by Connie Mason
Moonlight washed over her, burnishing her skin with gold. She was perfection, this woman who had saved his life. He covered her mouth with his, thrusting his tongue languidly inside, tasting himself on her lips. After kissing her breathless, he left her mouth in favor of her nipples, suckling just hard enough to make her arch and cry out. Her fingers clamped on to his buttocks, digging into the muscle as her breathing grew labored.
Reed slid from her grasp, working his way lower, feasting on sweetly scented flesh along the way. Parting the soft thatch of curls, he probed hungrily with his tongue, seeking the erect little nub of flesh hidden there. She made a soft gurgle of pleasure as he stroked over her clitoris again and again.
“You’re as perfect there as you are everywhere else,” he rasped moments before he covered her with his mouth. He worked her slowly with his tongue, flicking inside, then withdrawing as he continued to fondle the swelling nub of her femininity with the pad of his thumb.
“Reed! I’m . . . I cannot . . . ”
Trembling violently, Fleur cried out and rocked beneath him for what seemed an eternity. She was still lost in the throes of ecstasy when Reed moved up her body and thrust his cock inside her tight sheath. She arched upward, her body coming up to meet his. His body taut, teeth clenched, he rode her furiously to his own thundering climax, aware of nothing save his own pleasure.
Moments later they lay side by side, wrapped in each other’s arms, sated and weary.
“I will never forget this moment,” Reed promised. “Not ever, no matter what life brings. Even if we never cross paths again, I will remember this night.”
Before the fingers of a misty gray dawn pushed away the night, Reed had two more precious memories to store up and savor at his leisure. He left Fleur’s bed before the household began to stir and slept until noon.
Fleur was awakened hours earlier by Lisette, who swished into the chamber, sniffed delicately and opened the window.
“The room reeks of sex, ma petite. I trust you enjoyed yourself.”
Fleur opened her eyes, blinked blearily, sat up and gave a satisfied purr. “I enjoyed myself very much, Lisette. Do not begrudge me a few moments of happiness. Chances are Reed and I will never meet again.”
Lisette’s expression softened. “I begrudge you nothing, chèrie, but I fear your heart will be broken.”
“My heart is well guarded, Lisette,” Fleur replied, desperately wanting to believe her own words.
Fleur had always enjoyed the marital bed with Pierre, but what they’d done and how he made her feel was a far cry from what she experienced with Reed. After Reed was gone, she would have plenty of time to ponder the state of her emotions. But regardless of whatever conclusion she came to, she and Reed could be nothing more than brief lovers, like ships passing in the night.
Fleur kept busy the rest of the day, though her mind was as dismal as the weather. A light rain had fallen all day, and fog rolling in from the sea had lowered visibility to a few feet. Today was Reed’s last day at the cottage, and the weather was cooperating perfectly for his clandestine departure.
Tonight Reed would board a ship for England, and Fleur would continue on in France as if she hadn’t taken him as her lover. There were so many details involved with Reed’s leaving that Fleur found no opportunity to speak privately with him. They all met in the dining room for dinner that night to partake of roast beef and other dishes Lisette had prepared.
“Everything is in place for tonight,” Fleur said to Reed. “Rendezvous time is midnight. Antoine will bring the cart around at precisely eleven. We couldn’t ask for better weather. The fog will provide a perfect cover for the boat.”
“What if the ship fails to arrive?” Reed asked hopefully.
“Then we will return home and hope for a rendezvous tomorrow night. But that has never happened. The ship has always been there waiting. Nor have we been forced to use the alternate rendezvous.”
The plans set and the meal finished, Antoine and Gaston left to prepare the cart, while Lisette busied herself elsewhere. Reed and Fleur were alone at last, each dreading this final goodbye. Reed drew Fleur to her feet and led her into the parlor.
“This isn’t goodbye, Fleur. We’ll meet again one day.”
Fleur held scant hope of meeting Reed again in this life. And she was smart enough to realize that being besotted with a man she would never see again was futile, so she forced her thoughts away from Reed to the reason she was remaining in France.
Though she would admit it to no one, intuition told her that the authorities were closing in on her. If her time was limited, she wanted to save as many Englishmen as she could. But for Reed’s sake, she put on a brave face.
“One day I will return to England, and when I do, we may meet, but more than likely we will not. Perhaps you’ll be wed by then, with your heir on the way. All I ask is that you remember me fondly.”
“Fondly? You saved my life, Fleur. But for you I would be dead. What I will remember about you is your courage, your kindness and most of all your passion. You returned my faith in my manhood. Thank you for that, for everything.”
Reed pulled her into his arms, wishing he could say something, anything, to convince her to leave with him. But he knew he would be wasting his breath. Fleur felt the same about serving her country as he. So he did what his heart and body directed. He tightened his arms around her and kissed her one last time, drinking in her taste and essence so as to remember her forever.
When the kiss ended, Fleur gave him a wave and a wobbly smile and fled. He didn’t follow her. Nor did he see her again before he climbed onto the cart and left the cottage forever.
The ride to the rendezvous was damp and uncomfortable. The night was so foggy, Reed feared the cart would miss a turn and plunge off the cliff. But Antoine knew the way and kept the horse on the narrow trail. They proceeded without incident, arriving at the rendezvous at the appointed time.
Reed climbed out of the cart. “I can’t see anything. If there’s a ship out there, it’s hidden by the fog.” He walked to the edge of a steep incline and stared into the misty darkness, wondering where Andre was and if he should proceed down the slope to the narrow strip of beach.
“Welcome back from the dead, Hunthurst.”
Reed whirled at the sound of a familiar voice. “Who’s there?”
“Your friends know me as Andre, but you know me by another name.”
A lantern flared. Andre’s face came into view, and Reed recognized him as an operative he had met several times before. He was dressed in the same rough clothing as Reed, able to pass as a French peasant without difficulty. “Peter Weldon. You were in Paris the last time I saw you. What are you still doing in France?”
“I’ve spent the last few months searching for you,” Weldon said. “I was beginning to fear you were dead when I stumbled upon Devil’s Chateau. Then it took awhile to discover if you were one of the prisoners inside. It was Porter who told me about Fleur Fontaine. He knows her aunt. From her he learned that the countess was supposedly living in a cottage near Devil’s Chateau. I contacted her and together we hatched a plan to get her inside the prison.
“Before she found you, she was able to rescue Grimes and Leasenby. They hadn’t been there long and weren’t in as bad shape as you were. Fleur and her little group have worked wonders with you, though you are still a bit thin and pale. Now it’s time you returned to England and took your rightful place in Society.”
“To hell with Society!” Reed blasted. “How could you place Fleur in such a dangerous situation? You sent her into Devil’s Chateau without a thought for her safety.”
“It was her decision, Hunthurst. She felt a need to serve her country and to avenge her husband’s murder. I merely supplied the means.”
“I tried to convince her to accompany me to England, but she refused.”
“Fleur Fontaine is a courageous woman. Lord Porter is grateful for her dedication to the Crown. She can leave France at any time. All she has
to do is contact me and a ship will come for her.”
“Does that mean you’re remaining in France?”
“I will remain here for as long as I am needed. Someone has to look out for Fleur. Don’t worry, Hunthurst, I won’t let anything happen to her. Porter has charged me with her safety.”
Reed glanced out past the breakers, where a faint light was visible. “Perhaps I should remain here, too. Porter needs all the operatives he can get.”
Weldon must have seen the light, too, for he raised the lantern aloft and waved it back and forth.
“You’re leaving,” he said. “Your grandmother and the earldom need you.” He clasped Reed’s shoulder. “My condolences; I know how fond you were of your brother.”
“Thank you. I never wanted the title, you know.”
“I know, but often fate is heedless of our wants and desires. Shall we make our way to the beach? The rowboat should arrive soon.”
Seeing no way to refuse, Reed expressed his gratitude to Antoine and Gaston and waved them off. He heard the sound of the cart’s wheels as he started down the slippery incline. Weldon led the way with the lantern. The rowboat hadn’t arrived yet when they reached the slim crescent of beach.
“How will they find us in this fog?” Reed asked.
“Look,” Weldon said, pointing toward the water.
Reed saw a flickering light moving through the mist. Weldon held his lantern aloft, guiding the rowboat to their position.
“Actually, the fog is a godsend,” Weldon said. “French ships patrol the coast quite rigorously. Slipping past their guard will be easier on a night such as this.”
Reed watched the rowboat approach with growing dread. Leaving Fleur behind didn’t sit well with him. A gut feeling warned him that trouble loomed for the Black Widow. Despite the fact that Fleur had chosen her own path, Reed wanted to return to the cottage and take her away, even if he had to drag her out kicking and screaming.
A rasping sound brought Reed’s attention back to the present. The rowboat had reached the beach, its bottom scraping against sand in the shallow water.
“Get in,” Weldon said.
“Wait,” Reed said, “there is something you should know. I was betrayed. My gut is telling me someone in the organization is a traitor. I will make sure Porter knows so he can take action.”
He reached out to shake Weldon’s hand. “Watch your back, Weldon. At this point, we don’t know who is a friend and who is an enemy.”
Weldon clasped Reed’s hand. “I’m surprised but not shocked. Thanks for the warning. Give Porter my regards and tell him I’ll be in touch through the regular channels as soon as I have anything of importance to report.”
Reed released Weldon’s hand and waded to the boat. Someone reached out to grasp his arm, and he climbed inside and took a seat. He barely had time to wave goodbye to Weldon before the two sailors in the boat shoved off.
“Don’t worry about Lady Fontaine,” Weldon called through the misty darkness. “No harm . . . ”
That was all Reed could hear over the sound of oars pushing through choppy water. Thick fingers of dense fog closed in on them. Reed saw no ship, nothing but grayness surrounding them. He was beginning to wonder how they would find the ship when one of the sailors stood and waved a lantern back and forth.
Reed held his breath as he waited for the ship to respond. Sure enough, a dim light appeared in the distance, flashing a reply. The rowboat adjusted its course slightly and continued toward the flashing light. A short time later, the outline of a sleek sloop appeared dead ahead. When they reached the ship, a rope ladder was let down and Reed scrambled up. A hand reached out and helped him over the railing. Minutes later the rowboat was winched aboard.
“Good to see you again, Harwood. Forgive me, I should say Lord Hunthurst. Welcome aboard the Mary Ann.”
“Captain Skilling, we meet again,” Reed replied. “I should have known you would be here to carry me back to England. After all, you were the one who brought me here.”
“I understand you are still recuperating. The fog is turning into rain. Perhaps you should go below and rest while we maneuver past French gunships patrolling the coast.”
Still pale after months in prison, Reed turned even paler, if that was possible. He couldn’t bear the thought of being enclosed in the small, airless space below that served as a cabin. Just thinking about it made him shudder.
“I’ll remain topside if you don’t mind, Skilling,” Reed said. “Prison changed me in many ways, some of which I don’t understand myself. I seem to have developed an aversion for closed-in places.”
“Suit yourself, Hunthurst,” Skilling replied. “A few weeks in the country and I’m sure you will be your old self again.”
Reed wondered if he’d ever be his old self again. His greatest fear was that he would turn into a blithering idiot if he allowed his demons to take control.
“We won’t be going all the way to London this time. We’re putting you ashore at Portsmouth and then we’re off on another mission,” Skilling said.
Reed found a seat on a coil of ropes and watched the water rush by as the sails were unfurled and caught the wind. He was going home. It was difficult to believe that not too long ago he had wished for death, had been as close to death as a man could get without being in the grave.
And then Fleur had arrived, whisking him away and nursing him back to health. But despite Fleur’s best efforts, she couldn’t cure the darkness that dwelt deep within him.
Night turned into dawn. With the light of day, it became evident that the Mary Ann had successfully evaded the French ships guarding the coast and was well on her way to Portsmouth. Reed leaned against the mast, turned his face up to the rising sun and promptly fell asleep.
Two days later, they reached Portsmouth. Captain Skilling placed a purse filled with gold coins, compliments of Lord Porter, in Reed’s hands, wished him a safe journey and sent him ashore in the rowboat.
Reed Harwood, the new Earl of Hunthurst, was home.
Chapter Six
Reed approached the town aware of his lack of proper attire. The rough clothing he wore was better suited for a peasant than an earl. Since Portsmouth was a good-sized city and he knew the town well, he headed for the shop of a tailor he had done business with before. He didn’t want to show up at Hunthurst Park looking like a poor relation.
“Lord Harwood, welcome,” Mr. Sidley the tailor greeted him. “It’s been a while since you stopped into my shop to make a purchase. What can I do for you, sir?”
Reed held out his arms and made a slow turn. “Take a good look at me, Sidley. Don’t I look like I need a new set of clothing?”
Sidley adjusted his spectacles. “You look . . . my word, what happened to you? You’re thinner than I remember, and paler. And you’re wearing peasants’ garb. Have you been ill?”
“You might say that,” Reed said, declining to elaborate. “How soon can you make up something for me? I can’t stay in town long. My brother has passed to his reward, and I am the new Earl of Hunthurst. I wish to return home looking halfway decent.”
Sidley stared at Reed and obviously came to his own conclusion about Reed’s disreputable appearance, pale face and weight loss. Combined with his sudden appearance in a port town, it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together and figure out where Reed had been and why.
“My lord, forgive me for being unaware of your new station. Please accept my condolences on the loss of your brother. I can have a suit of clothing ready for you the day after tomorrow. I shall take your measurements now and set my employees to work immediately. Do you have any preferences?”
“A proper riding costume, I think. I intend to buy a horse and ride to my estate in Kent. I should like a blue jacket, a white shirt and buckskin riding breeches. I’ll need riding gloves and boots, of course, but I’m hoping they can be purchased easily in a town this size.”
Sidley nodded. “I have sufficient material on hand for you to choose fro
m. Shall we get on with the measuring?”
Reed spent a few minutes picking out material, then stood impatiently while Sidley measured him. He would order an entire new wardrobe once he returned to London. He had clothing at Hunthurst Park that would suffice until new garments could be custom-made. Reed told the tailor to put the bill on his account, instructed him to deliver the clothing to the Red Fox Inn and left.
Reed next visited a men’s emporium where he purchased gloves, a scarf and underclothing. He didn’t bother with a hat, for he didn’t like wearing one. He found boots that fit reasonably well at the shoemaker’s. They had been made for a customer who couldn’t pay, and the shoemaker was eager to find a buyer. Reed paid the man and wore them out of the shop.
A meal and a room for the night was Reed’s next order of business. He walked to the Red Fox Inn, where he had stayed before, and paid for a room, meal and bath. He ate an excellent meal consisting of good English beef, roasted potatoes and apple cobbler smothered in fresh cream while his room was being prepared.
Reed was delighted to find a bath waiting in his room, along with the items he had purchased at the men’s emporium, which had been delivered to his room while he ate. Reed undressed quickly and climbed into the tub, reaching for the soap sitting on a nearby bench with a towel.
Reed lingered in the bath until the water cooled, then rubbed his body dry with the towel and stretched out naked on the bed.
A pained expression crossed his face when he thought of Fleur. He intended to speak to Porter about her dangerous mission as soon as he returned to London. Porter was the only one who could order her return to England, and Reed intended to encourage him to do so.
His stomach comfortably full, his body clean, Reed promptly fell asleep. He didn’t awaken until late the following morning. After a substantial breakfast, he left the inn to purchase a horse. He had good luck there, too. He found a feisty black gelding with good lines and strong teeth at the livery. The price was fair so Reed closed the deal immediately. The owner was so pleased he threw in a perfectly acceptable saddle and tack. Reed named the gelding Ebony and rode him back to the inn.