by Brenda Joyce
She felt as if she were in a dream. Just that afternoon, Captain Barrow had tried to arrest her. It remained stunning, unbelievable. Five hours ago, at midnight, she and Aimee had stolen out of Bedford House, led by Paget. That was as incredible. The earl had taken them by a hired coach to the docks at Southwark. There, Lucas had escorted them onto a small cutter, and they had set sail immediately.
Aimee looked up at her now with wide eyes. Evelyn had convinced her that they were on an adventure—that they were sneaking away in the middle of the night, in order to surprise Jack. She had told her daughter that they were going to visit him for a while, and she had extolled the virtues of his island home, until Aimee had become eager to leave town. For the moment, Laurent, Adelaide and Bette would stay at Bedford house with Jolie.
Lucas and another sailor were rowing them to shore. No one spoke, which made the dark, windy night more eerie. The surf was choppy, and they were being sprayed. She smiled at Aimee though her heart felt as if it was lodged in her throat.
She had no choice but to flee London—and the authorities—now. She was a fugitive, a warrant out for her arrest, and Aimee could not afford to lose her mother. Somehow, like Jack, Evelyn was an outlaw.
She did not want this for her daughter, and she should have regrets. Yet she had none. Instead, she was acutely aware of the fact that in a few more moments, she would see Jack again.
It would be bittersweet.
Lucas leaped out of the dinghy, onto the wet sand, deftly avoiding the small waves. The other sailor followed suit, and they dragged the dinghy onto the beach. Lucas then lifted Aimee out, before helping Evelyn climb out.
He smiled briefly at her, taking a lantern from the dinghy. He gave it to the sailor. “It’s a bit of a walk, Aimee,” he said quietly, taking her hand. He glanced at Evelyn.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. She could not imagine Jack’s reaction to what had transpired—other than that he wouldn’t be very pleased. On the other hand, she could imagine exactly the nature of their reunion, once he had recovered from her arrival.
They trudged across the deeper sand and reached the rocky path that led to the house. They had not taken more than a few steps when Lucas halted abruptly. Suddenly they were surrounded by a group of men holding lanterns that blazed—and muskets. Half a dozen muskets were aimed at them.
Lucas set Aimee down, and the little girl dashed to Evelyn. “Jack!” he called out.
Evelyn held Aimee’s hand, her heart lurching, as Jack suddenly stepped through the circle of men, holding up a lantern, his hair loose, wearing a lawn shirt and his breeches. Clearly, he had just leaped out of his bed.
His eyes widened in alarm when he saw her. He paled. “What happened?”
“I will tell you when we get to the house. It has been a long and cold night,” Lucas said.
Jack nodded at his men, who lowered their arms, as he stepped over to Evelyn. She wanted to leap into his arms. Instead, she managed a frail smile. “We are fine.”
His expression hardened. “Somehow, I doubt that.” And he smiled. “Aimee! Come, let me give you a ride on my shoulders. It is far better than walking—you may trust me on that.”
Evelyn watched her daughter smile shyly and give her hand to Jack. He heaved her up, piggyback style, and glanced unsmiling at Evelyn. Her own smile vanished.
They turned and started up the path to the house.
* * *
AIMEE YAWNED, FIGHTING to keep her eyes open. Alice had shown them to their rooms, while Lucas and Jack had vanished into the library downstairs. While Alice made a fire, Evelyn had helped Aimee change out of her damp clothes, and then she had tucked her into bed. Aimee had not slept on the cutter. She was about to fall asleep now. “Good night,” she finally murmured, eyes closed.
Alice laid her hand on Evelyn’s shoulder. “I can sit with her if you want,” she said.
Evelyn wanted to go downstairs and learn what was being said—and planned. But she did not want to leave her daughter alone, in a strange bed, in a strange house. Not after their flight through the night. “But it is so late.”
Alice smiled. “My lady, it is almost dawn.”
Evelyn jerked and got up. She went to the draperies and parted them. The sky was just beginning to lighten. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said, meaning it.
“She is such a lovely child,” Alice said.
Evelyn warmed, well aware that Alice was not referring to her daughter’s appearance. Aimee hadn’t complained, and she had been polite. “Yes, she is,” she said.
She left the room, faltering as she passed the open door to Jack’s bedchamber. They had made love for the very first time in that room—and she would never forget it.
Her heart was racing. Of course it was. No matter the circumstance, no matter the danger, she would always be thrilled to see him.
As Evelyn went downstairs, she heard soft, low tones coming from the library. She paused on the threshold there.
Both men were seated on the sofa, Lucas somewhat sprawled out, with a glass of red wine in his hand. Jack appeared tense. The moment she appeared in the doorway, he jumped to his feet and strode over to her. “How is Aimee?”
“She is fast asleep,” Evelyn said, grateful that he had asked.
He stared for a moment. “So my nemesis has decided to hunt you now.”
She was chilled. “Bette was coerced into making her confession. She has admitted it.”
“Of course she was. But does it matter?” His gray eyes flashed. “There is a warrant for your arrest, Evelyn. Because of me you are a fugitive—an outlaw.”
“I am hardly an outlaw.” But hadn’t she just thought the very same thing?
“If there is a difference between being wanted by the law, and fleeing from it, then you are splitting hairs.” He was harsh.
“You are blaming yourself!” she cried.
“Who else is to blame?” he demanded. “I do not want you and your daughter having to live this way!”
“I know you don’t,” she said. “And I don’t want to live this way, either. But that will not change the past, nor will it change my feelings for you.”
His eyes flickered. “You should hate me now.”
“I could never hate you.”
He turned away with frustration. “I sent you to Julianne to keep you safe. Damn it!”
She touched his back. “We are safe now.”
He whirled and their gazes met. Evelyn managed to smile. He finally softened. Grudgingly, he said, “Perhaps. But for how long?”
“Dominic and Simon mean to use their connections to have that warrant rescinded. Apparently one has the ear of Pitt, the other, the King.”
“Good.” He gave her a wild look. “And the moment they do, you can return to Julianne’s!” He gave her another look, this one dark, and he paced.
Evelyn now met Lucas’s wide, rapt gaze. She began to blush. If he hadn’t realized they were lovers before, he certainly did so now.
And not for the first time, she thought about residing on Looe Island, with Jack. They had decided that continuing their affair was too dangerous, but that hadn’t stopped them from making love the other night at Bedford House. She could not imagine living with him now, day in and day out, and not sharing his bed come nightfall. Frankly, it did not even make sense.
Lucas finished his wine and stood. “I am going,” he said. “Is there anything else that you need, Evelyn?”
She walked over to him. “I cannot thank you enough for all you have done.”
Lucas smiled. “You are like another sister.” He gave his brother a wry glance. “I will always help, if I can.” He sent Jack a salute. “I will send word the moment I hear anything.”
Jack stood by the window, his hands clenched by his side. Outside, the sky was pale and stained with streaks of pink and mauve as the sun rose. He did not answer.
Evelyn looked carefully back and forth between them with some alarm. Just then, she was certain Lucas was not ref
erring to her predicament, but to the war—and perhaps, to the Quiberon Bay invasion.
Lucas picked up his jacket and walked out. Evelyn turned to Jack. “You were not discussing me—you were discussing the war,” she said softly, without accusation.
“We did discuss you, Evelyn, at some length.”
She felt her heart slam. “Should I be concerned?”
“No. I only had the kindest words.” His gray gaze was heating. “If I could think of another place to hide you, I would do so. We agreed it is better if we stay away from one another.”
She thought about their brief rendezvous, four days earlier. They had made love in a frenzy, with urgency, but they hadn’t had a chance to discuss his spying, the war, or anything else—including their feelings for one another. “Maybe I do not mind being here.”
“You should mind, Evelyn. You should mind very much.”
“No one knows I am here, other than your family.”
He started walking slowly toward her. “The sailors know.”
“They do not know who I am.” Her body was stiff with tension now. “We did not have a chance to speak at all…the other night.”
He paused before her. “I don’t want to talk about the war, Evelyn, or how it affects us.”
“That isn’t fair,” she said softly. “Maybe I can change your mind.” She clasped his shoulders and stood on tiptoe. “I hardly wished to be pursued by Captain Barrow, but there is a benefit to my being here now.”
“Thinking so makes you a very foolish woman,” he said, leaning close. He brushed his lips against hers. “You are right. No one knows you are here.” And this time, he pulled her close and kissed her, hard.
And Evelyn thought, I am not a foolish woman—I am a woman in love.
* * *
EVELYN LAUGHED. She was seated on the beach and dug her bare feet into the sand as Aimee skipped through the wet shoreline, dodging the incoming and outgoing tide, a pail in her hand. “Look!” Aimee cried, bending and holding up a gleaming white shell.
“It is lovely,” Evelyn called, leaning back on her hands. It was lovely—just as the early June day was lovely. The sun was bright and warm, the sky blue, gulls soared overhead, and they had now been at the island for five days.
She flushed as her heart beat wildly and her body tightened with so much love and desire. She was almost living openly with Jack now. She had not a doubt that everyone in the house knew they spent each and every night together, even if he always awoke before her in the morning and stole out of her rooms.
It almost felt as if they were man and wife—as if they were all a family. Jack did not join them for breakfast, but he had joined them for all but two luncheons, and every night, she took supper with him alone. He spent a great deal of his time in the library, where she imagined he was going over various accounts and planning his projects—both smuggling runs and the war games he still played. He went to the mainland every day, sometimes for just an hour. She guessed he had meetings to attend. She was afraid he was meeting French agents. When she asked, he refused to answer and her alarm knew no bounds.
But she found the respite wonderful. She spent hours reading, embroidering or walking the beaches with Aimee. She had begun to help with the management of Jack’s household. She now planned their menus and supervised the house’s cleaning. Every day a servant went ashore to shop, so she lacked for nothing. The days did not feel too long and the island did not feel isolated. To the contrary, Evelyn felt as if she were in a wonderful dream, and almost as if she were a newlywed.
She wondered if she were even more deeply in love than before.
“A penny for your thoughts.” Jack sat down beside her.
Evelyn thrilled. “I thought you had gone ashore.”
“I did. I am back.” He gave her a long look, smiling slightly. Then he glanced at Aimee, who was now jumping small waves, having put her pail aside. “She is so happy.”
“What child isn’t happy spending her days on the beach?”
He looked at Evelyn now, glancing at her bare feet. “This idyll will soon end, Evelyn.”
She felt her heart sink. “I know it is only an interlude, Jack. Has there been any word about the warrant for my arrest?”
He studied her. “No. You haven’t even been here a week.”
“No, I have not.” She thought about his lovemaking, which remained heated and passionate, and how adept he was at avoiding serious discussion afterward and throughout the day. “You sound as if you know precisely when this idyll will end.”
He now leaned back on his hands in the sand, as well. He sighed. “Will you ever cease attempting to be a sleuth?’
“It was an innocent question.”
“Was it?” Impulsively, he took her hand and kissed it. “I want you to know that, even though I was horrified when you arrived here, considering the circumstances, I also feel as if this is a sweet, yet impossible, idyll.”
Jack was never affectionate out of bed, and Evelyn felt her heart race with happiness. “You are becoming romantic,” she said softly.
“How can I not be romantic where you are concerned?” he said ruefully, unsmiling.
Evelyn waited. Was he about to confess his feelings for her—at long last?
“A part of me, the selfish part of me, is fiercely glad to have you here,” he said softly. “And I am not even ashamed to admit it.”
She clasped his cheek. “Thank you for telling me that.”
He studied her. “But we must both be realistic—we must both anticipate the end.” He now sat up and crossed his legs.
She sat up straighter, too. Dismay accompanied the surge of dread. “You have a plan to leave,” she cried. And where would he go? France? Quiberon Bay?
“Even if I had a plan to leave the island, I would not tell you, and you know why.”
“Jack!” She seized his hands, startling them both. She hated being so afraid for him! “Has it ever occurred to you to simply get out of this war—completely? And spend the rest of your days in such an idyllic life?”
“I cannot simply quit what I am doing, Evelyn.”
“Why not? I love you—as you know. I do not want you to die for some damned war. Why can’t you quit? I am so happy—you seem happy, too.” Her heart now thundered. She knew exactly what she was asking, and how monumental such a question was. But she loved him too much to be afraid to push him to get out of the war.
“Even if I wanted to, my enemies would manipulate me back into the game,” he said.
She bit her lip. “Not if they could not find you.”
“You want me to run away? To hide?” He was incredulous.
She began to nod. “If it meant saving your life, yes…. I would even go with you.”
He jumped to his feet, his eyes wide. “I have friends who are dependent upon me now, and their lives and their freedom depend on me, as well.”
Evelyn got up more slowly. She searched his gaze, and he did not flinch or look away. “Julianne thinks you are a patriot. She has said so. Paget also believes you innocent of the charge of treason. Jack! The people of France have already shed the yoke of tyranny, so whose freedom are you speaking of?”
“Oh, you are so clever!” His shoved his hands in his breeches’ pockets. “You know that if you have more information, you will be in more danger!”
“We are so close now. You can trust me!” she cried. “Are you spying for the French?”
“Yes.” He was final.
She was shaken, and now, in disbelief. She realized she no longer believed him capable of committing treason. It was impossible. She would never love him as she did if he were a spy for her enemies.
“Evelyn, you have proof—and lots of it.”
“Grenville was once a spy—for both sides.”
“He was genuinely spying for both France and England—he had genuinely cast his patriotism aside.”
She found herself defending Amelia’s husband. “He was protecting those he loved. Is that wha
t you are doing, Jack?”
His eyes widened. “Are you interrogating me now?”
“I have a right to know the truth.”
“No! Your sharing my bed gives you no such right!”
She flinched. “Your French friends have threatened me. They have threatened Aimee. If you are really one of them, then I am in love with someone who does not exist—then I am in love with a man I have created in my imagination!” she cried.
“Stop pushing me,” he chided.
Her mind raced frantically. “Have you told LeClerc when we will invade Quiberon Bay? I do not believe that you could send our troops into the jaws of a trap.”
He stared, jaw tight, eyes ablaze.
“Have you told him? Could you be so callous, so heartless? So mercenary?”
“I am going back to the house,” he flashed.
“Oh, so now you run away from me?”
He whirled.
“I want to know if I am sleeping with a patriot—or a traitor! A hero—or a mercenary! I have every right to know!”
He was red. “You already know. Damn it, Evelyn, fine! I am playing LeClerc for my country, damn it, like Paget, like Grenville, like Lucas, I dance to Warlock’s tune!”
Evelyn almost collapsed in relief.
“I have been put in place to play both sides, but only so we will win in the end!” He spoke now in a harsh whisper. “And I have hated misleading you—I have hated your thinking the worst of me!”
She began to shake. Evelyn glanced at Aimee, but she was now building some small hills in the sand. “In my heart, I never believed that you were a French spy, not even for a moment.”
He was also trembling. Now a look of disbelief crossed his hard face. “You are a witch to have extracted such a confession from me!”
She walked into his arms. “I am so relieved.”
He held her at arm’s length. “Why? Nothing has changed. I am in a dangerous game, and so are you.”
She put her arms around him. “I want you to get out.”
He held her. “I know you do. I cannot, Evelyn. The rebels need me.”
“Then after Quiberon Bay?”