Enemy's Kiss

by Jun, Kristi

  “Are you asking me to make a choice?” Her insides rumbled at the thought of never seeing him again.

  “I had, to my best of ability, tried to discourage you from taking this route when you came to me for help. Do you remember?” He paused, gazing at her as if she were his own daughter with kindness in his eyes. “I never wished this for you, Emma. This life you have chosen isn’t easy. Staying clear headed and unattached is what keeps Michael alive.”

  It was all true, but she was happy to forget. She’d been a distraction to him. The truth was he’d made no promises to her, not a single word about their future.

  “It’s no accident that he remains unattached at nearly thirty years of age, my dear girl. Men like him come and go without a moment’s notice for a reason.”

  “I think you are mistaken if you think I had any plans for Michael and I.” She bit back the hot tears burning behind her eyes because the instant she said it, she knew it was a lie.

  “Don’t you?” he said softly.

  “I don’t. You can be sure of that.” The last thing she wanted was to distract Michael from his duty, to get him killed. She could not live with that knowledge.

  “There is more. This man Michael is on his way to rescue has a little son in Cumberland. Henry is his name…he’s nearly five. Need I say more?”

  A little boy? She raised her hand to stop him. “I understand.” She felt her heart slowly harden with each breath, forcing herself to go numb. Tomkin had informed her from the beginning that if he trained her she must be loyal to him, to her duty to find the killer. But she was utterly content to forget for a brief moment in the sun, to feel again.

  “Let him go, Emma,” Tomkin said softly. “By doing so, you are helping Michael and saving lives.”

  The little girl giggled, shattering Emma’s thoughts. She found herself smiling, but quickly turned away. The mission was her primary focus and there was no room for anything else. “When we arrive in Tibet, you said we are to find Samuel and deliver the missive.”

  Tomkin nodded.

  “Who is he?”

  “Ahh…that,” he said. “I am unable to reveal that information to you now, but trust that there is a reason for everything I have asked you to do.” He paused to look around the perimeter once more and frowned at the hackney parked nearby. “Keep your wits about you, my dear girl.”

  “Do you suspect he will betray us?” Everything was happening too fast. She hadn’t had time to consider the ramifications of their mission to Tibet. Did Michael despise her enough to jilt her and search for the killer on his own?

  “He’s one of Wellington’s best and the Regent trusts him implicitly,” he said.

  “If the Regent trusts him, why are you concerned?” Emma asked. For a moment he seemed distant, as if he was recalling a memory.

  “I believe he is blinded by anger and grief. My fear is he may use whatever means necessary to prove Geoffrey’s innocence.”

  She didn’t think he would, but she wasn’t certain now that he knew the truth about her and her intent to foil Geoffrey’s plan. “I understand the need to want justice for the murder of someone you cared for.”

  Tomkin nodded. “Yes, but there is a thin line between vengeance and justice, especially when he blames you for Geoffrey.”

  “So, is that my mission then? To make sure Michael doesn’t kill the murderer?” she asked. “What makes you think I won’t?”

  “It’s not in you, my dear.” He observed her, as though recalling a memory he’d buried.

  The thought had occurred to her that there may be a day when she would be faced with such a task. Would she take his life if the situation allowed for it? She shook her head. No matter how angry she was, she didn’t want his blood on her hands. It would make her no better than the man who stripped her of the life she had.

  “He is a good soldier,” he said. “He just needs guidance in his grief from someone who has been through grief themselves. Someone with a power to influence him. Someone who is willing to do what is right when the time arises.”

  “I see.”

  “Deliver the missive together and do whatever you feel necessary to keep him on task.” Tomkin paused for a moment, as if he was contemplating something. Then he said, “I know I’ve said this to you before, but it bears repeating. Seduction has its advantage in persuasion, my dear girl,” he finally added. “Do whatever it takes to keep him on task. Do you understand?”

  Seduce Michael? The thought sent hot waves of excitement through her, tempered with a shudder of fear. He was the last person on earth she wanted to seduce and she was certain the feeling was mutual now.

  “Am I making an error in asking this of you?” Lord Tomkin said, carefully watching her. “Do you still have feelings for Michael?”

  “There is nothing between us, not any longer. Haven’t I proven that to you since you last advised me in that regard?” Even as she spoke, she felt a torch of lie that singed her heart.

  He nodded. “Indeed. You have been quite loyal and, truth be told, you’ve been like a daughter to me all these years. I only want the best for you and I think this mission will prove very fruitful for us both. In the end, I believe, you will be very happy with the results.”

  “All I want is justice for my parents. That is all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “As do I.” Tomkin leaned in towards her. “Smile, my dear,” he whispered in her ear. “We are being watched.”

  * * *

  The sky rumbled and the dark clouds cast a dreary shadow upon London. Michael sunk deep into the seat inside the hired hackney and sighed, his weightless breaths fogging up the window. A dark gloom blanketed the interior of the carriage, killing what little light remained inside. Michael turned his head and looked out the window. While he had excused himself nearly an hour ago and exited Hyde Park, he didn’t go far. He’d ordered a driver to circle the block or two and return to the entrance. Now, from the grimy window he had a perfect view of the two conversing at the mouth of the park’s entrance.

  He looked on.

  Just then, Tomkin whispered something in her ear and Emma smiled wide. He leaned in to the window to get a better look at them. Tomkin’s gaze peered in his direction and Michael jerked back as if he’d been caught stealing a sweet morsel at the confectioner.

  He waited a minute and looked out the window again. She was nowhere to be seen, but his superior was now walking toward the hackney he’d hired.

  Perfect.

  He wanted answers to why he had to travel half way around the world with a woman who had quite skillfully duped Society and him. As soon as the Home Secretary was within speaking distance, he opened the door and stepped out.

  Lord Tomkin stopped in front of Michael, frowning. “You,” he said. “I thought we had concluded our business.”

  “Not quite,” Michael said, tapping the window twice. The vehicle hitched and drove off, the sound of the wheels rumbling faintly in the distance. “If you expect me to protect her, I will need answers.”

  “I have told you everything you need to know,” Tomkin said. He nodded politely at the passerby and started to walk toward Mayfair.

  Michael followed the Home Secretary. “This isn’t about the mission, not entirely anyway.”

  “I see,” he drawled. “Then I can only conclude that your reason for spying on us has something to do with Emma. She is fighting her own demons, Michael. Leave it be.”

  The sound of her name sent a myriad of conflicting emotions pumping through his veins.

  “What is it you seek?” Tomkin asked, shattering Michael’s thoughts. They continued to stroll down the street and two young, attractive ladies with their maids walked in the opposite direction. Their smiles discreetly widened and Michael politely tilted his head at them and strolled on.

  “The truth,” Michael said. “Did you have anything to do with our meeting at the shop that day?” The day he’d met Emma for the first time, it was a particularly lonely afternoon as he had returned from a mi
ssion that morning. He felt a strange longing for company, a connection he did not understand. To this day, he couldn’t rid himself of that damned lingering hint of vanilla on her neck, a hint of orange in her mouth.

  Michael saw Tomkin’s puzzled expression, but it quickly faded as understanding dawned. “I had no hand in that,” his superior answered. For a reason he did not understand, Lord Tomkin’s answer satisfied him a great deal. Knowing he could never trust her again, he let the matter of their first meeting at Bond Street drop. A good idea since he was now charged with protecting her. “You don’t have to let her get involved in all this. I can certainly take care of the mission on my own,” Michael said.

  “She came to me for help. I could not and will not refuse her.” Tomkin paused, the lines of his face deepened with emotion. “I knew her parents since before she was born. You should know she is still grieving the loss of her parents, although she will never admit it. She needs this to move on, to live her life without regret.”

  Michael said nothing, Geoffrey’s death still raw in his thoughts. He may not trust her, despise her even, but he understood her need for justice and the need for closure.

  “You both lost so much,” his superior said thoughtfully. “Use that to fuel your purpose instead of being angry at her for the choices she’s made.” He paused, observing Michael. “There are those who are born for this kind of business we are in,” his elder said. “You are one of them. She isn’t. And that is why she needs you now. I have done everything in my power to protect her as much as I can.”

  “If you truly wanted to protect her, you would never have allowed her to be part of this.”

  “Perhaps, but we can’t change the past,” Tomkin sighed. “She is your responsibility now.”

  Michael nodded. “I’ve given you my word, haven’t I?”

  “Indeed.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Emma entered the townhouse in Grosvenor Square and flattened against the door. Pulling out the sealed missive from her bodice, she reined in the temptation to open it. Even if she could somehow see the contents, it would mean violating her word to Lord Tomkin. When her parents were murdered, she had no one to trust, nowhere to go. It was Lord Tomkin who took her in, trained her, and gave her hope.

  She would not fail him now.

  Still, there were days when she fought to keep the memory of her family alive. Days when she would have given anything to simply forget and disappear to the ends of the earth. With Lord Tomkin’s training, she had learned to dull her emotions when necessary. He had drilled it into her, over and again until she lied without batting an eye, laughed when it was the last thing she had wanted to do, and learned to pay attention to every detail. When her resolve diminished, she used her own anger to fuel her purpose.

  Each day had been a battle. Today was no exception.

  Johnson, Lord Tomkin’s butler, appeared from the hallway. “Miss Willoughby,” he said, his bushy brows pulling together. “I did not hear you come in.” Then for several seconds he observed her most curiously. “Are you all right, Miss? You seem quite…pale.”

  “I do?” she said, touching her cheek. “I think I shall like to rest for a while in my room.”

  “Of course, Miss. Would you like me to prepare tea and biscuits for you?” the old butler asked. Emma shook her head and the butler went back to his business of instructing the servants.

  Finding the strength, she pulled away from the door, walked up the stairs, and stepped into her room, biting back the hot emotions igniting again with new purpose. She had no room for tears, no room for—

  A cold blade drew up to her neck and her breath snagged in her throat. Her hands gripped the culprit’s solid arm and her chin tilted up as the cold knife pressed on her neck.

  “Afraid?” A chilling yet familiar voice taunted.

  His musky male scent propelled peculiar tingles up and down her spine. He lowered his free hand and slid into her bodice. She gasped when his fingers touched the tip of her breasts, heart racing with anticipation. With one flick of his hand, he pulled out a pen knife she’d hidden between the mounds of her bosoms before departing home. Before she could react he released her with a gentle shove, leaving several feet between them.

  Their eyes met and her gaze swept the very tall length of him. She had forgotten how delicious he smelled. His stark blue eyes darkened and, for one single moment, she thought she caught a glimpse of lust brewing there.

  Lust? Wrong. He despises you.

  “Danger, Miss Willoughby, lurks everywhere.” Michael slid his knife back into the sheath tucked into his boot.

  “Apparently so,” she whispered.

  “I thought you were trained?” He tossed her knife on the settee.

  “I am.” Her eyes swept his broad frame, the loose cravat about his neck.

  “Really?” He walked around the room and tipped his head to look out the window, then back at her. “If that were the case, you would have had your knife about my neck. How many missions, exactly?”

  She unlocked her gaze from his and turned to the window. She felt him approach, closer. Closer still. Her heart quickened. She dared not move.

  “How many?”

  One. But she was not about to give him the satisfaction. “I do not need to use physical force to accomplish my task.”

  “Ah yes, the good old game of seduction. A skill you’ve quite mastered, I think. I know this first hand.”

  If only he knew the truth, he wouldn’t be so cruel. She felt him approach her from behind, his hand caressing the curve of her neck. Slowly snaking around, he pulled her to him, her back now against his firm chest. Heat flared inside her, wishing for the impossible.

  “That may work well with a target, especially when the poor soul is already in love with the spy charged to take him out, don’t you think?” he said.

  She pulled away from him. “I did what I had to.”

  “Listen well. You are an amateur at best and you will only end up rotting in the gutter if you persist.” He took several strides towards her, leaving barely a foot between them.

  “So you have come here to teach me a lesson? Is that it? I can assure you that there is nothing you can say or do to deter me from my goal.”

  “No, I am not here to teach anyone a lesson. But I do need to know the extent of your capacity.”

  “Now you know, so kindly get the bloody hell out of my house,” she warned. Walking over to the settee, she retrieved her knife and held it firmly in her hand.

  He didn’t bat an eye at her blasphemy. She refused to let this man intimidate her under his scrutiny. She tipped her chin up and looked squarely at him.

  “Tell Lord Tomkin you want out and I’ll give you my word to deliver the message and find the killer.”

  Typical male, thinking he would be her knight to save the day. No, it was her responsibility to find justice for her family and to keep him on task. “I will do no such thing. I will have my satisfaction of looking him in the eye when he is caught.”

  His jaws twitched. “Then I suggest you prepare yourself because we will be entering a hostile territory in the middle of a bloody war. Gurkhas will not hesitate to slit your throat once they discover you.”

  “Gurkhas?” She tried to sound impassive, but her tone gave it away.

  “Nepalese mercenaries,” he said. “Quite unforgiving where the English are concerned. Lord Hastings is fighting a bloody war that no English cares a damn about.” He paused for her reaction. “And the Chinese military, well…that’s another matter altogether.”

  She’d deal with them once she was there. “Thank you for the cautionary advice. I am well prepared for miscreants that cross my path.”

  “I don’t think you are,” he said carefully. “And that can be very dangerous for us both.”

  She glared at him. “Since you seem to have everything figured out, what is your plan?”

  “My plan,” he said with a mocking tone, “is to stay alive.”

  “Is that suppo
sed to frighten—”

  “This isn’t a game.”

  His gaze fixed on her lips and lingered, sending waves of heat through her body. She cursed herself for allowing this man to affect her. “I’m quite aware this isn’t a game, Mr.Whitfield.” Her tone belied her show of confidence. No doubt he could see her quaking skin and shivering nerves.

  He looked deep into her eyes. “Emma,” he said, his voice taking on a softer tone. “I need you to back away from this. I give you my word I’ll find the killer.”

  Their gazes locked and she saw he meant what he said. “I can’t,” she said softly, shaking her head. “I won’t.”

  He backed away from her, his features hardening once more. “Then I only have one thing to say to you.”

  “And what would that be?” she said, curtly.

  “Be prepared,” he said, “for the hell you are about to enter.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Michael scanned the Black Cat Tavern from the corner table. This place was a refuge for him, a place to assemble and dissect their missions without prying eyes.

  He emptied another glass of whiskey then slammed it on the tatty pot-hole table that smelled of old dirty rags and ale. A twinge of guilt sat heavy in his gut. He wondered if he should have taken such a drastic measure by putting a knife about her neck to prove his point to her. Of course, he’d never hurt her, but he needed to know the extent of her skills.

  Clearly she wasn’t ready.

  A deep sense of caution gripped him, more than he’d like to admit.

  Kane Roberts, a Bow Street Runner, poured him another drink from the bottle on the table. “What do you intend to do about Miss Willoughby?” he asked.

  “I’m told she’s the key to this mission. I have no choice but to protect her.” He leaned back in his wooden chair, the shouts and laughter drumming in his ears. He gazed at the amber liquid in his glass, Geoffrey’s words still haunting him: Didn’t mean for this….