The Lord and the Spy

by Slade, Heather

  “For what? You’ve said far worse to me than guessing I’m the same size as your sister.”

  Wilder turned his head away. “My apologies for that as well.”

  “Don’t worry, Whittaker. I’ve handled men far worse than you’ve been.”

  He pulled up in front of what had to be the abbey and turned off the engine. “Have I been that bad? Truly?”

  This was perfect. I hated contrite. If a man did something to apologize for, he should make it sincere, quick, and be done. Did he expect me to coddle him, tell him it was okay, say he needn’t worry?

  I’d turned my head away, but looked back, and when I did, Wilder’s face was an inch from mine.

  “Because I can tell you, little bird, I am known to be much, much worse.”

  The tone in which he said the words struck a chord that ran the entire length of my body, finally settling in a pool between my legs.

  There was nowhere for me to go inside the small car. If I backed away, I’d only be an inch farther than I was now. My mind raced, seeking something that could abruptly change the mood.

  “This is where it happened, isn’t it?”

  Wilder leaned back, as I’d hoped he would.

  “Not the abbey per se. Caird was detained at Covington House. We’ll go take a look after I show you the main house.”

  I waited while he got out, walked around, and opened my door, holding out his hand to me. Rather than take it, I lifted myself off the seat and stood in the small space between the Jaguar and his body. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate him being a gentleman; it was more that I didn’t trust myself to touch him.

  “Detained is an interesting word choice,” I commented as he led me to the ornate front door.

  Wilder didn’t open it. “While I’m certain this is likely common knowledge, I have never told anyone that if it had been up to me, Caird would be dead.”

  “And yet, you don’t want him extradited to the States, because you fear he wouldn’t survive it.”

  He shook his head. “My brother—the man whose decision it was that he stayed alive in the first place—fears Matthew wouldn’t survive it.”

  “I see.”

  “I’ll forewarn you, Shiver and his wife, Orina, are in residence. If you’d rather not participate in a debate about extradition, we probably shouldn’t go inside. We could always walk the grounds instead.”

  “What about your sister? Is she here?”

  Wilder nodded. “Up for a walk?”

  “Always.” I pulled my phone out of my bag when I heard the familiar ringtone indicating it was my office calling. “Excuse me.”

  “Wren, I’m glad I could reach you. I’m calling in regard to the developments in the Caird investigation,” said the assistant director.

  “Yes, I’m scheduled to leave London tomorrow morning.”

  “About that. We think it’s best you stay on in the event the United States is successful in re-appealing the appellate court’s decision. In the meantime, you can continue your investigation.”

  I turned around and studied Wilder; his eyes met mine.

  “You’ll be working with MI5, specifically with Agent Leighton Marietta.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” This news wasn’t unexpected, given the conversation Wilder and I had had on the drive from London to Bedfordshire.

  “Agent Marietta is expecting your call to arrange a meeting.”

  “Is there anything else I should be made aware of regarding this case?” I asked, wondering if she’d make mention of Wilder’s reassignment.

  “Not at this time.”

  I turned off my phone and put it back in my bag. I couldn’t risk the possibility of anyone overhearing the conversation I was about to have with the man standing in front of me with a sheepish look on his face.

  “As you may have guessed, my itinerary has changed again and I will, officially, be remaining in London.”

  Wilder nodded with scrunched eyes.

  “I’ve been instructed to make contact with Agent Marietta.”

  “Yes.”

  “What exactly is your role in this investigation?”

  “There is only one way my role is changing.”

  I folded my arms and waited for him to continue.

  “No one from your government can know that I’m still leading it.”

  “Are you suggesting I lie?”

  “What I’m suggesting is there’s a good chance you’ll be reassigned if they’re made aware.”

  7

  Wilder

  I watched as an ethical war played out on Wren’s face. It was unfair to put her in this position, although the choice was hers in the end. She could give me up, report to DHS that they were mistaken about my involvement, or lack thereof. Or she could keep quiet about it and remain on the case.

  No report coming out of either MI5 or MI6 would divulge my involvement; I’d see to it.

  “You mentioned we might be able to ride?” she asked.

  I smiled. “Let’s see if we can find Darrow and get you some proper attire.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “Wren?”

  “Don’t,” she said, holding up her hand. “I’m not ready to discuss Caird or my role in the investigation.”

  Rather than walking the rest of the way to Covington House only to find her not home, I rang my sister.

  “I heard you’re out roaming the estate with a very attractive woman.” I could feel Darrow’s smile through her voice.

  “Wondering if she might be able to borrow something to ride in.”

  “Yes, of course, if you think…”

  “What?”

  “I was going to say something ridiculous like ‘if we wear the same size,’ but that is one of your gifts, isn’t it?”

  I laughed, not knowing exactly what she meant, but assuming enough to know it wasn’t a conversation I wanted to continue with Wren in such close proximity.

  “Be there shortly. Thanks, Darrow.”

  “You and your sister are close,” Wren said when I rang off.

  “You could say. However, there’s a great deal about her life I’d rather remain in the dark about.”

  “Intriguing, and not the first time you’ve been mysterious in her regard.”

  “Let’s just say I hope Pinch Fulton isn’t at her place and, if he is, that he is properly clothed.”

  “Oh!” Wren laughed. “That is intriguing.”

  “Or completely ridiculous. Depending on the point of view.”

  We walked the rest of the way in silence. Every so often, I would brush her hand with mine and our eyes would meet. The one time I’d apologized for it, she told me not to.

  When Darrow opened the door and invited Wren in, I saw I wasn’t far off in my estimation that the two women were the same size. In fact, they looked to be the same height and weight almost exactly.

  Once I’d made introductions, I excused myself to the loo, giving them time to retreat to my sister’s wardrobe, or whatever they were going to do.

  When I returned to the main room, I could hear them talking and laughing from upstairs.

  I wished I’d forewarned Darrow that Wren and I were work colleagues only, but she may have seen through the lie anyway, at least on my part.

  My sister came downstairs alone.

  “She’s lovely,” said Darrow, winking.

  “Stop it.”

  “What? You do realize that this is the first time you’ve brought a woman to the abbey since you were in upper school.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, and please lower your voice.”

  “It’s true,” she responded, leaning closer. “I see why, though. She’s…nice. Not exactly who I might’ve expected, but better.”

  I looked up when I heard Wren’s footfalls on the staircase. My sister was right. She was lovely, and unlike most of the women I’d dated, she was completely down-to-earth, comfortable in her own skin, and probably rarely fussed with things like hair and makeup. I found everyth
ing about her refreshing.

  “Ready, then?” I asked, holding my arm out by habit, surprised when she took it.

  “Enjoy,” said Darrow, waving as we left. “Oh, I already called the stables.”

  I smiled and shook my head. “She can’t help herself.”

  “From?”

  “Meddling.”

  The barns were partway between Covington House and the abbey, and when we approached, I saw two horses, Domino and Pirate, in the pasture.

  “This is Pirate,” I said as the horse sauntered over to meet us at the fence. “He’s never been known to ignore a beautiful woman.”

  Wren held out her hand and then obliged by scratching his forehead when he nudged her with his muzzle.

  Domino raised his head when I whistled and called out his name, but the horse didn’t budge. “He’s a stubborn one,” I said, walking over to the gate.

  “Come on, boy,” I heard Wren holler and watched as Dom walked straight in her direction.

  “You must be joking,” I muttered under my breath and glared at the horse. “Way to make me look like a wanker.”

  We walked to the barn and tied the horses a reasonable distance apart. Without me saying a word, Wren made her way to the tack room and chose her own curry comb, dandy brush, and hoof pick.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” She carried the pad, saddle, and headstall, slinging it over a stall door near where she’d tied Pirate off.

  “Not at all,” I murmured, smiling to myself.

  I watched as she brushed the horse’s back and girth, keeping her touch light and her tone soft while she talked and continued to clean the rest of him.

  When she ran her hand down Pirate’s leg, he bent his knee and stayed perfectly still while Wren cleaned his hoof.

  I wasn’t half as far by the time Wren had her pad brushed and was checking the saddle. She caught me looking and smiled.

  “I know a lot of people would rather skip this part, but it actually relaxes me as much as the horse.”

  “It shows,” I said, turning back to finish getting Domino ready for our ride.

  Once we were both on horseback, I motioned to an area on the other side of the barn. “My favorite trail is up there. It’ll take us to the back of the abbey.”

  As she and Pirate followed, I could hear her talking to the horse, but not well enough to know what she was saying. When we came to a clearing, Wren eased Pirate into a trot, quickly followed by a gallop.

  “Ready, boy,” I said to Domino, easing him into the same.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said when we slowed at a narrowing of the path. “In so many ways, it reminds me of home, yet it’s equally as different.”

  “You’re welcome,” I answered simply when what I wanted to say instead was how much I loved seeing her here, how happy and relaxed she looked compared to when she’d ended her earlier phone call.

  Riding up to the abbey, I saw Shiver walk out of the atrium that ran half the length of the main part of the house.

  “You must be Miss Harlow,” he said when we walked the horses over and dismounted. The two shook hands after I took Pirate’s reins and led both horses over to the fence to tie them off.

  “She’s on holiday,” I told Shiv.

  My brother raised a brow. “Didn’t you just arrive?”

  “It’s a very short holiday,” said Wren, smiling over at me. “In fact, I’m afraid once we return the horses, it will be at an end.”

  “Pity, Losha was anxious for a double date this evening. Even talked the nanny into staying on later.”

  “What about Darrow? She couldn’t watch him?” I asked.

  “It was actually a triple date Losha arranged. Is that a thing? A triple date?” Shiver looked at Wren, who shrugged. “Darrow and Axel will be joining us.”

  “That’s on, then?” I sniped.

  “Appears so.” Shiver cocked his head. “Is there an issue I’m unaware of?”

  I glared at my brother. “I forgot. You’re the guy that nothing ever bothers.”

  “Happily married, mate. You should give it a go.”

  Good God. Was Shiver serious?

  “What do you say, Miss Harlow?” I heard Shiver say to Wren.

  I cleared my throat and was about to intervene when I heard her respond that she’d love to join them.

  “I can still beg us off, you know,” I said once we were back on horseback, headed to the stables.

  “If you’d rather not go.”

  “That isn’t it. I’m just…” I shook my head. “You. I’m just worried about you.”

  “Worried?”

  “That isn’t it either.” I hung my head not understanding why I couldn’t either stop talking or think of something intelligent to say.

  “Wilder. Look at me.”

  I looked up to find she’d brought Pirate to a standstill. “If you’d rather not do this, I can get a car back to London.”

  Not knowing what else to do, I dismounted, tied Domino to a tree, and walked over to her. Wren climbed off Pirate, holding his reins.

  “The thing is,” I began, cupping her cheek with my palm. “I can’t think straight.”

  “Why not?” she whispered.

  I leaned forward and did the exact thing I knew I shouldn’t do, told myself I wouldn’t do. When I kissed Wren, instead of pushing me away like I thought she might, she wrapped the arm that wasn’t holding Pirate’s reins around my neck and kissed me back.

  Once I began, I couldn’t stop. I’d spent most of the last twenty-four hours thinking about how her body would feel pressed against mine, what she would do when I thrust my tongue into her mouth. I couldn’t get enough. I angled my head and went deeper, wrapping one arm around her waist while the other caressed her face.

  I pulled back and rested my forehead against hers. “I won’t apologize for that.”

  Rather than answer with words, Wren brought her mouth to mine a second time, kissing me with the same vigor as I’d kissed her. Her hand that held the horse’s reins, wrapped around my waist, pulling my body into hers.

  “Don’t tell me this means you’ve decided to return to America,” I said, resting my forehead against hers a second time.

  “Has anyone ever told you, you talk too much?”

  I smiled, wishing I could kiss her again, tell my brother we wouldn’t be having dinner with them after all, take her to Dorchester House, and keep her there for days.

  “I have to know,” she said.

  “What must you know?”

  “What’s behind your shit-eating grin?”

  “Whether I can keep you locked away until tomorrow, or if we’ll have more time than that.”

  Wren dropped her arms, turned around, and climbed back on Pirate. “See you at the barn, Whittaker.”

  Before I could respond, Wren and Pirate were gone with the wind.

  8

  Wren

  I pushed Pirate hard, but no harder than I knew the horse wanted me to. I wondered how often Wilder’s sister rode him, given the horse seemed to be accustomed to my height, weight, and riding ability. Confident rider, confident horse, my father used to say.

  When I didn’t hear the other horse behind me, I found myself disappointed that Wilder wasn’t in hot pursuit. Or maybe that was a good thing. That kiss—okay quite a few kisses—was off the charts, hotter than all get-out.

  Now what I needed was something to balance out my feelings for the man whom, as of tomorrow, I’d be working the Matthew Caird investigation with—at least on the surface. That wasn’t all, though. I needed Wilder to show his true colors, so I could get him out from under my skin.

  I recognized that at least half of my attraction to him was that I couldn’t have him—or shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be long before his English-nobility-ness turned me off entirely, and then it would no longer be about being unable to have him. By then, I wouldn’t want him.

  As I got closer to the barn, I slowed Pirate down to cool him off. When I leaned forwa
rd and scratched his neck, he whinnied.

  “Thanks for the ride, Pirate man,” I said. “I’ll have to remember to thank Darrow for letting me hang out with you.”

  “Darrow had nothing to do with it,” said Wilder, coming out from inside the barn and startling me. “Pirate is my horse.”

  “You took a shortcut.”

  The mercurial smile was back. “I did.”

  “It would’ve been far more interesting had we raced.”

  Wilder walked closer to Pirate and scratched just above his muzzle. “That’s what you expected me to do. What fun would that have been?”

  I dismounted, tied Pirate off, and began removing his saddle and pad.

  “I can do that,” Wilder offered.

  “No need. I told you before that caring for a horse before and after a ride relaxes me.”

  As Wilder walked back to Domino, it was impossible not to notice how hot he looked in the snug breeches I hadn’t realized until now he was wearing. They emphasized his rock-hard glutes and hugged his powerful thighs. Even his riding boots were about the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, though if asked, I would’ve said I’d much prefer a man in Wrangler jeans and cowboy boots.

  “Be careful what you wish for, Miss Harlow,” he said, drawing my attention from his behind up to where he was looking at me over his shoulder.

  I ran my gaze back down and then up his body. Wilder smirked and walked away, muttering something I couldn’t hear.

  “What was that?” I called out to him.

  He shook his head, waved behind him, and proceeded to remove Domino’s saddle and pad, brushing him down like I was about to do to Pirate.

  “You’re such a good boy,” I said, walking the horse back to the stall with the steel plate bearing his name. Pirate was the perfect name for a horse that belonged to Wilder, who reminded me of Johnny Depp’s swashbuckling character, Jack Sparrow. Only the man who owned the horse I rode was a hell of a lot hotter.

  I stood outside the stall, stroking Pirate’s forehead and getting lost in the memory of how Wilder had kissed me. I flushed and shivered simultaneously. Was I fantasizing his arm snaking around my waist, pulling me back against his hard body? No, this was far too vivid.