In Love with the King's Spy (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  "I wish it so. Now, would you please sit?" Simeon slapped the book down on his lap. "You're making me as vexed as you appear, woman."

  In the reflection of the window Julia caught Griffin still watching her intently. She swallowed. Just the thought of his blue-eyed gaze on her made her warm.

  "You're right," she said carefully, taking her time to turn to her husband. "I'm unsettled tonight. I should go to my chambers."

  "Ridiculous." He returned his attention to his book. "It's too early for sleep. Sit down. Haven't you a bit of needlework or reading material? A bit of romantic dribble, perhaps?"

  Griffin leaped up from the French settee he lounged upon. "Play backgammon with me."

  She folded her hands in front of her. Being in this small room with Griffin and Simeon at the same time vexed her, all right. Every time one of the men spoke or moved, she startled like a deer in lamplight. "No. No, thank you, sir."

  "Sit down and play the game with the boy," Simeon ordered irritably. "Jesus Christ, the son! He entertains you often enough. Amuse my cousin for a few moments. It won't hurt you to at least pretend not to be so contrary, Julia."

  Griffin quickly moved to a table only large enough for two to sit across from each other. "Madame . . ." He offered her one of the chairs.

  Simeon engrossed himself in his book, and Julia made a face at Griffin. She shook her head as if to tell him they shouldn't be doing this. Griffin nodded and smiled.

  I don't want to be here, she thought. I don't want to play this dangerous game—and it was not backgammon she thought of. But she sat because she felt she had no choice. To argue might well seem more suspicious to Simeon than refusing to play.

  Griffin quickly took the seat across from her and began to set the game pieces into place. As the game began, Julia tried to focus on her moves and not Griffin's hands. But as he smoothed one of his pieces between his fingers, her concentration on the game faltered. She imagined those hands, those fingers, brushing against her nipples, and fought an involuntary shiver of desire. She imagined him taunting her flesh, teasing her. She thought of him touching lower, more intimate places.

  "Julia, your play."

  Caught. She didn't dare glance up for fear of betraying her thoughts, but scooped up the dice and tossed them. She moved without caring where.

  As they played, Griffin kept making eye contact with her. His gazed brushed over her face, the swell of her breasts above the bodice of her gown. He shifted in his hard chair, and she didn't have to guess what was making him uncomfortable. Once she licked her dry lips quite innocently, and caught him watching her. The look in his eyes told her his thoughts were far from innocent.

  Suddenly Julia felt Griffin's hand on her knee beneath the table. She kicked him. He jumped. Grinned.

  Stop it, she mouthed.

  Stop what?

  She couldn't keep from watching his lips move. She felt them on her neck, on her breasts, on her belly. You know what! she mouthed back.

  He lifted one plucked eyebrow innocently.

  "Your turn, my lord," she said aloud.

  "What will your sister say?" Amos questioned nervously.

  Amos's hand was cold in hers as Lizzy darted through the shadows of the crisp night air. "I don't give a hang what she says." She yanked open the door to the smokehouse, the wind caught it, and Amos raised up his hands to ease it open again.

  Lizzy stepped inside. "Close it," she whispered.

  Amos closed the door and latched it.

  It was so dark inside that she could barely see Amos, but it didn't matter because she could hear him breathing. She could feel him near her. She held out her arms.

  "Lizzy, I don't think this is a good idea. The mistress—"

  She lowered her arms. "Do you love me, Amos?"

  "Lizzy . . . Lizzy, it ain't that simple. I—"

  " 'Tis that simple to me, Amos. Either you love me or you don't." She settled one hand on her hip, the same way she'd seen her sister do more times than she could count.

  "She is right, Lizzy. About me bein' nothin' but a cook, and you bein' a great lady."

  "She's wrong about saying I don't have the head to know if I love you, Amos." She took a step toward him. "Because I know I do. I don't think about anything but you. About how you laugh when the stew bubbles over. About how you wipe the flour off my nose." Her lower lip quivered. "About how I feel inside when you kiss me here." She touched her mouth. "And here." She pulled open her cloak and brushed her finger over the bare skin above her bodice.

  "Ah, Lizzy," Amos said as if he was hurting.

  She took another step in the dark smokehouse that smelled of hickory and pork. "Just tell me if you love me or not." She rested her hands on his shoulders.

  "She's not foolin' with us. If she catches me touchin' you, I won't have employment. I'll have to go away. We'll never see each other again, Lizzy!"

  She looked into his face. It was so dark she couldn't see it well, but she didn't have to, because she knew how upset he was. She knew how he was hurting, because she was hurting, too. "I'll go with you if she sends you away."

  He laughed. She smiled because she made him laugh. "Just tell me if you love me," she said.

  Finally he wrapped his arms around her waist, and she laid her head on his shoulder. Amos was so big and strong. He made Lizzy feel big and strong . . . and smart. Maybe that was why she loved him so much. Because he was the first person who didn't think she was dim-witted. He knew she wasn't as smart as him, as smart as Julia or Baron Archer, but Amos knew she wasn't an addlepate either.

  "Do you?" she insisted.

  He touched her hair, smoothing it like she had smoothed her lost dog's hair. "I love you," he whispered as if he were afraid to say it. "I love you, Lizzy."

  She raised her head from his shoulder. "Then everything's going to be all right," she whispered. "Because when two people love each other, it just is." Then she kissed him. She didn't know how she knew where his lips were, because she couldn't see them in the dark. She just knew.

  Julia intentionally made another poor move. She just wanted to get out of this stifling room, as far from Griffin and Simeon as possible.

  Griffin made a clucking sound, shook his head in response to her move, and took the dice. Doubles. He moved his last four game pieces home, and thankfully the backgammon game came to an end.

  "Another?" Griffin asked, his mouth twitching with amusement. "Surely you'll win next time."

  She pushed away from the table, her legs a little shaky. "I promised my sister I would read to her before she turned in." She backed away from him. "Good night, sir. Thank you for the diversion."

  She swept toward the door. "Good night, my lord."

  Simeon did not glance up from his book. "Good night, wife. I'll be up directly."

  Of course he wouldn't be. He said that every night, as if he always turned in with his wife. But everyone in the household knew the earl and his countess did not sleep together. They all pretended otherwise, because it was obviously what his lordship wanted them to do.

  "Yes, my lord." She curtsied, and then hurried from the withdrawing room. Taking the lamp from a footman outside the door, Julia went first to the library to fetch a new book to read to Lizzy, then up the back servants' staircase to the corridor that led to her bedroom.

  She nearly tripped over Griffin at the head of the dark, winding staircase.

  "Oh," she whispered, as the book fell from where she'd tucked it beneath her arm. "You gave me a fright. " She pressed her hand to her pounding heart. "And just what is the meaning of bringing up the hunting lodge? I thought we agreed I wouldn't go. That it wouldn't be safe."

  Griffin pushed Morte D'Arthur aside with the toe of his orange slipper and eased her against the wall. He touched his lips to the pulse of her throat. "God save my greedy soul, I couldn't help myself. And now with your husband's insistence, you'll have to go." He kissed her again, his hot mouth lingering at the pulse of her throat. "I need you, Julia. Let me come to
your chamber."

  She shook her head wildly, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. She held the lamp out so that neither of them would be burned. "No."

  He drew a line with the tip of his tongue between the swell of her breasts. He smelled of brandy laced with desire. "I have to see you."

  "No," she panted. "It's not safe. You said so yourself."

  "Julia, Julia," he whispered in her ear. "This is making me insane. I can't have you until my task is complete, and yet I can't concentrate on my task for want of you." He kissed her behind her earlobe. "Sweet heaven, do you know how much I want you?"

  His plea tempted her. She wanted so desperately to make him happy, if only for a few short, sweet hours. She wanted him so desperately. But then she remembered Simeon's sudden appearance in the gallery the other day. She and Griffin had come close to being caught. Too close.

  "It's not safe, Griffin. You have to let me go. Alone. Please let me go." Her voice quavered, her entire being aching for him. "Please?" She didn't dare touch him for fear she wouldn't be able to let go.

  He kissed her lips gently, then rested his cheek against hers. "You're right, of course," he conceded softly. "You're far stronger than I could ever be. Besides"—he kissed her again and then stepped back—"we have those days at the hunting lodge to look forward to."

  "That's a poor idea." She shook her head. "I shouldn't go. Too dangerous."

  "You heard Simeon. He insists. I see no way out of it."

  She closed her eyes, then opened them again. Would she be willing to risk everything to spend a few days alone with him, without feeling as if she were walking on shattered glass? "I suppose you're right. I thought I would at least bring Lizzy as an escort. It will look better that way."

  "Brilliant." He kissed her lips one last time, his hand lingering on her breast, and then started up the steps to the next floor where his own chamber lay. "Good night, my love."

  Julia leaned against the wall to catch her breath. "Good night, my love," she mouthed.

  After a moment to catch her breath and retrieve the fallen book, Julia headed for her chamber, illuminating her way with the lamp. As she made the turn in the dark hallway, she spotted Simeon waiting at her door.

  Her heart leaped in her breast. Sweet blood of the Father, where had he come from? The front staircase, of course.

  "There you are." Simeon leaned against the doorjamb. He smelled of the now-familiar garlic, but also brandy wine. He and Griffin must have shared a drink before retiring.

  "My lord." Julia halted out of arm's reach of him.

  "I was waiting for you." He made a motion as if he were washing his hands. "Where have you been?"

  "The library. I retrieved another book to read to Lizzy."

  He scowled. "You seemed to enjoy your little game with Archer tonight."

  She settled her gaze on the wool mules he wore on his feet. "He plays well, my lord. Better than I."

  He chuckled. "Of course he does. He's a man . . . of sorts." Then he did the oddest thing. Simeon reached out and plucked a ringlet of her hair from her shoulder, almost as a caress.

  Julia knew she trembled. What would she do if he tried to bed her again? Now that she had lain with Griffin, lying with Simeon was out of the question. She was Griffin's now, Griffin's until death did part them. She would kill herself before she gave herself to another man. No, she corrected, she would kill Simeon. She prayed it wouldn't come to that.

  "You remember our little chat in the gallery before our wedding, don't you?" He wound her hair around his finger.

  "Our chat?"

  He tugged hard on the ringlet and she winced. "Our chat. The ground rules." Tug. "You are mine." Tug. "No other's."

  A chill ran up her spine. Did he know something? Suspect?

  "Mine until you lay rotting in your grave." He let go of the curl. "Just wanted to remind you of that." He walked away. "Order what you like from the dressmaker for your trip to the hunting lodge." He turned and smiled. "Good night, wife."

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Julia stood in the front hall surrounded by St. Martin arms and armor and watched with amusement as an entourage of footmen passed, carting the Baron Archer's baggage to the awaiting carriage.

  "Make haste, make haste." Griffin led the parade, fluttering an embroidered handkerchief as he pranced on his heeled slippers. "The carriage awaits." He slapped his hand against his cheek. "Why, good morning, my Lady St. Martin." He halted and bowed as if they were at court rather than in the house they shared.

  "My lord." She curtsied, taking note of the manner in which his blue eyes sparkled with promise of the days to come. He was as excited about their journey as she was.

  Griffin stepped aside to allow the footmen to pass as a liveried coachman flung open the great door.

  "God rot my bowels, there's a chill in the air today." He tugged on the ties of his green- and white-checked cloak.

  Julia thought him rather bold to choose to wear the St. Martin colors while fully intending to cuckold the earl as soon as they were out of sight. "Chilly, indeed," she remarked.

  "Well . . ." In rare form this morning, he fluttered the handkerchief beneath her nose. "I do hope His Majesty is more inclined to play cards at the hearth than to hunt stag. I would hate to catch the ague and die at his feet."

  Julia had to look away to keep from laughing aloud. This morning she felt more lighthearted than she had since the day she'd come to Bassett Hall. She was escaping this dreadful house and its master for several days; she was going to meet the king; and most importantly, she was going to be with Griffin.

  Even knowing the dangers of going to the hunting lodge with him, her pulse raced with anticipation. She and Griffin had not discussed managing to be alone together at the lodge without arousing suspicion. He had told her to trust him. And she knew that it would happen. He would make it happen.

  A third footman staggered past, his arms burdened by a leather trunk and four hatboxes, the baggage stacked so high that he could barely see over it.

  "Do you intend to take permanent residence at the hunting lodge, my lord?" Julia inquired teasingly.

  Griffin planted one hand on his hip and fluttered eyelashes that she could have sworn had been darkened with the paint pot. "Sweet blood of Jesus, my lady, how should I know what to wear, what events will be taking place at the lodge? What if there's a banquet or a ball and I've nothing fitting to wear?" He wiggled his eyebrows as his hand flitted the handkerchief, daring her to giggle.

  Julia managed to keep her composure as a fourth footman passed, carrying a small gilded cage. Inside, Charles the cat sat upon a black velvet pillow, his gold eyes half-closed in contentment.

  Julia raised one eyebrow. "The cat, too?"

  "Who would feed him properly? And what if His Majesty is so impressed with me that he calls me to court? Surely I couldn't go without kit-ty."

  Heaven above, I love him, Julia thought. All she could do was nod and cover her mouth with her palm.

  The footman passed and Julia glanced up the grand staircase. Lizzy had still not come down, though their own two trunks had been loaded nearly half an hour earlier.

  "What do you think is keeping Lizzy?" Julia wanted to take her leave before Simeon had a chance to appear. Even knowing what a bastard he was, she still felt a thread of guilt for what she was doing. St. Martin was, after all, still her husband. She wore Griffin's jeweled ring this morning on a long gold chain beneath her shift as a symbol of hope.

  "Should I run and fetch her?" Griffin offered. "Perhaps that ogre of a nursemaid has locked her in the hall dungeon."

  Julia elbowed him, not caring if anyone saw her. "Hold your tongue. That nursemaid once swaddled me. She would give her life for my sister."

  He winked. "Lashing taken, my lady. I shall hold my tongue, though I do still intend to avoid the ogre-ess." He shuddered theatrically. "She frightens me, in all honesty."

  "Ah hah." Julia lifted her hand. "Here she comes." But then her smile became a frown.<
br />
  Lizzy slowly descended the staircase, her head hung, one hand over her abdomen. She was still in her morning gown, without cloak, hat, or gloves.

  Julia prayed this wasn't what it appeared to be. "Lizzy, I told you to dress warmly. It's a long ride to the lodge. The air is chilling. The coachman said he saw a flake or two of snow."

  "I don't feel well," Lizzy moaned as she reached the last tread of the immense staircase. "My tummy."

  Julia felt her heart fall to her feet. If Lizzy couldn't go to the hunting lodge, she couldn't. "Oh, no, tell me you're not ill." She grasped her sister's shoulders, riddled by guilt that her first thought had been for herself and not her sister.

  "I think I ate too many biscuits with jam. Drusilla said I shouldn't eat those last two, but I did anyway." She bent over. "Oh, Julia, my tummy hurts."

  "What's the matter? Are you still not off?" Simeon approached down the long hallway dressed in a cloak and carrying a walking cane, Mr. Gordy in tow.

  "I think Lizzy's ill, my lord," Julia said, hoping her disappointment was not too evident.

  "You have to go without me, Sister. I can't possibly travel."

  Julia took Lizzy's arm. "Don't be ridiculous. If you're ill, I'll stay."

  Simeon frowned. "Insult His Majesty by not accepting an invitation because your half-wit sister ate too many sweetmeats?" he flared. "You'll do no such thing!"

  Julia had to grit her teeth to keep from snapping a response. How dare he call Lizzy a half-wit—in front of her no less? "Really, my lord, I think it would be better—"

  "It's all right." Lizzy lifted her head quickly. "I'm really not so ill, Julia. I just need to go back to bed. Drusilla can take care of me."

  Julia studied Lizzy's face. She did appear pale, but she was awfully lively all of a sudden. She squeezed her sister's hand. "You certain you don't need me?"

  "I insist, wife." Simeon grasped her elbow roughly and steered her toward the open front door. "The nursemaid can care for her."

  "Lizzy?" Julia called over her shoulder.

  Lizzy gave her a little smile and a wave. "Have a good time hunting."

  Mr. Gordy took Lizzy gently by the arm. "I will see Lady Elizabeth safely to her chambers, my lady."