Only a Hero Will Do (The Heart of a Hero Book 2)

by Alanna Lucas

  It was a good idea, but one he didn’t want Elizabeth conducting. Grant stepped forward, kneeled beside the unconscious form, and began to rummage through the man’s clothing. He was about to give up when he felt something hard and round on the man’s chest. He ripped the shirt open revealing a medallion identical to Elizabeth’s. He yanked it from the man’s neck, breaking the chain in the process.

  “Lord Fynes should be…” Simon didn’t get any further.

  “Did someone mention my name?” Lord Fynes and several agents emerged from the shadowy mist. “Captain Alexander, I’ll take the medallion. See Miss Atwell home. Sir Simon and I will handle the rest.”

  Grant waved his hand, ushering Elizabeth away from the scene. They proceeded to walk in silence toward Atwell House. Only when they neared her residence did some of the tension ease.

  “Why did you come after me?”

  “I thought you could use some assistance.” Grant shot her an incredulous glance. “Very well, I was concerned.”

  “You put the entire mission in danger because you were concerned?”

  “Yes.”

  The kiss they had shared still lingered on his lips. He was already half in love with her. Was it too much to want more?

  Stepping closer, he probed further. “Why?”

  “Because.” She paused, worrying her bottom lip. “Because I…I’m in love with you.”

  The tenderness in her gaze melted his heart. He cupped her face. His lips devoured hers and in an instant he was lost. The world faded into the background; it was if they were the only two people who existed. She roused a passion in him he’d never thought possible.

  Reality sank in by slow measures. Breaking the kiss, he took in a deep breath and on a long solemn sigh said, “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I best get you home before I do something else I want to do.”

  Not giving her the chance to argue, he took her hand, escorting her the short distance to her residence and depositing her on the doorstep. He began to step away as she reached for him. He couldn’t have this discussion. Not now. Eyes and ears were everywhere.

  Confusion settled in the space between her brows. “Grant—.”

  “Tomorrow night,” was all he would chance to say. He needed time to think.

  Chapter Eleven

  The clandestine meeting at the manor took precedence over all other matters. Grant had dedicated every waking moment preparing for this conclave. Even though the hour was late, all precautions had still been taken. One by one the most trusted agents of the London division of the Legion arrived. He had hoped Elizabeth would stay at home, but she appeared just as determined as the others, if not more so, when she entered through the secret passage.

  They still had yet to discuss the kiss from the other night. He had never been so torn over what to do in his entire life. His world had always been so black and white, good versus evil. Now…now, he just wasn’t so sure. He was a soldier and a spy. His enemies would use any attachment to their benefit. It was the main reason he’d never considered courting a woman.

  Elizabeth glared at him from across the room. It was a glare from someone who was hurt. And why shouldn’t she be? On a number of occasions, he had compromised their professional relationship for what his heart desired, rather than for what was appropriate.

  “We should begin,” Lord Fynes announced.

  Elizabeth sat at the opposite end of the table from Grant. Although only five seats separated them, it felt like an ocean.

  Hille, Lord Fynes’ right-hand man, spoke first. “We just received word from one of the agents up north that Lord Sutton is dead.”

  “Murdered?” Simon was the first to say it, but everyone seemed to have the same thought.

  “Carriage accident.” Hille’s sharp and accessing gaze swept through the room. “The circumstances are highly suspicious. It happened on a quiet, well-maintained stretch of road. The weather was ideal, no real hazards. The only witness didn’t actually see what happened, just heard some commotion with the horses.”

  “The Home Office has been notified and…” Lord Fynes’ words trailed off as Grant slammed his fist down on the table, the glasses upon it shaking with force.

  “Damn it. Typhon is growing more powerful with each passing day. We can’t turn this over to the Home Office. We have to act now. You gave me this assignment and I intend to see it through to the end. Typhon is out there and he will strike again if we do not stop him.”

  Hushed murmurs of agreement filled the room.

  In a calming voice, Lord Fynes tried to reassure everyone. “The King and his family will be protected.”

  “It is not just about the King, it is about the country. In case you haven’t noticed, important people have gone missing, and some have turned up dead.”

  Lord Fynes pinched the bridge of nose and closed his eyes for several seconds before responding. “What do you propose?”

  “Discover Typhon’s hideouts. We’ve wasted enough time here in London. We know he has a strong presence in Devon, especially among smugglers. That’s where we need to strike next. He is going to be difficult to find, but ultimately, he is the target.”

  Simon crossed his arms and sucked in a deep breath. “He’s right.”

  Lord Fynes looked at Elizabeth, most likely expecting her to take his side. “I agree with Sir Simon and Captain Alexander. Each and every hideout has to be destroyed. Typhon is going to fight to the bitter end. He will kill those who prove to be a liability. We need to systematically strike the weaker strongholds and hopefully glean some valuable information in the process.”

  Grant stared, accepting Elizabeth was not all she seemed. She had a wild streak about her, but she was also thoughtful and intelligent in her approach.

  “How do we achieve all this?” Doubt still lingered in Lord Fynes’ voice, but based on previous experiences, Grant knew he was amenable to what he was about to propose.

  Taking a map from his satchel, he opened it wide across the table. “From the letters we’ve retrieved, I’ve marked all of Typhon’s known hideouts. There are probably a dozen more. Simon and Abrams will accompany me to the Earl of Hartland’s estate on the coast. Philson will join us after following up on a lead in Portsmouth. Hille will stay in London in case Typhon or one of his men strikes again in Town.” He glanced over toward Elizabeth. She was not going to like his next suggestion, but at least he knew she would be safe. “Miss Atwell will keep a low profile, not attend social events, and await further instruction here.”

  A puff of air whooshed out of Elizabeth’s mouth. “Why…why must…”

  Grant cut her off, knowing where she was going with her question. “There are traitors to this country amongst the ton. The ballrooms are not safe for you right now.” The hurt look that glistened in her eyes struck his heart. Despite her argument, he couldn’t risk her life.

  “But what if—”

  Lord Fynes’ firm voice broke through Elizabeth’s protests. “Do you have an issue with this assignment, Miss Atwell?”

  “No.” She clamped her mouth shut, but not before shooting daggers with her eyes at Grant. It was for her own good. One day she would realize that, and possibly even thank him.

  He stood abruptly. “Time to get to work.” With those final words he left the others to their round table discussion. There was much planning to be done and he was leaving nothing to chance. He was not going to lose another man.

  “Gentlemen, what are we going to do about securing Rochester?” Lord Fynes’ bellow followed Grant into the dimly lit hall.

  He’d only taken half a dozen steps before Elizabeth called out to him. “Captain Alexander, a word please.”

  He shook his head and sighed. “Elizabeth.”

  “No. We had a deal. You need me. Ward recited the song to me. Stop treating me like some simpering debutante who can’t hold her own.”

  Grant’s temper flared. “I’m just trying to protect you.”

  “I don’t need your protection.”
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  Maybe that was the problem. He wanted to protect her, and at every turn she tried to deny him. How could he make her understand when his own feelings were so torn?

  “You could get hurt or worse, and then what—”

  “I’m well aware of the dangers. If you do not allow me to accompany you, I’ll go to Hart’s estate on my own.”

  Jealousy rippled through his body. “Hart?”

  “The Earl of Hartland.”

  “You know him?” Thoughts of Elizabeth in that scoundrel’s arms slammed against his chest, the jealousy now heating his blood.

  “Of course I know him. He’s an earl and—”

  “You’re the daughter of a viscount.” Of course she would know Hartland. They traveled in the same circles, were of the same world.

  “Are you really that oblivious?” Elizabeth stepped forward, closing the distance. “I don’t want him. I kissed you.”

  Bloody hell, he needed to gain control over the situation before he threw caution to the wind and carried her upstairs, settling whom she belonged to once and for all.

  “And what do you propose? Do you honestly think no one will notice three men traveling with a lady?” The sarcasm in his voice echoed off the walls.

  She crossed her arms, and offered a knowing half smile. “Four.”

  “Four?”

  “Four men, or rather three and a lad. I will wear boy’s attire and none will be the wiser.”

  “Until you speak.”

  “I can lower…” she proceeded to demonstrate as she continued, “…my voice to sound more boyish.”

  Oh dear lord, but her attempts at trying to sound like a boy made her voice even sultrier. “No, don’t do that.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “You’ve worked it all out, haven’t you?”

  She held her ground. “I’m just as determined as you.”

  What was he going to do with her? He sucked in a deep breath, preparing one last argument, when Lord Fynes stepped into the hall.

  “Is there a problem, Captain?”

  “No, just a change of plans. Miss Atwell will be joining my team.”

  “Glad to hear you’re coming around, Captain Alexander.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Despite the pleasant journey to Devon, the tension in the carriage was palpable. There was so much Elizabeth wanted to tell Grant, but with Simon and Abrams constantly present she never had the opportunity. She suspected Grant had told them to guard her because at each and every stop one of them was never more than a couple of feet from her.

  By the time they reached the Earl of Hartland’s estate, Hartland Abbey, Grant was wearing a permanent scowl, which only deepened when Hartland greeted them as they walked under the gothic archway and entered the elegant foyer.

  “It’s been too long since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you, Elizabeth,” Hart said with roguish smile as he approached her without giving the others so much as a sideways glance. “I must say, you make quite a fetching lad in that attire.”

  “You are a scoundrel, Hart.” Elizabeth laughed as she accepted his arm.

  Hart leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Keeps things interesting.”

  “Ahem,” Grant cleared his throat as he glared at them. Jealousy seeped from his eyes. Elizabeth suspected that if Grant still had the shield from her sister’s party, he would have thwacked Hart over the head with it.

  Inwardly, she was delighted. Served him right. Grant constantly pushed her away, but didn’t want her to be near another man. He couldn’t have it both ways. Not that she was, or had ever been, interested in Hart. He was a good friend of one of her cousins, and both men were like the older brothers she’d never had but always wanted.

  Hart’s robust laughter danced off the walls at Grant’s display, but thankfully he did not tempt fate further with a taunting comment. “Nichols will show you to your rooms. Dinner is at eight.” Hart turned to Elizabeth. “Until tonight,” he whispered before winking.

  Oh dear lord. Hart was definitely one for theatrics. “Behave yourself,” she warned with a firm tone before following Nichols.

  A couple of hours later, Elizabeth had recovered from the long journey, and looked like her old proper self again in a blue satin evening dress. Although she preferred boy’s attire while on a mission, she relished the feel of satin against her skin. She glanced at her reflection in the gilded mirror one last time before joining the gentlemen.

  All eyes focused on her as she entered the drawing room. Hart started toward her, but Grant had already jumped to his feet and was at her side in two strides.

  Elizabeth made a mental note to thank Hart later for aiding her with Grant.

  “You look lovely, Elizabeth,” Grant whispered in a deep timbre that sent a lovely tingle down her neck.

  Hart clasped his hands together and announced, “No sense on standing on protocol this evening. Since we’re all here, shall we go in to dinner?”

  Thankfully Grant and Hart were able to remain civil during the course of the meal, focusing their attention on the latest information received from one of the local agents, rather than on Elizabeth.

  She sat back, enjoying the custard, listening to the conversation unfold.

  “One of my footmen has been watching the cottage for the past week.” Hart began as he sipped his Madeira. “Every night, except when the moon is full, a lone rider arrives, goes in through the side entrance, and disappears until well after sun up. The daylight hours see no activity in or around the house.”

  Grant asked the question that seemed to be on everyone’s mind. “Do we know if the cottage is one of Typhon’s hideouts, or just used by common smugglers?”

  “We haven’t been able to discern one way or another.”

  “Why hasn’t your man investigated the cottage and surrounding area?”

  Elizabeth could hear the frustration gurgle in Grant’s voice. He was a man of action, and not one to sit idly back and wait for events to unfold.

  “It’s been too risky.”

  There was a long brittle silence before Hart stated the reason. “The agent assigned to investigate was brutally murdered two weeks ago.”

  Another, eerie silence swept through the room. The reality of how dangerous their mission had become dampened the mood.

  They sat in silence for several minutes, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts before Hart excused himself, claiming business. Grant sneaked out of the room as Simon and Abrams set about making plans for another night of surveillance.

  Perhaps Elizabeth should’ve let Grant have a moment alone with his thoughts, but the last thing she wanted was more distance between them.

  Soft moonlight danced across the dozens of petite topiaries. She spotted Grant near a grouping of meticulously shaped shrubs, his coat swaying in the gentle breeze. He looked at ease, but appearances were often deceiving.

  As she strolled up to where he was standing, an icy fear twisted around her heart. “What are you thinking?”

  “Another agent is dead.” Although his words were calm, she could sense the angst tearing through him.

  Elizabeth knew what these people meant to him. Her whole life, she’d been surrounded by her family, the ton, and yet she had always felt so alone. It wasn’t until she’d joined the Legion that she’d felt a sense of belonging. They might not be related by blood, but they were her family, too.

  She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “This is part of the job. We don’t always win.”

  He looked down at her hand, and began to pull away. “I can’t lose…”

  The turmoil in his eyes, dark and unfathomable, spoke volumes. “Don’t push me away because you’re afraid of losing me. There’s no place in the world I’d rather be than here with you, danger and all. We are in this…together.”

  He stared at her for what felt like eternity before turning away from her. “Elizabeth…”

  “Grant, look at me.” She shifted to face him. “Whether you like it or not, this is the life I chos
e. I don’t want to be like the other ladies of the ton.” With each word she spoke, her tone became more insistent, more forceful. “I want to make a difference. I want to serve my country.” She let out a long sigh. “But most of all, I just want you. Whether it’s for a night, or the rest of my life, however long it may be, I just want to be with you.”

  Although Grant’s expression softened, the struggle between duty and desire marred his features.

  Standing up on her tiptoes, she whispered against his lips, “Stop fighting me and let me help, let me into your world.”

  His lips brushed against hers as he spoke. “I’m tired of fighting every desire I have for you.”

  “Then don’t.”

  Parting her lips, she met his kiss. Soft lips teased her own in slow, drugging movements. He deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with a dreamy intimacy. But all too soon it was over.

  He lifted his head, warm blue eyes full of hunger and promises to come met hers. Stroking her cheek, Grant whispered, “Later, my love. Duty calls.”

  The timing never seemed right to explore what had been simmering between them for so long, but if she wanted to be part of his world, his life, she had to accept that the Legion took precedence at times. “What’s next?”

  “I need answers. Hartland arranged for me to meet with Fisker tonight. He might have the answers I seek.” Desperation had crept into his voice.

  “Let me come with you.”

  Grant’s hooded gaze was almost unreadable in the waning moonlight. The shrubbery about them seemed to close in, forming an intimate cocoon. The scent of leather and soap and danger swirled about them, bringing her further into his world. A world she never wanted to leave.

  She waited as he seemed to struggle with his conscience. Would he push her away or finally acquiesce once and for all?

  Grant leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. She closed her eyes, waiting still. A moment later, her patience was rewarded with the softest of kisses trailing across her jaw. She practically held her breath; afraid to breathe, afraid the moment would be snatched from them.