Where the Heart Chooses

by Tinnean

  Jefferson never did give me credit for being able to take care of myself, but he was my brother, and I loved him for his concern.

  The woman in the photo was the raven-haired beauty who had been turning up at the oddest times. Folana Fournaise.

  * * * *

  The ball Lady Portia sponsored for me was to be preceded by a dinner party. I was pursuing my acquaintance with Ludovic Rivenhall, a pretty young man who was being groomed for a position in his government.

  “Oh, I-I s-s-say!” he stuttered. “If it isn’t Miss Fournaise! Isn’t she a smasher? N-not to say that you aren’t a-attractive also, Miss Sebring.”

  The general consensus was that I was “attractive.” I had the fair looks of my father’s side of the family, and the cool temperament of my mother’s. More than once I’d overheard myself being referred to as an ice princess.

  I smiled at him absently—odd how his stutter came and went, but of course I was too polite to mention anything about that—and turned to examine the woman who had just entered the room.

  Folana Fournaise wore a gown whose elegant lines proclaimed it to be a Dior. It was a deep blue velvet that matched her eyes. Her long hair was in a chignon. In spite of what I had learned about her, I was drawn to her.

  For once, she was not accompanied by her blond escort.

  “That’s Sir Joseph Bowne with her. One would think he could find a woman closer to his own age. The bloody blighter! Oh! I b-beg your pardon, Miss Sebring!”

  I murmured something noncommittal.

  I studied the gentleman who was beside her, and I wondered if anyone else noticed the small distance she kept from him.

  He inclined his head toward her and whispered a few words, and she inclined her head in turn.

  From across the room, Folana Fournaise’s eyes skimmed my figure, and my nipples tightened. She didn’t smile, but I sensed her interest, and I thought she would join us.

  Just then, however, dinner was announced.

  * * * *

  I slipped out onto the balcony for a cigarette. Everyone smoked, they all knew I preferred Pall Malls, and that I frequently received shipments of them from home. No one knew that occasionally, tucked in the red cartons, were encoded messages.

  It was damp and chill on the balcony, but I’d needed to escape a baronet who felt that because I was American, I should be overwhelmed by his attentions. I’d met more than my share of men like that, and my brothers had taught me how to deal with them. I had even broken the nose of one when he’d gotten overly fresh.

  I thought about the young woman who had sat at the other end of the table from me. The distance between us had made conversation impossible, but each time I looked in her direction I’d find her gazing at me. Each time she looked in mine, I’d be watching her. Then we would take a sip of our wine and turn back to our dinner companions.

  The French door opened.

  “Miss Sebring?” As if she had been summoned by my thoughts. “I’m Folana Fournaise.”

  I turned casually, raising the cigarette to my lips. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I was beginning to think that would never come about.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “We always seemed to be missing each other. You’ve been asking about me.”

  Her smile was politely inquiring, and I knew she wasn’t going to answer me. “Your aunt sent me to find you.”

  I saw no need to tell her that Lady Portia was actually my godmother. “It is bad of me to be hiding out here.” I looked down at the stiletto-heeled shoes I wore. “If one more…gentleman…steps on my toes, I shall do him a violence.”

  That made her chuckle. “Perhaps you’ll show me the conservatory instead? I understand Lady Portia actually has a maze.” She noticed I winced as I took a step toward her. “If we’re alone, you can even remove your heels. I won’t tell.”

  “That sounds like an excellent plan.” I stubbed out the cigarette in the standing ashtray that was to the side of the railing, and we reentered the ballroom. A wall of music engulfed us.

  She gazed around. “Is there a secret passage leading from the ballroom to the conservatory?”

  I smiled at her. The four-inch heels on my shoes put us almost at eye-level. “No.” Of course there was, but I was not about to tell that to a relative stranger.

  “That’s rather unusual, don’t you think?” She followed me around the edge of the dance floor, around the enthusiastically fox-trotting couples and out into the relative quiet of the central hallway. “I’m sure I heard all these old townhouses had at least one secret passage, if only from one bedroom to another.”

  “I really couldn’t say. I’ve only been here a short time.”

  We strolled down the stairs and through the long vestibule on the ground floor to the rear of the house.

  “How much longer will you be in London, Miss Sebring?”

  “Call me Portia, please.” I ran a hand over the French twist in which I had chosen to wear my hair, making sure there were no loose strands. “Oh, as long as Lady Portia permits. I’m so enjoying my stay in England, you know.”

  “And the young men of England appear to be enjoying your presence here. Do you plan on marrying one of them?”

  “Perhaps. If I’m asked. There is the scent of orange blossoms in the air, you know—my older brother will be getting engaged…” Not quite a lie, as anyone who chose to look into it would learn that Tony was indeed seeing a young woman whose family was quite prominent in the Washington social scene. “…and I’ll have to return home for the formal announcement.”

  “Pity. I had been looking forward to getting to know you.”

  “Oh, you’ll still have the opportunity to get to know me!” I cried gaily, doing my best impression of a flibbertigibbet. “It won’t be for some time. My mother will insist on it being done to the nines. Anthony is the firstborn son, after all. There will be at least a dozen bridesmaids and groomsmen, although quite possibly more, since the ceremony will be at the St. Matthew’s Cathedral. I hope Anthony and his fiancée choose a wedding day in December. Red velvet gowns would be so appropriate. And of course, I’ll need to return home for the fittings.”

  For a second, Folana’s eyes looked glazed. “And you’ll enjoy that?”

  “Of course!” Poor little girl. She might be very capable running a dangerous organization like the Complex, but she’d never manage in Mother’s world.

  “You’re quite the social butterfly, aren’t you?”

  I swallowed a laugh. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ve been following your activities in the columns.”

  “I would almost say you’ve actually been following me.”

  And then a smile curved her lips. “Will you forgive me if I admit I have?”

  “That would depend on why.” Would she tell me the truth? I opened the door, and we entered the hothouse atmosphere of the conservatory. The scents of roses, jasmine, and violets blended together rather than clashing, and I inhaled the lovely fragrance.

  “I find you very attractive,” she said in a soft undertone. It was obvious, to me at any rate, that she was bewildered by that statement.

  “I?” I smiled. I’d known a young woman during my junior year at Wellesley who was attracted to me, and who was puzzled by it. I hadn’t pursued it then, and I wouldn’t pursue it now. “The maze is this way.” I led her to the far end of the room, taking a few steps into the twisting passageways that wound in upon themselves. It wasn’t a large maze, but I’d gotten lost in it the first time I had tried to find the pretty fish pond that was at its center.

  “Have I shocked you? Americans can be so Puritanical.” She caught my wrist and pulled me to a halt, then raised her hand and cupped my breast as I had dreamed of cupping hers.

  I leaned into her touch, suddenly unable to take my eyes from the lush bow of her lower lip. I traced my fingertips along the smooth curve of her neck and drew her mouth closer to mine.

  “Why does everyone on this sid
e of the Atlantic always assume Americans are strait-laced? We have our share of scandals, you know.”

  “Do you?” she breathed against my lips.

  “The mayor’s wife ran away just last summer.”

  “Every politician’s wife seems to run away at some time or another.”

  “With another woman?” I laughed softly, and the sound turned to a breathy moan as her lips found mine.

  The kiss, tasting of champagne and strawberries, was very different from a man’s kiss. There was no aggression, no demand for surrender, just a teasing touch that tempted and enticed. It lasted too long and not long enough.

  Folana Fournaise stepped away from me, her lips parted, her eyes fastened on my chest. I looked down, startled to see the front of my gown had come undone. Although the air in the conservatory was humid, my bared breast felt chilled, deprived of the warmth of her hand.

  And then the heat of her mouth was on me, sucking strongly on my nipple. A tiny whimper escaped my lips. I held her head closer, pushed my breast harder against her, shivered at the feel of her teeth gently biting down.

  A wall of greenery was at my back; it supported my weight as I leaned against it. I raised my leg and curled it around her thigh, opening myself to her touch, uncaring that the action would wrinkle the material of my gown.

  Folana’s hand stole beneath the hem and wrapped around my knee, drawing my leg higher, and then her fingers drew designs over the crotch of my silk tap pants. She made an approving sound at how wet they were, then slid a finger under the leg and touched me.

  I shoved the heel of my hand into my mouth and bit down so hard I knew I would leave teeth marks.

  She leaned into me and replaced my hand with her mouth, and swallowed the sounds I made while her middle finger stroked the length of my folds. I trembled when she paused at the top of my sex, found the knot of tissue that seemed to hold every nerve ending in my body, and scraped it with her fingernail.

  I tore my mouth out from under hers. “Don’t toy with me, Folana!”

  “Impatient.” Her laugh was strained and changed to a moan as I stroked the palm of my hand over the sumptuous velvet to the swell of her buttocks, then flexed my fingers and explored the crevice that divided them. “You’re not as cold as word would have it.”

  She rubbed her finger relentlessly against my clitoris, and I shook and gasped and came apart in her arms.

  When I was finally able to straighten, I knew I’d left strands of pale hair tangled in the branches of the maze. I groaned.

  “Poor pet,” Folana murmured against my neck.

  “No. Your turn, pet.” I spun her around and pushed her back, then raised my skirts and dropped to my knees before her.

  She stiffened when she felt my hands on the flesh above her stockings. “Don’t!”

  I looked into her blue eyes. “I’m not a man, Folana; I won’t hurt you.”

  She shivered and remained tense. “I can’t…” But she didn’t push me away. I moved her gown out of my way, and then tugged down her panties, and touched my tongue to her for the first time.

  Folana hadn’t been excited by what she had done to me, even though she had given a good impression of it. Perhaps a bit of nonsense would relax her?

  “I’m from the South, but you knew that, didn’t you, Folana? Have you ever seen those hoop skirts the women used to wear? Yards and yards of material…If you wore something like that, I’d wager I could hide underneath, and do this to you.” I licked at her and was rewarded by the first taste of her honey. “And no one would even know.”

  She moaned and parted her legs, giving me better access.

  “That’s my sweet girl.”

  Her fingers kneaded my scalp restlessly. I circled her opening with my thumb, then slid it into her sheath at the same time I pressed my forefinger against her anus and sucked on her clit, flicking it with my tongue. She shuddered and gave a shrill cry, taken by surprise by her orgasm.

  I rested my head on the curls that covered her groin and breathed in the scent of her climax. Finally, I pressed a kiss to her mound, righted her clothes, and pushed myself to my feet.

  “You were sent to seduce me, weren’t you?”

  She met my eyes. “Yes. I’m sorry.” She raised a hand to touch my hair, which was in disarray, but let it drop down.

  “I don’t understand why.” I pulled the bodice of my gown over my breasts and secured it, then bent to retrieve the pins, which had held my hair in place. “I’m just an ordinary woman.”

  “A woman, yes, but ordinary?” She made a soft, scoffing sound. “Hardly. In certain, select circles, it is known that Sebrings will go to any lengths for their country, even going to bed with a member of their own sex. You’re a Sebring. Sir Joseph worked with your father during the War. He warned his superiors that if Anthony Sebring ever found out what they were up to, allied status or not, he would go after them.” She looked puzzled.

  Having been more or less on her own since approximately the age of six, Folana would not know the dynamics of a family, much less the Sebring family. Father might accept his little girl having to do certain things for the good of the Country. But I was still the only girl and the baby of the family. If he deemed the actions of the men for whom Sir Joseph worked capricious, then as clichéd as it might sound, those men would find themselves regretting the day their fathers had ever met their mothers.

  “So all this was in aid of learning if I would have a problem with being seduced by a woman?” I kept my tone light, amused. I was disgusted with myself, although I refused to let her see that. In spite of my brothers’ warnings, I had been taken in by a pretty face and eyes filled with uncertainty. It wouldn’t happen again, but I needed to find a way to make this work to my advantage.

  “And you don’t. Should they have sent Bart instead?”

  “Bart? Oh, your big, blond friend?” Carefully I made the repairs to my hairdo. “It wouldn’t have mattered, unless he refused to take ‘no’ for an answer. He isn’t my type.”

  She looked at me as if I were mad. “Women love Bart.”

  “You obviously do.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand. Bart is just a…what the English call a ‘mate’.”

  That was a telling little slip on her part. She was supposed to be English.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’ll tell them I failed.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Her expression was confused. “I have no idea.”

  Didn’t she? Had no one before given her an orgasm? “Will they believe you were unsuccessful?” I led her out of the maze and plucked a small posy of violets. Their scent clung to my fingers.

  “I may not be any good at sex, but I’m a damned good liar. They’ll believe me. By the time I’m finished spinning my tale, you’re going to have even more of a reputation for being an ice princess.”

  “Hmm.” I had no qualms about touching her hair. I pushed a lock behind her ear and tucked the violets there. “About not being any good at sex, Folana. You were very good for a novice. I’d like to see you again. Whether you choose to make love…” I used that phrase deliberately. “…with me or not.”

  “Portia…” She seemed uncertain.

  “There’s no need for you to make a hasty decision. As I said, I’ll be here at least a few more months.” I could read the uncertainty in her eyes, and I waited for her to turn me down.

  “If you…if you don’t mind waiting?”

  “Not in the least.” Was she going to agree to it? The possibility caused a flutter low in my belly.

  “Then thank you. I think I’d like that too.”

  * * * *

  I’d been seeing her almost every evening for the past week, but always in a crowd, always surrounded by interested onlookers.

  Now she had selected this place for us to meet.

  I stood at the back of the cinema. At this time of the day, it was almost empty.

  On the screen we
re flickering images in black and white. Celia Johnson was telling Trevor Howard how easy it was to lie when you knew you were trusted without reserve, how very easy and how very degrading.

  Poor woman. She would never have survived in the intelligence community.

  My eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and I spotted Folana sitting at the far end of the row, four rows down. There was no one this far back to question my choice in that spot, when there was the entire theatre available. I dropped into the seat beside her.

  She turned her face slightly toward me and smiled, her hand reaching for mine. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  “Someone was following me. I had to make sure I didn’t lose him.”

  “I don’t understand. Surely you’d want to lose him?”

  If I did, they would know I was aware of their actions. They would send someone else to shadow me, and it would take time to figure out who it was. “Oh, dear. That was foolish of me, wasn’t it?” And if he was replaced at this point, I would know exactly how much I could trust her. “Why did you choose this movie?”

  Her shoulders shifted under the bomber jacket that was loosely draped over them, a marked difference from the furs she wore in the evening. “Bart told me Brief Encounter was playing here when I mentioned I was going to take in a film with a friend and had no idea what to go see.”

  All that sexual tension, with nowhere to go.

  Rather like us.

  I had seen Brief Encounter before. Mother loved this type of movie and insisted on company whenever she watched it. Even though my brothers weren’t excused—Mother had announced that since they’d have to accompany their lady friends to the movies, they needed to learn how to sit through a tearjerker without displaying an ounce of condescension—I was the one usually “volunteered.”

  Folana noticed my distraction. Before I realized what she was doing, she leaned over and kissed me. Her lips were soft and warm, and the caress was tentative. Desire pooled deep inside me and heat seemed to radiate off me.