To Catch A Fallen Spy (Brethren of the Coast Book 8)

by Barbara Devlin

  “That is putting it mildly.” Cara rolled her eyes. “But, in all fairness, since my marriage to Lance, I am convinced the male sex operates in a state of utter befuddlement, when it comes to their heart.”

  “And it is no small wonder they have come this far.” With a shrug, Caroline shook her head. “The longer I have shared my life with Trevor, the more I am persuaded to infer that humanity owes the sum of its existence to women.”

  “I concur.” Alex glanced over her shoulder. “Men know four modes of survival: eat, sleep, fight, and make love.”

  “With food and sex taking priority,” asserted Daphne. “And even then, Dalton can go an entire day without the former but never the latter.”

  “Agreed.” Lenore snickered. “The Brethren are of singular intent.”

  “Perhaps, that is why we love them.” Rebecca compressed her lips, and the refined collective burst into laughter.

  “All right.” Elaine pressed her palm to her belly. “If I might broach a personal query, Caroline and Alex excepted, as we know of their individual difficulties preceding their nuptials, how much is too much, in regard to physical relations prior to the wedding?” She gazed at the remaining wives. “How much did you indulge your swains during courtship?” Then Elaine drew up short. “Or have I overstepped the limits of familial confidence?”

  “Nonsense.” Rebecca snorted. “Women have engaged in such topics since creation, I suspect. But no one knows what goes on behind closed doors, and we never betray each other’s secrets.” She peered from side to side and inched near. “Dirk and I consummated our relationship before we spoke the vows, and if I had it to do over again, I would change nothing.”

  “Blake insisted we wait.” Lenore cast a half-smile. “But he made up for lost time as soon as the vicar pronounced us husband and wife.”

  “The same can be said of Everett.” Sabrina caught her husband’s attention and winked. “Out of some misplaced sense of honor, he delayed the singular event, and it was the most frustrating experience of my life.” In a flash, she held a finger to her lips. “Shh.”

  “You beckoned, my saucy Sabrina?” Everett bent and whispered in her ear, and Sabrina giggled. “My dear ladies, if you will excuse us.”

  “Where are they going?” Daphne stretched on tiptoes. “The dance floor is in the other direction.”

  “I fancy they seek the privacy of the Netherton’s library.” And Sabrina’s boldness gave Elaine an idea. Standing amid the Brethren, Ross conversed with Lance. Focusing all her energy, Elaine stared at him, until he met her, measure for measure. “Sisters, I believe I will borrow a page from Brie’s book. Wish me luck.”

  Snaring her quarry’s attention, Elaine smiled, turned, and darted to the terrace doors.

  #

  What in bloody hell was Elaine about? Cursing under his breath, Ross searched for Agent Barrett, to no avail. Seething, he made his excuses and followed in her wake. At the large French doors, left open to admit the cool night air into the stuffy ballroom, he glanced over his shoulder and stepped to the flagged surface.

  Ahead, at a turn on the graveled path, Elaine waved and dashed to the left. In a flash, he sprinted after her. Tempted by her flirty giggle, he trailed her to a small clearing. Bathed in silvery blue moonlight, his lady hiked her skirts in a scandalous display of her calves and ran to a tiny gazebo. Of course, he gave chase.

  “I ought to spank you.” Yet, he would never strike her.

  “If it will appease your male pride, I am amenable to the proposition.” Ah, she was bold, and he liked it. “Step into my lair of delicious iniquity, Sir Ross.” In the dark, she sighed, as he ascended the three steps and joined her. “Alone, at last, my reticent swain.”

  “Elaine, we must return to—” And then she pounced.

  Soft and feminine as she pressed herself against him, she covered his mouth with hers, and he forgot what he intended to protest. Soothing warmth pervaded his flesh and ignited a slow burning fire in his veins. In her unschooled but nonetheless formidable embrace, the chill that imprisoned him for the better part of a decade melted, leaving naught but desire to drive him, and he answered the call.

  When Ross seized the reins and steered her in a heated assignation, he came alive. With the subtle scent of lavender, and the taste of some sweet wine on her lips, she summoned, and he responded. It was as if night yielded to daylight, and the sun beat a blazing path straight to a part of his anatomy that had not seen action in ten years. He believed that aspect of him had been destroyed in a dank chamber, amid the violence and chaos of espionage, but it appeared the ingénue possessed some mystical power to revive him.

  Incapable of rational thought, he succumbed to her charm, angled his head, mingled his tongue with hers, and intensified their exchange. To his infinite gratitude, she moaned and speared her fingers through his hair, and that was all the encouragement he required.

  Waging a losing battle with passion, he backed her to a post, shifted, and set a palm to her breast, and she gasped but did not flinch as he touched her. Yes, he took liberties, but he was hungry, and she was accommodating. And while he knew he needed to end their rendezvous, heaven help him, he could not let go, and he could not stop himself from taking what she offered.

  After several tempestuous, groping, intensely silent minutes, they broke for air, and he rested his forehead to hers. “What are you doing?”

  “I thought it obvious.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “I am thanking you for the flowers, as you have made me so happy. Did I tell you that?”

  “You did.” Ross slipped an arm about her waist and hugged her close. “But tell me again.”

  “Oh, Ross, I am so happy.” Lifting her chin, she drew him to her and claimed another oh-so-arresting kiss. “And I promise we will be the most stupendous couple in London.”

  In an instant, he came alert and recalled the pact he enacted with Lord Raynesford. Just as Ross feared, Elaine welcomed his suit, and he would wager his healthy bank account that not for a minute did she doubt him. For good or ill, he needed to share the details of the plot, in order to spare her the pain and humiliation of the inevitable estrangement, once he caught the villain pursuing her.

  But the irresistible noblewoman distracted him, when she nibbled his chin and worked her way back to a torrid engagement, which he nurtured and fed. And somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, it occurred to him then that he needed her, and he needed no one. For him, with her at his side, a vibrant world filled with promise loomed on the horizon, if only he had the courage to capture it.

  As she opened to him, in an unmistakable invitation, he succumbed, once more. Just as before, his body reacted with fierce savagery, such that Ross could not contain himself, and he devoured her succulent lips.

  In the distance, voices cut through the ardor as a portentous warning, and he tried but failed to check himself. If partygoers found him in a clinch with Elaine, she would be ruined, and he would have to marry her. But would that be bad? As her husband, he could protect her better than her cousin, because a spouse had legal rights not entailed to a secondary relative. Indeed, he could lock her away and safeguard her, and the law would compel her to obey.

  So as the intruders neared, Ross did something he never would have imagined.

  He escalated the tryst.

  A shrill cry of alarm brought him upright, and he retreated.

  “Upon my word.” Miranda Hogart simpered. “It is Lady Elaine Prescott and Sir Ross Logan.”

  “Let us return to the ball.” Sir Archibald Kleinfeld ushered Miranda and her mother, Beryl, along the path. “Ladies, I am so sorry you witnessed such disreputable unpleasantness.”

  And so it was done, his course was set, and there was no escape.

  “No,” Elaine whispered. “Ross, what are we going to do, as the Hogarts are the worst gossips in the ton?”

  “We should probably locate Lord Raynesford, before the news makes the rounds.” Then he might survive his hastily sketched plan, neck
intact.

  Unfortunately for Ross, the marquess and the rest of the Brethren were waiting on the terrace, when he escorted Elaine to the house, and the grim countenances signaled a storm brewing. In an attempt to spike Raynesford’s guns, Ross opted to confess everything. “Lord Raynesford, I can explain—”

  The marquess struck Ross squarely in the jaw, and he stumbled backward, as Elaine shrieked.

  “Now that we have dispensed with the honor punch, what is it to be, Logan?” Raynesford folded his arms. “Pistols at dawn or the parson’s noose?”

  “Lance, no.” To her credit, Elaine placed herself between Ross and her furious cousin. “If you harm Ross, you will kill me.”

  The jolt brought him out of his fit of temporary insanity, and Ross wondered what in bloody hell he had done, as he could not wed any woman. But he had no choice, as he noted Elaine’s distress, and he deliberately ruined her, so he had to restore her reputation, and there was only one solution.

  “No need for dramatics.” With a handkerchief, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “I will marry Lady Elaine.”

  “Was that your plan, all along?” Lance shouted. “I suspect you duped me into acting as your unwitting accomplice, when I sought to protect her.”

  “What is going on out here?” Cara, with the Brethren wives in tow, rushed to Lance’s side. “Would you stage a scene for the delectation of the guests? Is it not enough that Elaine is being dragged through the mire by the Hogarts, as we speak?”

  “Trevor, I forbid you to kill Sir Ross.” Caroline tapped her foot on the paver. “And the same goes for the rest of you.”

  “But he debauched Lady Elaine,” George insisted. “It is our duty to dispatch him to his maker.”

  “I beg to differ.” Steadfast, Rebecca yanked Dirk to her side. “Your mission is to get him to the altar, on time and in once piece. And if you fail, you will answer to us.”

  “Indeed.” With a huff, Sabrina collected Everett and adjusted his cravat. “And now you will adjourn to the ballroom, with a smile on your handsome face, else you will sleep on the sofa in your study.”

  “And what of Logan’s offense?” asked Everett. “He must atone for his misconduct.”

  It was like watching some absurd comedy on Drury Lane, as the Brethren wives wielded their power, and five heretofore-infallible husbands bowed to their mate’s pleasure. Even the unattached George and Lucien acquiesced, and Ross supposed he glimpsed his future as a member of the odd extended family.

  “I grant you that.” Daphne lowered her chin and narrowed her stare. “So I will make you a bargain. Let he who committed no similar wrongdoings prior to his nuptials exact recompense.”

  The repetitive cadence of night creatures formed a gentle symphony, in contrast with the clumsy shuffling of feet, as the husbands groaned in unison.

  “So what do you propose to correct the current conundrum, my beautiful bride?” In a stroke of genius Ross filed for later use, Dalton switched allegiance.

  “If memory serves, we found ourselves in the same circumstance, when Lady Moreton conspired against us, and we prevailed by dictating our response.” The dinner bell pealed, and Daphne snapped her fingers. “Gather round, as I have an idea.”

  After rancorous discussion, during which Elaine reached behind and grasped his hand, Ross repaired to the dining room, surrounded by the Brethren. In full view of society, the men exchanged hearty backslaps and vociferous congratulations, while the ladies hugged Elaine. Despite an undercurrent of tension, the scheme worked brilliantly, as soon the whispers grew into open discourse and speculation of an impending wedding.

  Sitting across from Elaine at the table, Ross winked, and she grinned. Even in a crowded room, she managed to touch him, and her invisible but comforting caress provided reassurance. For the first time in countless years, he coveted hope for something he never wanted, but would his dark past ruin any chance at happiness? Would Elaine want him if she knew the truth?

  to catch a fallen spy

  chapter six

  Early the next morning, after a night spent tossing and turning, Elaine donned a pale yellow morning dress of sprigged muslin and sat at her vanity, while her lady’s maid secured a bandeau. With a final check of her appearance in the long mirror, she smoothed her skirts, when a knock at the door intruded on her thoughts.

  “Come.” Elaine glanced at the servant, just as Cara entered the room. “Thank you, for your assistance, Mary. You may be excused.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Mary curtseyed and exited.

  “Sir Ross just arrived.” Tapping her chin, Cara compressed her lips. “And while your ensemble is lovely, you should doff the fichu and opt for another eye-catching necklace, to remind him why he negotiates a marriage contract with Lance.”

  “What a marvelous idea, but I will not see Ross until the settlement is concluded, because only then will Lance summon me to the study.” And that bothered Elaine, because she needed an explanation for Ross’s behavior at the Netherton’s.

  For years, he rebuffed her advances, but last night he engaged in a dalliance that forced them to the altar. But what if he was so caught up in the moment, as she had been, that he did not notice the approaching interlopers until it was too late? Perhaps that accounted for the sudden shift in his attitude. If not for the courtship he initiated, however late, she would not even consider marriage to her man.

  “Ah, yes. There is that.” Cara averted her stare. “But do you really want to leave the details to Lance, as I would have given anything to participate in the momentous occasion, when he faced my father, after holding me captive all night?”

  “Should we besiege them?” On the thought, Elaine faulted a wicked case of nerves for her beau’s strange demeanor and bounded from her chair. “Indeed, I had better start out as I mean to go on, and Ross should know what he is getting before he speaks the vows.”

  “Then let us join our men.” With a flick of her wrist, Cara beckoned, and Elaine trailed her friend’s footsteps.

  “Do you think Lance will let us hold the wedding in the drawing room?” In the hall, Elaine mulled the guest list, which she intended to limit to her family, and her trousseau. “We need to go shopping, and I should commission a dress.”

  “You should purchase some new nightgowns, too.” As they strolled through the gallery, Cara giggled. “But if Ross is anything like Lance, you will not require much in that department.”

  That comment was enough to send Elaine screaming mad into the country.

  “Will we convene the Brethren wives the night before the ceremony?” To steady herself, and ease her growing anxiety, she skimmed her palm along the polished balustrade. “I am desperately in need of advice regarding—well, you know what I reference.”

  “Of course, and worry not, as we will not let you venture to the connubial bed without sensible expectations and a strategy to survive what can be an enthralling but exhausting experience.” Carla leaned near and in a low voice said, “Do not be surprised if you cannot vacate your bed the morning after your nuptials.”

  “If memory serves, I did not see you for three days after you married Lance.” The reasoning for Cara’s absence fascinated Elaine. “Must confess I am a tad alarmed—”

  Thunderous contretemps shattered the relative quiet, and a pair of footmen vacated the hall.

  “Upon my word, what happened?” Cara sprinted toward the study. “Why, that is Lance and Sir Ross.”

  In a flash, Elaine twisted the knob and flung open the door. Toe to toe, the two most important men in her life almost came to blows.

  “You were supposed to enact a mock courtship, not ruin her. You promised to protect her.” Lance grasped fistfuls of Ross’s lapels. “We had a gentleman’s agreement, and it did not involve besmirching Elaine’s reputation.”

  While the argument continued, Elaine focused on the remarkable revelation, which echoed in her ears in a cruel refrain. You were supposed to enact a mock courtship… The flowers, the attention,
the kisses—it was all a bitter ruse, and she had fallen for it, because she wanted to believe in Ross. In that instant, she decided she preferred he reject her than make a fool of her. Tears threatened her composure, but she swallowed a sob of distress.

  “I beg your pardon, but you need not worry about me, cousin.” Fisting her hands, Elaine cleared her throat and vowed not to embarrass herself, as Lance and Ross started and noted her presence. “Upon further reflection, I realize I cannot possibly accept Sir Ross’s gracious proposal.”

  “What are you doing here, as I did not summon you?” Lance inquired, more than a little perturbed as evidenced by his stern expression. “And you will have him, as you made your choice known to all of society, last night.”

  “Do not take that tone with her, Lance Fortescue Prescott.” Cara folded her arms. “What have you done, and why did you keep your machinations from your wife?”

  “That is not important.” When Cara lifted her chin, Lance added, “At least, not at the moment. But Ross and I devised a means to guard her. However, he breached the limits of polite decorum, and now he must make reparations.” Then he pinned Elaine with his stare. “And you will marry him.”

  “I will not, and you cannot force me.” To much commotion, Elaine turned and ran to the back parlor, which functioned as her safe haven since she was a child.

  In the privacy of the familiar quaint surroundings, which featured blue flock wall coverings with forest muses in the design, she collapsed on the sofa, hugged a pillow to her face, and screamed into the cushion. As she wept, she shivered and regretted the day she ventured from the shadows and into the spotlight.

  “Lady Elaine, are you all right?” Banks shuffled his feet. “I thought I heard a noise, and I did not mean to intrude.”

  “No need to apologize, and I am fine.” That was not true, as inside she suffered a slow and painful death. “Could you ask Mary to remove the roses from my chamber, as they do not agree with me?”