Undeceived (17 page)

Chapter 24

The island of Tobago
July 1983

“You been into town this week?” Rita glanced up at him as she wiped down the counter.

“No, ma’am.”

“I think you need some time away from this house.”

“I’ve been down to the fishing dock. Every morning and evening.”

“I meant to engage people in real conversations, not gathering intel. Why don’t you take that fancy boat of yours around to Scarborough? Spend the day down there, see what there is to see in port.”

“As a matter of fact, I planned to do just that. I’ve got to check in with Henry, and the weather’s favorable today.”

“Mm-hmm. I think that’s a fine idea. And while you’re gone, I’ll whip up some meals to last you through the next few days.”

“Going somewhere?”

“Got to see my sister in Castara. I’ll be back on Tuesday though.”

“I think I can make it that long without starving.”

“Pfft.” She smacked him gently on the arm with her cleaning cloth. “You ain’t lookin’ like you miss too many meals.”

“Thanks to you. You don’t have to watch over me, you know. You’re an intelligence officer, not a housekeeper.”

“Maybe they pay me to watch over you too.” She had her back to him and missed the resigned expression that crossed his face.

“Et tu, Brute?” he mumbled.

She whipped back around. “Oh, don’t give me that wounded look. They don’t pay me for that, but I don’t mind cooking a few meals, using a mop now and then. Gives me something to do. This snooping business can be mighty dull.”

She patted his cheek as she passed him on the way to the stove and gave him an appraising look. “You are looking better than when you came here.” She poked him good-naturedly in the belly. “Fillin’ out. Got some sun too. Reminds me, don’t forget a little sun lotion on your trip today.”

***

The wind was gentle for the time of year, and Darcy took his boat all the way down past Scarborough to a little port just beyond Rockley Bay. He wandered through the village fresh air market, absorbing the sounds and sights—laughter, bargaining, splashes of color on the fruit and vegetable stands, the feel of the crowd pressing in and passing by in waves.

“I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be one of the living,” he thought.

A swish of white linen caught his eye. A woman—tourist by the look of her—stopped to peruse the fruit from one of the local vendors. Although her back was to him, he stopped, compelled to watch as she reached out to pick up a mango, the pale skin of her arm striking against the varied shades of tan and brown in the crowd. She wore a straw hat, and the white dress showed the outline of her legs as the sun shone from behind her. She paid the vendor and moved on. Intrigued, he made a move to tail her. He sometimes tailed visitors until he could ascertain their reasons for being on the island: vacation, business, etc. He was close, maybe ten feet behind her, when she turned, and he nearly stumbled.

Hallucinating
.
Elizabeth. In Tobago. Unbelievable
.

She saw him as well and was nearly as startled, although not really shocked, he observed. More…embarrassed. Blood pounded in his veins as he lifted a hand in greeting. She smiled, nervously, and he felt his own grin beaming and his feet hurrying toward her. A quick glance around revealed no other interlopers in the marketplace. As far as he could tell, they were truly alone.

“Well, hello.”

“Hi.” Her voice was soft, unsure.

Not knowing her cover, or anything else about her reasons for being in Tobago, he began with an introduction. “Have we met before? You seem familiar.”

She stifled a chuckle, and shook her head, her nervous demeanor replaced by that warm, intelligent smile that reached her eyes. “Perhaps. I’m Elizabeth.”

He reached out a hand, took hers. The little tingle was still there and raced up his arm and into his heart. “William Darcy.”

“I believe I do remember you. Nice to see you again, William Darcy.”

“What brings you to Tobago?”

The smile faded a bit. “Business, I suppose. I’m awaiting a colleague.”

“Oh.” His expression darkened.

“It’s no one I’ve met before, so I’m not sure what to expect.”

“Ah.” He relaxed.
Not Wickham, then.

“What brings
you
to Tobago?” She seemed genuinely surprised. “Most people coming to Trinidad and Tobago flock to Port of Spain.”

So she wasn’t expecting to find him here. Intriguing. An intelligence officer hoping to sneak in and out of the country without alerting the station chief? Or maybe she was sent to keep tabs on him again and was using Tobago as a base? He’d left Trinidad without any official permission. Either scenario suggested she was still working in counterintelligence.

“I came here for the peace and quiet, to be honest.”

They stared at each other a moment.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked, suddenly. “There’s a nice little waterfront bar not too far from here.”

“Umm…sure. That would be nice.”

He gestured with his arm, resisting the urge to touch her. “Carry your basket for you?”

“What? Oh…” She handed it to him. “Thanks. I was looking for fresh bananas.”

“Looks like you found some.”

“I get a craving for them now and again, ever since East Germany, when I couldn’t find one to save my life.”

Not hiding their history together. He vaguely wondered if she was wearing a wire. No skin off his nose. He had nothing to hide either. He led her outside the market and down toward the water.

“Ever had a Dirty Banana?”

“A what?”

He caught her expression and smiled. “And that wasn’t some kind of lame innuendo. It’s a Jamaican drink with coffee liqueur and rum.”

“Oh.” She grinned.

“I’ll make you one sometime.”

“I’ve never been to Jamaica. I suppose you have.”

“Yes.”

“Is it beautiful?”

“Parts of it. There’s poverty there. There’s suffering, like most parts of the world.”

“I’ve seen that, too, in the places we’ve been.”

“That’s one of our job perks.”

“Seeing the hardship and privation—that’s a perk?”

“In a way, I think it is. Seeing the world—really seeing it, not just the tourist’s bird’s eye view of a place—gives us truth. Not even the wealthy travelers genuinely experience a locale the way you and I do. And that experience is a direct result of our work.”

“It’s one way to look at things, I guess.”

“Where are you staying, Elizabeth?”

“A little villa about three miles down the beach here.”

“You walked?”

“Sure, I walked.”

“Just to shop for fresh bananas?”

“I like walking.”

“I remember.”

She looked at him, unbelieving.

“From our time in East Berlin. I also remember waiting outside the theater for you. I followed you home several times to make sure you made it safe and sound.”

“I had no idea. You didn’t have to do that. I can take care of myself.”

“No doubt you can. I know you saved my skin more than once. No, following you home was more for my benefit, so I could have some peace, knowing you were okay.”

Elizabeth’s expression softened. “I always thought you were waiting outside the theatre for Anneliese.”

His face clouded.

“Sorry,” she replied, touching his arm. “I didn’t mean to bring up unpleasant memories.”

He slid his hand into hers and rejoiced when she didn’t look uncomfortable or yank it away. “You know, I’ve not always been the man I wanted to be. I’ve used people—we do that in this business of ours.”

“We do.”

“It disturbs me, deeply, what happened to Anneliese. Saddens me. I judged that I had to defend myself, prevent my capture above all for the sake of many other officers, and I did what I had to do. Over the years, I’ve been forced into a few of those decisions where there were no good choices.”

“It goes with the territory.”

“But some things I did do right. When we were in East Berlin, Anneliese pursued me, but I didn’t sleep with her—on that trip we made to West Berlin or any other time. It was one of those times when I made a decision to act, or in her case, not to act on an opportunity because it was the honorable route, and it didn’t seem wise. I’m grateful now I made the decision not to use her that way. Some crises of conscience are gray and muddled, but there are times when… well, the right course of action stares you in the face.”

Darcy stopped, tugged on Elizabeth’s hand, and under a palm tree on an almost deserted seashore, he kissed her—a delicate, tentative brushing of lips. When he pulled away, she stumbled toward him, eyes closed, cheeks and lips flushed. She opened those fine eyes and stared at him in wonder.

“I’d almost forgotten how beautiful your eyes are,” he remarked, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers and running his thumb over her bottom lip. “Elizabeth. Beth. Liz.
She.
By any name, you are the most amazing woman I know.”

“Darcy, I…”

He picked up her market basket and began walking again. “There’s a top-notch local restaurant between here and your place. We’ll spend the afternoon, nestled at the Lambton with two Carib beers and a plate of roti stuffed with some kind of spicy chicken—unless you already have plans, of course.”

“I don’t, but…”

“And we won’t talk shop, not here, not now. I won’t ask why you’re here—mostly because I don’t really care why. I only care that I can see you and talk to you again.”

“I’m not here to watch you.”

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t want you to think…”

“I don’t.”

“You’ve been cleared of any suspicion.”

“And you are the person mostly responsible for that, according to Bingley. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now there’s just one more thing to get straight.” It was high time Darcy began the intricate dance of reconnecting with the woman he was now convinced he’d fallen for, hook, line, and sinker.

“What’s that?”

“Beer or mixed drink with your
roti
?”

She smiled. “Okay, you win. Let’s eat.”

Chapter 26

Elizabeth’s villa shone pink with the light of the setting sun. It sat on a cliff above the ocean, palm trees, and neglected shrubbery adorning the front of the house. A gravel drive led to a carport sheltering her Jeep. Sounds of the approaching evening surrounded them: the distant crash of the waves, a peal of laughter farther down the street. A gentle wind unsettled Darcy’s hair, worn just long enough to remind her of the longish queue he’d worn in East Germany.

She pulled a key out of her bag, unlocked the door, and stepped in. She turned when Darcy didn’t follow her and found him waiting patiently outside the stoop.

They stared at each other. A moment fraught with possibilities passed between them.

“Ask me in?”

She reached out a hand. “Come in.” And closed the door behind him.

“Nice house.”

“Yeah, not too bad for a NOC. It’s not luxury, but it will do—and probably cheaper than a hotel. I’ll be here for at least a month, I gather.” She reached for the refrigerator door, and light spilled into the darkening room. “I don’t have any beer, but I’ve got a bottle of wine.”

“Sounds good.” He pulled out a chair and sat at the little kitchen table.

“I know we said we wouldn’t talk shop, but…”

“We can, if you want. I am the station chief here after all.”

“I just feel like I need to get this out of the way. You’re not under suspicion, but at the risk of sounding obsessive and paranoid, I believe there is, in fact, a mole in the CIA.”

“It’s not obsessive or paranoid. Actually, I believe you’re right.”

“You do?”

“And I can see why maybe it looked to some people like it was me.”

“But it’s not you, so…”

“Who is it?”

“Exactly.” She gave the corkscrew one more vicious twist and then tried to tug the cork free.

“Here.” He got up and went to her, covering her hands with his.

“Thanks.” Little currents of lustful awareness ran up her arm and into her belly.

“You’re welcome.”

She reached into the cabinet for glasses. “So I’ve been working on the ‘mole issue’ in between the ratty little assignments they send over from the State Department.”

“Any luck?”

“Not great luck.”

“Investigations like these can take years.”

“And I’m not always a patient woman.” She smiled. “I am less likely to jump to conclusions than I was a year ago. And I’ve learned more about my colleagues than I ever wanted to know.”

“Counterintelligence woes.”

“Most definitely.”

“So, how did you end up here on Tobago?” He stopped, shook his head. “I said I wouldn’t ask that.”

“No, I want you to know. I wouldn’t want you to think you’re in any kind of trouble. Or that I put myself in your way.”

He took a step toward her. “I’d have no problem with you putting yourself in my way. None whatsoever.”

Blood beat under her skin and warmed her face. Thank goodness for the cover of twilight!

“Um…” She paused, trying to formulate an intelligent sentence. Why couldn’t she even
think
straight?

“Yes? Go on.”

“So, when Wickham told me about a new asset down here, someone with counterintelligence information, I volunteered to run him. I didn’t want George to spin it as another ‘Darcy is the root of all evil’ story. I wanted my own eyes on it.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“I’m waiting for the asset to contact me through secure channels here on the island.”

“Which, in this case, is probably a post office box?”

“Any advice?”

“Just watch your back. Use your tradecraft, and—what am I saying? You know what to do.”

“No Spy Rules to quote?”

He chuckled. “Ah…no.”

“That’s a shame. Believe it or not, I’ve sort of missed those.” She handed him a glass and held hers up. “Here’s to the irony of first impressions.”

He clinked his glass with hers. “And the good fortune to overcome them.” He took a step back and looked around the kitchen. “Show me around the place?”

“Sure.” She stepped around him and led him into the living area where a wicker couch and a couple of chairs were grouped. The table was strewn with newspapers and magazines.

“There’s a bedroom, a bath over there.” She halted and cleared her throat. “A deck.” She stepped through the screen door. “A view of the ocean, which was an unexpected and pleasant surprise.” She laid her free hand on the railing and sipped as she gazed out into the darkness, acutely aware of him moving up behind her.

He glanced up. “And a view of the stars.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

He took her hand from the rail and holding it in his own, pointed up to the sky. His breath stirred her hair and made her shiver. He smelled like spices and ocean.

“Are you chilled?” He rubbed a hand up and down her arm to warm her.

Was he smiling? She thought she heard the warmth of a smile in the darkness. “I’m fine.”

Darcy stepped away again. He seemed to follow a pattern of approach and retreat, approach and retreat, almost as if—her mind whirled—was he wooing her? Raw, exposed nerves sent out frissons of danger and thrill along her spine. Moonlight spilled over the line of trees, illuminating her face and leaving his in shadow.

“Are you pleased with Tobago?”

“Yes, how could I not be pleased?”

“Your good opinion is rarely bestowed and therefore, is more worth earning.”

“How about you? Do you like it here?”

“At first, I was disappointed to be sent to Trinidad instead of Moscow, but now I can honestly say I’m glad to be here. That surprises me as much as it does you.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Darcy laughed. “Your expression says otherwise.”

“You just seemed like a fast-track company man.”

“I was when we met. A lot has changed.”

“Meaning my investigation changed a lot of things. I’m so sorry.”

“No. Well, not just that. Perhaps the investigation brought things to a head, but I’ve been overdue to step back and take a look at my life for some time now. Several events conspired to force my hand. Don’t be sorry. I’m certainly not—because that investigation was the reason I met you.”

She downed her wine in three successive gulps. “More wine?” she asked, beginning to turn back inside.

He set the glass aside. “No. I’m going to need to have all my wits about me tonight.”

Her “why” was muffled when he moved in—his hands on her hips, lips brushing hers—softly at first, and then with more command as he pulled her closer.

She let him—that was what would amaze her later on. She let him because he was warm and familiar yet exciting and mysterious. She let him because, whatever else she didn’t know about him—and there was a lot she didn’t know—she knew him in essentials. Down deep, she saw him so clearly: brave, clever, strong, confident, passionate. And hot.

His hands slid up her sides so his palms brushed her breasts. She gasped, and he plundered her opened mouth.

***

Heat shot through him when that little whimper escaped her throat. His hands moved from her sides around to her back—one hand grasped the back of her blouse, one hand tangled in her hair. Always acutely aware of her, he watched her eyes slide shut, felt her hands outline his shoulders, and clasp around his neck. He didn’t need the wine; he was drunk with her. She reached behind her, fumbling for the door handle, and he nudged her back inside. Control—he had to keep control even though his mind and body wrestled each other in a desperate struggle for restraint.

She backed away, clinging to his hand as she meandered toward the bedroom.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I…I’m sure about tonight. I can’t think any farther ahead than that.”

“Then that’s what I’ll take.” He ran a finger down the line of her breastbone. “And then, perhaps, you’ll let me take a little more.” He undid the top two buttons of her linen blouse and flipped open the catch on the front of her bra, slipping his fingers inside to cup her breast. He thrilled to the sound of her sigh when he rubbed a thumb across her nipple, and marveled at the contrast between his tanned, brown arm and the ivory of her chest. How different they were, and yet how right they seemed together. He backed her to the bed as he pushed her top over her shoulders and down, and laid her in front of him, one knee on the bed between her legs. The linen bound her arms to her side. Fortunate that, as it let him look and touch as much as he liked. He spread the blouse and bra apart then traced her body with his fingers before leaning over her to trace the same path with his lips. She squirmed, trying to get her arms free, but he shook his head. “If you touch me now, Elizabeth, I’m liable to take you apart. I want you that badly, and I’ve wanted you for that long.”

“Since Virginia?”

“Since the first moment I held you in my arms on a dance floor in Budapest.”

“I…I didn’t know.”

“You know now.” He stood, rucked up her skirt, and smoothed his hands from her ankles to her knees and beyond. His hands wandered over her inner thighs and up to her hips before drawing down her panties. He stared down at her, his icy blue gaze intense. Then he knelt down, drew her toward him and with great tenderness, he used his mouth on her.

***

The room spun as she cried out in surprise. He kept on, bringing heat and the temporary insanity of desire, murmuring unintelligible words against her skin. Her body arched involuntarily, and she almost sobbed when he took his mouth away.

“You’re as slippery as dew on the grass,” he said as he replaced lips and tongue with fingers. He ran his nose over where the heat and urgency coalesced under her skin. He smiled up at her, a wicked, fiery smile. “And you smell just as sweet.”

Her breath burst from her in a groan.

“Yes, darling, call to me.” He kissed the juncture of her hip and her leg as his hands worked some kind of dark magic in her. “Come to me.” He rubbed a stubbly cheek against her hipbone. Then, almost delicately, he bit it.

She erupted under him.

When she was able to open her eyes, he was staring at her in fascination. “Beautiful,” he whispered.

He stood, drawing her skirt down until it made a puddle of linen on the floor. She watched him simply because she couldn’t tear her eyes away. He stared back, absolutely still, watching her, like a panther watching its prey.

“Take your clothes off,” she commanded, still gasping. “I want…”

He complied, pulling his polo shirt over his head and doffing the khaki shorts, before leaning over her on the bed. “You want…?”

“I want…”

“I want, too.” He levered her hips up, a guiding arm underneath her, and entered in one swift stroke.

***

Another cry from her, and he closed his eyes, forcing himself to stop. Months of physical deprivation and longing threatened to overwhelm him. “Elizabeth, dear God. Elizabeth.”

She reached up to draw him close. “Now, you come to me.”

He rode her in a blind delight, roused still further by her ability to keep pace with him. The world narrowed to the two of them, and as he went over the threshold into oblivion, he pulled her over with him.