killed.”

“Likewise.”

“Damn it!” He slammed his fist against the wall. “I cannot lose you too, Ellie!” The words echoed in the room, and Winn swore again and pushed away from her. But she was finally breaking through, and she was not going to allow him to retreat now.

“What does that mean? Whom did you lose?” She followed him across the room to where he paused in front of the window overlooking the garden. He pulled the draperies aside and stood, much as she had a little while before, and looked down.

“I cannot discuss it.”

Elinor was tempted to force the issue by summoning Bridget and dressing to go out, but Winn looked so defeated, so broken. She had never seen him like this. She put a hand on his back. “You can trust me. I will keep your confidence.”

“I should not tell you this.”

“It will never leave this room, I swear it.”

He stared down at the garden for what seemed hours. Elinor held her breath, waiting to see if he would trust her, if he would let her in.

“Crow was my partner. That was his code name—Crow. His real name is—was—Edward, and the woman you saw me speaking to in the garden was his sister.”

Elinor did not speak. With her children she had learned that sometimes when one thought a person had said all there was to say, a moment of silence would reveal more.

“We worked together for years. Not all agents work together. Most work alone, but we had complementary skills. We first worked together on a mission in Switzerland in ’06. After that, we rarely worked alone.”

“You must have become good friends.”

“More than that. We were like brothers. We knew all about each other’s lives.” Winn looked at her. “Though he never met you, he knew all about you and the girls. He used to call you his surrogate family.”

“Was he not married?”

“No. His only family was his sister, and she was in a convent school for much of the time I knew him.”

“You speak of him as though he is gone. What happened?”

“I killed him.”

Elinor started at the vehemence in his voice. But there was something else there too. Hatred? Blame? Self-loathing? “I don’t believe you.”

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “I made a mistake that cost Crow his life. It was my error that killed him.”

“What happened?”

Winn shook his head. “I can’t.”

Gently, Elinor pulled him away from the window and took his face in her hands. “Tell me, Winn. You have to tell someone. I can see it’s devouring you from the inside out.”

“We were in Europe on a termination assignment. It’s better if you don’t know the particulars.”

Elinor nodded, but she had to inquire. “Termination assignment?”

Winn gave her a wry smile. “Believe it or not, I am quite capable of murder when called upon to act in my country’s name and best interests.
Termination
is the code for assassination. Our orders were to assassinate…” He cleared his throat. “Someone important. Very important. Crow and I planned everything meticulously. He would complete the actual termination, and I would smuggle us in and out. But something went wrong that night. The guards’ schedule had changed, or perhaps they sensed something was amiss. Nothing went as planned, and we never even managed to come within arm’s reach of—this important person. Instead, we ended up fleeing for our lives. I went one way, and Crow went another. I heard the shots, but I had no reason to think he would have been hit. We’d been shot at so many times…”

Elinor took a breath and bit her tongue. How many times had she almost lost Winn? How many times had she been a breath away from becoming a widow?

“He didn’t come to the rendezvous. I waited for hours, all night. I went back, though it was dangerous, and looked for him. Finally, I found him.”

Elinor did not want to hear this. She did not know what Winn would say next, but she could see in his eyes it was killing him. Part of her hoped she was mistaken and the story would not have a tragic ending. Part of her wished Edward—this Crow—would turn out to be just fine. But she knew that hope was false. It was
Romeo
and
Juliet
all over again. No matter how many times she watched the play and held her breath for a fairy-tale ending, it always ended in sorrow.

“Where?” she finally asked, her voice little more than a croak. “Where did you find him?”

Winn’s jaw tightened, the only visible indication of how difficult remembering the experience was for him. “In pieces. He’d been cut into pieces, stuck on pikes, and was on display outside the palace. A warning to any other who might attempt to strike at—who might attempt what we had.”

“Winn.” Elinor pulled him into her arms, feeling him crumple against her. Suddenly, she’d become the strong one. Suddenly, the man who had always seemed so solid, so stalwart needed her. “Winn, I’m so sorry.”

“It was my fault.”

“No!” She pulled back and looked into his stricken face. “No! Edward could have so easily been you.”

He shook his head, not hearing her. “I missed something. I should have known the guards’ pattern would change.”

“How could you? Crow didn’t know any more than you did.”

“I should have gone back for him. When I heard the pistols. I should have gone back.”

“Then you would be dead as well.”

“Some days and nights, I think that would be preferable.”

“No.” She pulled him close, and when his legs gave way, they sank to the floor together, locked in each other’s arms. “No,” she said, clinging to him. “How could I have gone on without you?”

She heard him give a short, bitter laugh. “Easily. I have not been the husband you deserve.”

“I…” She wanted to reassure him, but this was one point on which she agreed. He had not been much of a husband to her. “It’s not too late to change.” As soon as the words were past her lips, everything began to make sense. Winn’s new interest in her, his change of attitude toward the girls. Crow’s death had shown Winn the value in his own life.