The Beauty and the Spy (17 page)

She rose up on her elbow and looked down at his glistening body. “But I thought you said we had to go.”

He closed his eyes. “We do. Hold on.”

He got to his feet as wearily as an old man, and she giggled. But her amusement faded into a soft smile when he brought her a wet cloth and towel.

“Sorry it's cold,” he said, using another cloth on himself.

She cocked her head to the side and watched him until he finally noticed and paused.

“Is something wrong?”

She shook her head. “Just enjoying myself.”

She could swear that even with his sun-darkened complexion, a touch of red swept his face. Then she quickly washed herself, and they helped dress each other, which probably took twice as long, but was more fun.

Finally she opened the door for him, since he
carried their two portmanteaus. They raced down the stairs and out into the yard of the inn. Mr. Cox was there to open the carriage door for them, and after handing him their bags, they collapsed next to each other on the bench. A few minutes later the carriage started moving.

“All right,” Nick said, “now tell me exactly what happened with Julia.”

So she did. During her story he looked alternately amused and angry.

“So you see,” Charlotte concluded, “I didn't come up with the whole story so much as allow Julia to lead me on.”

“But you told her you knew her
brother
!”

“I panicked! You must admit I kept her attention for well over an hour. And she's very easy to talk to. Nick, she was so nice.”

“I know what she can be like,” he said dryly.

“I had forgotten—you had…relations with her!”

He shrugged. “It was temporary, and we both accepted that.”

They were silent for a moment, and she reminded herself that what she had with Nick was also temporary. She'd known that going in, but she had not counted on falling in love with him. Yet how could she not? She'd never felt as cherished, as desired as Nick had just made her feel. But he was a man with a dangerous duty who could be no husband to her. He was constantly
fighting his gentler emotions, and that's not what she wanted. She wished she understood him, wished she knew what haunted his past.

But she could still matter in his life by helping him, being a part of this mission she was swept up in. She had now proven herself, and surely he understood that, since he even confided his plans in her.

Charlotte finally said, “So what happened with Julia's men?”

“Campbell never showed at our meeting place,” Nick said, his expression turning cold and professional.

“So he
wants
you to turn them in?”

“Who knows? They never came back to the tavern or to the rooms they'd rented, either.”

“Maybe they were alerted by someone. Julia
was
leaving town much earlier than she normally does.”

“Did she seem frantic or preoccupied to you?”

She shook her head. “She was all courtesy and pleasantness, and eventually concern. She concluded that her brother knew about our
baby
and still didn't want to see me.”

“Doesn't think much of him, does she?”

“I guess not.”

They were quiet for a moment, jostling gently to the motion of the carriage.

“I have news,” he said, giving her a dour look. “You'll consider it good, but I have a bad feeling
about it. Sam saw Will last night, and he accidentally revealed to Jane that you're traveling with us.”

“‘Traveling with'?” she repeated, smiling up at him.

He didn't smile back, and she knew he'd retreated into his spy persona.

“So they don't know how I came to be with you?”

“Oh, they know,” he said. “I heard your sister was very angry. She demanded to see you immediately.”

Charlotte couldn't resist clapping her hands together. “How wonderful!”

Nick narrowed his eyes at her, realizing that she didn't understand. “Charlotte, it will be dangerous for all of us to be together. We'll be a perfect target for Julia's men to wipe us out all at once.”

“Then we aren't going?” she asked with worry.

He clenched his jaw and spoke through his teeth. “We're going. Sam made the arrangements, so we can't back out now. But you'll only get a few minutes to see her.”

“I understand,” she said softly.

“I don't know if you do, Charlotte. We're near the end of this mission. We're almost to Leeds. From this point on, we'll get ahead of Julia, leaving Sam to follow behind. We have to be at
Hume's house, waiting for Julia, so we can catch her in the act.”

“Not the act of killing him,” she said, blinking her eyelashes innocently.

He resisted the urge to smile. “We want to catch her just before. It'll be the last and best evidence in our case. Proof that her treachery was worth killing for.”

“And how do you know she just won't send Campbell?”

He glanced at her, grudgingly admiring her intelligence. “Because I think she needs to make sure the job is done right. Her men haven't exactly been able to stop us yet, and she'll know this.”

She nodded and looked out the window, and Nick found himself staring at her delicate hand where it rested on the bench. Somewhere inside him, the weak man he was trying to conquer urged him to take her hand, to hold it in his own.

But what idea would that give Charlotte? That there could be more to their relationship than sex? She understood the limited things he could offer her, and he didn't want to confuse her by hinting at more.

But less than an hour ago he'd been wrapped in her arms, held close to her heart. She'd granted him a gift that another man had almost ruined—the gift of her trust.

But he wasn't lying to her—he wasn't betraying that trust.

Then why did he feel so distraught? He didn't
know what he wanted anymore, so it was easier to cling to the past, to the things that made him Nick Wright, political agent. Not Nick Wright, the supposed savior of his family, or Nick Wright, lover.

But there was Charlotte, a warm, giving woman, who'd rediscovered the power of her femininity, who'd demanded his body again instead of waiting for it. Even now he was hard with wanting her.

But his dilemma never changed. He had a job to do, and he'd allowed Charlotte to be a distraction. And now she thought she was a success at spying, because she'd been quick-thinking enough to delay Julia.

But she would only put them all in further danger, because they had to worry about her. Yes, she would see her sister this night, but it would be on his terms, and with everyone's safety in mind. Julia's henchmen were on to them, and would be closing in as all parties met in one place. He would keep Charlotte safe, and in doing so, protect his men, too.

“So Nick,” she suddenly said in a cheerful voice, “I have a marriage question for you.”

Though he wanted to be somber, he glanced at her, and her mischievous expression made him smile. “Draw upon my wealth of knowledge, my dear.”

She elbowed him playfully in the side. “So how often should a husband and wife have relations?”

Stunned, he cocked his head. “Are you suggesting something?”

“Heavens no—we're not married.” She batted her eyelashes.

“That's right—you're a merry widow now, and you have used innocent me quite shamelessly.”

She gaped at him, as if she didn't know what to respond to first. “Used you—
innocent
?”

“Don't worry, my feelings weren't hurt.”

He slid closer to her, and with a groan she pushed him away. “Just answer the question.”

“I can't remember it, since you raised up my hopes—and an important body part.”

“Oh never mind,” she said between gritted teeth.

“Wait, I remember now!” he said brightly. “How often should a husband and wife have relations?”

She gave him a pointed stare that suggested she was only humoring him now.

“Well of course,” he continued, “that is up to the husband—I mean wife!” he amended when she scowled. He wondered if he'd said the wrong thing, for certainly everything in her life had been on her husband's schedule.

“Perhaps it should be up to them both,” she said calmly. “Whenever either one of them feels like it.”

“What a revolutionary idea. But speaking as a
man, I believe the husband would feel aroused every morning waking in his wife's arms.”

She glanced out the window, wearing a little smile that said she was imagining just that. “What a romantic thing to say.”

“A husband has to be romantic. How else will he persuade his wife that the timing of sex is her idea?”

Her laugh was throaty and alluring, given by an experienced woman. He wanted to pounce on her, to show her that private carriages could be
very
accommodating. Sweat broke out on his brow, and he couldn't wipe it away without revealing too much of his desire to her.

She glanced at him. “So do they each ask—or just seduce?”

He was soon going to need to adjust himself. “Personally, a seduction might be difficult if, in the middle of a party, a wife's low-cut gown inspires a husband's thoughts.”

“So you don't think it right for him to whisper his desires in his wife's ear?” she asked. “I would have thought a well-pleasured husband would feel confident in that.”

“And what would a well-pleasured wife's response be?”

“Why, she would follow him into the garden, of course, or to a secret, deserted chamber only they know about.”

Pleasantly astonished, Nick let himself show
his admiration. “Why, Charlotte, you make marriage sound tempting.”

Was that the lesson she was trying to teach him? When she said nothing, only gazed deeply into his eyes, tension once again settled between them.

W
hen the sun slid down behind gray clouds, Nick's mood worsened. Will and Jane had only just escaped Julia's henchmen, and now Nick was about to bring them back into the light. He had no choice but to go ahead with the meeting, for Will and Jane couldn't be left waiting, unprotected.

But damn if he wasn't going to make sure Charlotte was safe first.

Julia went home to her brother's estate, and
when the gates closed behind her, Nick had the carriage wait farther away. Charlotte said she could help them—she suggested she could wear his trousers as a disguise—but Nick firmly insisted that she was finished in the spy business. When he and Sam left to scale the manor wall, he had a picture in his mind of Charlotte breaking her neck trying such a stunt.

It was tricky, because the day hung at the edge of twilight, leaving them no darkness to hide in. But they managed to watch the groom unhitch Julia's carriage horses and lead them into the stable. Through the manor windows they watched as she was greeted by servants, saw her bags taken away, and even caught a glimpse of her in an upstairs corner bedroom.

Only an hour later, when they saw her sitting down to dinner, did they finally sneak away. Sam and Cox would come back when they were finished with Will and keep watch for the night. They climbed into the carriage, and Sam immediately went to sleep. Nick knew Charlotte was watching him expectantly, as if she thought he was powerful enough to keep them all safe. And that was only going to happen with plenty of luck.

A deep fog rolled in after dark, and the road to meet up with Will proved treacherous.

When they stopped to change horses, Nick spoke privately to Sam and Cox outside, explaining his plan for Charlotte. Though Sam seemed strangely belligerent—he normally accepted
Nick's lead—both agreed that Charlotte's penchant for “helping” would get her in worse trouble before the night was through if they didn't do something drastic. They just couldn't trust her to stay safe.

For supper they stopped in a small village, where Cox brought them cheese and fruit and a flask of wine. The four of them shared it in the shadowy darkness of the coach, and the mood was somber, strange. A single lantern hung against the wall, rocking gently with the movement of the carriage as the restless horses stomped and waited.

Nick watched Charlotte, saw the way her gaze became puzzled as it moved among them. He himself felt uneasy, disturbed, and he knew it was because Charlotte would feel betrayed before the hour was through. She'd know he still didn't trust her.

But she'd be safe.

When everyone had eaten his fill, Nick corked the wine and said, “Charlotte, you aren't going to like this, but I'm going to have to tie you up.”

He saw her stiffen, then she took a deep breath and looked directly at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Tonight could be dangerous. We don't know where Julia's men are. We need to separate until we've safely found Will, and I can't be worried that you've overtaken Cox and tried to rescue us on your own.”

“But I promise I—”

“You promise?” he said, drawing the ropes out of his pocket. “And didn't you promise last night to stay in the room?”

“Yes, I know—but I helped! Julia didn't get away!” She looked at Sam and Cox, neither of whom could meet her gaze.

“There will be no further discussion,” Nick continued. “Please hold out your wrists.”

Her mutinous look wearied him. He wished he could trust her to obey him unquestioningly. God forbid he should have to fight her. But then she straightened, lifted that fragile chin in the air, and held out her arms. She never said another thing, even as he was about to gag her. But that last indignity made her eyes snap with outrage.

“I'm sorry, Char,” he murmured, and unable to help himself, lifted his hand to caress her cheek.

But she reared back so suddenly, she smacked her head into the carriage wall, and part of her hairstyle was knocked askew.

“Are you all right?” he asked curtly, hiding his worry.

She only nodded and turned her back.

They rode on another half hour, then the carriage halted. Sam slipped outside and Nick hesitated.

“Charlotte?”

She only glared at him. Though he tried not to,
he remembered her tearful confession that her husband occasionally tied her up for his pleasure. He felt lower than a toad.

But she would be safe.

After retrieving pistols and swords from beneath the opposite bench, he caught Charlotte's angry stare. He could only shrug and douse the lamp, leaving her in darkness. He descended from the carriage to stand at Sam's side. The carriage wheels squeaked as Cox urged the team on. The vehicle lumbered away, out of sight into the fog.

They were standing beside high walls hung with several guttering lanterns. An open gate led into a courtyard behind a four-story inn, each story with a long gallery overlooking the yard.

Nick offered weapons, and although Sam had a pistol already, he accepted one of the old cavalry swords.

“Are we being a little overly cautious?” Sam asked.

Nick looked around again. “I have a bad feeling about this. I don't like all of us meeting in one place.” When Sam guiltily opened his mouth, Nick held up a hand. “Don't apologize again. I understand how it happened. Those Whittington women are hard to resist.”

Sam's smile faded. “Are they?”

Nick ignored the unspoken rebuke and quietly asked, “Are we meeting inside the inn or out here?”

They listened carefully to voices raised in merriment on the other side of the wall.

“I thought it best to meet out here,” Sam said. “I know this area well, as we're still in my parish. This inn is on the outskirts of the village and—”

He broke off suddenly. “Nick, did you see something?” he whispered.

The two of them backed toward the wall, pistols raised, and Nick thought he saw shadows moving near a stand of trees. The fog swirled around the tree trunks, for once aiding them. Two men were moving steadily toward them, dressed totally in black. One was short and broad.

“Campbell,” Nick whispered.

They heard the sudden crack of gunshot, then another, and he and Sam threw themselves to the ground. They each had time for one shot before a man jumped on each of them.

Nick felt hands scratching at his throat, trying to crush his windpipe. His gun was knocked away, but he had his sword strapped at his waist. If only he could reach it. As he rolled to dislodge his assailant, he heard the frantic neighing of horses as another carriage pulled up too close to the fighting.

He staggered as he stood up, losing sight of his opponent in the low fog, fumbling for his sword, only to be knocked from his feet again.

When he was finally upright, he pulled the sword from its steel scabbard with a singing
scrape. The man reeled back, and a knife almost as long as a sword glittered in his hand. Nick arced his sword up and brought it down, and the clash of metal on metal reverberated up his arm. Out of the corner of his eye Nick saw a man running toward him out of the darkness, from the direction of the newly arrived carriage. For a crazy moment, he thought he heard the high-pitched bark of a little dog.

“Nick!”

It was Will. With relief, Nick tucked his sword to his side and rolled low into the fog, landing near the wall and his extra sword. He rose up and called Will's name, flinging the sword high over his assailant's head. He never saw if Will caught it, for his assailant was on him once again.

Nick caught a glimpse of another man stalking his opponent from the right. The masked man was distracted, looked to his left, and Nick had him. He felt his sword run through, heard the man scream, then he vanished down into the fog. Nick quickly lifted the body, ripped off the mask, and saw that it was Campbell. Dropping him to the ground, he straightened. He kept his bloody sword raised, unable to tell in the flickering darkness exactly who was near him. And that seemed to be the general problem, because he located Sam and Barlow, Will's coachman, but where was the second henchman?

“He's getting away!” Will yelled.

The masked man had already vaulted onto the
back of a horse and was riding through the village, away from the direction Cox had driven Charlotte. Nick forced his lungs to start working again, let the fear go. He put his sword point into the ground and braced himself on the hilt, gasping for air. His three companions all did the same, tiredly grinning at one another in victory.

They didn't have long to stand around, because they could see several patrons leaning through the gates of the inn to see what was going on.

A woman had descended from Will's carriage, and came running up. She was tall and slender, properly attired yet showing a hint of womanly curves.

Will slung an arm about her shoulder and said, “Nick Wright, this is Jane Whittington, my future bride. I believe you know her sister, Charlotte.”

Something set Jane off, whether it was the smiling, slightly bloodied men or Sam's laughter. She angrily pushed Will away from her, and Nick stepped forward to greet her.

When she looked up at him, she opened her mouth, but nothing came out. It was the usual reaction from women caught off-guard by the ungentlemanly size of him.

He gave her a polite society bow. “Miss Whittington, how good to meet you.”

Even in the darkness, he could tell her face had paled, and he wondered if she was not quite as brave as her sister.

“Where's Charlotte?” she asked in a haughty voice.

Ah, now that was more like a Whittington woman.

Before he could answer, Will hugged her close. She struggled, but he didn't relent.

“I promised you'll see her, Jane. We need to take care of the body first.”

Nick's smile faded and he surveyed the small gathering of people beginning to tiptoe closer. “We should probably go our separate ways for tonight. It's too dangerous to stay together any longer, especially since one bastard got away to warn Julia.”

Jane struggled harder. “No! You promised!”

Sam elbowed him. “Didn't I tell you the sisters were alike?”

He nodded, rather enjoying watching Jane as she fought to control her emotions.

“We'll be brief,” she said with a hint of desperation. “I just need to make sure she's all right.”

Barlow, Will's coachman, was allowed to escape back to his horses.

Nick looked at Sam and Will, then sighed. “Very well. Sam, you and Barlow explain to the innkeeper about being attacked by thieves. Bury the corpse as discreetly as you can. I'll take Will and Miss Whittington to Charlotte. We won't be long.”

He glanced at Jane to see if she understood what he meant. She nodded with resignation and
moved away from Will to stand alone. Nick turned and began to walk away from the inn, knowing she followed, with Will behind her.

An animal barked nearby and just as quickly stopped.

Nick turned around, frowning. He wanted to be away from the crowds and the danger. “And what is that?”

“You remember Killer,” Will said, glancing at the ground around him, where the fog moved. “If I can find him. Ah, there he is.” He bent down and came up with a dog.

Nick was stunned. “Killer?
The
Killer? He survived the shipwreck?” The animal had five years' worth of history with Will that had brought the dog into just as much danger. Killer had always acquitted himself well—had frankly been a help more often than not. It was amazing how the animal seemed to understand everything Will said.

“Shipwreck?” Jane repeated, clearly not knowing much about Killer's reputation.

“It was nothing,” Will said. “We were almost to Cape Town, so we only floated in the wreckage for two days.”

“And Killer survived.” Nick shook his head. “That dog has the lives of a cat.”

What was wrong with Will that he wasn't telling these things to his betrothed? Then he remembered that Will had been keeping his past a secret to protect Jane. Nick almost felt guilty that
he had to be the one to force everything out into the open.

Nick looked at Jane. “Killer was once run over by a barrel aboard ship as he was rescuing a little boy. The dog's broken ribs literally pierced the skin. And still he survived.”

“I had to chew his food for him for a week,” Will said with a nod.

Jane looked shocked. “Chew his food—”

Nick laughed, imagining that Charlotte would have the exact same reaction. “Has Barlow forgiven Killer for saving his life?”

“You must be joking,” Will said. “That man can hold a grudge.”

“Can we please just go to Charlotte now?” Jane demanded, stomping her foot as if a tantrum might help.

Will left Killer with Barlow, and he and Jane fell into step behind Nick. He led them away from the inn, out into the darkness on the far side of the road, away from the village. Nick looked over his shoulder and watched Jane trip over the weeds hidden by fog, but she didn't ask Will for help. Already Nick admired her.

A quarter hour later he saw the dark outline of his carriage, and he released a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Cox nodded to him from high up in the coach box.

Nick reached for the door handle, then looked over his shoulder at his companions. His decision
for how best to protect Charlotte was starting to seem unwise. “I just want you to know that for Charlotte's own protection, I had to bind her.”

“What!” Jane said sharply, then looked about as if she finally realized how her voice carried.

“Shh!” Will said, leaning toward her. “I'm certain there is a good explanation.”

At least Nick had Will on his side. “Much as Charlotte understands what we're doing, I knew she would follow me and make even more trouble in her attempt to help.”

Jane's look was reproachful and angry. “Let me see her at once.”

Nick opened the door and as he climbed up inside, he winced at the angry sounds Charlotte was making from behind her gag. Jane wouldn't take this well. In darkness Nick sat down on Charlotte's bench, while Will and Jane stumbled into the seat across.