The Lord and the Spy

by Slade, Heather

  I opened my eyes when his lips touched the back of my neck.

  “What I said was, it looks as though I’m going to have to set some rules, Miss Harlow.”

  “What would those be?” I murmured, loving the feel of his hands as he moved them from my waist and down my hips.

  “No more visibly lusting after me unless you’re certain we’re alone would be one.”

  I wanted to say he was flattering himself, but every word he spoke was true. I had been lusting after him. I still was.

  “What else?” I breathed.

  One of his hands cupped my bottom while the hard tip of his tongue ran from just below my ear down my neck, until his chin rested on my shoulder. “I reckon there should be some kind of punishment when you do.”

  He sunk his teeth into the soft skin of my shoulder, and I groaned.

  “That would work,” he muttered. “Or this.”

  He squeezed my ass hard enough that I yelped.

  “Yes,” he said. “Both of those will work.”

  “What about you?”

  “Are you referring to my punishment?”

  I nodded.

  “You are punishing me every second of every hour I’m with you. Keeping my hands off you, not peeling every stitch of clothing from your body and laying you down naked before me, is the absolute worst kind of torture.”

  “Wilder—”

  “Shh,” he whispered. He turned me so I faced him. He rested his hands on my shoulders and kissed my forehead. He took my hand in his, pulling me away from the stall door. “Shall we explore some more of the…property?”

  Property? Did he say property? Right now, the only exploration I wanted to do was of his body. His naked body.

  Wilder stopped walking and pulled me into his arms. “My sweet, beautiful Wren, make no mistake. I want you as much or more than you want me. And when the time is right, I’ll have you.”

  His words should have annoyed me. I should be setting him straight that under no circumstances would he have me. Instead, every inch of my body craved his touch. Yearned for it, in fact.

  “Sanborn was right,” I whispered. “You are intoxicating.”

  Wilder dropped my hand and took a step back. “What did you say?”

  “My boss at DHS. She warned me about you.” I took a step back too and wrapped my arms around my waist, suddenly feeling a chill when only moments ago I felt as though I was on fire.

  “Amanda Sanborn?”

  “Yes,” I nodded, immediately realizing what Wilder’s reaction to the name meant. “The two of you…”

  Wilder shook his head. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

  “How many ways are there? Wait. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.” I shook my head like he had, feeling as though I’d been doused with a bucket of cold water. It jarred me out of my stupor just in time. A few minutes more and I might have stripped naked for him right in the tack room.

  I stomped off, not knowing exactly where I was going, only that I had to get away from Wilder Whittaker as quickly as possible. The humiliation, embarrassment, and anger I felt over not being able to resist him made me sick to my stomach. I was above this. Amanda Sanborn of all people.

  I couldn’t say I hadn’t been warned. More than once, in fact. I knew the danger of letting Agent Whittaker get too close, but—God—I was only human.

  “Wait,” he called after me. “Let me explain.”

  I kept walking. “Whatever that was, will never happen again,” I said over my shoulder. “In fact, I’d like you to take me back to London.” I could see Darrow’s place in the distance. “I need to get my clothes,” I said, picking up my pace.

  I knew within minutes that he didn’t follow me. Like when I was riding Pirate back to the barn, I vacillated between relief and disappointment.

  I wasn’t through the gate to his sister’s house, when Darrow came out the front door.

  “Is this a bad time?” I asked, remembering what Wilder had said about the possibility Pinch might be there.

  “Not at all. Come in, and we’ll have a cup of tea,” she said, putting her arm through mine and leading me inside.

  “I’d rather have a shot of bourbon if you have it.”

  “I have something even better,” she said, pulling an unmarked bottle from a shelf in the kitchen.

  “What is that?”

  Darrow pulled the cork from the bottle, poured two glasses, and handed one to me. “Wellie makes it,” she said, downing the shot in her glass before I’d barely taken a sniff. “He’s…how do I bloody describe him?” she said, pouring herself another shot.

  “Your boyfriend’s father?”

  Darrow laughed. “Yes, that will do for now.”

  By the time we’d finished our third shot, I knew that if I didn’t slow down, I’d regret it. I hadn’t eaten much all day other than fruit for breakfast and this much alcohol on a mostly empty stomach was never a good idea. I turned my shot glass over on the table. “I need to eat something.”

  “Good idea.” Darrow stood and pulled cheese and fruit from the refrigerator.

  “Can I help?”

  Darrow pointed to a cupboard. “There’s bread and jam in there. That should fill our stomachs at least until dinner.”

  “Oh. There’s been a change of plans. We’re no longer going to dinner. I need to return to London.”

  “Yes, I know. I’ve been tasked with changing your mind.”

  “You won’t be able to.” I filled a plate with bread, fruit, cheese, and jam while Darrow turned the fire on beneath a tea kettle.

  “We should’ve started with tea,” she said, joining me at the table. “Now, tell me about you and my brother.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  Darrow leaned back in her chair and laughed. “What a load of rubbish.”

  “We have to work together. Actually, we don’t. I can still leave.”

  “Whatever are you going on about?”

  “One of the reasons I was assigned to this case was the powers that be believed I was capable of handling Agent Whittaker. They were wrong. In less than twenty-four hours, he had me almost begging him…” I looked up. “I’m sorry. He’s your brother.”

  “It’s okay. I’m used to it.” Darrow shook her head. “That isn’t right. When I was younger, all my schoolmates would swoon over both my brothers. Over Axel too, but back to Wilder. I suppose there was a time he was a bit of a ladies’ man, but he’s been different since…you know…the thing with Matthew Caird.”

  “I’m sure that was very hard on all of you.”

  “It was, but not in the way you’re thinking.”

  “He says that a lot.”

  “What? ‘Not in the way you’re thinking’?”

  I nodded.

  “Makes sense, given most people immediately jump to the wrong impression of him.”

  “My impression was right; I just let him dissuade me for a few minutes.”

  “Now, see? That’s what I mean. You probably think he’s a douche, but you’re wrong.”

  “He had an affair with someone I work with.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  “Based on what?”

  I told her about the meeting I’d had with the woman and then about Wilder’s reaction when I said her name.

  “Hmm.”

  “Come on, Darrow. You can’t doubt they at least had sex.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll admit it would be easy to jump to that conclusion, but you did say he said it wasn’t what you thought.”

  “Right. He’ll probably say she was in love with him, and to him, it was just sex.”

  “Look, you have to work with him, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Come to the pub with us, let him know you’re no longer interested, and then set the stage for what comes next.”

  “Meaning that we work the case together and nothing else?”

  “Exactly.”
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br />   It sounded simple, but something told me it would be far from it.

  9

  Wilder

  Instead of following Wren to Covington House, I went in the opposite direction, to the abbey.

  “Hello, Losha,” I said when she greeted me at the front door. Kazmir stood next to her, holding on to her leg. I leaned down. “How’s my man today?” I asked, holding up my hand for Kaz’s high five. The boy slapped at my palm and then spun around in search of something. A few seconds later, I heard his squeal of delight when his nanny came around the corner and surprised him.

  “They’ve been playing hide and seek,” my brother’s wife explained. “Are you looking for Shiv?”

  “I am, unless I’m intruding.”

  “Last I knew, he was in the kitchen, explaining to Mrs. Mollybock why we won’t be dining at home this evening. Evidently, she knew you were here and planned a grand dinner.”

  “I’ll go talk to her,” I offered, knowing I’d have to promise to come home next weekend, or she’d be in a tizzy.

  When I walked into the kitchen, Shiver was rubbing the back of his neck with his hand and Mrs. Mollybock looked as though she was getting ready to pummel him with a wooden spoon.

  “There he is,” she squealed much like Kaz had, dropping the spoon and scurrying over to me. “How are you, Sutton?” she asked, looking me up and down. “Too thin, I see.”

  “I’m fine, but I do miss your cooking ever so much.” I met my brother’s gaze over the cook’s head. I’d always been her favorite, and when we were younger, it didn’t sit well with either Shiver or Darrow, particularly when she’d make the dishes she knew I liked so often that even the duke and duchess had complained.

  “The duke tells me you’re dining out this evening,” she said with her hands on her hips.

  It always took me a minute to remember that people weren’t referencing my father when they mentioned the duke; they were speaking of my brother.

  However, Mrs. Mollybock had known Shiver and me since birth, so that she called him the duke, seemed odd.

  “I’m here to discuss our dinner plans with my brother, in fact.”

  Shiver was out of the kitchen ahead of me even though he’d been farther from the doorway.

  “I swear that woman was going to hit me with that bloody spoon.”

  I laughed. “It did look like she was about to.”

  “It isn’t funny.” Shiver tried to scowl, but I knew behind it was a grin. There was very little that bothered my brother these days. At times it was annoying, but after everything he and Orina had been through, seeing them both in love, living here at the abbey with their son, warmed my heart.

  I often wondered if I’d ever find someone to love in the way Shiver loved Orina. He would’ve gone to the ends of the earth for her, and he had.

  For several months, she and the baby had been in hiding. At the time, Shiver didn’t know about Kazmir, but now, the two were expecting their second child in early summer.

  “Where’s Miss Harlow?” Shiv asked once we were well away from the kitchen.

  “I believe she’s with Darrow.”

  Shiver raised a brow.

  “We had a…how should I say this? An awkward conversation.”

  “About?”

  “Amanda Sanborn.”

  Shiver looked puzzled.

  “You remember—”

  “Yes, of course I do, but why were you and Miss Harlow discussing her?”

  “Her name is Wren. Actually, it’s Finley, but that’s beside the point. Amanda is her superior.”

  “Amanda went to DHS?”

  “It appears so.”

  “Bloody hell,” Shiver muttered. “I told you at the time you should have had Z report her.”

  I shrugged. “I figured we’d go our separate ways, not thinking for even a moment that our paths would cross again.”

  “I’m not surprised the NSA let her go. Evidently, Homeland Security either isn’t aware or doesn’t care that she’s…”

  “Let me fill in the blanks, Shiv. The woman is batshit crazy.”

  Shiver took a seat in the room that used to be our father’s study and was now his.

  When I sat, Shiver got back up and walked over to the fireplace. “Does it seem cold in here?”

  “It does, but then, it always did.”

  He lit a fire and then sat back down. “Amanda Sanborn,” he muttered. “Never thought we’d hear her name again. She was a bit of a stalker if I remember correctly.”

  “A bit?”

  “How did she come up?”

  I explained the conversation, leaving out the part where Wren and I were close to tearing each other’s clothes off. Instead, I cut straight to the part when she muttered the woman’s name.

  “Wren assumed I’d had an affair with Sanborn and stomped off, unwilling to even let me explain.”

  “And you think she went to Darrow’s.”

  “I know she did.”

  “What’s to do, then?”

  I ran my hand through my hair. “I really like her, Shiv.”

  I expected my brother to scoff, perhaps remind me that I’d only known the woman for two days, but he did neither.

  “You’ll be walking a fine line, Wild, but you know that. There are times when it can’t be helped.”

  In our line of work, it wasn’t uncommon for MI6 to work with the CIA, even intelligence agencies from other countries. It also wasn’t unusual for romances to blossom between agents, operatives, or in Wren’s case, officers. When Shiver met Orina, she was an assassin for United Russia hired to kill him. Instead, they fell in love. It wasn’t that simple, but falling in love never was.

  “I’ll say it again, Wild. What’s to do, then?”

  “I don’t want her to leave.”

  “Do you think she will?”

  “A distinct possibility.”

  Shiver ran his finger over his upper and lower lips as he often did when he was deep in thought. “You could always tell her the truth about what happened.”

  This time I scoffed. “Right.”

  “You have cultivated quite the reputation.”

  “I haven’t cultivated it.”

  As Shiver well knew, it had been over a year since I’d pursued any woman in the way I once had.

  Since our mother had been forced to confess that our father had been sleeping with a girl from the town of Bedford and had gotten her pregnant in the months prior to their marriage, the idea of sleeping around turned my stomach.

  Matthew Caird was the byproduct of that affair, and he had lived a troubled life, not necessarily because of it, but because, as we’d learned after she died, his mother had also suffered from borderline personality disorder like Matthew did.

  The idea that I might unwittingly father a child with a woman I wouldn’t want to marry, made me hesitant to even date, let alone leave the pub with someone I knew I’d have sex with and never see again.

  “She wants me to take her back to London.”

  “Now?”

  I nodded.

  “Perhaps Darrow can talk her into staying for dinner.”

  “That was my hope.”

  By the time I heard from Darrow, I was convinced she’d driven Wren to London herself.

  “Don’t be silly. We got to talking.”

  “Does she still want to leave tonight?”

  “Hang on,” my sister whispered. “Okay, I’ve gone outside.”

  I rolled my eyes at my sister’s attempt at being covert. “What’s happening, Dar?”

  “Wren is joining us at the pub for dinner.”

  “Okay.”

  “She’s going to re-establish what she says has to be a purely professional relationship between the two of you.”

  Rather than feeling like the thirty-five-year-old man I was, I felt like I was reliving my adolescence. “Do you think she intends to stay on the case?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “What makes you say it that way?”

/>   “Anyone who spends an entire afternoon rehashing and convincing herself that she has to stay away from you, will likely not be able to.”

  “Thanks, Dar.”

  “Wren and I will meet you at the pub at eight.”

  I checked the time. It was half past six now, leaving me with more than an hour to kill. On my way out, I confirmed the time with Shiver before going to pay a visit to the man who had so often served as a surrogate father to me.

  “It’s good to see you, my boy,” said Wellie, welcoming me into the small house the Fulton family had lived in on the estate for generations.

  “How are you, Wellie?” I asked, returning his embrace.

  “Same as I always am. What brings you here?”

  It wasn’t long before I finished telling him the story I’d told Shiver. In the same time, I’d had two shots of the man’s homemade brandy.

  “What is meant to be, will be,” he said, rubbing my shoulder.

  “Ah, the elder speaks his wisdom.”

  “You know what you have to do, Sutton. You don’t need me to spell it out for you.”

  “Could you please anyway?”

  “Do as she wants. Work the case, be professional, do not, under any circumstances, attempt to seduce her.”

  “We’re having dinner at the pub tonight, Wellie. Join us?”

  “No, no,” he said, getting up from the table and walking into his sitting room. “I’m happy to stay here and eat the stew Mrs. Mollybock brought over. The same feast I’m sure she prepared in your honor.”

  I smiled, wondering as I often did whether Wellie and the cook were sweet on each other. Not that I’d ever ask. “Fancy a fire?” I asked instead.

  When Wellie nodded, I stacked the wood the way he’d taught me, added kindling, and struck the match. It wasn’t long before the fire was roaring and Wellie had nodded off.

  “Don’t forget your stew,” I said, rubbing his shoulder.

  “You’re off, then?”

  “Yes, in fact, I’m late.”

  “Don’t forget what I told you.”

  “Right. No seduction.”