Stirring Passions

by Maggi Andersen

  The coachman had wandered off down the road, stamping his feet, trying to keep warm. It was now or never. Clutching her reticule, she fumbled at the door latch and opened it carefully. The carriage step wasn't down and Kate fell heavily, grazing a knee. She looked up, expecting someone to run towards her, but no one had seen her. She regained her feet and ran with her hands held in front of her, feeling strangely off balance, into the wood. Perhaps the coachman had seen her for she heard someone shout. She kept running. Bushes caught at her, tearing at her clothes, but she didn't stop until her sides ached. Breathless, she crouched down behind a tree. It had been raining and icy water dripped from the trees, down the back of her neck. She tried to gain her breath through the gag, her heaving lungs drawing in the strong odors of wet earth and decaying leaves. She heard thrashing noises somewhere close by, as the men searched through the woods. “She can't have gone far,” Sir Harold yelled.

  "You licentious fool, we should have disposed of her before this,” replied the Frenchman. “This could prove to be our downfall."

  "No. We'll get her, and when we do, you can have her,” Sir Harold said.

  Kate waited, hardly daring to breathe as the sound of their voices grew louder. She opened her reticule and pulled out the pistol, heavy and cold in her hands. She had no idea if it was loaded. Aiming into the darkness in the direction of the voices, she squeezed the trigger. The force of it jerked it out of her hands and threw her onto her bottom on the ground. She heard the Frenchman yell, “Mon dieu! Who shoots at us? Surely that wench isn't armed!"

  Kate climbed onto to her knees and began to feel around in the carpet of leaves. Minutes later, she found it and her fingers closed reassuringly over the pistol's steel barrel.

  The noise the men made grew fainter. They were moving away. The blindfold fell into Kate's eyes again and she reefed it down around her neck and pulled the gag from her mouth. She put her teeth to the knot in the twine around her wrists, trying to loosen it, but it was impossible. It was tied so tight it was cutting into the skin. Steadying herself, she tried to take stock of exactly where she was. She knew Broughton Wood grew close to the Hall. If she continued the way she had come, she should reach the road where it curved away towards Broughton Village. Then she would be able to get her bearings.

  She moved slowly, making as little noise as possible. Several times, she stumbled, and once she fell headlong into a ditch and lost both the pistol and her reticule. It took her several minutes to find them again. She stopped and took the time to tuck the pistol back inside the bag before going on. Finally, she came out onto the road. She ran faster now, towards Broughton Hall. One more bend in the road and there loomed the great gates, propped open. What if it was Jason the men had come to meet and he had come back to find her? Kate was almost too tired to care as she limped up the carriageway. The huge house awaited her, shadowed and quiet. She could detect no light in any of its rooms.

  Using all of her remaining strength, she banged on the doors. The sound echoed around inside the great hall. Kate felt dizzy and clung to the doorknocker desperately. Approaching footsteps came to the door and someone began to unbolt it.

  She only had time to see Jason's startled face before a black mist descended.

  * * * *

  Laurie pushed his father's prized bays as fast as he dared. He would have to change them at the next post-inn he came to. Thank God for the moon. He was reluctant to stop for the night, although he knew that traveling after dark was dangerous. Highwaymen did their best business at night. They would be delighted to find a man traveling alone. And he couldn't help Kat if he was dead. He was aware that those who had taken her would also have to stop somewhere for the night. He'd made excellent time when he pulled into the post-inn near Canterbury. After seeing to the horses, he entered the coffee room, finding it empty. Good, he would have no trouble obtaining a room for the night.

  He removed his traveling coat and stretched out his legs, aiming his booted feet at the fire, letting the warmth restore his frozen, exhausted body. A young serving girl came in to take his order.

  "Has anyone else been in tonight?"

  She nodded. “You be the second lot."

  Laurie sat up. “Who was the first?"

  "Two men and a woman. They hired the private parlor."

  "Describe them to me if you please."

  The girl went into a rambling discourse, but it was clear enough that two were Sir Harold and Kat.

  Laurie was on his feet. “Are they still here?"

  "They left after their dinner, but they intend to return. They've rooms ‘ere for the night."

  "Where would they go this late at night?"

  She shrugged. “I heard them tell their coachman to head for Broughton Village."

  Broughton? Why there? Were they taking Kat home? “I need two job horses put in the traces, immediately."

  "Will you be back for your dinner?” The stunned girl asked.

  Trying to get the inferior job horses to a reasonable speed was futile. He was sure many had tried before him. Half an hour later, he'd passed through the crossroads, and was about to swing onto the road to Broughton Village, when he caught sight of a carriage. When he approached it, he found it empty except for the coachman, who was walking the horses up and down looking bored and cold.

  "Where is everyone?” Laurie asked, jumping down.

  "The girl ran off into the woods and the gentlemen followed. I think they've all got lost,” the man replied, shaking his head.

  "Which direction did they go?"

  The coachman pointed. Laurie mounted the phaeton again and took off down the road. He and Kat had roamed these woods when they were children. If Kat got clear of the men, she'd make for the road. The first place she'd come to was Broughton Hall and he bet she'd go to Jason for help. As he drove, his gaze raked the woods, but he saw no one and passed no one. At the gates, he guided the horses through, passing the darkened Gate House. He drove up the avenue and he pulled up in front of the Hall.

  He tied up the horses, ran up the steps and pounded on the door. It soon opened and Jason stood in the doorway, a pistol in his hand. “Good grief, Wexley, it's you. Come in, quickly. Those scoundrels might make their way here, eventually."

  "Is Kat here? Is she alright?"

  Jason smiled. “Fortunately yes. She's a little worse for wear. She had to find her way through the woods with her hands tied. Come to the library, we've a fire there."

  Laurie strode into the room and found Kat lying on a sofa, her face unnaturally pale. He rushed to her side and knelt before her. “Damn it, Kat. Why did you do such a silly thing?” He took her cold hands in his and rubbed them.

  Kate winced. “Mind my wrists, Laurie."

  He gently turned her hands over. They were rubbed raw. There were scratches on her face, too, and a nasty gash on her thigh revealed by a tear in her gown.

  He covered her leg with her gown, looking up to find Jason had left the room.

  "How did you find me, Laurie?” Kate asked, looking up at him in amazement.

  "It's a long story. I think you have much to tell me, as well."

  "I'm so glad to see you.” Tears appeared in Kate's eyes. She put her hand up and touched his cheek.

  "You have Lord Broughton to care for you. You don't really need me,” he said, cursing himself for his petulance. His relief at finding her alive was so great he was afraid he might break down.

  "Jason has found the papers, Laurie. It incriminates Sir Harold. He is a double-agent."

  "A double-agent? I can hardly believe it, Kat,” he said. “He's always been so kind to me."

  Kate pulled herself into a sitting position. “I know, Laurie, but it's true."

  "Is Angelique still here?"

  "As you see."

  Laurie looked up as she entered the room, carrying a tray with a bottle of brandy and glasses. “I thought Mademoiselle Katherine should have a little of this to warm her.” She looked at him and smiled. “You could do with som
e, too."

  Jason returned as Kate said, “They met their spy in the woods. I couldn't make out whom it was. I must confess, Madame, I thought it might be you."

  "Did you, Mademoiselle? Well that is honest. I've been here all evening, have I not, Jason?"

  "Yes, Angelique, so you have."

  Laurie saw how Jason looked at Angelique. So that's where the land lies, he thought, with relief. Mighty pretty woman, but not as lovely as Kat.

  "Oh, I forgot. I found this in Sir Harold's safe.” Kate opened her reticule and pulled out the paper with Napoleon's signature on it. As she shook it, the pistol fell to the floor.

  "My God, Kat, I'm glad you didn't have cause to use this.” Laurie picked it up and held it to his nose. “It's been fired!"

  "I had to fire a warning shot, Laurie. I don't think I hit anybody."

  "I say, you are a game ‘un,” he said, grinning.

  Jason read the paper. “It's a letter of congratulation from Napoleon to Sir Harold for his work during the war. I guess he didn't wish to destroy it, but it certainly incriminates him."

  "That will be enough evidence to hang him,” Kate said brutally. She remembered his greedy hands on her and shivered.

  "You should go to bed, Kat. You'll catch your death,” Laurie said.

  "Yes, you all must go to bed. I've had rooms made up for you and fires lit,” Jason said. “I doubt we'll have more trouble. If they have any sense at all, they'll be boarding a ship to cross the channel to France. They'd do well to remain there."

  "Life will be a little difficult for them. Napoleon's in no position to help them,” Laurie observed.

  "Lead the way.” Laurie gathered Kate up in his arms. He carried her up the stairs, and into the bedchamber, laying her gently on the bed.

  "Here is a chemise de nuit,” Angelique said to Kate, placing the garment on the pillow. “Bonne nuit, you two."

  The large glass of brandy she had drunk made Kate feel strangely languid. She looked up into Laurie's dear face. Coming so close to death had made her realize how much she loved him. She put up her arms and pulled him down to her. “Kiss me goodnight, Laurie, but not if you've got yourself engaged to Sally Pool."

  "I never had any intention of doing so, Kat.” Laurie kissed her passionately and kissed her again. He forced himself off the bed, retreating to a safer distance. Seeing his love lying beguilingly on a bed was too much, even though he was exhausted.

  Kate chuckled seductively. “Look at this chemise Angelique has given me.” She held up the flimsy, red scrap of material, shockingly trimmed with black ribbon. She laughed again as Laurie ran his finger round his collar as if it had suddenly grown too tight. Propping her head up on one elbow, she said, “Why are you standing so far away? Don't you wish to marry me anymore, Laurie?"

  He came swiftly to her side and knelt beside her. “More than anything in the world. Do you love me a bit, Kat?"

  "Sit on the bed and I'll show you."

  He laughed and shook his head. “When we've tied the knot."

  "If you wish, darling Laurie.” She reached across and stroked his hair. “I didn't know how much I loved you until I almost...."

  "Oh, Kat.” Laurie kissed her again, a long lingering kiss. “I hope you've had your fill of adventuring."

  Kate smiled. “For now."

  Laurie rose to his feet. He stood looking down at her. His Kat. What a life she would lead him. She would shake the stuffiness out of the entire Foreign Office. “I'll see you in the morning. We have plans to make. Shall we honeymoon in Paris?"

  "Lovely."

  "You can pop that into your trousseau."

  Kate laughed. “This?” She picked up the chemise and held it against her.

  "Mm. Yes, the red and black. If Angelique doesn't mind.” He shut the door firmly on Kate's wicked laughter.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jason escorted Angelique to the door of her room. “I'm afraid the servants have all retired. Should I see to the fire?"

  Angelique pulled at the lapel of his smoking jacket. “Why don't you come in and see.” He stepped into the room. The fire was burning brightly, but he threw on another log. Straightening, he turned to find Angelique had slipped off her negligee. She sat on the edge of the bed in a sheer black chemise. Her perfect breasts with their pale nipples thrust through the thin material. The hint of soft, golden down at the base of her stomach held a promise that couldn't be denied.

  He moved quickly to the bed and gathered her up in his arms with a groan. “How I've longed to do this,” he said, bending to kiss the smooth skin of her throat.

  "Stop,” she said, placing her hand on his chest. “We should talk."

  He pulled back slightly, his hand on her breast, to peer heatedly into her eyes. “Really?” His voice sounded shocked, as if the demand was unfathomable. He threw himself off the bed. “You are a confoundedly confusing woman."

  "You think me a spy, Jason,” she accused, “a traitor to your beloved England."

  They locked gazes, his filled with a passion that seemed almost brutal. “Tell me the truth then, damn it.” His voice softened. “Tell me everything."

  "And if it's something you don't want to hear?"

  "It won't matter.” He knew as he said it, that it was true. He cared so much for her, was so determined to have her in his life, it no longer mattered if she was a spy.

  She searched his face and what she saw there made her decide. She caught up his hands and rubbed them against her cheek. “They are like rough velvet,” she whispered. She looked up at him, her eyes blue fire. “I want to feel them on my body. Do things to me."

  "Soon,” he said, his breath labored. “You are right, we should talk first."

  "No. Now,” she whispered. “Now, before I tell you my story."

  He could no longer argue. He pulled off her chemise in one swift movement. She arched her pale body towards him. He caught her up in his arms and kissed her again. His hands returned to her breasts massaging gently. Moaning, she reached down to stroke his hard cock through his trousers, the indisputable evidence of his passion for her.

  "I want you inside me,” she whispered, her voice trembling and insistent.

  "Soon."

  "No, now."

  "Soon,” he insisted.

  He moved down and his gaze dropped as raw animal heat took over his expression. His kisses made her shiver.

  "Oh God, Jason."

  He slipped his fingers inside. She writhed uncontrollably as moan after moan rocked her.

  Throwing off his clothes, he joined her again, quickly entering her. His expression was fiery and possessive as he moved inside her. She clung to his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin. Moaning, she closed her eyes.

  "No,” Jason said. “Look at me."

  She opened her eyes again to gaze into his with each powerful stroke. They kissed, deeply.

  The rhythm of their sex grew more urgent still as they both approached orgasm. Then, the explosion of exquisite feeling, the slowing of pace, the calming of breath.

  They climbed beneath the bedcovers and lay together quietly, his arm holding her snug against him.

  Angelique said, “And now my story."

  "It can wait, my love,” Jason replied.

  She touched his lips with her finger. “No, it cannot."

  "You accused me and your brother of spying. Peter was not really a spy. He was an adventurer. He went where the money was."

  "But you are a spy. And you work for France."

  "En fait, I do not."

  Jason raised himself up on one elbow. “You can't be working for England."

  "Hard for you to believe, I realize. I don't expect you are familiar with my family history, Jason."

  He shook his head.

  "My mother was French,” Angelique began, “my father English. He was a post-Captain in the infantry-killed at the battle of Waterloo. He met my mother while stationed on the continent. His
death was unnecessarily brutal. I know. I was there, following the drum with Mama. After she died of a broken heart, I went to Paris and began to mix with important people. The English agents I met when my father was alive, approached me, asking me to work for them and I agreed. Through them, I met Peter, fell in love with him and married him. When I found he had that document and was auctioning it to the highest bidder, I realized he had no true sense of morality or duty to his country and I left him."

  "He told me he left you well provided for."

  "He left me nothing but the clothes and jewels I already possessed. I sold most of the jewels long ago, the ones you've see me wear are paste. He returned to Broughton Hall with those papers. I didn't want anything more to do with the matter, but recently, the British approached me again and told me they suspected you of taking up where Peter left off. I could not believe them. But I knew your life was in danger and I had to come here, find the document and place it in the right hands.” She swept a lock of his hair off his forehead, her eyes deep violet pools in the candlelight. “You see, I did trust you."

  He hovered above her for a moment, his eyes feasting on her beauty. She smiled that seductively secret smile of hers and he was lost. He brought his mouth down on hers in a passionate kiss as she held him tightly.

  When he drew away again, he said, “I adore you, Angelique. Will you marry me?"

  "You believe me then. My story?"

  Jason shook his head helplessly. “I don't care."

  Angelique laughed her teasing laugh, “You will know tomorrow for sure, my darling. I do love you, Jason. I have since I first met you."