His Lady Spy (The Star Elite Series)

by King, Rebecca

  Portia stared at his hair and wondered how he had managed to cut it himself in such a short period of time. The change in his demeanour was astonishing. If it wasn’t for his voice, Portia wouldn’t have believed it was the same person. She didn’t know whether to be awestruck or horrified. Ignoring Cecily’s giggle, she watched in amazement as he shuffled across the room, stooped over as though he was at least five and sixty. For all intents and purposes, the handsome young protector had been replaced by an old man who was struggling to remain upright.

  “I’m going down to the pub to see what I can find in the way of transport,” Archie sighed, wondering what he was going to do about the ladies. In all conscience he couldn’t leave them to their own devices. Not only were they sitting targets for the Guards who would undoubtedly come looking, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that the last time he had left them, they hadn’t stayed put. He couldn’t run the risk that they would leave the house and go to search for him if he was later getting back than planned.

  “I want you two to remain here for now. I am relatively certain that I will beat the owners of this place back. The pub is just down the road. I need to see if I can find us some transport out of here.” He had no idea how he was going to get both ladies out of the house and into the transport without being seen, but would cross that problem when he needed to. Right now, he had bigger problems. “You must, and I cannot stress this enough,” he warned starkly, watching Portia’s eyes darken warily. “You must remain in the house, away from the windows and doors. Sit where you can if you are able to. Don’t make any noise and, if anyone does call, stay where you are. Indeed, head upstairs and get into bed. Don’t answer the door. If the Guards do enter the house, you can pretend to be the owner, and scream the house down. I will knock three times when I return so you know it is me.” Sighing deeply, he wondered just how much of what he was saying was being heard, and knew he had to resort to shocking them to have a chance of getting them to carry out his orders. “If you do venture out, you will most definitely be killed.”

  “Don’t you think that is a bit dramatic?” Portia gasped, lifting one trembling hand to the base of her throat as her stomach dipped alarmingly. Suddenly the heavenly pie she had consumed earlier didn’t feel all that wonderful in her stomach as it dipped nervously at the possibility of facing death.

  “No, I do not,” Archie bit out, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are the sole witness to the killing of Manton. You killed him Portia. The Guards want revenge.”

  He heard rather than saw, Portia swallow and watched as Cecily moved to comfort her suddenly solemn sister.

  “Do you have to remind her of that?” Cecily snapped, staring up at the man defiantly. The change in him was so startling from the affable young man they had spent the afternoon with that she wondered how many sides to his persona there really were. Not only his look, but his entire demeanour had changed drastically.

  “It is the truth. Ignoring it will get you killed,” Archie declared flatly, pushing to his feet with an agility that belied his looks. “Stay put ladies. If you don’t, the next time I have to leave you, I will bloody well tie you up.” He didn’t wait for their response, merely moved toward the front door, hunched his shoulders and yanked the door open.

  It closed behind him with a firm click and silence descended on the house once more.

  “Do you think we can trust him?” Portia whispered, shivering with a mixture of fear and dread.

  “I don’t think we have much choice. We cannot go home now,” Cecily sighed, easing toward the window and peering between the curtain and wall the same way Archie had. “Father will be apoplectic by now, and could have alerted the villagers that we are missing. If we reappear now, we cannot explain what we have been doing all afternoon. We will both be tied to those horrid old men father has chosen for our husbands before the week is out.” She sighed wondering how life had suddenly become so difficult.

  “I am not going back there,” Portia declared flatly. “I am just saying that we don’t know this man who calls himself Archie. How do we know that he really is someone we should place our trust in?”

  “We don’t, but so far he has protected us and kept us away from the Guards. While he is prepared to do that for us, the least we can do is trust him. After all, we can hardly go out there and find our own transport to Aunt Adelaide’s, now can we? We have no money and no clothing. We need him.”

  “Do you really think we should go to Aunt Adelaide’s?” Portia scowled down at the toes of her muddy boots. It had seemed like a haven, especially knowing how much Aunt Adelaide hated their father, but now it seemed so – well, so mundane.

  “I don’t think we have a choice really. Archie has said that he will take us to a place of safety. We can only hope that we can prevail upon the good nature of the people he is taking us to and secure transport to Aunt Adelaide’s house. Once there, we can decide what we are going to do.”

  Cecily nodded, seeing no reason to argue with her sister. She wondered if the man called Archie, who seemed to change personality so quickly, had other plans for her sister. She hadn’t been ignorant of the searching looks Archie had given Portia, or the protective way he had held her as he had carried her out of the church. The tension that shimmered between them was almost palpable and she wondered how either party could ignore it.

  A small frown marred her brow. She had never felt any such fluttering of awareness when she had been around the dashing Lord Calverton. Now that she thought about it, their evening together had been almost contrived. He had arrived, meandered around the room being introduced to various people by his friend, before actively seeking her out. At first, she had been flattered, then had felt slightly awkward at his over-attentiveness, before leaving somewhat confused but delighted at his clearly besotted behaviour toward her. She had done nothing to encourage him, yet he had appeared at her home mere days later and offered for her hand in marriage! It didn’t make sense, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was somehow linked to what was going on around them right now.

  Keeping her thoughts to herself for now, Cecily sat on the floor of the sitting room and began to think over what she had overheard in the church.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Cecily!” Portia whispered, waving a frantic hand at her sister as she pushed to her feet, her round eyes turning toward the back door of the house that had begun to rattle ever so slightly. She jumped as Cecily’s cold hand clasped hers and, together, they crept toward the kitchen doorway. They didn’t need to see outside to know that someone was trying to break in.

  Without thinking, Portia rushed into the kitchen, picking up a small chair as she went. Carefully wedging it beneath the knob, she crept back into the sitting room and closed the door. Together the ladies pushed the heavy sideboard across the doorway.

  “I hope that wasn’t Archie,” Cecily whispered, wondering if they had just barred entry to the one man who could help them.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” Portia whispered.

  Shaking her head frantically, Cecily held back. “I know that was what Archie told us to do, but I am not going up there. At least in here, we can go out by the front door,” she whispered, shivering as fear began to chill the already cool skin of her bare arms.

  “I don’t think we should just sit here and wait.”

  “But that is what Archie told us to do!” Cecily whispered, aghast that Portia would even consider leaving the house. “We could get killed out there.”

  “So could Archie,” Portia replied, feeling a sharp sting of fear for his safety that was so shocking, so surprising that she physically jolted in surprise. “What if he dies out there and we are sitting here? What if the owners come back? What do we say to them? How do we explain our presence in their house? At least outside we can keep moving and stay out of their clutches.” Secretly, Portia didn’t like the idea of heading into the darkness by themselves either. She suddenly missed Archie’s comforting solidarity and wondered when she had chan
ged so much that she needed a man’s presence beside her in order to feel safe. Quickly closing out all thoughts of the afternoon’s horrifying events, she squared her shoulders.

  “We’re staying here,” Cecily argued, placing one hand on the front door as Portia moved to open it. “At least give him a chance. If he isn’t back in the next half an hour, we will go and look for him.” She hoped that he wouldn’t take that long, because she wasn’t sure she would make any attempt to persuade Portia to stay and wait for a second time. She couldn’t see the logic of them sitting and waiting to be picked off. “Archie seems to know what he is doing. So far he has kept us safe. We owe it to him to do as he tells us,” Cecily argued. “Let’s wait here, for now at least.”

  Portia took a deep breath, and reluctantly nodded her head toward the kitchen door. Everything had gone quiet – for now. “I’ll keep watch on the window. You keep an ear out for anyone entering the kitchen,” Portia said, moving to the fire and picking up the heavy brass poker, before turning to hand the coal tongues to Cecily.

  Archie leaned wearily against the bar and drank deeply from the mug of ale at his elbow. He was aware of the studious looking man sitting in the far corner of the country pub, watching the locals. The almost feral gaze that had swept over Archie had been too searching to be mere curiosity, but Archie also saw the dismissal on the man’s face as he had turned his attention to the newest arrivals.

  Smothering a smirk, Archie appeared to turn his attention to his ale; his thoughts firmly locked on the two ladies he had left in the empty house. He could only hope and pray they would follow orders and stay where they were for a while, but couldn’t ignore the growing sense of unease that became heavier as the minutes ticked by. His attention wandered from the desultory conversation of the small group of farm labourers at the far end of the bar, toward the elderly couple behind him who were discussing a relative’s poor health.

  Impatient to get something working in his favour, Archie drained the last of his beer and pushed unsteadily away from the bar. He was shuffling out of the door when a small coach trundled past, turning into the yard at the rear of the inn. As far as he had been aware, the pub wasn’t a coaching inn, but someone had chosen to arrive in style. Grinning at the change in fortune, Archie disappeared back inside the smoky tavern and, keeping to the shadows, disappeared upstairs.

  Portia gasped at the rapid series of knocks on the front door. Both ladies froze for a heartbeat before Portia lunged toward the door, yanking it open and hefting the poker in one swift movement.

  “You smack me with that and you’ll be sorry,” Archie warned, eyeing the metal rod warily. Smothering a grin, he watched as she slumped in relief. “Miss me?” he asked, his grin revealing a flash of white teeth in the darkness.

  In all honesty, she had missed him a tremendous amount, but Portia wasn’t going to admit that to anybody, least of all him.

  “I thought you were French,” she grumbled darkly, lowering the poker and standing back to allow him to shuffle into the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, he arched his aching back and groaned as he rolled his shoulders.

  “Any visitors?”

  “Someone tried the back door,” Portia whispered, nodding toward the sideboard blocking the doorway.

  Archie froze and frowned at Portia before swinging his gaze to Cecily, who stood on the opposite side of the room holding what appeared to be coal tongues.

  “Did they get in?”

  “I don’t know,” Portia sighed. “We didn’t wait to find out.”

  “Good,” Archie replied cautiously, moving to the window and peering out. He was fairly certain he had covered his tracks well this time. He had passed right by two of the Guards going in the opposite direction and, apart from the most cursory of glances neither man had shown any interest in him as they had headed toward the far end of town. A quick sweep of the area had given him the opportunity to plot a route out of the village while avoiding the circling Guards, but they had to be quick. The assassins were constantly moving and Archie couldn’t risk them finding his waiting horse and carriage.

  “We need to move ladies. Now,” Archie whispered, beckoning them toward the door. He turned to his bag and began to dig. “I need you two to help a little.” He drew out several items of clothing and a cloak, handing them to Cecily. “Put these on,” he ordered, turning to Portia with assessing eyes.

  “Can you sweep your hair back and get rid of those curls?” Everything within him wanted to protest at those joyous curls being confined in such a way, but he knew their lives depended on them playing their part. Portia didn’t question his order, merely repined her hair as instructed until it sat smoothly against her head.

  “Good,” Archie declared, walking slowly around her and assessing her from head to foot. He ignored the shiver of masculine awareness that heightened his senses, and was glad for the dimness within the room that protected him from Portia’s gaze. He removed his jacket and put it back into his bag. “Wait here.”

  He returned several moments later, his shirt, now inside out, was clean again along with his hair, which appeared to have been washed, presumably with water from a jug and bowl in one of the bedrooms. Selecting a scarf from his bag, he donned that until he looked almost like a labourer again. Turning toward Cecily, he studied her now cloaked figure, dropping the hood she had pulled up to cover her face. “You don’t need that,” he chided, instructing her to pull her hair right back and get rid of her curls too.

  “What are we going to do?” Portia stared in surprise at Cecily, and the different character Archie had adopted far too easily for comfort. He was quite simply a master at disguises.

  “I am going to get you out of here one by one, and we are going to go about our business as the locals do. Only for us, we are going to be disguised. Who wants to go first?” It went against everything in him to leave either lady behind, but knew that the three of them walking down the road would attract unwanted attention.

  “Take Portia, I’ll stay here,” Cecily declared, easing the poker out of Portia’s stiff fingers. Portia took a breath to object only for Archie to pick up on her hesitation and stop her delaying matters any further.

  “Good. We will only be a few minutes. Whatever you do, don’t answer the door until you hear me knock like last time,” Archie cautioned, opening the door and beckoning a clearly reluctant Portia out of the door. “Bolt it behind us,” he whispered, closing it quietly behind him and taking a deep breath of cool night air.

  It seemed far too right to ease her hand into the crook of his arm and slowly meander down the road in the direction of the pub. His eyes scanned every nook and cranny for sign of threat but he wasn’t ignorant of just how right it felt to walk alongside her in such a proprietary fashion.

  “Ignore them completely,” he whispered softly into her ear when she caught sight of two men waiting at the end of the road. To anyone watching, Archie was doing nothing more than nuzzling the neck of the woman he was with. Only Archie was aware of the fine trembling in the cold fingers that rested on his forearm, and the way she edged ever so slightly closer to him, silently seeking his protection. Aware of her heightened sense of fear, Archie removed his arm and slid it around her waist, drawing her close to his side. It took a lot of effort not to groan aloud at the feel of her soft curves pushing against his length.

  Portia knew she should protest at him taking such liberties, but her stomach tightened alarmingly at the sight of the men waiting for them only a few feet away. She tried to keep control of the rising panic, but the pie she had enjoyed earlier suddenly started to churn in her stomach.

  Keep control, keep control, keep control, she chanted silently. Casting a glance at Archie, she found no comfort in the quick wink of reassurance he gave her.

  “Just relax. As long as you stay calm, there is nothing to worry about,” he murmured gently, giving in to temptation and placing a soft kiss at the base of her neck. He felt her jolt and drew her infinitesimally closer, silen
tly reassuring her with the strength of his hold.

  Portia’s senses reeled at the audacity of his actions and she was helpless to prevent the shiver of sensation that swept through her. For one brief moment, she forgot that their closeness was a ruse to fool the Guards, and relished the gentleness of the tender caress. It was the first time anyone had ever taken such liberties with her, and she wasn’t altogether sure what to make of it. It was, after all, a ruse, so what could it hurt, right? If she was destined for a life of servitude, this could very well be the first, and last, intimacy she would ever experience with any man, especially one like Archie.

  Portia secretly wondered if any man would ever be able to come anywhere near matching the one sauntering so casually beside her, and seriously doubted it. Most men of her acquaintance didn’t carry the natural air of command Archie did, or switch so ably between cold and calculating and teasing and gentle in the blink of an eye. Despite the sensual pull she felt toward him, she couldn’t help but wonder just who the real Archie was.

  She was so lost in thought that she missed the fact that they had walked right past the Guards. At the pub, rather than going through the front door, Archie urged her past the welcoming glow of the tap room, around the side of the building, into the stable yard at the rear of the property. There, he pushed her deep into the shadows until her back was resting against the stone wall of the pub.

  “What –”

  Archie placed a finger on her lips. Resting one arm on the wall above her head, he towered intently over her before lowering his head to her ear.

  “They saw that we didn’t go into the pub and are following.” He gently flicked her ear and began to nuzzle her neck. Carefully ignoring the delicate scent of flowers that teased his senses, Archie took careful note of the darkest parts of the yard behind them, and studied the shadows for sign of threat, or lurking Guards, all the while listening to the clipped sounds of approaching footsteps.