The Duchess and the Spy

by Marly Mathews

  “I am your companion.”

  “You misunderstand. Where is my female companion?”

  “You don’t have one, sweetheart.”

  Her eyes widened, and she gasped.

  “Then, then, you shall take me back to be with Jason. I am not going anywhere with you alone. It isn’t seemly.”

  “Seemly or not, you’re coming with me, and that is final. I shan’t turn the carriage about just because you want me to.”

  If he wasn’t mistaken, he was just about to be treated to a temper tantrum, of the highest quality.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked, sounding as if she had suddenly gone deaf. His eyes fell to her tightly clenched fists, and he frowned when he noticed that she was digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands.

  “Duchess, this game you play is becoming tiresome. I know of your reputation as a…”

  “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she whispered. Her face had turned a beet red, and her eyes went wild. Was that hurt shining in her emerald eyes? His heart quickened, but he couldn’t stop now. “You are a woman of…”

  “Experience.” She finished for him, serving him a glare that would strike most men dead. If her magic returned to her in full force now, he would probably wake up in the morning croaking. He looked good in green, but not in that kind of green. “I despise you, Christopher. Any fondness I used to have for you, is gone. I was starting to think that maybe just maybe you were a man that deserved a second chance, after all, you do…” her voice trailed off, though her eyes betrayed her emotions. She cared for him. Of that much he was quite certain.

  “Oh, come now, Duchess. We shall only be occupying the same room. I wouldn’t dare touch you in anger. I shall let you seduce me.”

  “Then, you will need your coat back.” She slipped out of his greatcoat, shivering at the chill that hung in the air.

  “No, no, keep it. I am quite fine. Men do not feel the cold as much as our counterparts of the weaker sex do.”

  “The weaker sex, oh, my dear, Wolf, you will most certainly be requiring your coat.” She tossed it at him with a surprising amount of strength.

  “I told you, I don’t need it.”

  “Fancy that. Well, in due course, you shall…because it will be a cold day in hell before I seduce you, Christopher!”

  She shivered, and wrapped her arms across her chest.

  “You are cold,” he accused, moving to sit beside her. “Take my coat.”

  “Don’t touch me!” she hissed. They were drawing nearer to the Inn, and he heard her mutter an oath in French when she stared out the carriage window. “I cannot stay there,” she said shuddering, turning an imploring gaze upon him. “I cannot bear the thought of staying in an Inn that has been given such a hideous name.”

  “It’s fairly pretty in comparison to names of some of the Inns that I’ve frequented in my day,” he murmured thoughtfully.

  All color drained from her cheeks, and her voice wobbled as she spoke.

  “It is called The Queen’s Head.”

  He regarded her steadily, considering her protestation. He knew what she was thinking, but the Inn had been in business for many years, and it had certainly not been named after Marie Antoinette.

  “There is no way about it, Isabella,” he said, watching her visibly flinch. “It is the best Inn in the area. Don’t worry you will sleep in fresh sheets, and you will even be able to sleep in a bed. Contrary to France’s impression of England, we are not a nation comprised of bumbling barbarians.”

  Dread filled Isabella’s eyes, and he felt distinctly ill at ease. He hated to see her in such inner turmoil. No matter what his impression was of her. No one deserved to be reminded of the tragedies that she had endured.

  “Clean sheets or not, I shan’t like it.”

  “And yet, you shall put up with it. The French in you can whine all you like.”

  “Do not insult my French heritage. I happen to be proud of my father’s family. But that doesn’t mean that I am not ashamed of what France has become. However, it is better now than what it once was. I remember it when it was at its worst.”

  “But you are still French,” he pointed out, arching one eyebrow.

  “Only half,” she clarified, regarding him coolly. “I am just as loyal to King George as you are.”

  “Yes, so that is what you say. But are you loyal to my King and my Country?”

  A footman flung the carriage door open, and they regarded each other in awkward silence for a few minutes.

  He knew that she was deliberately disobeying him by ignoring his question. Desire coursed through him. He wanted to strip away her clothes, and sample her sweet charms. He yearned to explore her curvaceous naked body with his eyes, hands and mouth. She had been the first woman in an incomprehensible amount of time to affect him so deeply.

  He struggled to control himself, lest he act against his own beliefs, by slamming the door shut, and seducing her. She hadn’t spoken one word, or even uttered a single sound. Surprisingly, he found the absence of the sound of her voice, strangely unsettling.

  “I am a loyal subject of the English crown,” she whispered. She had spoken her defiant pledge in such a soft and quivering voice that he had nearly missed it altogether.

  His heart raced as he considered her words. As badly as he wanted to, he knew it would be dangerous to fall into the trap that she had to be setting for him. He knew what she was, and why she was in England. If she thought that she could manipulate him, and play him for a fool, then she would be getting the shock of her life. He’d never allow her to have power over him. So, that meant that he needed to keep his burgeoning emotions for her under a tight reign. She didn’t need to ever know that he was insanely attracted to her.

  “I shall carry you inside.”

  “I can manage quite well on my own. Merci,” she murmured, steeling her eyes against him. “I mean thank you. I’ve been walking without assistance for quite some time.”

  She moved closer to him on the satin squabs, and when she accidentally brushed up against him, fire unlike anything else he had ever experienced coursed through his body.

  He grimaced, and clenched his teeth. He was trying desperately to harden his heart toward her. But his body was not cooperating, and he felt a need so primal course through him, that he even surprised himself. The urge to make her one with his body, therefore staking his claim on her, was so intense that he had to use all of his strength to quench it.

  “Don’t argue with me in this. For one thing, you are injured, and for another, it would look better considering the circumstances, if you acted as if you were asleep in my arms.”

  She laughed. “Better for you, mayhap, but not for me. However, I shall allow you to have your way, since I know it will not be good for me if I try to fight you.”

  He stepped out of the carriage, and reached his arms out for her, just as she was about to alight.

  Whisking her into his arms, he brought her close to his chest. She emitted a startled gasp that made his heart stand still. Her eyes were no longer hardened toward him, and they danced merrily at him, as he swung her around. She was so close. No one would blame him, if he sampled one quick taste. Before she could react, he had lowered his mouth to her lips.

  Catching her unaware, worked out well for him. Her lips were stiff and unyielding between his at first, but within seconds, he had her moaning in pleasure. His kiss was slow and easy, he knew that she would be hesitant at first, his hunger was so raw, that he stupidly nudged her lips apart, and thrust his tongue inside her hot mouth. He heard her make an astonished sound in the back of her throat, and forgetting that her hands were quite free, he felt the sting of her slap, across his cheek.

  Shocked, he drew his mouth away from hers.

  “How dare you!” she managed to choke out, swiping the back of her hand across her mouth. She grimaced, and tried to wiggle her way out of his arms.

  “That was only the beginning, my dear,” he murmured,
as he fought to contain her. She was making a right spectacle of herself, and the townspeople were staring at them with open mouths and incredulous faces. “You should already know that. But then perhaps, your Parisian lovers including Boney, weren’t as considerate or as thorough as I am.” She pulled her hand back to slap him again, but he was ready for it this time, and caught her wrist in mid-flight.

  “Isabella you are acting like a naughty petulant child, which I can certainly tell you are not.” He grinned, and stared into her smoldering eyes. He could nearly smell her fury. Her eyes were full to bursting with their rage now, and he let out a throaty chuckle. If her powers had been working, he would have already been on his arse.

  “You are a bastard!” she gritted out. Her heaving breasts pressed against his coat, and he could tell that she was becoming aroused despite her better intentions.

  He maneuvered her in his arms, and she gasped when he cradled her in his embrace.

  “Rest your head on my shoulder, and pretend that you are asleep,” he ordered softly. She had become unyielding in his arms, and he frowned, and then repeated his instructions. “I said, pretend you are asleep.”

  “I shan’t.”

  “You must. If you know what is good for you. Unless, you want the Innkeepers to think you are a wanton woman, you shall heed my instructions. You shall be sharing my quarters, as I do not want you to get the clever notion of sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

  “I will do no such thing. I am no common sneak. Upon my honor, I shall see you rot for this.”

  “If you want to see Jason again, you will do as I say.” Hopefully, his threat would sway her. Her eyes widened, and she gasped horrifically. Reacting quickly, she nodded her head, and pressed her body closer to his, as if that was even possible. Then, she rested her head on his shoulder, though he did catch what she whispered in his ear.

  “If I were you Lord Wyndham, I would fall into the habit of sleeping with one eye open, from now on, because one never knows when something dire could befall one.”

  “Was that a threat?”

  “What is good for the goose, is good for the gander.”

  He stared resolutely at the Innkeeper’s wife, noticing how red her face had become, and how her eyes were dangerously close to falling clear out of her head.

  “My lord,” she said, rushing toward him. She was short and plump, and panted as she tried to keep up with his long strides. “You…” She fell silent, when he gave her a severe look.

  “You shall be well compensated for any inconvenience, Mrs. Pepper. I assure you.”

  Mrs. Pepper halted in her tracks, and let out a frustrated groan. “As you like it, my lord,” she relented, sounding as if it had taken her a great deal of willpower to spew those five words out.

  He strode up the creaking staircase, all the while paying the irritating Mrs. Pepper no mind. But he did feel a rush of indignation when he heard her grating voice drift up to him.

  “Do you see that, Victor? I have been telling you time and time again, that the world just hasn’t been the same since Boney came to power—the frogs have no morals, and now it’s starting to affect us.”

  “That woman is horrid!” Isabella murmured, her voice muffled from being pressed against his chest.

  “Actually I believe she is quite right,” he said slyly. He grunted, as she began pummeling him with her fists. For such a slight woman, she packed one hell of a wallop.

  “You are the most despicable man that I’ve ever met.”

  “You wound me, dear lady. You must realize that it isn’t seemly for a high born lady such as yourself to use such vile language when speaking to a gentleman.”

  He balanced her with his one arm, and flung open the door. The Queen’s Head was a fairly large inn, and yet there were no servants to be seen when they were needed.

  “I hate you!” Her vehement declaration almost startled him. When he stared down into her heart-shaped face, and he felt his loins stir with pulsing desire. He wanted her so badly that he feared it would be the end of him.

  “You should be careful with your remarks, Duchess, lest you swell my head.” Leaning toward her, he whispered his words in her ear, and grazed her lobe with his lips. She gasped, and then emitted a shocked little snort.

  Swaggering into the large living area, he stared around at the dated furnishings. It was the largest room the Inn had to offer, but it was still quite shabby compared to what he was accustomed to.

  Fortunately, there was a large desk on the other side of the room that could be used to write important missives. It would also be a great place to sit and reflect. He needed to decide what he should do with the vixen that thrashed wildly in his arms.

  Isabella had the brightest red hair that he had ever seen. It fell in soft curls down her back, and was as soft as the finest silk. She had large luminescent emerald green eyes that sparkled as fiercely as her hair was red. He stared at the freckles that were sprinkled liberally across the bridge of her nose, and her cheeks, and he had to resist the urge to kiss them each in turn. Her skin was as pale as alabaster, and her plump rosebud lips were as red as the sweetest rose.

  He had to admit that Merryville was right. Even though she seemed quite shattered, she was still by the far the most beautiful creature that he had ever laid his eyes upon.

  He could vaguely recall the gangly youth that she had been, and he realized with a start that she had blossomed into a beauty to be reckoned with. Her charms were so impressive, that she would make the ladies of the Beau Monde jealous. Finally, there was a woman that would surpass the alluring Nellie.

  He considered sending Merryville to go and buy clothes for Isabella, since she would have nothing to wear after her bath. But the image of her naked body, made him want to let out the growl that he felt stirring in his throat.

  Perhaps, he could just tell Merryville to fetch her clothes in the morning. Her nakedness was too tempting of a thought to resist. He was a strong man, but he wasn’t that strong. He gently deposited her on the small sofa, and watched with a raising eyebrow, as she winced in pain.

  “And that my dear is why I carried you in. You have to stay off that leg as much as possible, so listen to the Doctor’s orders.” She drew away from him, and shakily gulped in a breath of air.

  “Go away, Christopher. I tire of you.” Her cheeks were red, and her breathing became laboured, as he gripped her shoulders. “If only I had my magic, I would turn you into something hideous.”

  “You are back to amusing me again. Duchess, what would you pick to transform me into… a frog?”

  “No, I’d transform you into a sluggish snail. That would suit you better since you’re acting like a slug.”

  “I have had enough of this. Stop this nonsense, at once,” he muttered sternly, as she suddenly ceased her mad struggling. He trailed his hands lightly down her body, and smiled when she cried out in horror. “I don’t bite, you needn’t fret,” he murmured, catching her green gaze. “Unless invited.”

  “Sir, you must watch your scandalous tongue. You invite disaster for the both of us,” she scolded. Her eyes flashed with bolts of green fire.

  “I shall keep that in mind, Duchess.”

  His hands hesitated, as they rested on her shapely waist, and he found his hands growing hot. It would be so very easy, to strip away her tattered dress, and lay her down on the sofa. He knew from the fire in her eyes, that she wouldn’t fight him, and he knew that he could give her the kind of pleasure that she had probably never imagined in her wildest dreams.

  His heart skipped a beat, as he drowned in her eyes. Tears haunted them, and he knew that she was very close to breaking down. The only thing that was keeping her from openly sobbing was her pride. She’d already suffered too much. She’d endured the shock of almost drowning, before that—the shock of nearly getting blown to smithereens with her ship, and one month before that, the shock of having to save his life from Napoleon, and by the mournful expression in her eyes, Jason had also told
her of his mother’s death. He could understand her motives behind sleeping with Boney. He just didn’t understand why she hadn’t used her magic to keep her body out of his bed. Unless—unless, her magic failed her before she’d been inclined to climb into Boney’s bed.

  “You shall promise me that you will heed Theo’s orders.”

  “I will, but not because you have ordered me to.”

  Defiance gleamed in her eyes, mingled with something that slightly resembled fright. His hands shook. He liked pestering her, he liked goading her. He loved the resulting explosion that came from her when she finally blew…but he never wanted her to live in fear of him. She didn’t seem anything like the hellion that she had been a few minutes ago, and he suddenly realized to his own surprise, that he’d brave heaven and hell, to protect her.

  She sighed, and the sweet sound caressed his skin, making his insides warm.

  “I remember the British ship firing on us, and in the next confusing moments, my dress caught on fire. Chaos erupted on The Bastille, as everything went to hell. I slipped and fell, and landed wrongly so I hurt my knee as you see. Men were running everywhere, shouting out orders. I panicked because we’d been rammed and I knew my best chance was to jump overboard. But that didn’t solve my problem, both ships were going down as The Bastille had rammed the British frigate, and as they sunk debris rained down around me. I feared that the debris would knock me out and drown me or that sharks would get me as the water ran red with blood. After the resulting tragedy, I clung to a piece of wreckage from The Bastille, and I began dozing. Most of the night is sketchy, and I can’t remember how exactly I survived, just that I had the need to keep going. Nothing was going to keep me from England,” she sighed again, and rested her eyes on him.

  “Of course, you needed to get to England to gather information for France,” he said bitterly, removing his hands from her leg, as he turned his back to her. “That’s why it took you so long to come over here, right? They were training you in the art of espionage?”

  “Why do you always believe the worst of me,” she demanded, as he stiffened. “No, I would like an answer, Christopher. I saved your life back in France. I gave you my loyalty by doing that, and yet, you still suspect me. It is not to be borne. I will not be disrespected in such a foul way. Let me tell you, it would have been a lot easier for me to just leave you to die at Boney’s foul hands. Better yet, I could have told him exactly what and who you were.”