by Connie Mason
“What does he look like?”
He shrugged. “Like anyone else. He tries to blend in.”
Reed frowned. “Is that all you can tell me about him?”
“I’m sorry. Our exchanges are usually fast and furtive.”
Reed sighed. He would have liked to know the identity of the operative working on his behalf. “Very well, you may help me dress.”
Antoine helped Reed into a pair of homespun breeches. Then Reed slid his arm through a brown shirt that Antoine buttoned over his splinted arm. After, Antoine placed a jacket of the same rough material as the breeches over Reed’s shoulders and stood back to inspect him.
“You will do, monsieur. The clothing will fit better once you gain some flesh.”
Reed leaned heavily on Antoine as they negotiated the narrow hallway that led to the rooms beyond the bedchambers. In England the cottage would be called rustic. Though undeniably comfortable, it was neither large nor pretentious, nothing to draw undue attention to its occupants.
Reed breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the large, country-style kitchen. He affected an awkward bow in Fleur’s direction and sank into the chair Antoine indicated.
“Are you all right?” Fleur asked. “Perhaps you should have remained in bed a bit longer.”
“I have been better,” Reed said, “but at least I’m alive. Not too many days ago I prayed for death.”
Fleur’s smile lit up her face. “Thank God your prayers went unanswered, my lord.”
“Thanks to you, Fleur. Please, call me Reed.”
Conversation waned as Lisette and Gaston carried in the food and placed it family style in the center of the table. Then they all sat down together.
Speaking in French, Fleur said, “We don’t stand on formality here, as you can see. We take our meals together as friends.”
Reed glanced around at Fleur’s friends, grateful to be alive and sharing a meal with them. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied in flawless French.
“Let me help you,” Fleur said as she reached for a tureen of something that smelled delicious. She ladled a generous portion into Reed’s bowl. “I hope you like bouillabaisse. Fish is cheap and easy to obtain in these parts. It may be a bit spicy for your taste.”
Plying his spoon with his uninjured arm and hand, Reed sipped the soup and rolled his eyes. “Delicious. I’ve never tasted better,” he said as he dipped a piece of crusty bread into the broth. “My compliments, Lisette.”
Lisette nodded, a pleased smile curving the corners of her mouth.
“You’ve just made Lisette’s day,” Fleur said. “She’s determined to fatten you up.”
“I promise to eat everything Lisette sees fit to serve me.”
Dessert proved just as delicious as the main course. Reed devoured every bite of the flaky pastry filled with fruit. After the meal, he was more than ready to return to bed. The act of eating had exhausted him, even though he had thoroughly enjoyed every morsel, as well as the convivial company. But he could feel weakness creeping up on him.
“Antoine will help you to bed,” Fleur said after glancing at Reed’s sagging body.
Reed nodded, even though he wasn’t yet ready to part with Fleur. The woman intrigued him. Despite the danger to herself and her friends, she stalwartly forged ahead, helping England to the best of her ability. But he was worried about her. When he returned to London, he intended to speak to Porter about the dangerous assignment Fleur had been given. The thought of her ending up in Devil’s Chateau was untenable.
“Will you come to my room later?” Reed asked in English, so only Fleur would understand. “Perhaps we can talk. I get lonely.”
“Of course I’ll come, if you aren’t too tired.”
“I won’t be too tired for you. Please come.”
Reed managed the hallway with Antoine’s help. “What the countess does is dangerous,” Reed said. “She should return to England.”
Antoine gave a Gallic shrug. “We all know that, monsieur, but she will not listen to reason. We can do nothing but look after her as best we can.”
They had reached Reed’s room. Antoine helped him out of his clothing and eased him into bed. “I intend to speak to her superior when I return to England,” Reed said. “Fleur cannot continue to put her life in danger. If I can arrange for her removal to England, will you, Gaston and Lisette accompany her?”
“I cannot speak for Lisette, but Gaston and I would probably return to our village. Though we owe our loyalty to the countess as long as she remains in France, we are Frenchmen. If the countess leaves, we will return to our families.”
“Thank you, Antoine. Without your and Gaston’s help, I wouldn’t be alive today.”
Antoine took himself off, leaving Reed alone with his thoughts. He didn’t look forward to taking up the reins of the earldom after an exciting life as a government operative. Lord Porter believed that Napoleon was on the verge of invading England, and Reed’s assignment had been either to prove or disprove that theory.
But once he returned home, he would probably be expected to choose a wife from the current crop of debutantes and set up a nursery. He shuddered at the thought.
Reed enjoyed his freedom, and liked to bed whomever he wished whenever he pleased without gossips watching his every move. How could he live his life in the public eye?
A rustling noise brought Reed’s attention to the other side of the room, where Fleur stood poised in the doorway.
“I thought you might be sleeping,” Fleur said.
“No, I’m waiting for you. Come in and sit beside me. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
Fleur moved into the room and pulled a chair up to the bed. “What is it?”
“Doctor Leclair. He was in prison with me. He set my arm and did what he could for me. His only crime is that he treated aristocrats and tried to hide their identities. Can you get him out of Devil’s Chateau without endangering your life?”
Fleur remained silent a long time. “The guard will become suspicious if I return too soon to the prison. I have to maintain the mystique of the Black Widow in order to continue my work. But this I will promise: Once you are on your way to England, I will see what I can do for him.”
“I cannot ask more of you than that. Thank you.”
“It’s time I left. You need your rest.”
As Fleur rose and bent over Reed to adjust the blanket, something Reed hadn’t thought possible happened. Her subtle scent of flowers aroused the first stirrings of desire he had felt in longer than he cared to remember. The urge to kiss Fleur, to taste her lips, overwhelmed him. Impulsively, his hand clutched the back of her head and brought her lips to his.
For the first time in months, he felt alive.
Chapter Three
The unexpectedness of Reed’s kiss stunned Fleur. She stiffened, poised on the brink of pushing herself away. But something inside her wanted this kiss. She had missed the closeness, the intimacy of marriage, but hadn’t allowed herself to be distracted by a man since Pierre’s death. But this kiss, the wonderfully satisfying magic of Reed’s lips, brought back all the yearnings she had buried with Pierre.
Without volition, her body softened as she gave herself up to pleasure. She knew allowing this to happen was wrong, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Why Reed? Fleur wondered distractedly. None of the other men who’d flowed through her cottage on their way to England had attracted her in the same way Reed did. They were simply hapless men who had been placed in her care before leaving French shores, never to be seen again. And so it would be with Reed.
That thought gave Fleur the impetus to do as she should have done in the beginning: end the kiss. She tried to pull away, suddenly aware that Reed’s uninjured arm had found its way around her waist. No, this wouldn’t do at all. Struggling against her own desire to enjoy Reed’s kisses, she broke away and gently removed his arm from her waist.
“Forgive me,” Reed said before Fleur could for
m a rebuke. “I do not know what came over me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any interest in a woman. And you—” he shook his head—“are a woman only a dead man could resist.”
Fleur wagged her finger at him. “You are in no condition to be thinking such thoughts.”
That irresistible dimple appeared in Reed’s cheek. “I’m not dead yet, Fleur.”
Fleur studied his gaunt features, trying to visualize what he had looked like before he had been starved and beaten. She suspected he was a bit of a rogue despite his dangerous work. She couldn’t help admiring his daring, fully aware that he was in no condition to follow through with his amorous intentions.
Fleur returned his grin. “There is plenty of time for that once you are back in England. I suspect there are any number of young women whose eager mamas will actively seek your attendance upon their daughters.”
Reed grimaced. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
She tucked the blanket beneath his chin. “Good night, Reed. I’ll send Gaston up to see to your needs before you settle down to sleep.”
Fleur picked up the candlestick she had brought with her and left, closing the door softly behind her. She leaned against the door for a moment and placed her fingertips over her mouth. The warmth of Reed’s lips still lingered, creating a long-forgotten tingling throughout her body. She shook her head and moved on to her own bedchamber. She was a fool to let herself be distracted by a man’s lips. Especially a man she would never see after he left France.
Reed’s thoughts matched Fleur’s. Whatever had possessed him to kiss Fleur? There was something about her luscious plump lips he couldn’t resist, and kissing her had made him feel more alive than he had in weeks, no, months. He grinned. If the opportunity presented itself, he wouldn’t hesitate to kiss her again.
Reed continued rapidly on the road to recovery. According to Doctor Defoe’s instructions, the bandages were removed from his patient’s midsection. A few deep breaths proved to Reed that his ribs had indeed mended. And a few days after that, Fleur carefully removed the splints from Reed’s arm and fashioned a sling to hold it in place while it finished healing.
The amount of food Reed consumed during the following days surprised even him. Within a month after leaving Devil’s Chateau, he had regained much of his former weight. His hollow cheeks had filled out and his silver eyes had lost their hollow look. Though full recovery was still weeks away, he began to feel like his old self again.
One of the first signs of recovery was Reed’s continued fascination with Fleur. The woman was truly amazing. Brave beyond words, Fleur put her life on the line each time she visited Devil’s Chateau under the guise of the Black Widow.
Reed knew Fleur’s vow to avenge her husband’s death drove her, and he admired her for not wavering from her course despite the risk to herself. Every moment he spent at the cottage increased her danger. Therefore, he vowed to hasten his recovery and return to England as soon as his weak body would allow.
One pleasant evening after dinner, Fleur asked Reed if he felt like going for a walk. Reed agreed with alacrity.
“I’d like that; I could use the exercise. Will you walk with me?”
“If you wish.”
“I wish. Are you sure it’s safe?”
“No one will be about this time of night. We are rather isolated here. Gaston found a cane for you. It should help you keep your balance.”
Reed rose from his chair slowly. Fleur departed to fetch her wrap. Gaston left the dining room and returned moments later with the cane and Reed’s jacket. When Fleur arrived, she took his arm.
“Are you ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
Gaston opened the door and together they walked into the night. “Where shall we go?” Reed asked.
“Down the lane a bit. The grassy area will be too uneven for you to traverse, but you should be able to manage the dirt lane without difficulty.”
They strolled, arm in arm, beneath a heaven bright with moonlight and twinkling stars. Reed breathed deeply of the fragrant night air, grateful that his maker had not granted his wish to die. It seemed as if he had waited a lifetime to walk beside Fleur on a soft summer night such as this.
Despite his pleasure at being outside, Reed soon felt himself begin to tire. Fleur must have noticed his flagging steps for she said, “There’s a fallen log beside the lane. Would you like to stop and rest before we start back?”
“I don’t like to think I am such a weakling, but yes, I’d better stop and rest. Besides, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you, and I rarely see you alone anymore.”
They ambled over to the fallen log. Reed eased himself down gingerly; Fleur sat beside him. “What did you wish to talk about?” She asked once they were settled.
“You. I’ve had a lot of time to think. I want you to leave France when I do. It isn’t safe here for you. I can’t believe Porter hasn’t insisted that you return to England.”
Fleur glanced at him, then looked away. “Lord Porter did suggest that I return, but my work here isn’t done. This cottage belongs to Lisette, a mere citizen, and I am but a simple widow. No one here is curious about me. As long my country needs me, I will remain.”
“You are but one woman, Fleur.”
Fleur shrugged. “I do what I can.”
“How much longer can the Black Widow remain anonymous? I don’t like it, Fleur. The least I can do to repay you for saving my life is to see you safely settled in England.”
Fleur shook her head. “You owe me nothing, Reed. I don’t do this for personal gain. Saving lives is my way of making sure Pierre did not die in vain. Go home when the time comes and forget about me. I will be fine.”
Reed searched her face. If only someone loved him as much as Fleur had loved her husband. “You must have loved your Pierre very much.”
She flushed and looked away. “Pierre did not deserve to die. He was a good man.”
She looked so sad, so utterly alone, that Reed couldn’t help himself. Reaching out with his uninjured arm, he caressed her face, tracing her lips with the pad of his thumb.
“You are flirting with danger as long as you remain in France.”
She turned her cheek into his palm. “It’s been a long time since a man touched me with affection.” Her whispered words held a poignant note.
“Return with me to England and I’ll make sure you find a man who will appreciate you. You deserve someone to love you.”
“I had someone who loved me.”
He brought his hand to the back of her neck, urging her closer, until he could feel the sweet touch of her breath. “You will find another.”
Resisting Fleur was impossible, even for a man still too weak to do what he truly wanted to do with Fleur. She needed a virile man, but he wasn’t that man yet. Had she taken any of the other men she had rescued to her bed?
Fleur held her breath. The look in Reed’s eyes captivated her. She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. She knew he was going to kiss her, and she wanted it. Yearned for it. She’d been so lonely since Pierre’s death. She hadn’t realized just how lonely until Reed came along. Their eyes met and clung.
None of the other men she had rescued affected her as Reed did. What was there about him that made her desire more than the lonely life she had embraced after her husband’s death?
That was her last thought before Reed lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. His kiss created arousing memories of giving and receiving pleasure, of lying in a man’s arms, of being cherished.
His ravishing mouth left hers, sought her ear, then her neck. His kisses produced delicious tremors of excitement she hadn’t experienced for longer than she cared to remember. With a small moan of surrender, she circled his neck with her arms so she could hold him closer, returning his kiss even though she knew she was swimming in dangerous waters.
Abruptly her senses returned and she drew away. “Are you ready to go back to the house?”
“I’d
rather stay here and kiss you.”
“We can’t do this, Reed. One, you’re not well enough to engage in this kind of activity.”
“We were only kissing.”
“Two,” she continued, “this shouldn’t be happening. Once you leave, I’ll never see you again. We both need to remember that.”
She rose and helped Reed to his feet. They walked in silence back to the house, where Fleur bid Reed good night and continued on to her bedchamber. Once inside, she sat on the bed and hugged herself. Reed’s kisses had tempted her to act injudiciously. She didn’t know what had gotten into her. She wasn’t the kind of woman whose head was easily turned by someone she scarcely knew.
Besides, she had told Reed the truth. He was too weak to engage in activity of the sort he was contemplating. But what would happen when he was well enough? It wasn’t difficult to tell that Reed was a man who enjoyed women. Fleur didn’t dare succumb, however, for her work here was too important. Letting herself become infatuated with Reed would lead to heartache. Besides, no man could take Pierre’s place.
Reed lay in bed, unable to sleep, cursing his weak body. Though his strength was slowly returning and he had put on weight since he’d arrived at the cottage, his stamina was not what it once was. Being around Fleur had awakened his libido, however. He could actually feel desire again. He’d felt a tugging in his loins despite his inability to sustain a full erection.
Reed pounded his pillow, angry with himself and with his weakness. Would he ever be able to perform as a man again, with a man’s ability to do both himself and the woman of his choice justice? Kissing Fleur had proven that he could still desire a woman, and that was encouraging.
Reed finally found sleep, but not an easy one. Sexual stirrings he hadn’t experienced in months plagued him. He dreamed of holding Fleur in his arms, slowly undressing her, making love to her, running his hands over her smooth skin, learning every nuance of her sweet flesh.
In the middle of the night, Reed awoke with a start and realized he was suffering discomfort. He nearly laughed aloud when he discovered the reason for his distress. He had a full-blown erection. Even though he could do nothing about it, he turned over on his stomach and embraced sleep with a smile on his face.