“Mr. Darcy, good to see you, sir.”
“And you, Barrett. What’s the news?”
“Been pretty quiet around here.”
“How’s Georgina?”
The guard spared Elizabeth a surreptitious glance then turned his attention back to Darcy. “Okay. Think Mrs. Reynolds wants to talk to you about a fence though.”
“Fence?”
“Yeah. Little gal was found swimming before dawn one morning last week—alone.”
“Hmm. That is a problem.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m not sure a fence is the best option. It might scare her, and I don’t want her to avoid the pool. Maybe we can just beef up the alarm system? Set it up so Ms. R knows when she leaves the house? Or float some kind of alarm in the pool itself perhaps?”
“I’ll look into it.”
“I’ll speak to Dr. Reynolds as well. Get his take. Thank you, Barrett.”
Elizabeth marveled at the beauty and serenity of the place as the Jeep rolled toward the house. Palms lined the driveway. The heady scent of hibiscus spilled from containers on either side of the front door. A porch swing barely shifted in the breeze that intermittently stirred the thick, tropical air. Darcy pulled the vehicle in front of the house and turned to her with a smile. He leaned over and kissed her mouth. “Welcome to Pemberley.”
He took her hand as they ascended the steps. He turned the doorknob and walked right in.
“No lock?”
“Pemberley is more than just a house; it’s a compound. A door lock isn’t necessary. My father built the original structures: the villa, the boathouse, the guesthouse. I added to the property when I moved Georgina here. There’s fencing around the perimeter, electronically monitored and well hidden for her sake. Since her captivity, she’s frightened of being confined.” He tossed his keys on the counter. “Ina? Where are you, sweetheart?”
Elizabeth had been expecting a Spartan, modern sort of place, so the Victorian Laura Ashley look surprised her until she remembered that, currently, this was a woman’s house.
They ambled through tastefully decorated but ornate rooms, each open to a veranda by a set of French doors. The sound of piano music drifted from another part of the house.
“She’s in the library.” He beamed with pride. “It’s good to hear her practicing again.” He took Elizabeth’s hand and paused when they reached the library doorway. The music halted, the performer stared in momentary confusion, and then a smile bloomed across her features.
“William!” The piano stool scraped across the bamboo floor as the young woman formerly known as Jirina Sobota stood and raced toward her brother. “I forgot you were coming!”
“Remember, Georgina? We discussed it yesterday.”
Elizabeth turned toward the voice and saw an older woman dressed in bright colors that made a stunning contrast with her dark complexion.
“Mrs. Reynolds.” Darcy greeted her with a warm two-handed handshake. He turned to his guest. “This is Elizabeth. She’s a colleague and a friend. Elizabeth this is Gabrielle Reynolds who manages Pemberley. And this”—he paused, placing a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder—“is my sister, Georgina.”
Mrs. Reynolds gave Elizabeth a considering look and then slipped into gracious hostess mode. “Welcome.”
“Elizabeth, Liz, Beth…” That same look of momentary confusion crossed her expression. “Which one is the real you?” Her English still had an Eastern European lilt to it.
“Now, there’s a question.” She smiled at Georgina. “William calls me Elizabeth.”
“Then I will as well. My brother has told me much of you.”
“Oh, really? I’m sure that was an interesting conversation.”
She smiled. “He says you’re an excellent intelligence officer and that you speak many languages.”
“Not so many.”
“Czech?”
“I’m afraid not—just enough to get myself in trouble.”
“I’ve been in trouble.”
Elizabeth mentally kicked herself. She was trying too hard to be witty, to make a good impression, and had forgotten what the young woman in front of her had endured at the hands of the KGB. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. The overwhelming resplendence of the house, the scrutiny of the housekeeper, the burden of trying to connect with a shy and emotionally wounded girl—all these things made it easy to lose sight of what was important and real: the new and fragile bond between siblings.
Georgina turned a glowing smile on Darcy. “But I’m not in trouble now. My brother rescued me and brought me here so I could get well. I wish he could stay with us, but he has his work. He comes when he can.” The last part sounded like it had been parroted straight from a counselor’s mouth.
Darcy gently turned the topic from himself. “Dr. Reynolds said you’ve been working on something, a new project of some kind.”
“Oh yes!” Her eyes shone. “I’ve been working on surveillance equipment. Listening devices mostly, but I just finished the prototype of one that reads electronic banking entries. I’ll show you.”
“I’d like to see that.”
She seemed to register Mrs. Reynolds’ hand at her elbow and stopped, peering into his face. “But first, we eat, yes? Forgive me; I’ve forgotten my duties as hostess.”
“And I’ve forgotten mine as host. Elizabeth, would you like to rest? Or have some lunch?”
The considerate, lord-of-the-manor persona gave her whiplash. Who was this man? Suave, debonair spy about town? Moody theater man? Grumpy agent? Laid back civil servant marking time in paradise? She wasn’t sure she knew the real William Darcy, but she had to admit she liked this version very much.
“Lunch sounds great.”
Mrs. Reynolds chimed in. “I’ll have the kitchen serve up something, say in about a half hour?”
“Thank you, Gabrielle.” Darcy turned back to Georgina, who had a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“William, why don’t you show Elizabeth around? I’ll see you at lunch.”
Chapter 28
Darcy stumbled into the kitchen the next morning after waking up, bleary and alone.
“Dobrý den, bratř.”
“Good day to you too, little sis.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head as she peeled an orange. “Where is Elizabeth?”
“She said something about using the studio this morning.”
“She’s a dancer in addition to her medical training and knowledge of languages and tradecraft…”
Georgina smiled indulgently. “You don’t have to convince me of her accomplishments, William.” She shooed him toward the door. “Go find her. Go!”
He found her in the studio, heavy-rhythmed music pumping from the stereo speakers at the end of the room. She wasn’t dancing as he expected, but instead, she was posed in a graceful lunge, facing the window overlooking the bay. Her arms reached over her head, parallel to each other, fingers pointed toward the ceiling. He watched as she straightened the bent leg and brought her body forward, straight back, facing the ground, delicately balanced on that front foot, the other leg straight out behind her, arms now parallel with the floor. Finally, she brought the back leg forward to meet the front, her body swinging upright. Sweeping her arms overhead, she bent forward, placing hands outside her feet, head almost to the ground.
He pushed off the door frame and slowly approached her from behind, appreciating the view. Thinking to surprise her, he reached out a hand to her well-rounded buttock.
***
So, he plans a sneak attack. Elizabeth bent her knees, reached back, and grabbed both his ankles. With a mighty yank forward, she dumped him on his very fine ass.
“Ha!” She whirled around to face him, hands on her hips. “Don’t sneak up on a w
oman with hand-to-hand combat training, Darcy!”
He pushed himself up to sitting. “Don’t be silly! You just caught me off guard. I was distracted. By your ass…ets.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“That rudimentary training you get at The Farm is nothing compared to mine.” He tapped his thumb against his chest. “Military man. I should probably show you some techniques in case you—”
She pounced, landing with her inner thighs on either side of his ears.
“Ow! That was my head that just hit the floor!” He stopped. “Intriguing position though.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Okay, military man, let’s get a mat, and then you show me what you got.” She pulled a large mat and spread it out on the floor. As she stood, he got her from behind—one arm across her neck, pinning her arms back against his body.
“You understand the element of surprise, darling, I’ll give you that. But the fact is, I’m bigger than you, and bigger usually wins.”
She reared back and missed head butting his nose by an inch or two, but it put enough space between them that she got him in the solar plexus with her elbow—just hard enough to get away.
“In real life, this is where I’d run like hell.” She bounced on her toes and held her arms up, boxing style. “But I’m having fun.” She landed a playful kick on his side then threw a punch toward his jaw, which he blocked with his open hand. Keeping hold of her fist, he twisted her arm behind her and slammed her back against him. His free hand drifted down her abdomen to her hip. “Gotcha,” he whispered into her hair.
She roared in frustration and tried to bend down, to throw him over her head. He barely moved.
“You gotta mean it, Beautiful.”
They grappled as she tried to bring him to the mat once again. “Oh, I mean it, tough guy.”
“If only you had a blunt object within reach.”
“I’d crack it over your thick skull.”
“That’s exactly right. Use whatever’s handy.” He pushed her face down on the mat, holding the squirming mass of her with his torso.
She tried to kick him in the crotch, but her heel bounced helplessly off his buttock.
“Vicious little thing, aren’t you?”
“Truce?” She turned her head to the side.
He leaned down and kissed the up-turned check. “Truce.”
He rose onto all fours, and she caught him with the back of her hand as she rolled over and tried to scramble away. He pinned her to the mat so they were face-to-face, center-to-center.
“You said truce,” he growled.
She bucked and writhed under him. “No truce!”
“Yes truce!” He ground himself against her.
A harsh groan escaped her, sending heat straight to his loins. He took her mouth, demanding entrance. She gave in, her body limp at first then undulating under him. He drew back, taking in her disheveled appearance—hair in disarray, face flushed—and grinned. “I like fighting as foreplay.”
She pushed him off her and sat up. “You, Darcy, are a perv.”
He laughed. “Apparently. Who knew?”
“Oh, I did.” She grinned back at him, fine eyes sparkling with dark delight.
“Good Lord, woman. I want you more every day.”
Her eyes roamed up and down his form, singeing him where he sat, three feet in front of her. He wondered whether he was leaving burn marks on the studio floor.
“Then you’re going to have to”—she crawled toward him and kissed him, licking his lips as she did so—“catch me!” She leapt forward, her feet hitting the ground at a run. He caught her almost at the studio door, and they embraced with a feverish intensity, lips and hands roaming and grabbing everywhere as he backed her through the doorway and into the hall. Looking around, he spied a changing room. “In here,” he panted.
“We can’t. Not here.”
“It’s my damn house. We sure as hell can.” He pushed her back against the changing room door, pushed up her shirt, and rubbed his thumbs over her bra. The back of her head made contact with the door, a gentle thud. Hands pushed down shorts simultaneously. He lifted her with one arm, so she wrapped her legs around him and held on as he took her against the door. She was lost—in him, in the moment—a bundle of light and heat being batted around without form, without purpose. He groaned, louder with each thrust. At one point, her gaze landed on an arousing view from the mirror on the opposite wall. She watched them move together, filled her hands with the damp waves of his hair, and let his voice fill her ears as he lost control. She stared at the mirror, into her own eyes, and let herself fall after him.
***
Gabrielle Reynolds looked up from her paper at the sound of squealing and laughter overhead. There was a flurry of running footsteps, and then a door closed with a mighty slam.
Georgina sipped her last bit of tea. “I guess he found her.”
The elegant, reserved housekeeper raised an eyebrow and looked across the table at her charge. “Seems so.”
“I will go practice piano now.” Georgina stood, lips twitching in amusement. “At the other end of the house.”
Gabrielle watched Georgina leave. Then she picked up her newspaper and her coffee, and stepped out to the table on the back terrace.
Well, look at you two! I have to say, I’m surprised. I never saw that one coming. Oh, I knew how you felt; having been a man in love myself, I could read the signs. But her? She surprised me. And what a surprise she was! Never knew she had it in her.
I don’t like surprises.
And while my surveillance gave me a little prurient thrill at first, a couple of days was enough. To be honest, you two bore me. Yawn. Holding hands. Running up and down the beach. Salsa dancing in the Chestnut Tree Lounge. Canoodling in the Lambton Restaurant. How pedantic. How predictable. How pathetic.
So, enjoy her. The happiness of these days in paradise will torture you for years after she’s gone. Welcome to the seventh level of hell, Darcy.
Chapter 29
Darcy pulled his Jeep onto the gravel drive at Elizabeth’s villa on Tobago. Putting the vehicle in park, he turned to her, one arm across the back of her seat, the other hand on the steering wheel.
“How about you ask me in?”
She laughed and shook her head. “No! Haven’t you had enough to last you a while?”
“Darling, I’ll never have enough, not of you anyway.” He leaned forward and the kiss he gave her was gentle, tender. He skimmed a finger across her jaw. Her heart shimmered and melted a little more.
“Elizabeth. Let me stay with you.”
“I can’t. First contact with my asset tomorrow.”
“I’ll go with you. I know the area you told me about. Mrs. G’s sister lives in Castara, and the cove is just north of there.”
She shook her head. “Not necessary. Besides, this may be my last assignment for counterintelligence, and I want to do a good job.”
“Training your replacement?”
“No. Well, maybe. And I’m not doing an end run around you either, Station Chief.”
“Meeting the asset on Tobago is an odd coincidence, which makes me think it’s not a coincidence at all.”
“Don’t worry. I can take care of myself. I’m not sure why Wickham’s asset chose this locale, but most likely so he would have some neutral ground to give information.”
“Makes me uneasy, having an unknown prowling around here.”
“I do know that, Darcy. I’m being careful. I’m just the courier. Since this is the first contact, I only check the drop. He won’t even lay eyes on me.”
“I wish you’d let me come along.”
“You need to maintain your anonymity on Tobago. I, on the other hand, will be gone in a matter of days.”
“I still don’t li
ke this.” He sighed. “But I know I can’t talk you out of it. Call me as soon as you get back.”
“Sure thing.”
He kissed her again. “The minute you walk in the door.”
“I promise.”
“Goodbye, darling.”
“See you soon.”
Elizabeth turned and watched the Jeep disappear down the street, holding up her hand as Darcy sent her one last wave. She turned back to the door and fished out her keys. With a sigh, she shoved her way inside and set her bag on the table.
“Doing the walk of shame?”
She whirled around, caught off guard without a weapon or any way to defend herself.
The light blinked on, and there on a bar stool in the corner of the kitchen sat George Wickham.
“George!” She covered her heart with her hand. “You scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Washington.”
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for four days.”
“I took a couple days off.”
“You’re not here to take vacation. You’re here to retrieve information from an asset.”
“Back off, Wickham. You’re not my boss.”
“I sense some hostility here.”
“Why are you even on Tobago?”
“Definite hostility.”
“Answer the question.”
“The director wants another set of eyes on the situation. He was concerned about you when my attempts to contact you came up empty. Looks like he was right to be worried, given the company you’ve been keeping.”
“I don’t have to justify my actions to you.”
“Perhaps not, but you might have to justify them to the director.”
“Look, I don’t want to argue. I just want to make this meeting and move on with my life. I’ve decided to leave the CI department. You were wrong about me all those months ago, George. I’m not cut out for counterintelligence, and I don’t want to do it anymore.”
Undeceived Page 22