by Jane Ashford
“She told you that?” Gavin was beyond astonishment.
“No.” Laura smiled slightly. “But she slipped and swore at me in Gaelic.”
“Gaelic.” He repeated the word because his mind was refusing to keep up with the speed of events.
“It is a language spoken in Ireland and—”
“I know what it is!”
Laura looked away from him. “The woman’s name—Bridget—was another clue. And Sophie’s red hair.”
“You are familiar with Gaelic?” asked Mr. Tompkins. Gavin was savagely pleased to see that he looked a bit stunned as well.
Laura shrugged. “My father was acquainted with a number of Irish horse breeders. I occasionally heard them speaking Gaelic among themselves.” She smiled slightly. “And they were prone to cursing. One of them taught me several phrases that got my mouth washed out with soap.”
Tompkins had recovered his composure by this time. He reached for pen and paper and wrote quickly. When he had sealed the note, he went to the door and gave it to a footman, who set off at a run at his muttered instructions. When he returned to his desk, he was smiling. He folded his hands on top of a pile of papers and regarded them both. “Well,” he said finally, “I think we must say that Miss Devane has done a very fine job indeed. Wouldn’t you agree, Graham?”
Gavin felt Laura’s gaze on him, an almost tangible pressure. He knew what she was feeling. He had been in the same position himself, waiting for a bit of praise, a validation from his superiors. She wanted him to admit her abilities, to acknowledge her. Did it perhaps matter even more because they had been lovers? he wondered. But he had to put that question aside. It complicated things far too much.
She deserved the acknowledgment. He couldn’t deny that. Indeed, he was still astonished at what she had done. She had gathered the pieces and put them together brilliantly. But if he spoke the words, Tompkins would no doubt take them for approval of his mad scheme to employ Laura.
Gavin wanted to protest that he had been with her, that he had helped and protected her. But he couldn’t take the credit for what she had done.
He glanced up. Tompkins was looking at him, one corner of his mouth quirked up as if he was fully aware of, and enjoying, Gavin’s quandary. Laura gazed at him with a face full of hope and apprehension. Gavin felt a tearing sensation in his chest. He wasn’t capable of ignoring that gaze. He wanted to be. But he wasn’t. “She did an extraordinary job. I know of few men—and no women—who could have done it.”
The joy that filled Laura’s face then was his reward and his punishment. She would get what she wanted, Gavin thought, and he would spend the rest of his, no doubt truncated, life in torment, worrying about her.
“A splendid job,” reiterated Tompkins, beaming.
Gavin couldn’t bear any more. Muttering something about cleaning up, he fled from their smiles and from whatever mad plan Laura intended to propose next.
Laura was too full of emotion to try to stop him. Tears of triumph and love overwhelmed her voice. He had spoken for her, she thought. He had publicly recognized her skills, given her the thing she had so longed for.
“You really are an extraordinary creature,” commented Tompkins.
Laura swallowed. “Then you will have a place for me?”
“Very likely. We shall see.”
“See? But I—”
“I am expecting some developments that will allow me to make that decision.”
“Developments? In France?”
He smiled. “A bit closer than that.”
She tried to imagine what he could be referring to. Perhaps there was some important figure in Vienna who would be needing a governess? But Gavin filled her thoughts, pushing everything else aside. He had acknowledged her. Couldn’t they be partners now that she had proved herself?
“Come and see me in the morning,” Mr. Tompkins added. “I may have a task for you.”
“What sort of task?”
He waved a hand. “It isn’t yet clear. Come at ten, and we shall see.”
It was a dismissal. Laura climbed the stairs to her room. She tidied her hair. Where was Gavin?
She went to the door and opened it. The quiet of late evening lay over the building. No one was about. She walked down the corridor to Gavin’s door and knocked. There was no answer. Indeed, there was no sound except the ticking of a clock on a side table.
A wave of loneliness washed over her. She had felt very close to Gavin over the last few hours. They had worked well together, she told herself. Surely he had noticed that? Where had he gone? She wanted to know how he felt. She wanted to know what her future held. But there was no one to ask.
* * *
Gavin walked quietly along the hall that stretched the length of the house. Passing the door of Laura’s bedchamber, he paused unconsciously and listened. But no sound penetrated the solid oak. She slept just a few feet behind its panels, her black hair tumbled about her shoulders, her face smooth and a little childlike. Gavin stood alone in the middle of the corridor remembering other nights. The memories had a fire, and a sweetness, that went through him like a stiletto.
That was over, Gavin thought, making himself move. It had happened in some other realm of existence—outside reality. He had to stop thinking of her in that way. But in the depths of the night, the feel and the scent of her kept returning to his thoughts, and a part of him remained convinced that she was his forever.
He walked past the closed doors of the other residents, taking care to make as little noise as possible. Reaching his own room, he eased the door open and slipped through. He tossed his cloak on a chair and set the candlestick beside the bed. Shedding his coat, he stretched, easing tense muscles and the fatigue. Walking hadn’t helped. He wondered how he would sleep.
Gavin was pulling off his shirt when he heard a sound behind him in the far corner of the room. After an instant’s stillness, he gave no sign of having noticed. He merely continued removing his shirt, then bent to place it on top of his discarded coat, deftly retrieving his pistol from its pocket as he did so. When he had the gun in his hand, he straightened and turned, pointing it at the dimness in the corner.
“It’s me,” said a familiar voice.
The pistol barrel wavered. Was he having some sort of hallucination? Gavin wondered. Or had he finally lost his senses completely?
Laura rose into the candlelight. She had been sitting in an armchair that was half turned away from the door, he saw. Slowly, he lowered the gun, still not believing this was real.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” she said. “I was waiting and I fell asleep.” She smiled sheepishly. “I suppose I’m rather tired.”
She couldn’t be in his room, Gavin thought. He must be dreaming. And yet she looked quite solid and heartbreakingly lovely.
“But I needed to speak to you,” Laura said. “To thank you.”
He was seeing her on the island, with the strap of her shift falling away and her lips parted in surprised pleasure. He was losing his grip.
She walked toward him, the skirts of her silk gown rustling in the silence.
“I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”
She was so beautiful, Gavin thought. She had become so intertwined with his thoughts and emotions. He was suddenly conscious of the pistol dangling from his hand, of his bare chest, and of the unmistakable signals his body was sending him. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said hoarsely.
“I know. But when you told Mr. Tompkins…”
She moved a step closer. Was she trembling? Gavin wondered.
“We have…I mean, it’s not as if we never…”
Gavin forced himself to look away from her. He put the gun down and picked up his shirt. “I simply spoke the truth,” he managed.
“Even though you didn’t want to.”
How did she know that? When he me
t her eyes, his heart seemed to turn over in his chest. If he didn’t look at her, perhaps he could regain his senses, Gavin decided. Perhaps he could think clearly, even convince her that she had to go before he did something irredeemable.
Laura came closer.
“It meant a great deal to me,” she said.
Her perfume intoxicated him. His shirt slipped from his fingers and whispered to the floor.
“I don’t think you can imagine how much,” she added.
He had to look at her. She drew his gaze, tugged at all his senses. “Yes, I can. Exactly as much as when I returned from my first real mission and…”
She gazed at him, recognition and understanding of their kinship blooming in her deep green eyes. It was as if he looked into some enchanted mirror, Gavin thought. He didn’t see his own physical image, but a reflection of his spirit stood before him.
She murmured his name.
Gavin had never experienced such a state of tension. Desire possessed him, goaded him to crush her body to his. She was here in his bedchamber, it shouted. What else could she expect? She must want it. But other feelings held him rigidly motionless. They reminded him of her gallantry, her wise innocence. He wanted more than her body, he realized. “You have to get out of here.” The pounding of his pulse was making him dizzy.
“I had to tell you…”
He shook his head to clear it and took a step away from her. Somehow, his feet tangled in his discarded shirt, and he stumbled. He had gone mad, he thought. He never did such things.
“Are you all right?” She put a hand on his arm. The touch seared him; it was more than he could bear.
“Do you think I can stand this?” he said through clenched teeth.
Her eyes were huge and green as the depths of a forest. Her hand, feather light, moved up his bicep to his bare shoulder. Gavin broke. He pulled her against him and kissed her. All the longing he had been suppressing burst out and mastered him. He couldn’t have let her go to save his life.
“Gavin.”
He didn’t know whether it was a protest or a welcome. He didn’t have the faculties to judge. He could only kiss her more deeply and woo her to come to him.
He felt her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair. Her body yielded to his embrace with a familiar pliancy that excited him even further. He let his hands explore the curve of her hip, the lithe suppleness of her waist—as he had wanted to do every hour since they had been separated. Pushing her gown off her shoulders, he set his lips to her pale throat, the rosy tips of her breasts. When she moaned his name, he pulled at the fastenings of her dress, not even hearing something tear as it fell away.
He was wild to touch her everywhere, all at once. With one swift motion, he stripped off her shift, then let his fingers travel from her knees to her collarbone. Laura’s head fell back, eyes closed. He scattered the pins from her hair and let it cascade down over her shoulders.
She swayed a little. He picked her up and put her on the bed, stripping off his boots and breeches almost before he let her go. When he joined her, she reached for him and raised her mouth to his kiss, her lips parting under his and demanding more even as they yielded.
She was rose and ivory in the candlelight. Her hair gleamed blue-black. Her hand drifted down the muscles of his stomach and then caressed him in a way that made him gasp. “Don’t,” he murmured, afraid he would lose control.
“No?” she breathed, touching him again so that he cried out.
He groaned. “If you don’t stop…”
“What will you do to me?” Her smile was teasing and something more—something mysterious that made his desire for her intensify in a way that was new to him.
In answer, he pulled her on top of him, settling her knees at his sides and letting his hands slide up her inner thighs. “Drive you mad as you do me,” he murmured and touched her.
“Oh.” Laura arched her back, stretching her arms out behind her. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted.
He knew every rhythm of her, Gavin thought. Heartbeat, breath, the pulse of desire. Their bodies matched each other. He let one hand move up to cup her lovely breast as the other still caressed her.
“Oh,” she said again. “Gavin, please.”
Feeling triumphant, he shifted slightly so that he could enter her. When he moved, she moved with him, perfectly in tune. The sensations were exquisitely wrenching, a tidal wave overwhelming reason.
Her legs tightened on his ribs. She bent to kiss him as they rode the crescendo together. Every muscle in Gavin’s body pulled taut as the feeling rose and rose until it burst through him like living flame. He was in a thousand pieces and yet complete, utterly spent and yet filled.
He felt her collapse against him, equally satiated. Her hair fell over his shoulders. Her cheek rested on his chest. Watching her head rise and fall with his breathing, Gavin felt a sudden sting of tears, and blinked them away, astonished.
His throat was tight, his chest constricted. “This is impossible,” he muttered.
“What?” said Laura languidly.
“I’ll go mad wondering what you’re up to and what danger you are in.”
She pushed up to look down at him, her hair falling like veils of ink around her exquisite face.
“You must promise me that you will never take such a risk again.” He grasped her upper arms. “To be alone in some aristocratic ruffian’s house…” The memory of it, and the desperation he had felt, made him feel ill. “To work there, at his mercy. You can’t do it, Laura!”
She slipped away from him, moving to sit cross-legged at his side on the bed. Gavin didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. She looked so serious and intent, yet she was gloriously naked before him.
“I have done it before,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I worked at the Leiths for—”
“You were not trying to ferret out information! And besides Leith is—”
“A fool,” she finished, nodding.
“And the men you propose to dupe would be far from fools. They would find you out and…” He ground his teeth in frustration. “If I had not been there, you would have been killed,” he pointed out. “And I will not be there if you do such a thing again!” Simply stating this fact drove him to distraction.
“You won’t…”
It sounded almost like a question. But of course she knew he wouldn’t. “If you would go back to England—”
“Would you have done so, after that first mission you spoke of?”
This silenced him. She wouldn’t marry him, Gavin thought, and she wouldn’t retire to safety. She was the most obstinate female on the face of the earth.
“Gavin.”
Her hand on his chest was a torment and a goad.
“Is there no other possibility?”
He frowned, trying to fathom her tone.
“We said once that we would be partners.” Her voice was trembling. “We worked well together, didn’t we—?”
“I won’t be there! Don’t you understand? That’s the whole point. I’ll be a thousand miles away. I won’t be able to do anything but lose my mind worrying over you.”
“Because you work alone.”
He couldn’t comprehend why she was repeating phrases that they had spoken eons ago. Phrases that made no sense and offered him no reassurance for the future. She wasn’t going to listen to him, he saw. She never had listened to him, not once in their entire infuriating, delicious history. There was only one thing to do that would guarantee her attention and wholehearted cooperation.
Gavin pulled Laura into his arms so fiercely that she gasped. Silencing her mouth with his own, he made love to her as he never had to any other woman in his life.
* * *
Laura watched the candle guttering in its holder and listened to Gavin’s slow,
even breathing beside her. It was time to go. She didn’t want to. She wanted to give herself up to sleep, to nestle close to him, to wake here in the morning by his side. But even if that had been possible, even if they weren’t in a house full of strangers who would ruin her, she would have had to go.
There was no tomorrow for them. There were stolen moments—on the island, tonight—when they flamed together like two souls meant for each other. But when the smoke of passion cleared and they returned to reality, the way was blocked. She wouldn’t be a sometime wife, waiting alone in England for his visits—even if he still wanted her to be. He wouldn’t have her with him on his missions. She had hoped that he would, Laura admitted silently as she began to dress. She had proved herself, she thought a bit defiantly. She had shown him that she wasn’t afraid, that she could stand at his side. But it hadn’t been enough. He could see her skills and her determination, but he couldn’t see her as his partner.
If Mr. Tompkins gave her work, Laura thought, she and Gavin might meet like this from time to time. They might steal moments like tonight, radiant with tenderness and glory. But that was not nearly enough either, she acknowledged. She wanted everything. She wanted his love.
Her dress was torn and wouldn’t fasten all the way. She did it up as best she could and then stood in the middle of the room and looked down at Gavin’s sleeping face.
He looked like a knight carved of marble and gold, or a fairy-tale prince under an enchantment. Some of the hardness left his face during sleep, and he looked younger too. She couldn’t think of anything but how splendid he was and how desperately she loved him.
Nineteen
Gavin woke to sun streaming through the windows of his room. For a moment, all he knew was that he felt extraordinarily good. He stretched, enjoying the pull of his muscles and the feeling of satisfaction that coursed through him. Then he remembered. Laura was still with him in the body’s memory.
He looked around. From the slant of the light, it was late. He stood and went to the window. It was a brilliant spring day. He stretched again, relishing his own strength. Ringing for Hasan, he ordered a bath.