Enemy's Kiss

by Jun, Kristi

  When they had met at Bond Street a year ago, she had taken his breath away with her smile. He had planned to propose to her, and when she failed to show that night at the cottage, it nearly broke him in half. He’d been so angry with her and hurt. At first, he wanted to go straight to her townhouse and demand answers, but his ego ultimately would not allow for another blow to his pride. Whatever her reasons were for not showing up that night didn’t seem to matter as much as it did. And while he still didn’t like the idea of getting involved with Geoffrey, she had a valid reason to do so. He had no right to judge her. After all, he’d done far worse on his past missions, hadn’t he?

  There was part of him that desperately wanted to take her away from all this, to protect her, but she had informed him quite firmly that she didn’t need his protection. When all this was over, he needed to settle the matter with her once and for all.

  He looked at the reflection in the long oval mirror in the corner of the room with mixed emotions. Somehow he could not escape the full blow of Geoffrey’s death now. It had been easier to forget during the mission. The events leading up to his friend’s murder flashed in his mind: What were you trying to tell me?

  With no answer in sight, he forced the image back into the deep recesses of his mind and focused on the task at hand. No doubt Emma would be there for dinner. Bloody fool. It would help his situation considerably if he remembered what he’d blabbed about this morning in her bedroom.

  Exiting his room, he walked down the stairs and made his way to the parlor. The shutters were closed to keep out the chilly February weather and the room felt toasty from the fire in the hearth. Instantly, he was aware of Emma’s absence. His mother, who was sitting next to Kyra on the couch, saw him and smiled affectionately. Kyra, however, looked as though she’d been sobbing.

  William stood by the mantle as if he didn’t have the strength to stand on his own two feet. No doubt his brother was suffering the effects of the fall and the blow he took to his face. In fact, the bruise looked quite ripe and painful.

  “I consider myself to be a proficient boxer, but obviously my lessons haven’t done me justice.” William sipped his brandy.

  Michael grinned as he approached. “Hand-to-hand combat is less about brute force and more about knowing your opponent’s weakness. Not punching your way through the muck in blind madness. Still, you did well defending yourself, for an old sod.”

  “Old sod?” William narrowed his eyes. “I beg to differ. Besides, you’re no young buck yourself.”

  Michael smiled and looked at Kyra “I see Kyra is taking the news quite hard.”

  “She’ll never admit it, but I think she fancied Geoffrey as a girl.” William looked at Kyra. “Give her time.”

  Just then Kyra stood and strode over to them, dabbing an eye with her handkerchief. “What happened to your faces? It looks quite painful.”

  “We had a little accident,” William chimed in.

  “Accident? Do you mean beating each other to a pulp?” Kyra frowned.

  Michael ignored her observation. “How are you feeling?”

  Her lips quivered. “I will be fine,” she informed them.

  For another several minutes, Michael patiently listened to his siblings as they conversed about Geoffrey’s last visits to Chatham Hall. She dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief again while William continued to tell stories of their friend and his many visits to Chatham Hall. It made Michael sick with regret. Geoffrey had said nothing of his visits to him because he knew Michael had no wish to discuss his family, not even with his best friend.

  “Do you remember that awful looking tree, Michael? The one that looked as though it had been hit by lightning?”

  Ahh, yes. It had been so long ago that he’d nearly forgot. It was a place he and Geoffrey often visited, a place to hide, especially when his father was ready to thrash Michael for missing his lessons. “How do you know about that?” Michael suspected she may have followed them when she’d been young.

  “Never mind how I know. What’s important is that Geoffrey had been like family and now…now—.” Her words died off.

  “I am sorry, darling,” Michael said softly.

  The footman came over and offered them some refreshments. Everyone refused.

  Kyra continued. “Anyway, I walked there today…to the meadow this afternoon and—”

  “Meadow?” Michael repeated, as if he just remembered something important.

  “Yes,” she snapped. “Weren’t you listening to anything I have said?”

  Just then, Geoffrey’s haunting words came back: Meadow…tree…. How could he have forgotten? Bloody idiot. “Forgive me, darling. I have to check on something.”

  She watched him. Her expression filled with growing concern. “You really do behave quite strangely at times. They’ll be serving dinner soon and you’ve already missed breakfast and lunch with Mother.” Kyra suspiciously gazed at Michael, her lips pulling into a thin line.

  “I know, but this is very important. I will return shortly.” With that he stormed out of the parlor. Damn, why didn’t I connect the dots sooner?

  Making his way down the hall toward the back of the house, he headed to the stable. If he understood Geoffrey’s meaning, his friend must have left a clue for him.

  * * *

  Emma was standing by the base of the stairs to join Michael’s family in the parlor when she saw Michael storm down the hallway toward the back of the house. He seemed so preoccupied in his quest that he failed to see her. She contemplated whether she should follow him, but before she could Kyra peaked out from the parlor, waving her to join the family.

  “Where is he off to?” Emma asked.

  Kyra shrugged. “He just said he had something important to check on.”

  “Check on what?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea. If you ask me, he’s been acting awfully strange since he came home. Come. I think your company might help to ease Mother’s disposition.” With that Kyra pulled Emma inside the parlor and closed the door.

  What are you up to, Michael?

  * * *

  In the meadow, about half a mile from Chatham Hall, Michael tossed the shovel aside and dropped to his knees beside an overgrown oak tree. Geoffrey had buried the wooden box here soon after his father passed away.

  Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he reached into the hole he’d just dug and felt nothing but dirt crumble between his fingers. He looked around the base of the tree with its roots protruding from the ground. The earth had been turned over suggesting that Geoffrey had buried something here recently. Had he mistaken Geoffrey’s meaning? No, this is the spot. It has to be here.

  Looking into the hole he just dug up, he reached in again and grabbed a fistful of dirt and tossed it. He did this several times until he felt something hard. Smiling, he seized the box and pulled it out. Placing it on the soft earth, he stared at it, suddenly troubled by the realization that that there may be evidence inside that could incriminate his childhood friend.

  Oh hell. No, he would never believe that Geoffrey could harm an innocent soul. Or commit high treason. Taking a deep breath, he opened the box. On top of stacks of letters sat Geoffrey’s parents’ rings. Picking them up, he dropped the rings inside his coat pocket and pulled out the stacks of letters from his parents and relatives. On the bottom of the pile, he saw another set of letters tightly held together with a black ribbon. No addresses. No names. Quickly untying it, he unfolded the letters and read the contents:

  Michael,

  If you’re reading this, then it means that I have faced my maker. I have left you a few remaining correspondence with H from Foreign Office as evidence to attest to my innocence. I cannot say more. Find H and everything will be revealed to you. Take care of E for me. Goodbye my friend.

  C

  C,

  Meeting time confirmed for tomorrow.

  H

  C,

  I will need to take an alternate route as I don’t want to arouse sus
picion. I shall be thirty minutes late from our agreed time. Same location. Same date.

  H

  C,

  There is a mole. Confirmed by Foreign Office. Have two suspects, one of which is Lord Tomkin. We have evidence suggesting he isn’t working alone. Someone very close to him may be assisting him. Your order, for now, is to keep an eye on him. Take caution my friend.

  H

  Michael surmised H stood for Lord Hansford. Emma had said they spoke before Geoffrey was killed. He ran his hand down his face. While Geoffrey’s innocence was apparent now, the evidence pointed to Emma as the possible accomplice. Could she have been assigned to him as he had thought earlier? Perhaps even to prevent him from finding Geoffrey’s killer?

  Or she could be completely innocent.

  How could he ignore the past? Tomkin, his mentor and superior, was painted a traitor and Emma could be his accomplice. A deep sense of betrayal throbbed into his veins. He shook his head and fisted his hands. Oh, Emma….

  He slammed his fist into the earth. What the bloody hell was he going to do now?

  This was complicated.

  He had only one option. To confront her.

  CHAPTER 22

  In the library, Emma lifted the candle up high and ran her index finger on the spines of the leather-bound books. One by one, she read the titles, hoping that one would catch her eye. Her shoulder shrugged with a heavy sigh. So far, she’d found numerous volumes on horticulture, botany that discussed varying species of plant life in England, and advanced theories on mathematics and physics.

  After dinner, his lordship excused himself and retired early. So did the rest of the family. They were grieving for Geoffrey and she didn’t blame them.

  Mixed feelings flooded her again.

  Don’t get too involved.

  Geoffrey may have been more than a good friend to these people, but she had a different story to tell about him.

  She stepped off the ladder and exited the library. Her thoughts were now on Michael and the oddity of his behavior before dinner. She was determined to find out once and for all. If it had anything to do with the mission, she had every right to know about it.

  She knew Michael enough to know that he wouldn’t volunteer information freely, even after everything they’d been through together. That made it very clear to her that he simply did not trust her—still.

  Quickly, she made her way to Michael’s room to confront him. She thought of knocking, but with Lord Blackthorn next door, she didn’t want to alert him or risk being discovered by the servants. So instead, she grabbed the brass knob and quietly slipped inside.

  It was pitch dark. The curtains were drawn and several sash windows were open allowing the icy breeze to seep into the already cold room. She scanned the bed. There was no movement. No Michael.

  Looking around in the dark, she saw a desk facing the window, a pitcher and a wash bin on top of a dresser. It would not do to be discovered in a Michael’s room alone in the dark. With a heavy sigh and no Michael to confront, there was no point in staying.

  Tap, tap, tap. The rain patted against the windows, quickly drenching the desk and the floor. Walking up to the windows, she reached out to close them, when suddenly she heard the door jerk open and someone walk in.

  She faced the tall man standing by the door. “Michael?”

  “What, may I ask, are you doing in my room?” Michael’s tone was laced with contempt.

  He strolled across the room and quickly closed the windows, then proceeded to light the candles. Soft glow spilled into the room and she saw him, all muddied up and dirty. “Goodness,” she said. He looked as though he’d been digging a grave. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.” He scanned his bedroom.

  “I came here looking for you. I was worried.”

  “Were you now?” His brows lifted, examining her.

  “You’ve been behaving strangely as of late. And from the looks of things, I have every right to be.”

  He said nothing.

  Something was awfully wrong. Walking up to him, she reached out to touch him. He took a step back.

  “What is wrong, Michael? Has something happened?”

  He reached into his inside coat pocket, pulled out several letters and tossed them onto his bed. “Is this what you were looking for?”

  She looked at the missives scattered about, then lifted her gaze to look at him. “I don’t understand?”

  “Read it for yourself.”

  She retrieved the letters and read each one of them. Then read them again as mixed emotions stormed inside her. “Where did you get these?”

  “That isn’t important. The fact is, this letter reveals Tomkin—”

  “—as a suspect by the Foreign Office,” she said, finishing the sentence. His stance, his condemning glare all pointed to one thing. Hot lava of resentment erupted from her. “Pray tell, what has he done, exactly?” He didn’t have to answer. She saw it in his eyes. “You think I am involved, don’t you?”

  “All I want is the truth.”

  “Truth?” Her tone was bitter. “I fear you are so blinded by revenge, you couldn’t see the truth even if it bit you in the arse.” She tossed the missives onto the bed. “I came here to speak with you and see if you were all right.” She sensed him scrutinizing her answers. How could he think for a single moment that she was involved in treason? “You will never stop punishing me for Geoffrey, I know that now. You will never trust me enough to let me in, even after everything we’ve been through. You still suspect me as your enemy.”

  He reached out and took a step toward her.

  She pulled back.

  “I need you to be honest with me,” Michael said. “If you were in any way involved in all this, I need to know if I am to protect you.”

  “Protect me?” she snapped, nearly chocking with umbrage. “I don’t need your protection. I don’t know where you found these letters, but I can assure you Lord Tomkin and I have done everything to protect the lives of innocent people.”

  He sighed. “The fact is when it comes to Lord Tomkin, you are blind.”

  “Where Geoffrey is concerned, so are you,” she fired back.

  He bit down, his jaw twitching. “Swear by it, that you have nothing to do with this and I will believe in the sincerity of your words.”

  She fisted her hands. “I have nothing to prove to you. Lord Tomkin has been like a father to me. He is your superior and mentor and you have the nerve to condemn a decorated man who has served his country well. How can you so easily dismiss decades of service? I understand you want justice for Geoffrey, but at least allow the man the respect he deserves to explain himself before you lock him up and throw away the key.”

  “Perhaps you should listen to your own advice where Geoffrey is concerned.”

  That again. Of course, he’d punish her for it endlessly. “Maybe you’re right, but that’s the past, isn’t it?” She recalled the conversation with the cook in the kitchen. How he blamed himself for Ashley’s death and how he’d stayed away to protect his family. Or was he protecting himself? Perhaps it was too painful for him here, to be reminded daily that he could not save his beloved Ashley.

  “You can’t let go of the past, can you?” she said. When he said nothing again, she continued, “It’s not your fault Geoffrey is dead and it’s not your fault that Ashley died. Don’t you see that? There is nothing you could have done for either of them.”

  “Yes, I could have done a lot.” He strolled away from her and looked out his window as if he couldn’t face her.

  She walked up to him and stood by his side. “Then enlighten me.” She waited, but he said nothing else. “Won’t you let me in?”

  “This isn’t about me,” he said, turning to face her. “This is about you.”

  His blue eyes felt cold as ice. It was too late. He’d shut her out again. “I already told you the truth. If you are done interrogating me, I’d like to go back to my room now.” He sa
id nothing else to her and disappointment ensued. She walked to the door and proceeded to open it.

  “Just so there isn’t any misunderstanding,” he said. “There is no hidden agenda. I stayed away to protect my family. What I do is dangerous and they cannot discover the nature of my business. My presence here will only risk their safety in the end, surely you can understand that.”

  “Their safety?” She looked back at him. “Or yours?” His brows lifted at her remark. Good, she’d hit a nerve. “When you push away the ones who love you, you hurt them. I feel sorry that you can’t see that.”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “But then again, this is about us, not my family.”

  She shook her head. “In truth, Michael, there is no us. There never was.”

  With that she quickly walked out of his room. She didn’t stop until she was safely tucked away in the guestroom. There was no place for her here. No future. How could there be when their past was marred with so much bitterness and mistrust?

  It was time to leave. Once in London, she’d speak with Lord Tomkin about what she had discovered here. It had to be a mistake.

  Decision made, she grabbed her luggage from the corner of the room and started to pack the few belongings she had. When she was finished, she sat down at her desk and pulled out a parchment from the top drawer. Dipping the quill into an inkwell, she started to write….

  CHAPTER 23

  With a quick knock at the door, Michael shot up from his bed and his eyes snapped open. The sun was streaming in through the crack in the curtains. Hell and blaze, he’d overslept. It was nearly two in the morning when he finally had fallen asleep. Finding Emma in his room after he discovered the letters was very disconcerting, to say the least.