Too Hot for a Spy

by Pearl Wolf

  At last, Fourier nodded, turned to the trainees and said, “Bien! You are to fence Monsieur Brooks this morning. When he calls your name, step forward and assume the position. Be alert, I warn you. He is—” Fourier kissed his fingers and threw them in the air, a familiar gesture to the trainees—“formidable!”

  The spymaster put on his glove and his mask, tested several foils by flexing them, and chose one with a curved French grip handle and a pommel on the hilt of the sword. He crouched, knees flexed, his bent rear arm pointed upward, his sword arm extended in position.

  “You first, Carter. En garde.”

  After disposing of Carter quickly by scoring a hit, he called out, “En garde, Riggs.”

  Much to the surprise of the others, Riggs acquitted himself better, forcing Sebastian to work harder for a hit. “Good show, lad. With enough practice you will turn out to be a first-rate swordsman.”

  The spymaster removed his mask and wiped his forehead with the towel Fourier offered him. His mask back in place, he studied the remaining trainees, as if trying to decide on his next opponent.

  “En garde, Fairchild.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mask and glove in place, she took her stance, her steady eyes boring into her opponent. Olivia thrust forward with such agility, she took him by surprise. “A hit,” she said, when her sword touched him.

  Sebastian bowed. “I wasn’t ready. We begin again. En garde, mademoiselle.”

  There wasn’t a sound to be heard in the fencing room. It was as if the spectators were holding their collective breath. They watched the combatants parry, each thrust designed to protect different parts of the body—prime, seconde, tierce, quarte, quinte, sixte, septime, octave.

  To mislead him, Olivia feinted and made running attacks, returning each of his thrusts for one of her own. They dueled with ferocity, neither scoring a hit. Each time Sebastian appeared to have the advantage, Olivia managed to force him to retreat. They continued to thrust and to parry as though in a battle to the death. When she tripped in retreat and fell down, she expected him to hit. And win the match.

  Instead, he took several steps back and said in a voice dipped in poison, “I never take advantage of an opponent who is already down. I give you leave to rise, Fairchild.” She did as she was told, but her strength was ebbing fast. She didn’t think she could go on much longer. Nor was she aware that the protective ball on the tip of her foil had disappeared when she fell. It had flown off, exposing the sharp point of her foil.

  Gathering what strength she had left, she feinted and lunged in a running attack—a fleche—catching her opponent by surprise. Unaware of it, the unprotected point of her foil met with his upper arm.

  “A hit,” she cried in triumph, letting go of her foil. Olivia removed her mask and waved it at the other trainees. “I’ve scored a hit. I win.”

  “What the—?” Sebastian dropped his foil as if it were on fire and clutched the arm that had held it. His knees sank to the floor and he fainted, blood gushing onto the canvas from the wound in his arm.

  “Stand away, Fairchild,” Fourier shouted. “Someone hand me that cloth! And ring the alarm bell for help. Find Mrs. Hunnicut and bring her here at once.”

  The trainees disappeared to sound the alarm while Fairchild and Fourier were on their knees on either side of the wounded spymaster. Fourier wrapped the cloth around the spymaster’s arm and twisted it to stop the bleeding. Olivia slapped the victim’s face lightly to revive him.

  “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to…I didn’t see that ball fly off the tip of my foil. Wake up, sir. Open your eyes.” Unbidden tears clouded her vision. When she turned away to hide them, Sebastian opened his eyes and winked at the fencing master before closing them again.

  “Hold zee tourniquet tight, Fairchild, while I fetch some brandy.”

  “Yes, sir.” She turned back to Sebastian and held the tourniquet, tears beginning to stream down her face. She bit her lip hard to keep from fainting at the sight of the copious amounts of blood Sebastian had already lost. She wiped his sweaty brow with her other hand, and looked around her. Satisfied that they were alone, she bent to kiss his lips. Don’t die, my love. Please don’t die!

  Sebastian lay as still as a corpse, though his heartbeat quickened when he heard her whisper aloud, “I love you.”

  Tears ran down her cheeks. “What have I done? Forgive me, dearest. I never meant to harm you. Open your eyes, my darling. Show me you still live.”

  The room filled with a stream of staff. With trainees. With servants.

  “Move, Fairchild. You’re in the way,” said Mrs. Hunnicut. She beckoned to two footmen.

  “Wh—where are you taking him?”

  “To his chamber, of course. The men will make him comfortable until the doctor arrives.” She was quick to see that Olivia was about to faint. “Take Fairchild up to her room, Jenny. See she lies down to rest.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the maid. She took one of Olivia’s listless arms and wrapped it around her own neck. Holding her waist in a firm grip, she led her away.

  When Sebastian woke from a laudanum-induced sleep, it took him a few moments to recall the duel.

  “Evening, sir. How are you feeling?”

  “Groggy, Hugh. What’s the time?”

  “It’s eight in the evening, sir. Wednesday. You’ve lost a day, I’m afraid. Shall I ring for some supper for you?”

  “Yes. I haven’t eaten since Monday. Have Fourier prepare something substantial. Plenty of rare beef and potatoes. And Hugh, be so good as to fetch me a decent bottle of wine from the cellar.”

  “Sorry, sir. You’re allowed only light broth tonight. Doctor’s orders.”

  “Doctor’s orders be damned! I want something substantial.”

  “You can damn him yourself when he returns in the morning. Better mind his advice tonight, sir. You’ve lost a good deal of blood.”

  Sebastian swallowed a sharp retort. He eyed Denville, one eyebrow higher than the other. “What’s the damage, Hugh?”

  “Fairchild’s last thrust nearly cost you the use of your arm. It came dangerously close to severing your median nerve which, according to the doctor, is your main nerve, the one that makes most of the muscles in your arm do their work. You’re in luck, sir. Doctor says you’ll have full use again in due time, but only if you’re willing to allow it to heal. The real danger is infection. I urge you to cooperate and follow the doctor’s orders, sir. Can’t have a spymaster with the use of only one arm, now, can we?”

  Sebastian smiled at the grim jest. He glanced down at the dressing, which snaked its way around his chest. He couldn’t move his arm at all. He let out a sigh of relief and said, “Good God, Hugh! To have this happen after all you and I have been through at Waterloo.” He sighed. “You win. Send for some of Fourier’s healing broth instead of the steak I pine for.”

  Jenny brought Olivia some dinner, but she made her take it away. She couldn’t swallow a morsel, for nausea filled her stomach, dejection clouded her vision and misery parched her throat. Why hadn’t she noticed that tiny little ball flying off her foil? How stupid she was, wanting only to win the match, not caring how. She had wanted to humiliate him in front of the others, just as she supposed he was trying to do to her. Instead she nearly killed him. The thought iced her bones. She shivered, feeling as if it were the middle of a harsh wintry day and she wore no clothing. She tossed and turned for hours, unable to sleep.

  Jenny had reported that he was alive, but she had to see for herself. She glanced at her clock. It was three in the morning. Everyone in the academy should be asleep at this hour. She lifted the latch and pushed open her door a crack. She looked up and down the hall. No one was in sight.

  A stair creaked halfway down to the first landing and she froze. When her heart stopped its loud beating, she removed her shoes and continued on, stopping to listen at each landing. She reached the ground floor and pushed the entrance door an inch at a time. Nothing stirred. She slipped into the first door o
n her left and waited for her eyes to become accustomed to the dark. She’d been in this room before, she realized, for it was the spymaster’s private dining room. She spied another door on the far right wall and made for it. She edged it open. The book-lined walls and a large desk in front of the window marked it as Sebastian’s office. She noted still another door on the far wall, just past his desk. His chamber? Of course. It had to be.

  She peered through the keyhole and saw nothing but the dim light of a candle. She waited for her heartbeat to calm before turning the knob. The door squeaked. She ignored the sound and crept into the chamber. She shut the door as quietly as she could manage.

  Sebastian’s large four-poster bed rested against the wall opposite the windows. A lone candle glowed on the table nearest her. She heard snoring coming from the other side of the bed. Denville was fast asleep in a chair next to the door to the main hallway.

  Sebastian turned his head to the left when he heard a noise. At the sight of her, the grin across his face accompanied the gleam in his eyes. He had had many hours to reflect and he was ready for her.

  “Morning, Fairchild. What took you so long?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Wilson Academy—Wednesday, The Fourteenth of August

  Denville woke with a start at the sound of the spymaster’s voice. “What are you doing here, Fairchild? Go back to bed. Haven’t you done enough damage?”

  “Leave off, Hugh,” Sebastian said. “I want to talk to her.”

  “But, sir, you’re not well enough…”

  “I said, leave off. And go away, for heaven’s sake. Give us some privacy. What I have to say to Fairchild is for her ears alone.” Sebastian voiced a command whose meaning was clear to Denville.

  “Five minutes, then,” he said, “but no more than that.”

  “I’ll ring for you when I’m bloody well ready. Take yourself off, Hugh. Now!” He turned back to Olivia, but not before he was sure his aide had caught his wink.

  “Denville was only trying to protect you, sir,” she said when the door closed.

  “From you? Why? You wounded me enough. Are you planning to finish the job?” To hide the joy in his heart at the sight of her, he glared at her with a stern eye. “Don’t think you can order me about now that you’ve rendered me a helpless invalid.”

  Her eyes opened wide in consternation. “I—I just came to see how you were, sir. And—and to plead with you to forgive me. It was an accident.” Her breath hitched, she clutched the corner of his quilt, fell on her knees and began to sob.

  His good hand reached to cover hers. “Stop your cater-wauling, my foolish darling, and sit up.”

  She raised herself up to meet his eyes. “What did you just call me, sir?”

  “I believe I called you foolish.”

  “No. That other…. Heaven knows I’m foolish, but did you call me darling?”

  A look of innocence widened his eyes. “Did I? I can’t recall. I’m under the influence of large amounts of laudanum. For the pain, you see. Can’t be held responsible for anything I say in the circumstances, now can I?”

  She laughed, a blissful sound to his ears. “You did, sir. You just called me darling.”

  He shrugged his good left shoulder. “All right, I did. Come here then, my darling.” He tried to tug her onto the bed with his good hand.

  “On your bed? But I can’t do that. I’m liable to hurt your arm.”

  He sighed in exasperation. “Can you not follow a simple order just this once? I command you to climb up here on my bed, Fairchild.”

  “Yes, sir.” She scrambled her knees onto the bed and placed one hand on each of them as though she were a child.

  “Good God, no woman has a right to look so intoxicating. You take my breath away. Do you realize how incredibly beautiful you are?”

  Olivia reddened in embarrassment and ignored his question. “What can I do to ease your suffering? Shall I plump up your pillow or straighten the sheets or…or something? Do you really think I’m incredibly beautiful, sir?”

  “Of course I do. I always say what I mean. Let go of my pillow you foolish girl. I’d much rather have you kiss me.”

  “Now that kind of order is one I’ll be happy to follow, sir.” She planted her lips on his for a brief moment and he groaned. “Better, sir?”

  “A bit better, but it doesn’t quite ease my pain.” He wet his lips. “Continue the treatment, if you please.” As she bent to him, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and brought her lips down hard. His tongue probed her mouth. A shiver of contentment escaped from her lips. “Lie down next to me, Fairchild.”

  “Are you sure you’re well enough, sir?”

  Enjoying the game, he managed nevertheless to suppress a chuckle. “For heaven’s sake! I’m not asking. I’m ordering.”

  “Well, if that’s an order, I suppose I must obey it, mustn’t I, sir?”

  “It’s permissible to call me Sebastian when I’m making love to you.”

  She locked her eyes to his. “No, sir. If I call you Sebastian, you see, I’ll not have to obey your orders. I’ve only been trained to obey when the spymaster gives me an order.”

  He snorted. “As if you’ve ever obeyed any order of mine, Fairchild!”

  “Livy.”

  “What’s that you say?”

  She rubbed his nose with hers. “I permit the people who are fond of me to call me Livy. You’re welcome to join them.” She nuzzled his neck.

  “Do that again, my darling Livy. You drive me wild every time you come near me. Take a look.” His eyes lowered.

  She raised the quilt to inspect his erection. “I see what you mean. The last time you er…rose to the occasion so to speak, you were in pain. Is it so now?”

  “Don’t be impertinent.” What the bloody hell was he doing? Where was his iron control when he needed it? Why couldn’t he stop?

  He made an effort to put an end to this episode. “You’d better go, Fairchild. Send Denville back in.”

  “Sorry Sebastian. I only obey the spymaster. You said so yourself. I can’t leave just yet. Not until I take your pain away down there. It’s the least I can do, after wounding you so badly.”

  “I forgive you for that, my foolish darling. Besides, it was my fault for challenging you. Now go in peace and allow me to recuperate.”

  Her hand encircled his member. “Is that an order, spymaster? Or shall I continue my ministrations, Sebastian dearest?”

  “Sebastian dearest? You little witch. Have I given your arsenal yet another weapon with which to destroy me?”

  “What if I…?” She began to remove her nightshirt.

  His eyes opened wide. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She put a finger to his lips. “Shh, Sebastian. I can’t obey you unless the spymaster gives me an order.” She straddled him.

  His breath came heavy. “This is unseemly. You have no idea of the consequences, my girl. Besides, you wouldn’t even know what to do.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t I?” She rolled back on her knees, held an elbow with one hand and put the finger of the other to her lips. “Let’s see now. Can’t be that hard. I grew up in the country, you know. Animals do this without any instruction at all and they never even learned to read or to write.” She wiggled her bottom against him and he mewled like a helpless kitten, his voice an octave higher than usual.

  “I have to…to make room for you, don’t I?” She spread herself wide with one hand. “Now, if I lower myself…”

  He let out a long, low whistle. “Don’t do this to me. I’m a sick man.”

  “Don’t worry, Sebastian dearest. I’m of age and I promise you won’t have to marry me. Besides, this time I’m in charge.” She pressed herself down over him. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”

  A sound halfway between a groan and a laugh choked his throat. In spite of it, he managed one last protest. “It only hurts a woman her first time.”

  She guided him into her and pressed down. “Mmmm. Big.”

&n
bsp; “Dear God, Livy!” All thought was lost to him. He grasped her buttock and raised his own, plunging himself into her further.

  She met him thrust for thrust, taking care not to touch his injured arm.

  She cried out when a stab of pain sliced her in half.

  “You mustn’t stop, my darling. Your pain will ease more quickly if we continue, I promise.”

  She bit her lip and obeyed, yet her breath quickened as she moved her hips up and down. A flush of pleasure replaced the pain she felt a moment before. He met her hips and thrust faster, driven by his own need.

  “Yes,” she breathed in short gasps. “More. Yes. Yes.”

  He reached between her legs and found her nub. She whimpered when his touch drove her wild. When she climbed the peak of passion, her screams mingled with his shouts of release.

  She collapsed at his side, her breath escaping in short gasps. They lay still for a time, eye to eye, until a stab of pain assaulted him and he grunted.

  “You’re hurting, my darling. What must I do to help?”

  “More…laudanum,” he gasped. “Get Denville.”

  She began to rise. To her embarrassment, the sheets were covered with blood. Her blood. “Oh, dear.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The sheets. They’re bloody and so am I.” She grabbed a fistful of soiled sheet and used it to clean herself.

  Could it be? Was he her first lover? The notion made him giddy. “Don’t give it another thought. Denville will know what to do about the sheets. It won’t be the first time, you know. He was my aide-de-camp in the war.”

  Olivia stopped pulling down her nightshirt. “Won’t be the first time? You beast!”

  “What made you think I’ve had no experience? I am thirty after all.”

  “I wanted to be your first. Your last. Your only,” she pouted.

  “In that case, you shall be my last, my love. We can wipe the slate clean and forget those other women ever came my way. Besides, no one has ever given me half as much pleasure as you, my foolish darling.”

  “But…”

  He narrowed his eyes and used the voice of command. “Don’t argue with me, Fairchild. You forget I’m a sick man.”