The Secrets of a Scoundrel

by Gaelen Foley

  But just as he started to back away out of respect, she reached out and grasped Nick’s arm, pulling him over firmly to share in their little family’s embrace.

  “You should’ve seen Nick, Mum, he was brilliant—­”

  “You both are,” she interrupted in a choked voice. “That’s all I need to know.”

  Then she did a most un-­Virginia-­like thing and started bawling, overcome by her emotions.

  “Oh, stop that, old girl,” her son teased. “I never took you for a watering pot!”

  “I can’t help it!” She sobbed. “I just love you both so dearly.” She kissed Phillip’s head and Nick’s cheek and got her tears on both of them.

  “And we love you. Both of us, Mum. Don’t we, Nick?”

  “We do,” Nick whispered. “Loads.” Then he put his arms around them both, stunned at how naturally the whole new purpose for his life slipped into place in that one shining moment.

  As if it had been waiting here for him all along. Just waiting for the sunrise . . .

  And now the sky glowed.

  Chapter 24

  A few days later, they sat shoulder to shoulder on the beach, savoring each other’s company and relaxing at last after all the unpleasant business had been sorted out.

  They were both dressed in light-­colored clothing and barefoot, toes in the sand, neither in any hurry to rush back to England. They had decided to stay until after Christmas.

  Nick put his arm around her. “So,” he murmured with an intimate smile in his voice, “how does it feel to have accomplished by yourself something that even the Order failed to do?”

  Gin sent him a warm smile. “You mean disband the Bacchus Bazaar forever?”

  He nodded.

  “It feels good. Really good. But I can’t take all the credit,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. Still, she could not hide the satisfaction in her eyes.

  His point was well-­taken.

  During her father’s tenure as spymaster, the Order had allowed the criminal gathering to remain in operation as a useful source of intelligence. But with the Prometheans defeated, there was no longer any reason to allow such wickedness to flourish. She was glad to see it brought to an end.

  To be sure, it had been an interesting ­couple of days.

  After her mutiny on the Black Jest, Nick had sent down to the Navy base in Corfu Town, summoning reinforcements.

  When the Navy patrol boat had arrived, Nick and she had met with the captain to explain the situation. He had never heard of any such thing as the Bacchus Bazaar and looked at them as if he suspected they were either lunatics or pranksters, making such wild claims.

  But then Nick had presented his credentials: namely, the Order medal the Regent had pinned on him at Westminster Abbey.

  It was lucky that Phillip had brought it.

  The Navy captain realized they were telling the truth about the assembly of criminals happening right under the British government’s nose, considering that Corfu was now a protectorate of England.

  That was all the captain needed to hear. He had quickly summoned a raiding party of dozens of Royal Marines, who stormed the Villa Loutrá just when all the rats were gathered for the illicit auction to begin.

  Some of the criminals had indeed managed to scatter, but the Navy had men hunting down those who had escaped.

  For the most part, the guilty had been apprehended. There had been many embarrassing arrests of high-­level emissaries from all over the place. The Bazaar was done for, hopefully forever—­though, admittedly, these sorts of things had a way of popping up again like so many poisonous mushrooms.

  In any case, the girls were now safely in the care of the commanding officer and his wife down in Corfu Town. Gin had bade them all a fond farewell, especially little Rose, whom she could barely stand to let go. She had come to think of the child as the daughter she’d never had.

  Rose cried at having to say good-­bye to her, as well, but to Gin’s surprise, the little curly-­head looked even more upset to have to say good-­bye to Phillip.

  Gin was further surprised when Susannah Perkins lowered her bravado enough to hug her abruptly in thanks. The brazen hoyden had wiped away a tear and said she couldn’t wait to return to her mother and inform her what her stepfather had done to her—­selling her to the likes of Rotgut simply to be rid of her for causing the family embarrassment.

  After this experience, the girl looked ready to reconsider her wild behavior for a tamer mode of life. Gin thanked her for all she had done to help bring about their escape. It couldn’t have been pleasant for her.

  Having said their good-­byes, all the girls were presently recuperating from their ordeal under the watchful eyes of the commander and his wife, but a ship would soon be dispatched to take them home to England.

  As for Rotgut, or Ed Dolan—­who had eventually been fished out of the water by the Italians—­he, too, would be returned to England to stand trial for his many crimes.

  It would have been just as well for him if some passing shark had bitten him in half, for he only had the gallows to look forward to at this point.

  Still, he had already provided the authorities with useful information about his kidnapping ring. More arrests would be made back in England.

  The last order of business was selling Gin’s emerald so they could pay the Fabrianos for their ser­vices, among their other expenses. Together, they had sent the warm-­hearted captain and crew back to their wives at Ancona well rewarded, home in time for their Buon Natale, as promised.

  Now that all the excitement had died down, this left the two of them at last to make up for lost time.

  Phillip understood they wanted to be alone, but Gin had even found a way to keep her son out of trouble for a while (though this was always slightly doubtful).

  She had hired a local professor of antiquities to take Phillip around to see some of the ancient structures left over from classical times, both on Corfu and the surrounding islands.

  “If he’s missing school,” she had said, “he might as well get something educational out of this trip.”

  Nick had snorted. “Oh, I think he has.”

  She had smacked him again for this bit of cheek, which he seemed to enjoy.

  “Why are you always beating me?” he exclaimed.

  She loved seeing the scoundrel laugh.

  He was so different now from the brooding, angry mercenary she had so cautiously freed from the Order’s dungeon. But then, Gin supposed, she was different, too. Not as hell-­bent on keeping control of every situation. It was exhausting to live like that, anyway.

  Life was much more peaceful and easy to enjoy when one was able to let go . . .

  “So, here we are,” Nick said at length.

  Just the two of them, alone in a Greek-­island paradise, wildly in love.

  Life was good.

  “Yes?”

  “Finally, my dear Virginia, all is revealed, and I even figured out why you first came to me down in that Order dungeon—­”

  “Um, Nick,” she interrupted. “Actually—­my friends call me Ginny. Or Gin.”

  He turned to her in astonishment. “They do?”

  She laughed. “I daresay we ought to be on less formal terms by now, don’t you think?”

  “Ginny!” he echoed in surprise. “Huh. I like that.” Then he shrugged and muttered, “My friends call me a black-­hearted bastard. Actually, I’m not even sure I have any friends.”

  “Oh, don’t make me smack you again!” she chided, giving his shoulder a kiss. “You know full well all of Virgil’s boys are still your brothers. Now what were you going to say, my darling—­before I so rudely interrupted?”

  He smiled. “The reason you came to me, of all ­people, down in that dungeon . . . It was more than just the fact that I could get you in to see Hugh
Lowell, wasn’t it?

  “You needed someone who would not only help you get the book back but wouldn’t tell the greybeards about your father’s breach of protocol, writing all those secrets down in the first place. That’s why you kept telling me everybody makes mistakes.”

  “Including my own, trusting John Carr more than I should have. But you’re right, I needed a rule-­breaker,” she said ruefully, playing with his strong, long fingers as she held his hand. “Someone who doesn’t think like everybody else. Who knows that sometimes, you have no choice but to stray outside the lines—­and who wouldn’t condemn my father for doing the same. He only did it to keep us safe, you know, Phillip and me,” she added. “If any of his old enemies ever came after us, the information in that journal would have helped protect us.”

  “Well, you’ve got me to do that now,” Nick answered softly. “And you might as well know I have decided this is my life’s whole duty from this day forward.”

  She beamed at him. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Actually, it started a while ago—­and this goes for both you and Phillip. Of course, you seem rather a dab hand at protecting yourself, I admit. But a man’s got to have something useful to do. And as for you, my girl, Lud! You can be so dashed impetuous. Somebody’s got to keep you out of trouble.”

  “Look who’s talking!” she exclaimed. “But Nick?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What about America?”

  “Oh, my love. All the freedom in the world would be a prison without you,” he whispered, then he kissed her.

  Gin wrapped her arms around him and lay back invitingly on the sand. He deepened the kiss, stroking her tongue with his own, while his hands caressed her arms and her waist. He moved atop her, braced on his elbows and knees as he kissed his way down her neck. She thrilled to the weight and heat of his hard body pressed against her.

  At length, he paused in kissing her and gazed down into her eyes, the sun dancing through his tousled black hair, his dark eyes full of glowing softness.

  Gin ached with love for him. She could barely find her voice as she cupped his cheek longingly. “You weren’t the only one in a prison, darling,” she whispered, “and I’m not talking about Rotgut’s cargo hold. I was in a cell of my own making . . . for so long. Keeping my heart locked away so nobody would steal it. But I give it to you freely now. It’s yours, whether you want it or not.”

  “I do.” He paused, as though hearing his own words. “I do,” he said more slowly, savoring the two simple syllables spoken at every wedding. “I do?” he suggested a third time, arching a brow at her in question. Though the quirk of his lips was sardonic, his midnight eyes were earnest.

  “Are you asking me . . . ?”

  He nodded. “What do you think, Lady Burke? Would you like to become Lady Forrester?”

  “Oh, Nick! Yes! I would. I love you so much!” She arched up to capture him in her embrace.

  He enfolded her in his arms and, after a moment, rolled onto his back, bringing her atop him.

  She sat astride his lean waist, her hair blowing, loose and long, around her. Nick searched her face with his heart in his eyes. “I love you, my Ginny. How could I not? You are the cleverest, most beautiful, the bravest, most amazing woman on earth. And look at all you’ve done for me.”

  “What have I done?”

  “Turned me back into a human being,” he drawled. “You didn’t have to help me. You didn’t have to be kind to me or treat me with the respect that I no longer deserved. But you mended me, whether you know it or not. You’ve given me a whole new life. A second chance.”

  “I knew you’d do brilliant things with it. And you have.”

  “Well, I owe it all to you. Thank you . . . for everything. Believing in me. Even after I had lost all faith in myself. You gave that back to me. My pride.” He sat up, holding her on his lap, his arms around her.

  Gin stroked his hair, staring into his eyes. “You’ve done great things for me as well,” she informed him softly. “You gave me the courage to surrender to love. Because I trust you, Nick. Not just with my life—­and my son’s—­but with my very heart. I know you’ll never let me down.”

  “I never will,” he vowed. “I swear it to you, on . . . well, let me not say on my honor, since that’s been known to fail me in the past. On something better. Stronger. On something eternal, like my love for you.” He glanced around at the beach. “I swear it on the sea and the sky above us, and these rocks!” he declared with heart-­tugging earnestness.

  She gazed at him in melting, doting amusement. “Even on the rocks?”

  He suddenly furrowed his brow. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Never! I adore you, you sweet man. And I’ve realized something profound about you, darling,” she added in a whisper, hugging him close.

  “What’s that?” he asked with a teasing little harrumph.

  “You are frightfully romantic.”

  “The hell I am.” He pulled back and gave her a warning glower. “If you tell the fellows that, I will stringently deny it.”

  She laughed. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

  “Good. They’d never believe it anyway.”

  “I love you, Nicholas.” She kissed him thoughtfully, suddenly wondering about something. “When do I get to meet them, anyway?”

  “Who?”

  “The rest of Virgil’s boys. Your fellow agents.”

  “Hmm, I suppose I could arrange a meeting . . . in exchange for a certain favor.”

  “Oh, really? What sort of favor?”

  “I want you to do something with me.”

  “Oh, dear. I hope this doesn’t involve tricks you learned from your old friend, Angelique.”

  He scoffed. “If you’d behave yourself, I’d like to tell you the real reason I brought you to this particular spot.”

  She glanced around at the sun-­kissed beach and the turquoise waves. “Because it’s gorgeous?”

  “No, though it is. You see those rocks?”

  “The ones on which you swore your eternal devotion to me?” she asked, smiling in hopeless adoration of the man. “Couldn’t miss them.”

  Two giant sandstone boulders thrust up from the shallows several yards apart.

  “What about them, you adorable man?”

  “I am not adorable. I am a trained assassin.”

  “Yes, you’re very, very scary,” she assured him. “Even so.”

  “Ahem.” He ignored her playful teasing. “I was told by an old Greek man at the Seahorse Inn that the passage between those rocks is called the Canal d’Amour.”

  “Is it really?” she exclaimed.

  “Legend has it that any ­couple who swims through it together will have eternal love. So, let’s go.”

  “But darling, it’s December.”

  “Who cares?”

  “It’s cold! It’s in the sixties.”

  “Gin, we’re Order agents. What the hell do we care? You’re an honorary one,” he informed her before she could protest. “Besides, I’ll warm you up after. Believe me.” With that, he tumbled her off his lap and climbed to his bare feet. He held out his hand to help her up, looming over her like a dark god limned in sunshine.

  She bit her lip and gazed up at him, dazzled. He was her beloved, and he was much too hard to resist. “I suppose we are talking about a guarantee of eternal love here.”

  “I do think it’s worth it,” he agreed in a pointed tone, nodding wryly.

  “In that case, I’ll race you!” She grasped his hand, jumped up from the beach, and dashed headlong into the breath-­stealing water.

  She shrieked at the cold, but kept running, splashing through the shallows. Nick laughed, chasing her. He was right behind her. Running out into waist-­deep water, they started getting used to the chill as the waves flowed p
ast them. Then they were swimming side by side, gliding in breathless exultation toward the twin towers of the timeless sandstone rocks ahead.

  “Ready?” Nick asked, treading water when they had neared the rocks.

  She nodded, too joyful to care that her teeth were chattering with the cold.

  Then they swam together past the famous love-­spell rocks of Corfu, making the watery journey that lovers had been taking together since the days of Odysseus and his faithful Penelope.

  Nick stopped between the giant boulders and drew her into his arms, sporting in the waves. Exchanging salty kisses, they lingered there to let the magic wash over them completely. Just to make extra sure they had sealed their pact according to ancient specifications, they then swam well past the huge rocks, out into the deep open water, where they turned back to see how far they had come.

  “Well, it’s d-­d-­done,” Gin declared.

  Nick’s black hair was slicked back against his head. Water droplets starred his inky lashes, and his white shirt clung to his skin in the most seductive fashion.

  He gazed back through the Canal d’Amour. Then he cast her a roguish, sideways glance. “No turning back now.”

  “Who’d want to?”

  He flashed a roguish grin and reached for her, pulling her close to kiss the saltwater off her frozen lips. “Come on, my little icicle. I’ll carry you.” Drawing her by her wrist, he turned around and put her on his back.

  She held on to his broad shoulders. Then he swam through the bright aquamarine waves, but instead of returning to the beach, he bore her over to one of the great rocks. They climbed up onto it, dripping and shivering, but exuberant.

  At the pinnacle, they lay on a flat, narrow bed of sun-­warmed stone, and there, her true love kept his promise: With the fire of his passion, the magnificent rogue soon made her very warm, indeed.

  Epilogue

  “Virgil had a daughter?”

  They all kept saying that.

  Gin felt a trifle self-­conscious as six pairs of eyes trained to scrutinize ­people studied her in amazement.

  True to his word, Nick had made sure as soon as they reached England to assemble his fellow agents to meet her. In fact, he had gone one better and arranged for the introduction to take place inside the Order’s London headquarters of Dante House. The ancient Tudor palace by the Thames had been Virgil’s domain. She got to meet the illustrious Mr. Gray, butler to the spies, as well as the fierce German guard dogs.