Talons of the Falcon

by Rebecca York

  Was she? She couldn’t suppress a little shiver of fear at the thought of what that total vulnerability would mean. She looked into his eyes again, seeing the smoldering desire there. Through his briefs she could feel the heat and hardness of him pressed against her. It was obvious how much he wanted her. Yet she knew he would never impose himself upon her. All this time he had been thinking only of her—of soothing away her hurt and giving her pleasure.

  “It’s all right,” he whispered, his cheek caressing hers. “If you can’t go any farther now, I’ll understand.”

  More than anything, she wanted to give something back to him, not just take. She had loved him for such a long time, but that emotion had never brought her any lasting happiness. She didn’t know what the future would hold for Mark and herself, or even if they had any future together. But though she couldn’t burden him with her love, she could warm him with it for this short time that they had together. Her arms came up to encircle his waist and clasp him tightly against her. “Please, yes, now.”

  “Eden, love.”

  After a moment, he drew back so that he could slip out of his briefs. Then he was holding her body softly to the taut length of his.

  “You’re still frightened, aren’t you?”

  “Only a little.”

  “We can still stop.”

  She didn’t answer him with words. Instead she parted her thighs and reached down to clasp and stroke him with her hand.

  She heard his exclamation of pleasure and satisfaction, even as she guided him to her. Then he was inside her, filling her, and she knew it was going to be all right—more than all right.

  He smiled down at her. “Eden, you feel so warm and welcoming.”

  “Because it’s you.”

  Tenderness for her welled up inside him. He wanted at that moment to tell her how much he loved her. Yet he knew he still wasn’t free to speak those words—not with the uncertainty he faced. But if he couldn’t tell her how he felt, he could show her.

  Slowly he began to move inside her, each stroke an endearment he couldn’t confess. Each motion heightened all his senses, and her little moans of pleasure were like an aphrodisiac. The effort to hold himself back and wait for her to reach the edge of readiness was almost impossible. But somehow he managed it, and the reward was worth the self-denial.

  She arched against him, even as he felt her first shudders of gratification. His lips sought hers, drinking in her cries of ecstasy. And all at once she was pulling him over the edge to join her in a rapture of pure sensation.

  Eden clung to him, feeling the storm sweep over her. The physical intensity was overwhelming, but there was more, too. When she had told Mark she was afraid, she hadn’t been able to tell him what she dreaded most—that she would be incapable of responding completely, even to the man she loved most in the world. But now, together, they had swept away her doubts.

  The crest of the high wave had passed, but they each strove to catch the after-ripples of delight. Eden sighed his name as his lips nibbled her cheeks and forehead.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “My pleasure.”

  They clung together, neither one of them willing to break apart. There were still too many things they couldn’t express in any other way. Shadows loomed beyond the circle of light from the bedside lamp. Shadows that wouldn’t vanish with daybreak, because they weren’t just in this room alone. They were ominous charcoal streaks across the face of the world. Destiny beckoned—no, commanded—Mark’s presence halfway across the world. And the only thing Eden knew for sure at this moment was that she wasn’t going to let him go alone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Constance McGuire set down the tray of fresh fruit, croissants and coffee on the glass-topped table in the solarium. Once again, they would have to combine the amenities of breakfast in this warm and tropical setting with the necessity of doing business.

  She glanced over at Eden and Mark, who were sitting close together at the other side of the table. She could still see the effects of their recent experiences. Yet this morning there was a noticeable difference that gave her a certain maternal satisfaction. All of yesterday she had felt the raw edge of tension every time they had been in the same room.

  Their estrangement hadn’t been quite so apparent when they’d first arrived. Eden hadn’t been capable of much emotion. She had been close to exhaustion and functioning on a very basic level. But as she had begun to reach out to Mark, for her sake as much as his own, he had shut her off—purposefully avoided her.

  From the intimacy of the warm looks they slanted each other this morning, she could see that something had definitely changed for the better. Connie felt certain it was something that Eden had initiated. Mark was too stubborn to bridge the gap himself. She knew that men in the Intelligence business were an independent breed, used to going it alone. The last eight months could only have confirmed the wisdom of that philosophy for Col. Mark Bradley. It would take a strong woman to make him change his mind. But it seemed that Eden Sommers might be such a woman.

  The door opened and they all looked up as the tap of a cane on the slate floor announced the Falcon’s entrance. Michael Rome was right behind him. Connie knew they’d been going over some of the strategy for the afternoon’s departure.

  Cicero flapped to his master’s shoulder, and the Falcon paused to offer him a cracker.

  To the casual observer Amherst Gordon might look like a rich eccentric without a care in the world. But Connie could read the worry lines in his face. Project Orion was a problem. But it wasn’t the only thing on her boss’s mind. He was directing half a dozen worldwide operations, and not all of them were running smoothly. The situation in Madrid, for example, was also becoming critical. While the chief of the Peregrine Connection was arranging to slip Mark and Eden into Europe, he was also working on contingency plans to smuggle out another operative code-named the Raven.

  Yet as Amherst Gordon sat down at the table, he permitted himself the small luxury of not getting right to business.

  He let them wait while he stirred cream into his coffee and buttered a croissant. It gave him a certain gratification to know that he had the complete attention of everyone else in the room. In fact, they seemed fascinated by the action of his butter knife.

  He finally relented. “I think I’ll let Michael tell you the latest,” he said.

  Rome straightened in his chair. He looked around the table, his eyes settling for a moment on Eden.

  She gave him a quick smile. Yesterday, when Mark had begun to avoid her, their rescuer had tried to compensate by making her feel included. He’d even sought her out and tried to reassure her. It turned out he’d been through a particularly bad time on one of his assignments and could empathize with Mark’s withdrawal. He told her how difficult it had been to get back to something approaching normal—but he’d finally done it. He was confident Mark could, too. Yesterday she wasn’t sure she agreed. Now she was beginning to hope it might be true.

  He began the briefing. “As you probably know, your little swim has instituted a very quiet East Coast manhunt.”

  “Actually, I’ve been waiting for someone to shoot a hole through the No Vacancy sign hanging out by the road,” Mark quipped.

  But Eden caught the underlying tension in his voice. Below the table she reached out and captured his hand. Last night she had been so wrapped up with her own problems that she hadn’t fully understood what she was asking of him. Now she realized that when she had needed him, he had put his own anxieties on hold.

  “No one’s coming here,” Gordon said. “But if we don’t move fast, I couldn’t get you across an airport concourse even if I shaved your head and put you in a saffron-colored robe.”

  Mark laughed. “So what are your plans for getting me to Berlin?” he asked.

  “You mean us,” Eden corrected.

  Mark opened his mouth to protest. But the Falcon didn’t give him a chance. “She’s right. This operation necessarily i
ncludes the two of you.”

  “I don’t want Eden involved in this any further,” Mark snapped. “Michael and I have worked together before. Can’t you send him to nursemaid me?”

  She heard the self-derision in his voice. Evidently the simple fact that he couldn’t be trusted on his own was almost unbearable.

  “Mark, let’s be realistic,” Gordon answered. “I know you’re anxious to even the score. But you may be your own worst enemy, and Michael isn’t trained to deal with that.”

  She heard Mark curse under his breath.

  “We don’t have time to argue about it,” Gordon continued. “If I don’t send Eden with you, I don’t send you at all. And if I don’t send you, we know what the consequences are.”

  As the two men stared at each other, Eden was reminded of wrestlers sizing each other up, each looking for a point of weakness to press his own advantage. But in this situation, Mark was smart enough to recognize that the Falcon had fixed the match. The only way he could win was by cooperating.

  “All right,” he conceded reluctantly. “Just what do you have in mind?”

  “We’re getting you through airport security as part of a bank director’s tour of Ireland.”

  “Ireland!”

  “Nobody’s going to think to look for you there. It’s the far northwestern corner of Europe. But that makes it a great staging ground. You’ll leave the tour in Shannon and be taken to a safe house somewhere in Connemara, where your closest neighbors will be sheep and donkeys. Eden is going to continue your therapy sessions there.” God knows, you need it, he thought to himself. The riskiest part of this whole operation, as far as he was concerned, was sending Mark off without knowing just how dangerous he was to himself—or other people. Unfortunately, the time factor was too critical to arrange other plans. Eden didn’t know it yet, but he was prepared to scrub the mission up until the moment they left for Berlin, if Mark was unable to keep himself from helping the enemy.

  They went on to discuss more details, then separated for final preparations. Appearances had to be altered and scars hidden before their passport photos were taken and the actual documents forged.

  But the Falcon had even more pressing reasons for separating Mark and Eden. He wanted to give her additional instructions and make damn sure she understood her role in all this. Misrepresenting Mark’s condition on her Pine Island reports was one thing—he understood why she’d done it. But turning a blind eye to even the tiniest of the colonel’s German-precision-manufactured defects could be fatal.

  * * *

  CONSTANCE MCGUIRE handled the details of their departure in her usual efficient manner. In the Aviary’s underground complex, Eden began to get a better idea of just how well equipped the Peregrine Connection really was. In the basement under the mansion were labs set up to do everything from manufacturing instant passports to altering equipment like the manicure kit she’d taken to Pine Island. Staff was on call on an as-needed basis, and the wardrobe inventory was enough to supply a men’s and women’s specialty shop.

  When Eden and Mark were united again in the upstairs solarium, they each had two well-traveled American Tourister bags and outfits that spoke of casual upper-middle-class comfort. Mark was wearing a lightweight navy blazer and gray slacks. Although it didn’t show, around his waist was a money belt full of gold coins—a necessity for efficient clandestine travel through a number of different countries.

  Eden had selected an orchid-colored shirtwaist dress. When she had seen it hanging on the rack, the color had brought to mind last night with Mark.

  When Mark saw her standing there in the same color that she had worn to his room, a flash of responsive memory flared. He knew she had deliberately wanted to remind him she was the same woman, even if on the surface she was different. Her honey brown hair had been cut in a softly layered style that framed her face. Artfully added blond highlights provided a glow that he found warmly appealing—even with the makeup job that gave her oval face a more angular look.

  As a finishing touch she wore oversize tortoiseshell glasses with the initials N. M. in the corner of one lens. For the next fifteen hours she and Mark would be traveling as Mr. and Mrs. Frank McKay.

  Eden returned Mark’s appraising stare. His appearance was even more noticeably changed than hers. The Aviary makeup technician—or the Master of Disguises, as he was fondly known—had decided to age Mark more than a decade. His hair was now a vibrant silver, and the scars on his face were hidden behind dark makeup.

  Although his new look was at first unsettling, Eden found it attractive. This was how Mark might look in twenty years. Would they still be together? Her heart gave a little tug of sadness. There was simply no way to speculate about the future until they solved the uncertainties of the past and the present.

  “Will I do?” he questioned.

  She was startled by the richness and confidence in his voice—remembering how different he had sounded that first day on Pine Island. He was back in his element again, finally in a position to make things happen. That alone was cause for exhilaration.

  “You’ll do,” she said warmly.

  Michael drove them to Dulles International Airport. From the back seat Eden studied his profile. She’d known him a little more than two days. But she’d quickly come to admire his loyalty and his reliability. She could bet that he and Mark had made a good team when they had worked together. And she couldn’t help wishing that he was going farther than to the airport with them.

  As they pulled into the unloading zone, he reminded them of the Falcon’s final instructions. “Get in the left-hand line for international flight clearance. Our guy will be on duty there.” He looked at Eden in the rearview mirror. “Try to look excited—like you’re going on a holiday. Not like you have a date with the executioner.”

  She forced a smile, but inside she was trembling. These two men had years of training and experience behind them. She was a rank amateur in the high-risk world of international espionage. Even though she had insisted upon being included on Mark’s assignment, she couldn’t help feeling uncertain. She only hoped she could carry off this new masquerade as well as she had the last. But she’d been playing herself then. Now she had a new name, a forged passport, and a man at her side she knew so well and yet didn’t know at all.

  After a quick hug for Eden and a solid handshake and “Good hunting” for Mark, Michael left them on their own. Eden looked at Mark and smiled nervously. “You know how petrified I am about flying, Frank.”

  He grinned. “You could always stay home.”

  She gave him a meaningful look. “Not after you’ve already paid for the tickets, dear.”

  Checking in kept them occupied for the first few minutes. But after they had cleared airport security and were waiting in the departure lounge, Eden found herself reading the same page of her paperback novel over and over again.

  When their flight was held up for half an hour, Mark put a soothing hand on her trembling arm. “I hate these delays too, honey,” he admitted. “But it happens all the time. Don’t let it get to you.”

  When flight 580 was finally called for boarding, there was another bad moment. They followed instructions and got in the left-hand line. But just as they were approaching the barrier, the uniformed official checking passports was called away and replaced by another. Had the man who was supposed to pass them through just left, or was he the man coming on duty? Eden glanced back questioningly at Mark. He gave her an imperceptible push forward. They couldn’t both step out of the line now without looking suspicious.

  “Are you traveling for business or pleasure?”

  Mark had heard this question often enough to summon up an automatic response.

  “Pleasure,” he said, looking as though he meant it.

  Eden took her cue from him. Ten minutes later they were finding their seats on flight 580. She couldn’t suppress a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

  Once they were in the air, she leaned her head against Mark’s
shoulder. Even with his problems, his basic strength was something she could cling to. He had been through an experience that would have destroyed most individuals. Almost anyone else would have been damn glad to get out with his life. But the man beside her was volunteering—no, demanding—to go back and finish the job.

  “Why don’t you try to get some sleep,” he suggested.

  Neither one of them had gotten much last night—or the two nights before, for that matter.

  “How about you?”

  “Maybe later.” I’d rather look at you.

  She closed her eyes and snuggled against him. He didn’t wake her when the flight attendants came around with drinks and the usual processed food. But he ordered himself a double Scotch and sat sipping it. There was a lot he had to think about.

  When Eden awoke, his face came into focus, and she blinked. It took a moment for her to remember their transformation.

  He grinned. “You go to sleep for an hour and wake up next to Rip Van Winkle.”

  “You must have spent the whole time I was napping coming up with that line,” she said.

  “Guilty as charged.” He had anticipated her reaction and had come up with the perfect rejoinder. But it had been the one amusing note in a grim succession of thoughts. Despite his reply to the airport official, this wasn’t going to be any pleasure trip. He squeezed Eden’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered. It was true, but her presence was still causing him more than a few twinges of guilt.

  She seemed to understand. “I’m here because I want to be with you,” she assured him again.

  * * *

  THE MAN IN Washington put down the summary report from Major Downing at Pine Island. Behind the solid oak door of his private office, he was looking a bit green around the gills. The report was bad news, very bad news. Suddenly he had to fight to keep the panic in his chest from bubbling up and making a mess all over the glass-covered mahogany desk.

  For a crazy moment he considered simply walking out of his office and not coming back. In a matter of hours he could be on a flight to Bern, and from there to Moscow. But he had a feeling the Kremlin wasn’t going to welcome him with open arms. Things were too critical with project Orion.