“I will arrange it, Sir Ross.” Banks snapped his fingers, and a maid jumped to the fore. “Have Kingston deliver the requisite provisions to the grey room.”
“Yes, sir.” The servant curtseyed and scurried down the hall.
“But I wish to stay with you.” With tears welling in her gaze, Elaine frowned. “What if you faint?”
“I will try not to hit my head.” When his subtle joke failed to elicit even a half grin, he patted her check in a scandalous display of affection. “Do not worry, as it is just a scrape.”
With that, he nodded to Banks and strolled in the butler’s wake.
The polished balustrade, cool against his heated palm, soothing his frazzled nerves, as they ascended the stairs. The delicate scent from fresh flowers teased his nose, as they rounded a large table on the landing and navigated the largest, most impressive gallery he had ever toured. Yet his was not a social call, and the stinging gash served as a constant reminder.
“In here, Sir Ross.” Aptly named, the accommodation boasted soft-hued, matching wall coverings, drapery, and bedcovers, accentuated by deep mahogany. “Is there anything I can do to assist you? May I help you remove your damaged coat?”
“Thank you, Banks.” Ross gave the butler his back and winced as he tugged at the torn sleeve. Stripped of the garment, Ross gazed at the blood stain and ripped cloth. “I think it might be repaired.” When Banks arched a brow, Ross chuckled. “Perhaps not. Just leave it on the chair.”
“Very good, Sir Ross. I will send the doctor as soon as he arrives.” At the door, Banks paused to direct a young man. “Kingston, put the ewer of water and the towels on the washstand.”
“Yes, sir.” The footman did as Banks bade.
It was at that point Ross almost lost control. Maintaining his composure by a thread, he clenched his fists and compressed his lips. In his mind, he counted each step, praying he could outlast their presence.
“You will let us know if there is anything else you need?” Banks inquired.
“Indeed.” Ross closed his eyes and focused on the pedestrian act of breathing. At the click of the latch, he started and peered at his spoiled coat. Then he assessed his ruined shirt.
In that moment, reality hit him.
He had almost lost Elaine.
A hairsbreadth could have made a difference between life and death, and she persisted because a rare fit of jealousy brought him within reach when seconds mattered. The knowledge that chance posited her salvation only increased his distress, and the floor seemed to pitch and roll beneath his feet.
After untying his cravat, he unhooked his collar, took two steps, and dropped to his knees. Gasping for air, Ross stared at the swirled pattern on the rug and fought the tension investing his shoulders, but that was not what held him captive in some invisible prison.
Locked in the grip of palpable terror, he crawled to the bed and propped against the footboard. Fear, which unfurled in the pit of his belly and spread without mercy like a malevolent plague that infected every part of him, manifested every agent’s worst enemy. The singular emotion could undermine a spy’s confidence, leading him to question every tactic, and that left vulnerabilities, room for error, and increased risk of attack.
But what could Ross do?
In truth, he had to acknowledge he cared for Elaine more than he was willing to admit, and his attachment further imperiled her. Or did it?
“Sir Ross, are you ill?” Dr. Handley, the spectacled physician who treated the Brethren, set his familiar black bag on a table and knelt beside Ross. “I knocked but entered when you did not respond. Do you wish me to treat you here, or can you move to a chair, as it appears you require sutures?”
“Sorry, but I did not hear you.” Ross rubbed his forehead. “I am a bit muddled, but I am at your service.”
“That is understandable, given what happened.” Grasping him by the elbow, the doctor steadied Ross as he stood. “And I believe you have our positions reversed, given your heroic actions, which the earl of Huntingdon described, in detail. Would you prefer brandy to dull the pain?”
“No, as the pain reminds me that I still exist in this world.” And Ross desperately needed the distraction, as thoughts of Elaine threatened to consume him. “If it will speed the process, I can perch on the edge of the mattress.”
“Actually, the chaise might suit our purpose.” While Dr. Handley arranged the tools of his trade, Ross returned to the subject foremost on his mind.
How could he protect Elaine?
No matter how many agents he assigned to her, she evaded them. The situation called for drastic measures, despite his inclinations. To save Elaine, he had to surrender her, once and for all.
The lady required a husband.
to catch a fallen spy
chapter four
“Elaine, I have indulged your fascination with Sir Ross for the last time.” With fists on hips, Lance squared his shoulders in an affectation of aggravation she knew well. “I forbid you to see him again.”
“I beg your pardon?” She adopted a similar stance as her hotheaded cousin. “You were named my guardian—not my father.”
“A minor distinction that has no bearing on the circumstance.” He folded his arms. “And I take my position very seriously.”
“Ah, but I differ from your perspective.” Again, she mirrored his posture. “You labor under the mistaken assumption that your rank gives you the right to dictate my life, which I rebuke. I came into my inheritance when I reached the age of eight and ten, thus your responsibility is ended.”
“I disagree.” With a huff, he thrust his chin.
“And I do not care.” To prove her point, she copied his stubborn attitude. “If you force my hand, I will leave Raynesford House.”
Shuffling his feet, he blinked, and his mouth fell agape. “Where would you go?”
“Anywhere I could live free,” she replied, without hesitation.
“Do you harbor so little affection for me?” The hurt in his countenance struck a blow, and she faltered.
“Oh, Lance, just the opposite is true.” Desperate to make him understand her position, she splayed her hands in supplication. “Given I was but a babe when Thomas died, and I lost my parents shortly thereafter, you are the only brother—the only family—I have ever known, and I love you. Nothing distresses me more than finding myself at odds with you. Although I would prefer your support, I must make my own way, and I will defy you, if you force me into an untenable situation I cannot tolerate. Regardless of what you think, Ross is my future, and I will have him, unless he rejects me.”
“And what then?” Lance smacked a fist to a palm.
“I shall die an old maid.” Of course, she hoped it did not come to that.
“You are that determined?” He inclined his head.
“I am entrenched and undeterred.” It was time to make her stand, and she remained resolute in her quest to win the fate she desired. “So what will you do, cousin?” Biting her tongue, she awaited his decision.
“You choose him over your blood relations?” Lance blinked.
Yet she would not vacillate. “I would argue the choice is yours.”
Silence filled with tension hung heavy in the study.
The constant beat of her heart hammered in her ears, as Lance rubbed the back of his neck. Then he shuffled his feet and shifted his weight. Just when she thought she might scream, he sighed and slumped forward.
Pinning her with his stare, he compressed his lips. “Your father is probably rolling over in his grave, but I will not oppose you.”
A muffled sob snared Elaine’s attention, as she discovered Cara, tears streaming her cheeks, just inside the door. With nary a word, Cara rushed into Lance’s embrace.
“Sweetheart, what is wrong?” As Lance hugged his wife, he kissed her forehead. “Why do you cry?”
“For a minute, I thought you forgot our rather rough courtship and rocky path to marital bliss.” Nuzzling his chest, Cara sniffed. “Is
your memory so short? Can you not recall our argument at my parent’s home, on my birthday, when I mistakenly thought you preferred Alex to me? Do you not remember that a woman will do anything to fight for the man she loves and, when faced with rejection, would sooner accept a life of solitude than take another as husband?”
“Point taken, as I recollect, too well, what you risked for me.” Cupping her chin, Lance teased her nose with his. “And I pledge not to interfere with Elaine’s pursuit of Sir Ross.” Then he wagged a finger. “But neither will I aid her campaign, as such involvement causes nothing but trouble, which I caution you to reflect on, given your enlistment of the Brethren women produced naught but disaster.”
“Did you not recruit Jason in your scheme?” She clucked her tongue. “And I challenge you to reminisce of your catastrophic results, which almost landed me before the altar as Collingwood’s blushing bride.”
“Perish the thought.” In rapid succession, Lance claimed several kisses, and Cara giggled. “Should you not change for dinner?”
“I should, indeed.” She cast a flirty grin. “And I could use your handiwork.”
“Now that is my pleasure.” Lance winked, and it never ceased to amaze Elaine how Cara influenced him.
Prior to his marriage, an underlying sadness permeated his every move, and Elaine lamented the burden he carried. For too many wasted years, Lance bore the blame for Thomas’s death. From what she had been told, Lance and Thomas were joined at the hip till the end, when Elaine’s elder brother drowned in a frozen pond. Caught in the same trap, Lance suffered a wicked bout of pneumonia, which almost took his life, and in a sense it had, until Cara set him free with her love.
If only Elaine could do the same for Ross, as he bore similar invisible chains.
“I should leave you.” Elaine averted her stare, as they shared a private moment. Engaged in each other, Lance and Cara hardly noticed Elaine’s exit. While several of the Brethren and their wives gathered in the drawing room, she dashed upstairs and through the gallery. Wrapped in a haze of mystical dreams of her spy, she almost knocked over Dr. Handley.
“Lady Elaine.” The physician tipped his hat. “How do you fare this fine evening?”
“Quite well, thank you.” She sketched a half-curtsey. “And how is the patient?”
“Oh, Sir Ross will live, I suppose.” The doctor snorted. “And I suspect he understands that flesh is no match for a lead shot. Now, if you will excuse me, I should like to dine with my wife, tonight.”
“Of course.” Elaine nodded once. “I wish you a pleasant evening.”
A slow stroll brought her closer to her target. Entranced by the most minute furnishing, she persisted in a state of keen awareness, as everything from the delicate damask flock wall covering to the Sheraton cabinet made of zebrawood caught her eye. And although Raynesford House had been her home since birth, it possessed a new and enticing quality, as Ross occupied a chamber.
At the door to his temporary quarters, she rested her hand on the knob, which was cool against her fevered palm. With a quick flick of her wrist, she opened the oak panel and stepped inside the room. Shirtless, her quarry sat in a chair, sipped brandy, and gazed into the blaze in the hearth, and her mouth watered.
When she inched forward, the floorboard creaked beneath her feet, and Ross snapped to attention. “Elaine?” With a violent flinch, he spilled his drink and leaped upright. “What in bloody hell are you doing here?”
“Why, I am looking at you, sir.” With rippled muscles dotted by various marks, he cut an impressive specimen. Indeed, never had she beheld such perfection, and she swallowed hard. “You are beautiful.”
“Have you no shame.” Frowning, he glanced left and then right. “Where is my shirt?”
“Is this what you seek?” The particular item in question had been draped at the end of the chaise, and she snatched the garment. “What will you give me for the return of your clothing?”
At first, he appeared stunned by her brazen manner, and she surprised herself, to be honest, but the time for missish behavior had long since passed. Then something in his demeanor changed, as he lowered his chin and narrowed his stare.
“What do you want?” he inquired, in a low voice that gave her delicious shivers.
For a scarce second, he stumped her. Just as fast, she regained her wits. “A kiss will do nicely.”
“And what would the marquess say about your request?” He neared, ever so slowly, and her heart raced. “My guess is he would disapprove.”
“Does it matter?” She shrugged in an effort to stifle the urge to run, when he stood toe to toe with her. With a single finger, he tipped her chin and met her gaze, which she swore bore right through her. Beneath his scrutiny, neither threatening nor innocuous, her knees buckled, but she remained steadfast, even when he pressed his lips to hers.
It was not a particularly lengthy kiss, as their flesh barely touched, but a mystical veil of some heretofore-foreign power swept her up in an invisible vortex of elation and something else. Something new and delicious. And then it dawned on her.
Passion.
The incomparable emotion surged in her veins, ignited her nerves, and set every inch of her ablaze. And all the while Ross studied her reaction. She should have been embarrassed or, at the very least, contrite. Instead, Elaine cupped his cheek and drew him to her for a lengthier exchange.
To her frustration, he refused to engage her, yet she sensed the hunger raging amid his affectation of calm. And just as she thought to withdraw, he pulled her into his warm embrace, and she splayed her palm to his naked chest.
“I almost lost you today.” In that instant, he hugged her so tight she struggled to draw breath. “And if that happened, I could never forgive myself.”
“So you believe someone shot at me this evening?” It was a prospect she had not let herself ponder until that moment. “Do you not suppose it was a careless gentleman, practicing his aim a tad too close to the park?”
“It was no accident.” The certainty in his statement cut her to the core.
“So what is our next move?” A crescent-shaped scar marred his otherwise pristine flesh, just above his left nipple, and she traced the curve of the jagged mark. “What do you recommend?”
“At last, you are willing to listen to reason?” His arched brow conveyed his doubt.
“Of course, as I am not daft. And perhaps you should dress for dinner. Will you join us?” When she handed him the shirt, she noted the large bloodstain contrasting with the white linen, and her poise flagged. “I am so sorry I caused your injury.”
“You think this is your fault?” Garbed in naught but his breeches and boots, he led her to the chaise, where she sat. “But you are blameless.”
“That is not entirely accurate.” In fact, she refused to ignore the truth of her culpability. “I conspired with the Brethren women to pursue you and deliberately put myself in a vulnerable position, because I knew you would guard me, and I long for your company.”
For the second time in an hour, palpable silence loomed as a very real barrier, and she gulped, as Ross looked at her as if she had sprouted an additional head.
“Are you always so frank in your discussions, or am I the rare beneficiary of such candor?” His subsequent chuckle eased her concerns. “Sweet Elaine, I am more honored than I can say, that you deem me worthy of you, but I cannot accept your most gracious offer, as I must focus on my work.”
“So you are not rejecting me, outright?” Hope glimmered. “That is, I might persuade you to give us a chance, once the villain is caught?”
“Lady Elaine.” His answering sigh blanketed her in melancholy, but she refused to cede the fight. “Have you never considered the possibility that some have no aspirations of marriage and its entailments? There are those intended to spend their days in solitude, as a wife and children are not for them.”
“I understand.” She clutched his fingers. “But that is not your fate, as you are meant for more, if only you coul
d see that. However, if I must settle for your friendship, I am prepared to do so.”
“And you will find another?” Did he have to appear to optimistic in his query?
“Yes, Sir Ross.” Yet, that would never happen. “Now, if you will excuse me, I should reassure my family that I am quite recovered from the fright. And I shall ask Banks to bring you one of Lance’s shirts, that you might dine with us.”
“Thank you, dear lady.” The spy pressed his lips to the underside of her wrist, and she clung to the contact. “And please know that I want nothing but happiness for you.”
“And I you.” Composing herself with noble hauteur, and ignoring the sting of his dismissal, which she would mourn in the privacy of her suite, Elaine strolled from the chamber.
Sheltering her distress and disappointment in the deep recesses of her heart, where she was always honest with herself, she promised herself she would rally again. On the stairs, she located the butler and made her request. In the foyer, she turned right and found the Brethren wives gathered in the drawing room.
“Oh, Elaine, we were so worried for you.” Sabrina enveloped Elaine in a sisterly hug. “Come and sit with us.”
“No.” Preparing to deliver the dreadful news, Elaine inhaled a shaky breath and glanced at Alex, Rebecca, and Lenore. “I just wanted to inform you that our short-lived and valiant campaign to win Sir Ross is over.”
#
Beneath a starry sky and serenaded by the haunting singsong of various night creatures, Ross raised his bull’s-eye lantern and examined the tree trunk. A telltale pockmark confirmed his conclusions, and he used his knife to retrieve the ball. To a novice, the small lead shot would appear quite harmless. But to the trained eye, the ammunition represented death.
Footsteps caught his ear, and he doused his light and hunkered in the shadows.
“I thought I might find you here, and your rig parked at the curb confirmed my hunch.” The marquess of Raynesford crossed the sidewalk. “And I left a warm bed and an accommodating wife to speak with you.”
To Catch A Fallen Spy (Brethren of the Coast Book 8) Page 5