by Jun, Kristi
Michael shrugged, not knowing what to say to her.
“Sit down. Over there….” She pointed to the rectangular table with stools in the middle of the kitchen. She wiped her eyes with her apron. “Bless the Lord for bringing you home again. His lordship,” she said in a whisper, “missed you terribly. Just terribly.”
Michael choked with emotion.
“I heard that,” William said, wiping mud off his forehead with his sleeves. “Don’t believe anything she tells you. It’s all lies.”
“I’ll get some fresh towels for you boys.” With that she quickly left the room.
“Something to ease the ache, Martin,” William requested. “Something strong.”
Martin seemed to think on this for a bit and walked out of the kitchen. It became awfully quiet. Neither man spoke in the awkwardness as they waited for Martin’s return.
“Scotch,” Martin said, walking into the kitchen again with a glass carafe filled with an amber liquid. “I know how much you liked the bottle I sent you for Christmas.”
“Good. It’ll help me with the pain,” William said, touching his chin.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit early to be indulging?”
“What’s the matter, looby?” William taunted, sitting down at the wooden table in the kitchen. “Afraid I’ll drink you under the table?”
Martin poured William a glass, then a tall one for Michael before leaving them to their privacy. Michael stood and his brother glared at him in condemnation.
“Sit,” William ordered. “You’re going to walk out on Mr. and Mrs. Martin too, are you?” Without a blink, he gulped up the amber content in the glass in one motion. “You got me into this mess and you’re going to sit and indulge me.”
Michael grudgingly pulled out a wooden chair and sat across from his brother. William promptly poured himself a tall glass. Mrs. Martin walked into the kitchen with a stack of towels, then walked over to the oven and pulled out fresh bread from the oven. The smell of baked bread filled the kitchen causing his stomach to growl. Slicing the bread into thin pieces, she placed them in the basket and handed it to Michael.
“Thank you,” Michael said. “It smells delicious.”
“I’ll have some hot apple pie ready, if you have time later.” Wiping her hands on her apron, she smiled again before leaving them.
William downed the second drink, then poured himself another. “Easy with that.” Michael never thought to consider that his absence might hinder William in some measurable way. In fact, he always thought William to be quite capable and that he seemed to enjoy his absence.
William glared at Michael again, and then downed it. “Drink up,” he said, “And that’s an order.”
Michael downed the amber liquid. Damn it was smooth. “Good booze.”
“Indeed. It’s the best and we have Martin to thank for it.”
For some time both men kept silent. William kept drinking and Michael didn’t want to feed the animosity between them so he kept silent and followed suit. The second round of drink loosened his muscles and the tension between them lessened quite significantly. Mrs. Martin brought several wet cloths and ointment for the cuts and left the room again.
“You deserve it, you know,” William started and downed his third glass of Scotch. “You’re always so damn serious about everything, just like father.”
“You’re drunk,” Michael said.
“Perhaps I am,” William said. “But that won’t change the subject. Are you going to tell me once and for all what the hell you’ve been up to all these years? And don’t tell me you’ve been in India on business again.”
No, actually. He’d been in Portugal, Spain, and Prussia, but not officially, and therefore he could not breathe a word of it to anyone. “I find opportunities wherever I go.” Michael said. “Gambling and women…that’s me.”
William narrowed his eyes. “Hellfire,” he said. “You’re hiding something and I demand to know what it is.” He grabbed the decanter and tried to pour himself another, but Michael stopped him. William yanked the bottle from Michael’s grip and proceeded to pour the liquid into his glass.
“I am what I am,” Michael started. “There is nothing else to be said about it.”
“That’s it, huh? That’s your sorry excuse?” William said. “I never believed it when you made yourself out to be some blackguard who gambled away his entire inheritance. I never believed it then and I don’t believe it now.”
Could William have known he was a spy? His employment with the Home Office? While he didn’t wish to lie to his family, he was sworn to secrecy. In truth, it was easier to fabricate his life and keep his family at arm’s length.
“You’ve been so focused in your damn anger, always running.”
“I wasn’t running,” he defended. “I had obligations.”
William’s gaze narrowed, as if something had occurred to him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were involved in some shady deals. Importing illegal contraband for blunt, huh?”
“It’s best not to inquire,” Michael finally said. He could think of a handful of men who’d like to hurt anyone close to him, if they had the chance. Of course, most of them were locked up in secure prisons in the Continent.
“For whom?” William waited, but when Michael didn’t elaborate, he continued. “For you?”
“For everyone.”
William slammed his cup on the wooden table. “You’re so damned indignant in your own misery. I played the part you wanted me to play. And you deserved every bit of it. This is about Ashley, isn’t it? You weren’t the only one who grieved for her, you know. We all did. Just because you’d been the closest to her doesn’t mean you have the right to treat us as though we don’t exist.”
Perhaps he wouldn’t be lying if he’d said Ashley’s death took a part of his soul with her. His family grieved, too, but they were veiled from the truth, one that he promised never to utter to another soul. “I was charged with bringing her back. I couldn’t.” The knowledge of defeat held him immobile.
William sighed heavily and leaned forward. “I won’t lie. I was angry and I blamed you for her death for a long time.” He paused and looked at Michael. “The truth is…it’s not your fault.”
Michael felt the lump in his throat, filled with regret and packed with emotion he tried to veil quite unsuccessfully. He took the decanter, poured himself a tall drink, and downed it in one fell swoop. The liquid made its way down to his stomach, numbing him. Then he poured himself another.
“We know, we have for some time now,” William said.
“Know what?”
“Ashley suffered from bouts of deep melancholy. Sometimes for days…weeks, even.”
Michael let out a heavy sigh. By God, his family knew Ashley had taken her own life that night at Greta Green. He saw the look of defeat in William’s eyes. Part of him felt relieved that his family finally knew the truth, but another part of him still blamed himself for her death.
For several minutes, both men said nothing.
“It was my job to bring her back safe,” Michael finally said.
“We can’t live in the past.” Perhaps William sensed it was time to change the subject, because the next thing he said was, “Your fiancée, I can’t discern what it is, but she is a precarious creature.”
Michael said nothing. Was this the Spanish Inquisition or what? He didn’t come in here to be interrogated. He had enough of that to last several life times. So Michael numbed his mind as he had been trained to do. Because it was easier.
“You’ve been tight-lipped about where you’ve been.” William narrowed his eyes at Michael as if trying to read his thoughts. “Fine, I don’t require you to participate. Clearly, you care deeply about her and she seems to think quite fondly of you, although I cannot imagine why.”
“I guess we all have our blind spots, don’t we?” Michael tried to smile to lighten the mood, but failed miserably.
He lowered his gaze, his posture slowl
y starting to slouch from the effects of the drinks he’d already had. “I, too, am not without fault…after all, to lust over one’s own brother’s fiancée is quite unthinkable,” William admitted. “If you weren’t family, I wouldn’t hesitate to snatch her up for myself.”
“You still think of me as family?”
William’s scowl slowly morphed into a faint smile in brotherly affection. “You are family and don’t you bloody hell forget it,” he blurted out, quick and curt. “Your fiancée may be opinionated and stubborn, but I think she is good for you. You need someone who will remind you of what is really important, now and again.” He paused to look at his twin.
Perhaps he’d been away too long. If all goes well and he survives this mission, he’d think about settling down and starting a family of his own. Emma just might be someone to provide that for him. But then again, she’d made it clear to him that she wanted nothing to do with him. For the first time since they’d been assigned to this mission, the thought of Emma no longer in his life made him feel quite doleful.
But, as much as he wanted to believe he could trust her, he was painfully aware that she may have her own agenda and, therefore, could not be fully trusted. How could they have a real relationship when everything was a lie?
“Do me a favor,” William said.
Snapping back to reality, Michael nodded.
“Don’t muck it up.” William poured Michael another tall drink and the twins gulped it up in no time.
* * *
Emma walked up the stairs after breakfast with Michael’s family. She found it quite soothing to listen to Kyra and her ladyship converse about the twins as they were growing up and the trouble they caused in the village. Somehow it made her feel she was part of the family. It would prove very difficult to leave Chatham Hall.
She spent far too much time with these decent people than was good for her. As she took the last step of the stairs, a lump formed in her throat and her heart softened to mush. She’d have to leave Chatham Hall. Of course she would have to. This wasn’t her home. Lord Tomkin had warned her about getting emotionally attached while she was on a mission, didn’t he? It was best to keep her distance, she reminded herself again. Lord Chatham and Michael should have been present at the breakfast table. Where the devil were they?
She walked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Her eyes lifted and she saw the still life of peonies above the fireplace with a firm tug on her heart. Her father had ordered dozens of the fragrant flowers for her mother when they were in season.
She swallowed the emotions deep down and forced herself to find composure again. It would not do for her to break down now. She needed to remain unattached and focused for her parents’ sake. But staying here felt like she was stuck in limbo, unable to move forward. She needed to do something.
Perhaps she—
Knock, knock.
Emma whipped around to the door. Botherations, she wasn’t in a mood to see anyone.
Knock, knock.
She answered the door. There, in front of her, Michael was leaning on the door frame and he reeked of liquor. Her eyes dropped to the top three buttons of his shirt that had been undone. There were spots of crimson on his clothing and he looked as though a painter took a wet muddy brush and slapped it all over him.
He stumbled into the room forcing her to step back several steps to prevent him from bumping into her. Or worse falling on her.
Michael pinched his brows and frowned at her. “Will you stand still for a bloody minute?”
“I am standing still.” Her hands perched on her hips, she watched him make his way to the dresser. “I guess I don’t have to ask what happened. You should have been more careful. The servants could have seen you.”
He waved his hand at her in dismissal. “William insisted I take a swig with him, but that isn’t the reason why I came,” he paused and looked around the room. “What in God’s name is that bloody noise?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s the birds chirping outside. Honestly, how much did you indulge this morning?”
“Doesn’t matter. I think it is I,” he said and pointed to himself, “who should be asking the questions around here.”
The man was in no position to question anyone, but she didn’t fight him. From the looks of things this line of inquiry wasn’t going to last very long. Perhaps she could assist him to sit down before he hurt himself. “Go ahead and ask me, but perhaps you should sit down first.” He gave no response.
She walked up to him and positioned herself to assist him. “Here, let me.” She proceeded to wrap his muscular arm around her shoulder. When his weight shifted, she lost her balance but he quickly steadied her against him, pulling her into his arms.
“Careful now,” he said.
Who is assisting who here? The close proximity made her heart jump with excitement. Her breast pressed against his chest and her eyes lifted to his. Obviously, he didn’t see the need to let her go. A seductive desire flickered in his eyes. His gaze slowly dropped to her breasts and lingered there, then moved up to her lips.
“We have unsettled business, you and I,” he whispered.
“Oh?” She felt his strength against her. For a second she thought he would kiss her and she held her breath….
“Why did you not come to me?”
She shook her head. “I’m right here, Michael.”
“No,” he murmured. “That night at the cottage. You never showed. Why?”
She sobered with that question. She searched his eyes. Why was he asking her this? Why now? In truth, it would do well for them if they both forgot about that night altogether and the times they spent together in the cottage for the sake of the mission.
“Let’s not complicate things, Michael,” she murmured, pulling away from him. He didn’t stop her. “It’s over.”
“At least have the decency to tell me why,” he said. “I deserve an answer.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” she said. “I chose not to meet you because I had an obligation I couldn’t walk away from.”
His gaze intensified. “Were you ordered to keep an eye on me? Is that your mission?”
His tone sounded bitter, almost hurt. Emma went still, emotions bleeding inside her. Yes, she’d been ordered to keep him on task and, yes, she was ordered to keep an eye on him. She didn’t want to have this conversation when he was barely able to stand on his own two feet.
“You need to sleep, Michael. Please let me help you get back to your room before anyone sees you like this.”
He raked his hand through his ebony hair, his blue eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t give a damn who sees me. You should have told me in person. I deserved that, at least.” He paused, looking weary as if he didn’t have the strength to stand. “I should have never brought the ring.” He slowly made his way to her bed and fell backwards onto the coverlet, his hands resting on top of each other on his abdomen.
Ring? He brought a ring. What ring? Was he going to propose to her? The thought sent dreadful regret into the pit of her stomach. But how could she have known? Oh, Michael…you fool. You should have told me sooner. Now, it’s too late. “Michael, let me help you back to your room, please,” she pleaded.
“It was my Ashley’s favorite….”
But before she could get him to leave her room, he closed his eyes. Oh blast. She quickly went to her door, opened it to peek out. Good. The hall was empty. Perhaps if she—
A soft snore came from behind her. She turned to gaze at him sleeping on her bed while his legs dangled off to the side. She walked up to him and sat down by his side, her heart aching to touch him. You poor man.
It took a bottle of Scotch to break him. He had built up a defensive wall and she could not blame him for it. He spent his life protecting others, including her. Her safety had come first and in many ways she was thankful. Yet a sense of melancholy filled her. No matter how strong he was, mentally and physically, he needed someone who would take care of him and make him
happy.
She suddenly felt an overwhelming sense to protect him too. But she knew she could never be that person.
Emma watched him and with each breath, her heart softened. There was mud under his nails, on his dark brows, and between the fibers of his ebony hair. There was a small bump protruding at the side of his forehead. Reaching out to touch his face, she paused, then pulled her hand back. He needed to sleep. Lord knows he needed some peace in his life.
With that thought, she locked her door and walked up to the bed again. Trying not to wake him, she let her own inhibitions drop and she cuddled up to him, burying her face against the curve of his neck. Resting her hand on his chest, she felt his heart thump, thump, thump under her palm.
Her heart swelled with emotions and she had no desire for this to end. He shifted a little, his hand cupping hers, his touch sending a warm shiver inside her.
Who knew a cold-hardened spy had a heart, one that was fragile and wounded.
CHAPTER 21
Never in his life had he been so recklessly drunk.
Michael looked at the decorative clock on the marble mantle above the fireplace again. Half past eight in the evening—I’m bloody late.
When he awoke in Emma’s bedchamber an hour ago, he had a pounding headache and the room had spun like the devil. It took another hour or so for the dizziness to dissipate, but the damn headache unfortunately would not relent. Knowing he already missed breakfast and lunch with his family, he would not dare miss dinner.
He’d called for a valet to assist him in dressing for dinner. When the young man showed up at the door, he informed Michael that her ladyship expected the family to observe full mourning in the light of Geoffrey’s death. Once his valet tied his cravat to perfection, Michael dismissed him.
Slowly pulling his sore arms through the mourning coat sleeves, he winced. Every muscle in his body ached from the brawl with William. He was certain his brother was in no better condition than he. But it had been years since they drank together. It felt like old times.
Emma materialized in his mind. In many ways, she had forced him to face his demons and he was grateful for that. Very grateful, actually. An amalgam of conflicting emotions suddenly stormed through him. God, he wished he could trust her. But how could he when there were unanswered questions? Was she ordered to keep an eye on him? Was she somehow involved with Tomkin in treasonous acts? It stung him to even consider the possibility. He shook his head. No, she could not have a hand in betraying everyone, most of all him.