A Secret in Her Kiss

by Anna Randol

  The familiar apology broke her, ripping open the unhealed wound beneath her breastbone. “Damn you. Damn you both.”

  She spun away before Bennett could catch her, running down the corridor and not stopping until she’d reached her garden.

  Mari sat in the formal dining room. Her stomach rumbled but she still didn’t touch the steaming food. She patted her hair, worn up like her mother once did, for the first time. She’d let her maid yank and tug for over an hour to get it into some semblance of order.

  Mari studied the cut of lamb on the silver platter in front of her, not at the empty chair at the head of the table.

  “Miss,” the new butler spoke from the doorway, “your father has yet to return.”

  But he would be here. She was certain.

  This time wasn’t like the others. She’d written all the reasons she needed him in her letter, how scared she was when he came home with wild, vacant eyes. Or worse, on the nights he didn’t come home at all. The only thing she wanted for her birthday was for him to stop. She vowed that if he did, she would never ask for another thing.

  He’d cried when he read it. Fell to his knees and clutched her hand to his cheek. It might have been scary if not for the fact that he promised—promised—he would never touch opium again. Her father was an honorable man. He kept his word.

  “Miss, do you wish me to remove the dishes back to the kitchen to keep them warm?”

  “No!” Mari clapped her hand over her mouth, realizing she sounded more like a child than the woman she sought to become tonight. “He will be here. I’m sure of it. He must have run into one of his friends and started talking about pottery or something of the sort.”

  Mari stared her china plate until she could see the swirled pattern on the back of her eyelids when she blinked.

  He would come. He loved her. She mattered more to him than an accursed drug.

  A hand touched her shoulder and she jerked awake. “Fath—” But it wasn’t. It was Selim.

  “Miss, would you like me to replace the candles? They are about to go out.”

  All that was left on the candelabra were fat, sputtering stubs.

  “I—”

  The front door slammed open. She jumped to her feet, tripping over the new longer hem on her dress. “Father!” She ran as fast as she could into the entry hall, not caring that it wasn’t ladylike, and threw her arms around her father’s waist. “I have been waiting for you!”

  He swayed in her arms, and suddenly she held her breath, afraid to breathe. She held it until little dots swarmed in the corners of her vision. Finally, her chest burned so badly she had no choice. She inhaled.

  The sweet, fetid smell of poppy choked her.

  Mari backed away slowly. The black pits of her father’s eyes didn’t even see her.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, then returned to the dining room. “Selim, clear away the food. No one will be eating tonight. And my father will require assistance to his room.”

  Her father had broken his word, but she would keep hers— She’d never expect anything of him again.

  Mari swayed on her feet, trying in vain to clear the memories from her head. A single set of heavy footsteps from behind told her Bennett had followed. But not her father, of course. Never her father.

  Her nails dug into the palms of her hands. “I was fine. I’d moved past all of that. Then you had to make him say those hateful words again. Those words that he means every time, yet ignores a day later.” She bent and grabbed a clump of soil, then threw it against the wall, wishing she had something to throw at Bennett’s head. “Do you think this will change things? That he will remember his promise now that a big man orders him to? You think he’ll remember your threat, even? Well, I stopped being gullible on that account a long time ago.”

  He stepped in front of her. “Mari—”

  “No, silence! I don’t want to hear anything else from you. Do you think that I haven’t tried to stop him before? I have, you know. I’ve confronted him. I’ve begged. I’ve cried. I’ve pleaded. I’ve hidden his money. Ordered the coachman not to take him. Don’t you see how humiliating this is? A pipe means more to him than I do. And yet the worst part, the most vain, foolish, maddening part is that each time he says he’ll change, a part of me is tempted to believe him.”

  Bennett held her shoulders, but she didn’t want his comfort. He was the one who couldn’t leave well enough alone. Who didn’t like her and didn’t trust her. She pounded against his chest again and again until her arms fell exhausted at her sides.

  Only then did he wrap his arms around her and pull her close.

  “If you think I’m going to cry, you’re mistaken. I’m done with that. He’s had his share.” She couldn’t lose herself to the illusion of security offered by Bennett’s arms. Whatever they may have experienced the past few days was gone. A relationship without trust amounted to nothing. She wouldn’t allow his touch to beguile her into believing otherwise. She wouldn’t take second place.

  Not to a poppy flower, and not to duty.

  Yet it took more effort than she wished to admit to lift her head off his warm chest. “Have you received information from Nathan yet about Vourth?”

  His chin brushed her hair as he nodded. “Last night.”

  There was no reason to continue to draw this out. “Then let’s make our plans. I want you gone.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “We could get closer if we have the coach drop us here.” Mari pointed to a spot on the map with one hand and tugged at the loose neckline of her native robe with the other.

  Bennett kept his eyes trained on the maps of Vourth spread out on the ambassador’s desk, not on the delectable bit of skin she’d revealed. He’d tolerate no reminders of last night’s loss of control. Or of the anguish he’d inflicted this morning. None of that would help him get her out of this alive. “Yes, but we’d have to travel through two additional villages. I don’t want more witnesses than necessary.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she considered. “How long on foot?”

  “A day and a half if we don’t encounter any trouble.”

  “And we carry all our supplies?”

  He nodded, admiration warring with exasperation. She’d questioned him on every detail. She was quick to grasp his reasoning as well and he didn’t need to go into tedious repetition. The war would have been over in half the time if its generals had a tenth of her intensity. But a small part of him feared that she posed these questions because she didn’t think he cared if she survived. “We travel light.”

  She tapped on the map. “Where are the bandits located?”

  “Abington has knowledge of attacks in these three areas.” He knew his intended path skirted the edges of all three, but it was the best course. As he indicated the zones, his hand brushed hers. He quickly pulled back, not needing the reminder of how her skin felt against his.

  “How recent?”

  “There was an attack three weeks ago on a supply train headed to the fort.” All the men had been killed but one.

  Mari’s silent contemplation allowed guilt to ring a bit too clearly in his ears. She had agreed to this assignment knowing the danger.

  Yes, and his sister had chosen to go back to her husband while knowing him to be a violent bastard.

  Both things he should have been strong enough to prevent.

  “If we do run into trouble?” Mari traced the border of a mountain range with her finger. A crease appeared on her forehead and her teeth bit her lower lip.

  It was good that she was frightened. It would keep her alive.

  Yet his fists clenched so hard at his sides that his knuckles ached.

  He had his orders. He couldn’t pick and choose which he wanted to follow. If orders were always pleasant, they wouldn’t have to be orders.

  Mari’s hand trembled as she lifted it from the map.

  “Don’t do this drawing.” His words surprised him as much as they seemed to surprise her.


  “What about your orders?”

  What happened to cursing his orders every chance she had? “I’ll obtain the information myself. It will be easier. As long as the War Office receives their information, they wouldn’t quibble overly on its source.” Except Caruthers. The man was bastard enough to make issue of it.

  “How well do you draw?” she asked.

  He couldn’t think of a lie quick enough.

  “So you cannot.”

  “I can give them a rough idea of size and armament.”

  “What will they do when they find out I didn’t draw?” Mari asked.

  “I’ll deal with the repercussions.”

  “Can you guarantee they’ll leave Nathan here?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Mari stared at the map, her fingers tapping in a fluttering rhythm on the desk. The crease on her forehead deepened, and she looked up. She watched him intently, then paced to the window. “Then I still must draw.”

  “I have said you no longer need to.”

  The smooth planes of her back betrayed nothing of her thoughts. “When do we leave?”

  “Why are you doing this? You have no loyalty to the English.” The words emerged more harshly than he’d intended and he cursed himself for the slight catch in her breath.

  But the words were true. And it was not his way to tiptoe around the incident.

  “The Greek cause needs Nathan.”

  That couldn’t be the only reason. “Why else?”

  Her voice was perfectly composed. “There is nothing more.”

  Now he had even less idea what to make of her. Didn’t she realize what she’d just refused? She’d been intent on quitting. It made no sense. He wanted to spin her away from the window and make her explain.

  No, not quite. He wanted her to feel safe enough with him that she’d tell him on her own. But they’d both burned those bridges too thoroughly for them ever to be repaired. The thought landed like a cannonball in his gut. “There must be more.”

  “It is difficult when you know there’s more but the person won’t explain, isn’t it?”

  If that’s what she demanded as payment for her information, she’d be disappointed. He couldn’t tell her now anymore than he could this morning. “We leave the day after tomorrow.”

  Mari’s forehead rested briefly against the glass. “I’m engaged to apply henna at the celebration for Fatima’s niece that night.”

  “Then the following day.”

  “Fine. I’ll have Achilla—”

  “No. No one in your household can know when we’re to depart.” Someone had betrayed their last journey, and his money was still on one of her servants. It was why he insisted they do their planning here rather than at Mari’s house.

  Her shoulders tightened and she turned to face him again. “I trust my people.”

  “I don’t.”

  She glared at him. “Then you can’t inform anyone, either.”

  He braced his hands on the desk. “We’re in different positions. I need to gather the supplies.”

  She shrugged. “They don’t need to know when or where you are going.”

  A knock sounded on the door. Before he could respond, the ambassador strode in. “How goes the planning?”

  “Well enough,” Bennett said.

  Daller’s gaze swung back and forth between the two of them. “When do you leave?”

  Mari hoped Bennett felt every one of the daggers she glared into his back. If she was forbidden from revealing when they were to leave, he should be, too.

  “Quite soon.”

  Silently, Mari exhaled.

  Daller frowned. “I did impress on you the extreme requirement for speed.”

  Bennett stepped in front of the map they had been studying. “You did. It will be a rather complicated undertaking. I believe a week or two is a reasonable amount of time unless there is further information.”

  The ambassador straightened the cuff of his jacket. “A week should be fine. Are you recovering from your indisposition, Miss Sinclair?”

  His question baffled her. Luckily, Bennett stepped in smoothly. “A simple headache last night as I said. Although it came on quite suddenly, she had recovered by this morning.”

  Confound it. Her impromptu flight from the ball last night. Did Daller suspect the real reason she left? His expression didn’t seem to hold more than polite disinterest, and he never hid his emotions that well.

  Daller nodded absently as he took a pinch of snuff. She doubted he even listened to the report on her health. “Excellent. I’ll leave you two alone then. Keep me informed of your plans.”

  She answered before Bennett would have to lie. “You’ll be the first person we tell.”

  The ambassador smiled in what he undoubtedly thought was a conspiratorial manner. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  A footman appeared at the door. “My lord, a messenger has arrived for you.”

  Mari sighed in relief as the ambassador left.

  “You don’t like him much, do you?” Bennett said.

  “With obvious reason. He threatened me.”

  “He claims it wasn’t intended as a threat.”

  She raised her eyebrow. “I find myself disinclined to believe that. Threats seem to run in your family.”

  His jaw tightened. “I offered to release you.”

  He had. And the offer had shaken her more than she would ever admit. What did it mean? Did he care about her enough not to want to put her in danger or did he simply think it would be easier without her?

  And why hadn’t she accepted?

  But either way, she couldn’t compare him to his cousin. She stared at the long shafts of afternoon sun slanting across the papered walls. “I don’t think you’re like your cousin. I disliked him long before he threatened me, and the feeling was quite mutual.”

  Bennett frowned. “What about his claim to a broken heart at the soiree last night?”

  Mari snorted. “It was the oddest thing. Three months ago he appeared to be courting me.”

  “Daller?”

  She couldn’t be insulted at his incredulity. It mirrored her own.

  “I could only think that he’d run through every other woman in city. Yet he called on me twice and even sent flowers. I made it clear the interest wasn’t returned. Not that there was much feeling, that’s what seemed so odd about the whole—”

  The dowry.

  After everything last night, Esad’s plan to give her his fortune had slipped her mind. Her hands fisted in the silk of her skirt. Daller couldn’t know about the dowry, could he?

  Last night, Talat had hinted at something when he questioned Bennett, and Talat and the ambassador had become strange allies in the past year.

  She shifted in her hot clothes and tugged at the neckline of her robe. Bennett’s eyes fixed on her movement. Dropping her hand to her side couldn’t stop the way her nipples hardened. She’d done amazing, wicked things with him last night. And regardless of how her mind and heart felt about him, her body longed for more. She spoke before the intensity in his gaze reduced her to a quivering puddle. “There’s something I must o—”

  The ambassador burst through the door, his face crimson with rage. His gaze pinned her. “How did he find out?”

  He advanced but Bennett stepped in front of her, blocking him. “Can we assist you?

  The color on the ambassador’s face stained a deeper red. “She knows exactly what I’m referring to. Where were you hiding? Behind the curtains? The desk?”

  The ornate carving on the chair next to her dug into her hand as her grip tightened.

  It shouldn’t have been possible for Bennett to look any larger and more imposing, yet he did. “What exactly are you accusing us of?”

  “Not you, her.” For a moment, the ambassador met her eyes around Bennett. If not for her hold on the chair, she would have retreated a step at his loathing.

  Bennett shifted, cutting Daller from her line of sight. “What is the problem
?”

  “Esad Pasha’s men moved on the brigands early this morning.”

  She sucked in a breath while she awaited Bennett’s response. He’d said he wouldn’t tell the ambassador of her actions, but would he deny them if asked? Nausea rolled in her stomach.

  “Were they successful?” Bennett asked.

  Daller’s nostrils flared. “Yes, amazingly so.”

  She swallowed. At least one good thing would come of this.

  Bennett folded his arms. “What is the issue then?”

  Daller prowled so he could see her. Mari lifted her chin. He wouldn’t find any weakness in her.

  “The issue is how she came by the information. She’s a spy.” The contempt in Daller’s eyes slithered over her.

  “For England,” Bennett reminded him.

  The ambassador paused. The color ebbed back to normal in his face and he smoothed his mustache. “Indeed. Indeed. Forgive me.” Yet the outraged gleam in his eyes still burned. “But you must understand, I’m required to pursue any worrisome leads just as you are, Prestwood. Were you in that room last night, Miss Sinclair?”

  She moved from behind Bennett. Now that her initial shock faded, she refused to let him shield her. “What room?”

  Daller took another step toward her, then glanced at Bennett and retreated. “Last night in the study. The conversation I had with Prestwood and Talat. Where were you lurking?”

  She didn’t have to feign resentment. “I wasn’t lurking anywhere. I wasn’t in the room for any conversation you might have had.”

  Daller’s mustache twitched like a rat seeking food. “You disappeared from the soiree right after I spoke with Talat. And this morning your pasha acted on classified intelligence I revealed during that conversation.”

  “Who supplied the information?” Bennett asked.

  Daller blinked at the interruption. “Pardon?”

  “Who supplied you with the intelligence on the brigands?”

  A frown formed on Daller’s face. “A native informant.”

  “Then the information wasn’t secret. The pasha could have come by the information any number of ways.”