Enticing the Spymaster (War Girls)

by Julie Rowe

“Her?” Michael’s stance didn’t change, nor did his grip, but she could see the muscles tensing in his shoulders and neck.

  The second soldier stepped forward now, in front of the first. “You tended my brother,” he said to Jude. “At the palace hospital. He lost two fingers on his left hand and might have lost his left leg had you not insisted he undergo surgery as soon as he arrived. You argued with the doctor. Told him it didn’t matter that my brother wasn’t an officer, every man was entitled to care.”

  “Oh.” Goodness, she remembered that argument and a German soldier with those wounds from perhaps a month before. “Was his name Frederick?”

  The young soldier grinned, brighter than the dawn warming the sky. “Yes, you remember him?”

  “I do. He told the most horrendous jokes. To all the nurses.”

  The rest of the troop laughed and the young soldier chuckled along with them. “That’s him. All his jokes are bad.” His smile dissolved after a moment and he inclined his head. “He never got the chance to thank you for what you did.”

  The first soldier spoke again, but this time to Michael. “Troops are leaving for the front. The streets will be busy. You may want to hurry.”

  Almost a minute after they had gone, Jude still found breathing difficult. “I thought they were—I was—”

  “I thought the same.” Michael turned and looked at her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Your hands are shaking.”

  She glanced down and bit her lip. The damn things were trembling.

  “Come on. Let’s go.” He put a hand behind her back and pushed her into a brisk walk. “We can rest once we’re on the train.”

  “I’ll be ready to sleep by that time.”

  He didn’t respond, but then she didn’t expect it. Two years ago he would have commented, made a joke out of their situation. Two years ago he would have treated her like a little sister or maiden aunt. Two years ago he would have never kissed her or promised her pleasure in the dark.

  He was not the same man. She had yet to decide if that was good or bad.

  What had changed him?

  She quickened her step until she was close enough to feel the heat coming off his body. “Were you really there, in the trenches?” she asked, careful to whisper.

  “Yes.”

  She frowned when he didn’t elaborate. “For how long?”

  “A few days.”

  “Days?” Shock made her voice a shrill accusation. “For days you shot at your own countrymen?”

  And allowed himself to be shot at. One of those bullets very nearly ended his life.

  Bile crawled up her throat and she stumbled.

  He turned and caught her shoulders. Instead of letting her go, he held her firmly against him, lowering his face until his gaze was level with hers. “No,” he growled. “For days I wasted German ammunition by shooting short or over British heads.”

  “Why?”

  “German sharpshooters are decimating our ranks. I was sent to infiltrate their trenches and gather information on their rifles, ammunition and tactics. They’ll shoot anyone stupid enough to take a quick look over the top of the trench, but they prefer officers.”

  “How did my father get word to you to send you to me?”

  “I gathering information from the front lines. Your father sent a specially trained messenger dog to find me.”

  She breathed in and out deeply through her mouth. “You could have been killed.” She clutched the lapels of his coat. “By our own men.” She fisted her hands, reeling in the wool of his uniform, and pulled him even closer. “How could you put yourself in such—” she searched for a word, but there wasn’t one that could properly convey the depths of her worry, fear and horror, “—jeopardy?”

  “I have a job to do. I do it.”

  “With no thought of yourself?”

  He laughed and she blinked.

  “Were you thinking of yourself when you sneaked through that secret passage to spy on men who wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot you if they caught you?”

  “That’s different. I was hidden. Safe. You were in the trenches, a suicide ditch, an open target. And because you were shooting at our own men, you weren’t even defending yourself.”

  “The ends justified the means.”

  “What could be more important than your own life?”

  He yanked her onto her tiptoes, his gaze scorching her face. “You. I had a mission to accomplish.”

  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. She’d dreamt of him looking at her the way he was now. Wanted his passion, strength and love directed at her, but not like this. Not because of duty.

  He loved his country enough to risk his life. She was just another mission to complete. He didn’t love her enough to risk anything.

  Chapter Six

  Jude hung helpless and silent in Michael’s grip as he stared down at her. What could she say to him that could possibly help him see reason? His first love was to king and country—she couldn’t fault him for that. He now knew she had information he needed, so of course he’d put her at the top of his priorities.

  If she loved England as much as she loved him, she’d no doubt do the same. He was also the most stubborn man she’d ever known. He wouldn’t step away from his current course of action until he’d accomplished it.

  “Then get me to the Netherlands.”

  He frowned. “No more arguments?”

  “No. I’ve been rather...foolish, sentimental even. I apologise.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn’t finished. “I promise to follow your orders without hesitation.”

  The furrow between his eyes smoothed out, leaving behind a speculative gleam in his eyes. “All of them?”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded.

  His grip on her loosened. “Then we might get out alive.”

  Jude shifted her weight backwards, thinking that he’d let her go, but he didn’t.

  “If we’re challenged,” he said, lowering his face until she thought he was going to kiss her, “go along with anything I say, no matter how shocking. No hesitations.”

  Her breath stuttered. Something told her he wasn’t going to make this easy. “I promise.”

  “Good.” He paused and released her slowly, as if his fingers didn’t want to obey his commands.

  Jude spent a long second regaining control of her lungs, then in the most businesslike tone she could muster, suggested, “We should hurry.”

  He took her right arm in an unshakeable grip and set off at a pace that had her almost running to keep up with his long strides. His clean scent swept over her and she repressed a groan. No man should smell so good. No man should seem so safe despite all evidence to the contrary.

  They walked several blocks before coming across anyone else, and when they did, it was only two civilian men dressed in poorly patched wool. They took one look at Michael’s uniform and the rifle slung over his shoulder and disappeared into an alley.

  He led her across the street, hurrying her along even faster than before, towards a building with noise and light coming from a row of intact windows. Male voices and laughter spilling out onto the street.

  “We’re almost there,” Michael said. “Try to look worried or a little scared. Avoid looking anyone in the eye. And if anyone talks to us, blush if you can.”

  “Blush?”

  * * *

  The confusion on her face decided him. In order to get them on the train and away from Brussels, Michael had to convince anyone who might see them that he had a damn good reason to be travelling with her.

  If he told her she would have pose as his wife, she’d argue or suggest some other solution. But no other solution would do. Not for him.

  He wanted her. He had for years. Her father had convinced him that her crush would fade and disappear. That she was meant to marry someone else. Someone with a similar pedigree. Someone safe. Like a good soldier, he’d marched away.

  Two years
later she still wasn’t married and she was certainly not safe.

  He might not get to keep her, but he wanted a taste. Enough to feed the hunger time had only intensified.

  He picked up the pace and rushed her into a dark gap between buildings too narrow to be called an alley. He slid one hand behind her back, the other behind her head, and took her lips in an almost brutal kiss.

  Her lips were soft and delicious. And she kissed him back with a passion he hadn’t expected. He softened his mouth and cradled her in his arms, gentling her. He nibbled and licked a path to her ear.

  “I want to kiss every inch of your skin, every part of your body. I want to kiss you until you plead for more, until you’re drunk on your own passion.”

  She gasped and clutched him closer.

  He kissed her again then pulled away to gaze at her. One thumb traced an intricate pattern on her cheek. “You’re blushing. I can feel the heat under your skin.”

  She stared up at him, and he watched her face change as she realised he’d kissed her on purpose, taken her body and made it respond the way he wanted, so she could blush on command.

  He hated to see tears in her eyes, hated knowing he put them there.

  A single tear escaped. He caught it with a finger.

  “I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I seem to be forever apologising to you, but even this small thing might mean the difference between our escaping or not.”

  “I understand.” A lie he was sure, but it didn’t matter. All they had to do was survive, get out of danger. Back in England, he’d make sure her father kept her home. She’d be out of danger, trouble and his life for good.

  “Blushing shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Her voice sounded so bleak he shook her. “Stop. Stop whatever you’re thinking right now.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You think I kissed you because of the situation, because I was forced to?”

  “I understand the realities of our position. I harbour no ill will and certainly won’t hold it against you in the future.”

  “I’ll have to spend some time explaining to you how something can mean more than one thing at a time.”

  “What?”

  He took her mouth again. Slid his lips against hers, nipping until she let him inside, her tongue welcoming his. He indulged his need to savour her, hold her for several long seconds, then slowly eased away.

  She breathed as heavily as he and probably looked as shocked as he must.

  “Make no mistake. That kiss had absolutely nothing to do with our situation.”

  * * *

  Jude stared. She couldn’t help it. He looked down at her with eyes that seemed to say much more, but his mouth twisted into a grimace. Then he pulled her out onto the street and tugged her towards the station.

  There were more people about now. Soldiers and civilian men and women, most of them huddled over themselves, their eyes to the ground. A great crowd of soldiers in clean uniforms gathered near the train platform, their officers yelling orders.

  Michael had taken that aggressive grip on her arm again and pulled her towards the ticket office. They waited in line a few minutes, Michael’s attention either on the office window or on her face.

  Jude kept her gaze on the ground for the most part, though she did peek at him occasionally, blushing every time. When it was finally their turn Michael leaned close to the wicket and spoke in a voice that didn’t carry.

  Jude tried to listen in, but Michael pushed her so she stood directly behind him and there was so much background noise she couldn’t make out what the two men were saying to each other. A German soldier—a junior officer she suspected—came out of the office to examine the bottles of brandy. Michael took her pack with the rest of the medical supplies and opened it as well, allowing the officer to inspect it. He looked at her with such a direct gaze she automatically blushed and bent her head to study the boards beneath their feet.

  The soldier nodded and Michael handed him the brandy and the pack of medical supplies in exchange for two tickets from the ticket agent.

  Michael saluted the soldier and the agent, then grabbed her arm in an unshakeable grasp and towed her onto the train.

  The narrow aisle was crowded with soldiers, and Michael kept his body between hers and everyone else’s. He brought her forward through two cars then finally stopped and entered a berth, closing and locking the door behind them.

  It was a narrow space, with barely enough room to turn around in and a seat along the length of one wall.

  Michael sat down and stowed his rifle under the window.

  Jude sat next to him, her back hard and straight. “Where are we going?”

  “To a border town in the Netherlands called Maastricht.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

  She studied him. The dark circles under his eyes, the strength of his hands and the sinful curve of his lips. “What did you say to those men?”

  “I told them we’d just been married and I was taking you to live with my family in Cologne.”

  Her jaw fell open. “Married?”

  “That reminds me,” he muttered, sitting up. “Here we go.” He pulled something small out from under his shirt. A chain with a ring hung on it. He took the ring off the chain, grabbed her left hand and fitted the gold band onto her ring finger. “Try not to lose this, it was my grandmother’s.”

  “Try not to...to—” Anger boiled up from the pit of her belly, almost choking her. She stared at the ring on her finger, clenched her teeth and swallowed the fury. “Of all the lies you could have told, why this one?”

  “It’s the easiest to believe.”

  “What do you mean? You could’ve pretended I was your sister or a cousin. This—” she tugged at the ring, but it wouldn’t come off, “—isn’t necessary.”

  “Those men at the station took one look at you and assumed you were my wife. Not going along with it would have been suspicious.”

  “Assumed? Why?”

  He stood and loomed over her. “Because getting a woman onto a train full of soldiers and keeping her safe isn’t easy. It’s the only reason they’d believe.” One hand cupped her hot cheek.

  The expression on his face made Jude forget to breathe. She dimly heard the sound of knocking outside the berth, but couldn’t tear her gaze from his face. He reached to unlock the door then braced one knee next to her on the bench, his arms coming around her, caging her in.

  She tried to evade his mouth—if he kissed her, she wouldn’t be able to resist—but he angled her head up and caught her lips as someone knocked and opened the door.

  “Tickets, please.”

  Chapter Seven

  They were both panting by the time Michael tore away from her, reached into his jacket pocket and handed the tickets to the conductor.

  He glanced at the tickets, at Michael and, finally, at Jude. “Cologne?”

  Michael nodded. “I’m taking my wife to stay with family.”

  “You have leave for this?”

  “Three days.” He pulled a paper from his inside breast pocket and handed it over.

  The conductor looked at the page then returned it with a grim smile. “We’ll be making several stops to take on and let off passengers. Lock your door.” He backed out, closing the door after himself.

  Michael engaged the lock.

  Jude pressed against the wall and looked at him as if he were a package of explosives about to go off. Not afraid—cautious. A gentleman would retreat, resume his position on the bench and discuss the next part of their escape plan.

  He did neither. He remained crouched over her, more than half certain she’d bolt if given the opportunity. He wouldn’t give it to her. “We’re long overdue for a talk.”

  She gathered herself, taking a deep breath. “What else is there to discuss?”

  He let a grin slide across his face, showing teeth. “I want to know everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “How you cam
e to be a nurse and spy in the former palace. How you came to be involved in the underground. What exactly you’ve been doing since the war started and why.” He leaned down so close their noses touched. “We have plenty of uninterrupted time. I want all the details.”

  He hovered over her for several more moments until she raised one eyebrow. “You’re going to have a sore back if you stand like that for any real length of time.”

  He slowly folded himself onto the seat. “You don’t fear me, do you?”

  “Should I fear you?” Her furrowed brow made it clear she wasn’t asking the question lightly.

  “I intimidate most people—men and women.”

  “Really?” She turned away. “I can’t imagine why. You’re no different than any other man.”

  He chuckled. “You’re the only person who has never been afraid of me. You’ve taken me to task when it suited you. And you asked me to marry you. A fact that would have scandalised your entire family had they known.”

  “Well, you seemed so disheartened that day. I had to say something to cheer you up.”

  “You succeeded.”

  “Did I? You seemed somewhat uncomfortable with my question.”

  “Well, I could have hardly expected it. And despite how you may have perceived my response, I was really quite tickled by your courage.”

  “That will help explain all the rest I should imagine. Simply apply courage to the rest of your questions and you’ll have your answers.”

  “Oh no. Don’t for a moment think that you’ve explained yourself to my satisfaction.”

  She sighed. “What a bother. Fine, if you insist. After your rejection I was compelled to consider what use I could be to my family, since marriage was out of the question.”

  “Why would it be out of the question? I’m sure you’ve had several offers for your hand.”

  “None I could accept.”

  “Why not?”

  She rolled her eyes as if he were a young boy of limited intelligence. “My husband would have to be a man whose honour is above reproach, who could be trusted in a position of authority in possibly two countries. Who could be trusted with information from either government. You know my father’s unofficial position as royal advisor and my mother’s proximity to the Belgian crown. Most of my potential suitors simply didn’t make the cut.”