Mark groaned aloud. “There are other men, much better men than I.”
“You think I should do things with them?”
“Absolutely not!” Just the thought of it made Mark want to break things, namely heads. “But you have only begun your life in the ton. And I have a mission. I am sorry, I should not have brought you out here.” He moved closer to her. He had to kiss her one more time.
He was just about to put his lips on hers again when he heard someone approach with intent, not someone on a leisurely stroll through the garden. His senses on alert, he feared his enemies had caught up to him. He was just about to draw his pistol when he realized it wasn’t an enemy, but one of his best friends.
“See here!” said Robert as he came upon them, only to draw up short. “Mark?”
Mark found it impossible to keep the glare from his face, but the next moment the two were patting each other on the back, though given the inopportune interruption, Mark couldn’t resist putting some muscle into it.
“What are you doing here?” asked Robert. “I thought you were still on assignment.”
“I am,” said Mark. “But I couldn’t miss Anna’s big night, though I am certainly not dressed for the occasion. My apologies, again,” he said, with a slight bow to her.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” she said quietly. “About anything.”
“How long will you be in London?” asked Robert.
“Unfortunately, I am leaving now.”
“Now?” said Anna with some distress. “You must come in and say hello to Papa and the others. Uncle Colin would be heartbroken not to see you.”
“And I wish I could do just that. But it is important that I am not seen tonight. You may tell them in private, though I ask you all to keep it a secret. My mission is too important to risk being identified.”
Anna’s look of anguish was heartbreaking. “Must you truly go?”
“I am afraid so.”
“When will you return?”
“I do not know.”
“Do be careful, Mark,” said Robert. “You are too good of a man to be lost. If you ever need anything, we will move heaven and earth to help.”
“I know. And I thank you for that.”
“Yes,” said Anna. “Take care of yourself. And come back to us soon.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Coast of France, 1838, Two Years Later
Mark lay on his lumpy bed at the inn and contemplated his future. Three days earlier he had received a coded message from the Foreign Office with an offer which could make his career. After he finished this assignment – which should happen within the next few days – he would be sent on a mission to Russia which would last anywhere from two to five years. Provided he lived that long, of course. The Tsar and his ministers did not care for spies and their executions were very public celebrations.
That was, of course, cause for concern for any man, though not necessarily a reason to turn down the posting. Mark had risked his life on numerous occasions during his years with the Foreign Office. He had been stabbed, nearly poisoned, beaten and almost had his ballocks severed by the husband of a woman he’d seduced to gain access to his papers. So it wasn’t the danger, it was something else.
Or, rather, someone else.
Mark ran a hand across his forehead. He had loved Anna Emerson as a brother since the moment he had met her on his first visit to Ridgeway Manor. And he had fallen in love completely on the night of her debutante dance when they had kissed in the garden. He could still taste her sweetness, could feel her melt into his arms. She had been so innocent, so trusting she would have gone with him anywhere. He had a feeling she would be beside him in danger if he would only allow it. But he would never even countenance it. Just being her husband would have been bad enough for her. He wouldn’t do that to her. She deserved better. So much better.
He missed Robert and Wes, as well as the Emersons and Kellingtons. He wrote to them whenever he thought it was safe but was always careful to never say too much about where he was or what he was doing. He certainly never alluded to the danger he was in. And his very best days were the ones when he received letters back. Safety required him to burn the letters as soon as he finished reading them, but he had never been able to do that with Anna’s. When he was at home in Paris, he kept them bundled together in a small box beneath a floorboard. Since he knew it might not be safe to return after this hand-off, he had them in the false bottom of his satchel.
Anna was always circumspect in what she wrote, never alluding to his mission – not that he had told her much. But, oh, how he loved hearing about her day-to-day life, playing with the children, helping Irene and reading whenever she had a spare moment. Occasionally, she mentioned going to the local assembly and dancing with some man Mark would like to pummel. And one day he knew she would write to him of a betrothal and his heart would simply break.
That was a good reason to go to Russia. He needed to be so far away he would not have the chance to hop on a boat and go see her. He had to fight that urge every day of his life. Just as he knew that if he spent every moment of every day with her for the rest of their lives, it still wouldn’t be enough time with her.
He glanced at the clock. He was supposed to be at the rendezvous in an hour. He wanted to go early to check for traps. It was his last mission in France, then he would be free to go home for a quick visit before moving on to Russia. He knew he should say farewell to his friends and adopted family. But he wondered how he would ever see Anna, then leave her again.
There was a knock at the door. Mark reached for his pistol which was, as always, inches away. He silently moved toward the door, then stood to the side. “Who is it?” he asked.
“A lovely surprise,” purred the heavily-accented voice on the other side of the door.
Mark almost groaned aloud. He hadn’t expected Annemarie to join him. She was a Swiss agent whom he had been working with to get the coded messages. He did not wholly trust her, but she was brave and intelligent. Unfortunately, he had fallen into bed with her on a night when they had both barely escaped with their lives. He had ended the affair shortly thereafter and there had been tension between them ever since.
He opened the door, though he still held his pistol at the ready. He glanced into the hall, even as he quickly ushered her inside. “What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to great an old friend? The exchange is tonight, is it not?”
“Yes. And I promised I would let you see the papers as soon as I returned to Paris.”
“That is what you said, though I do not quite trust you, dear friend. Just as I am certain you do not quite trust me. When is your meeting?”
“Soon.”
She smiled at his vague response. “How soon? Do you have time to become reacquainted?”
“I am afraid not, though I thank you just the same.” Annemarie was a beautiful woman with red hair, blue eyes and expensive perfume. The kind of woman Wes, Robert and he would have competed for at school. But in truth only one woman interested him and he could not make the ache in his heart go away.
“How disappointing,” said Annemarie. “And I suppose you will not let me come with you?”
“They would grow too suspicious. They were anxious enough about the meeting.”
Annemarie looked like she was trying to figure out if he was lying, though he was actually telling the truth. It had been difficult to get these men to meet with him. They might not show themselves if they saw he wasn’t alone. Of course, he was lying to her about sharing information. He would show her something, but not everything. There were some things even tentative allies could not be trusted with.
Finally, she smiled. “A kiss before you leave.” Before he could stop her, she kissed him, enveloping him in her perfume. “I shall be here waiting for you.”
After finally extricating himself from her, Mark armed himself, then set off for the waterfront. The crowded docks afforded both anonymity and a small amo
unt of protection. Few people would take notice of a group of men conversing, but even the sailors who looked more like criminals than seamen would notice if anyone was killed.
Mark had surveyed the meeting point from every possible angle and believed he was ready for anything. He walked among the fishermen on the docks, then finally arrived at the meeting point which was toward the end of the pier.
His contact arrived, with three of his associates. They were all hulking men who would be able to kill him even without the aid of the various knives and pistols they undoubtedly wore beneath their coats. Mark had met the leader LeBeau twice. He didn’t trust the man, but at the conclusion of their business, LeBeau would be in possession of a sizable payment for the information he was offering.
“Monsieur White,” said LeBeau, who likely knew the name wasn’t real. “I am glad we are finally able to conclude our business. Did you bring the money?”
“Did you bring the message?”
LeBeau held up a white envelope with a plain red seal. “Of course. Now give me the money.”
Mark tossed one of the bags of money toward him. “Now give me the message.”
LeBeau motioned for one of his henchman to count the money. When the man was satisfied, he nodded at his boss. “Very well,” said LeBeau as he walked toward Mark. “We shall each exchange the rest at the same time, oui?”
Mark walked toward him, keeping his eyes on the other men. When he was but inches away from LeBeau he waited for the other man to hold out the letter. But at that moment, the wind shifted and Mark caught the scent of a certain expensive perfume wafting from LeBeau. Mark grabbed at the envelope with one hand, even as he reached for his pistol with the other.
Then he felt the hard metal of a pistol pressed to the back of his head. “I do not think that is wise,” said Annemarie from behind him. Annemarie kept her pistol trained on him as she walked around to face him. She was holding something in her hands.
Anna’s letters.
“I found the most entertaining letters in your bag,” she said. “Some country miss who has nothing more interesting to say than reports on the weather and what babies she was tending. I almost fell asleep in the middle of it.” She sneered at him, then added, “I knew you had someone at home.” She tried to sound cavalier about it, but Mark could hear a touch of hurt in her voice. And more than a bit of anger.
“Come, my lovely Annemarie,” said LeBeau. “We have what we need. We should be going.”
“But you see, I am not quite satisfied. This man has made a fool of me. Not to mention he knows altogether too much of what we are doing.”
“It does not matter,” said LeBeau. “Come along.”
“I suppose I must,” said Annemarie as she threw the letters on the ground.
Instinctively, Mark bent down to pick up his precious letters from Anna, just as Annemarie fired her gun and everything went black.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Ridgeway Manor, Three Weeks Later
Mark’s entire body ached as he slowly drifted into consciousness, though he did not open his eyes. He had vague memories of an explosion, then growing very cold as the blood rushed from his body. There was an ocean voyage and a carriage ride which had jostled him every which way. He had a vague feeling he had been shot, but could not quite remember by whom. That was the thing about his profession. There was always a large number of likely candidates.
For all he knew, one of them had captured him and was now holding him against his will. He could sense someone else in the room, which is why he needed to gather his wits before they learned he was awake. He was lying on a soft bed and could feel bandages on his right arm and chest. He didn’t feel he was on the verge of death, though he certainly did not feel all that well. Whoever shot him must have had terrible aim. Or missed on purpose.
Then he remembered bending just as the shot went off. Why had he done that? Anna’s letters. He had to find Anna’s letters. His eyes popped open to see the first rays of light streaming into a bedchamber which was very familiar but he could not quite place it. Then he saw someone in a chair next to the bed, her head on a pillow as she slept.
He quite forgot how to breathe. For it was the subject of his dreams, dear sweet Anna.
He had come home.
* * *
Anna began to slowly awaken. She had slept little in the week since Mark had been returned to her. Well, more accurately, had been returned to their family. She had spent nearly every moment by his bedside since then, despite the fact everyone in her family wished to nurse him as well. Wes and Violet, and Robert and Letty had raced to Ridgeway Manor as soon as they had heard what had happened. But Anna could not tear herself away. She had the feeling that if she left his side, he would die.
Her eyes were still closed and she was praying that today would be the day when Mark awoke. He had to heal and spare her the terrible pain of his death. She could still feel the loss of her beloved mother all those years ago, and while she had been fortunate to have the love of Irene all these years, there were some deaths which left a permanent hole in your soul.
Mark’s death would rip her apart.
But then she heard it. Not the labored breathing she was used to but something steadier. And she could almost feel his gaze upon her. She opened her eyes to find the answer to her prayers. Her beloved was looking right back at her.
“Anna,” he said, his voice hoarse.
With tears in her eyes, she poured a glass of water from the pitcher by the bedside. “Here, drink this.”
He tried to sit up, but the effort was too much for him.
“Let me help you,” she said as she carefully lifted him and rested his upper body against her. Heat suffused her as she helped him drink one sip of water, then another. “Do not drink too much,” she said. “You must ease into this.”
“Let me look at you,” he said, as she propped up the pillows and helped him lean back. He winced at the pain in his ribs.
She was conscious of his eyes drinking her in. She wished she had brushed her hair. It was still in its braid and likely sticking out all over. She was wearing an older gown because nursing him had not been easy. In the delirious sleep of his injuries, he had often thought she and the others were trying to hurt him. The pitcher of water had been spilled more than once as he had lashed out.
“You are beautiful,” he said.
“Are you feverish?” she asked, as she put her palm to his forehead.
He smiled weakly, then reached for her hand. “You cannot think fever is making me believe you are beautiful. I am still a man, after all. Though rather weak at the moment.”
“You came back to us,” she said, relishing the warmth of her hand in his, which was now resting on his chest.
“I came back to you,” he said, before adding. “Though I cannot remember actually making the journey.”
For a moment, Anna thought he would kiss her, which was ridiculous since he was barely able to lift his head. Not to mention he had made it perfectly clear when last she’d seen him that she was to forget about him. Not that she was going to let that stop her.
If he wasn’t going to kiss her, she would have to kiss him.
She was leaning forward when the door quietly opened, revealing Letty and Violet. “How is he?” Letty asked quietly.
Anna moved aside to allow Letty to see for herself. “You’re awake!” Letty exclaimed, as Violet ran out into the hall and shouted the good news.
Mark was happy to see them, even if he couldn’t get a word in edgewise as first Letty and then Violet told him how overjoyed they were that he had survived. Their husbands joined in the merriment when they entered the room soon thereafter.
All the while, Anna stood at the foot of the bed, watching from afar as others held his hand and spoke with him.
“What happed to me?” asked Mark.
“You were shot,” said Robert. “And very badly wounded, not to mention almost drowned. A French surgeon was able to stitch you up. You fel
l into the water clutching letters from Anna and by some miracle were still holding them when you were pulled out. The surgeon sent you back to England, to the address on the letters. It was a good thing you and Anna had been such diligent correspondents. I believe you sent me only a fraction as many letters over the years.”
“I also did not get many,” said Wes.
“Well, that is likely because you are not nearly as beautiful as Anna,” said Violet as she kissed her husband.
“I do not claim to be,” he said, as he kissed her back. “But now that we know Jones here will live, I cannot help but tease him. You gave us quite a scare, Mark. Your arrival here safe and relatively sound was the answer to many a prayer.”
“You are staying in England for good, are you not?” asked Letty. “You cannot go back to the Foreign Office.”
Anna held her breath as she waited for his reply. He could not leave. She could not tell him good-bye again. She simply could not.
* * *
Mark could not believe his profound sense of relief at being home. He could remember little of the events his friends had described. All that mattered was he was here now with Anna and his friends. He would soon see the rest of the family and would finally know peace after so many years of not knowing whether he would live through the night.
Though he loved his friends and their wives, he wished they would leave him and Anna alone. Unless he missed his mark, she had been about to kiss him earlier. It would have been the best thing to happen to him in ages. Other than having been fished out of the water, stitched up and sent home, of course. Mark met her eyes. “I do not know what the future holds,” he said. “I am simply content to be here now.”
“Anna,” said Letty. “Mr. Graves called for you again. We told him you were unable to see him, though I am afraid you must do just that sooner rather than later. I fear he believes we have done away with you, since he has called almost every single day for the past fortnight.”
“Who is Mr. Graves?” asked Mark. There had been no mention of a Mr. Graves in Anna’s letters. Or in anyone else’s, for that matter.
Never and Always (Emerson Book 6) Page 21