by Rebecca King
“This is my job. This is what I do,” Oliver warned her. “I have experienced worse than this.”
“I am sure you have,” Emmeline replied crisply. “But you haven’t received anything like this fighting to keep me safe before.”
“Emmeline.” Oliver began.
Emmeline sucked in a breath because she saw regret on his face. She knew he was going to say that he had a job to do and now that it was done it was time to move on. She could see it on his face. Whatever that moment had been just now when he had promised her that they would work together, it had clearly been confined to them fighting Smidgley and his men. It had nothing to do with their togetherness as a couple.
Feeling a goose for having been so foolishly optimistic as to think he had wanted them to work together on a more personal level, Emmeline smiled bravely at him despite the sharp sting of tears.
“Now, let’s get you inside and cleaned up, shall we? I think we need to leave your friends to get this lot to gaol. You need to take stock of the damage they have done to you and decide then what you are going to do about the Smidgley’s uncle. I don’t doubt he will need to be the next one to be put behind bars. It might be best to leave it for a day or two, though, before you challenge anybody else.” She offered him a watery smile and turned to face the house. “I will go and put some water on to boil, I think.”
Oliver blinked at her, wondering what he had missed over the last few minutes. For a moment, he had been certain she was going to cry. But she hadn’t. Instead, she seemed almost hurt about something. He squinted carefully at her as she walked to the house. There was a slight limp to her gait. He slowly eased himself upright and was about to go after her to find out what was wrong when Harry appeared beside him.
“Do you think you need a doctor?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t, but I am not sure if she does,” Oliver growled with a nod toward Emmeline.
“I didn’t think he would be this bold,” Harry replied softly.
“Me either,” Oliver admitted.
“Best to get the uncle next then, eh?”
Oliver nodded. “We have to move quickly. We don’t know what Sir Hugo is up to, but now that we have the twins, we must go after that uncle before he disappears. We don’t want him alerting anybody in London to their being a problem.”
“The others are now on watch at Smidgley Hall. So far, the uncle has yet to leave the damned place. Thankfully, Niall saw Rupert leave and managed to alert us or we wouldn’t have known he was here,” Harry replied.
“I am glad you managed to get here in time.” Oliver, determined to find out what was wrong with Emmeline, began to half-walk, half-shuffle toward the house. The more he stood still the more he began to ache from head to toe. Even his teeth ached, but it was of little consequence given that Emmeline might not have come away as unscathed as she pretended.
“Let me know if you need a doctor.”
“Get this lot off to gaol, Harry. By the time it is done, I should be ready to go after the uncle,” Oliver called.
“We have to round up help for that. The house is heavily guarded. We need to plan the next operation very, very carefully.”
Oliver threw Harry a rueful look. “If that uncle moves, arrest him. I don’t care what trumped up charges you use. Do it and kill anybody who stands in your way. That’s an order.”
Harry pursed his lips and watched Oliver go but didn’t say anything else. He knew that was what the men had wanted to do all along. At least now that Smidgley had attacked Oliver and Emmeline, and come to the safe house to do it, they didn’t have to break any laws to get Rupert Smidgley behind bars. Harry had to wonder if that was the way Oliver and Sir Hugo had planned everything to happen.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Oliver caught up with Emmeline in the kitchen. She was putting a pot of water on to boil and ripping up some cloth into strips, a veritable hive of activity. At first glance, it didn’t appear that anything was wrong. But Oliver knew her well enough to know she was tense, and on edge, and deeply upset about something.
“What are you doing?” he murmured gently, watching her jerky movements.
Emmeline looked fragile, as though a strong gust of wind was going to shatter her into a thousand tiny pieces.
“Getting some things ready. We need to get you cleaned up. Do you think you need to see a doctor?” She asked, her voice brisk and business-like.
“Emmeline.”
“Because if we don’t get those wounds cleaned and dressed properly you are apt to get an infection. That is the last thing you need,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Emmeline.” Oliver watched her bustle this way and that around the kitchen before he carefully stepped closer.
“Has everyone gone to take them to gaol? Thank Heaven for that,” she replied, heaving a sigh when she peered out of the window only to find the stable yard completely empty.
“Emmeline. Stop.”
“I just need to get these things together.” She slapped them down onto the table and looked out at the still laden washing line. “I really must get that washing in before it starts to rain.”
“Emmeline.”
When she tried to move past him, Oliver captured her wrist in a gentle yet firm grip and forced her to stop and turn to face him.
Emmeline felt sick. She wanted to stop but knew that if she did then she was going to start crying. The sheer brutality of what she had just experienced made her want to tear her hair out. But that wasn’t what disturbed her most. It was the thought that her time with Oliver was nearly over; that she was going to have to let him go – somehow. It brought forth a fierce ache in the centre of her chest that she didn’t know what to do with, how to stop.
When Oliver tipped her chin up until she had no choice but to look into his eyes, he saw a panic hidden within the depths of her reluctant gaze that made him realise that she might physically be going through ordinary circumstance, but she was mentally still fighting the men who had terrified her so badly out in the stable yard.
“It will fade,” he promised.
“I have never been through anything like that before,” she whispered. “It was the most terrifying thing I could ever experience.”
“There is worse, believe me,” Oliver murmured wryly. “I am sorry you had to get involved like that.”
“I know you told me to stay out of sight, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t just stand by while they beat you to death,” she hissed. “It is wrong of you to ask me to do it.”
“But it was you they were after. By coming out of the barn the way you did you put yourself in danger. It might not have happened had you remained hidden where you were supposed to be,” he chided.
Emmeline glared at him. “If there had been any other option, I would have stayed hidden, but I couldn’t have it on my conscience had you been killed.”
“But I know what I am doing,” Oliver persisted.
Emmeline pushed out of his hold. “It looked like it,” she snapped sarcastically. “But how did you, one man, intend to fight off so many thugs? Look at you. However good at your job you are, you were still beaten because those men were not only mean, but they were huge and ruthless. There is nothing you can do against such odds. You are lucky they didn’t kill you.”
“I am good at what I do, Emmeline,” Oliver repeated.
“I am not saying you aren’t. You wouldn’t be alive today if you weren’t. It is just that when such odds are against you, there is only so much you can do.”
“The Star Elite – this work - is my life. I have already told you I wouldn’t consider leaving the Star Elite for anybody.”
Emmeline turned to look steadily at him. She knew they were arguing about something considerably deeper, and far more important to them both. Once again, Oliver had eerily managed to read her thoughts.
“I never asked you to. After today, I think I have a better idea of what you do and why. Those women have been through worse than I did just how bec
ause they didn’t escape and are most likely still being held captive. Some of them. Others, well-”
Oliver nodded. They both took a moment to consider the body of the young woman who had been left on the safe house doorstep.
“Which one of the Smidgleys do you think is the murderer?” she asked quietly, very conscious of the awkwardness she felt at changing the subject.
“Until we have managed to get one of them to talk, we aren’t likely to know,” Oliver sighed, reluctant to allow her to change the subject. “If another body turns up, the killer has to be the uncle. Personally, I think it is either one of the brothers. Hopefully, now that the twins are behind bars there will be no more murders. No more bodies have been found since Ernest was taken to gaol, have they?”
Emmeline shook her head. “No, but it might be because Rupert has been busy trying to find his brother.”
“I am sorry for being so sharp with you,” Oliver said suddenly.
Emmeline smiled gently at him and waved him into a seat at the table. A wary silence settled over them that was interspersed with fleeting glances and an awkward physical tension neither of them expected. It only fuelled their deeper thoughts, until eventually, Oliver couldn’t stand it any longer.
“We have to talk about us. Preferably before the men return,” he said quietly.
Emmeline dipped a cloth into the bowl of water on the table and began to dab at the deepest cut on the edge of Oliver’s brow. He winced but sat still while she cleaned the wound.
“I understand now why you do what you do. You have a very good reason to put your life in danger like that,” Emmeline began. “I fully support the Star Elite doing the work they do.”
“Good,” he breathed. “But it is a different matter when you are married to someone who lives this kind of lifestyle. Knowing what the Star Elite does, and appreciating the men’s efforts is one thing, but when it merges with your life it is a different matter. My work requires me to be away for long periods of time. Often, I cannot be reached, especially if I am undercover. Look at what Sir Hugo is doing now. He just walked out of the War Office and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. God only knows where he is. If his boss and the men don’t know, his wife won’t know either because anybody who wanted to get to Sir Hugo would go to his wife, first. That would lure Sir Hugo out of the woodwork; his need to protect her. She is in danger while he is away, but she doesn’t moan and just raises the children on her own while he is gone. It can often be for weeks or months at a time.”
“How many men are married?” Emmeline moved on to a cut on the side of his chin. “I thought you said there were local groups of the Star Elite.”
“There are,” Oliver sighed. “But I work in London. I am used to the city’s streets now. I originate from Norfolk but moved to London when I joined the army. Norfolk is a part of my old life. It isn’t who I am now.”
“Have you ever been back to Norfolk?”
Oliver grinned at her. “Yes. I go back as often as I can to see my parents, but my mother still tells me off for being away so much.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
Oliver nodded. “Brothers. Three of them.” He studied her with a small smile. “Have you ever been to Norfolk?”
Emmeline shook her head. “While I grew up, Caroline was always in some trouble or other. We didn’t travel very much.”
“I live in London while I work but have a small house in Norfolk for when I visit my family. It helps me to get away from the smoggy streets for a while, so I can clear my head and just enjoy the sea air,” Oliver confessed ruefully. “And there are not many people who know that.”
“What’s it like?” she asked quietly as she moved around his face and dabbed at various cuts and bruises. They didn’t really need cleaning, but it gave her something to do with her hands while they talked.
It was distracting being this close to him, touching him, fleetingly meeting his gaze occasionally, while discussing private aspects of their lives. Her hand shook with a physical need she hadn’t experienced before. She was touching him already. That should have been enough, but it wasn’t. When she turned her attention to the corner of his mouth and began to dab at a cut on his lip, her gaze slid to his. She paused when their eyes clashed. Her stomach dipped.
Oliver rested his hands on her waist purely because he needed to touch her.
The tension between them thickened.
“What happens now?” Emmeline asked. She really wanted to ask him what he wanted from her? If they had a future together. The words hovered on her lips; waiting to venture forth and secure her happiness. But Emmeline couldn’t bring herself to ask. She wanted to know he cared. She knew how she felt. She was certain that she cared deeply for him; more than she had ever cared for anybody in her entire life.
I think this is love. No. I know this is love.
She knew it was love because the thought of losing Oliver or allowing him to leave her life and never return was enough to send her into a deep well of despair she knew she might never recover from. Emmeline just had no idea how she went about conveying that to him. Oliver was so solid, so strong, she doubted he would even acknowledge such a deep emotion like love, let alone allow it to control his every waking moment.
“Now, we have to get the last Smidgley off the streets. It isn’t going to be easy either.”
“Do you need to lure him out?” Emmeline paused. She felt sick with dread.
“We are not going to use you to lure him out, I can tell you that much,” Oliver retorted flatly.
Emmeline nodded.
“I am going to miss this,” she huffed with tear-filled eyes several moments later.
“I am going to miss this as well,” he assured her gently.
Emmeline’s heart flipped. “Are you?”
Oliver studied her. “I have enjoyed being able to come back here and eating the meals you cook for us. I know the men feel the same.”
Emmeline’s smile dimmed a little because she wanted so much more time with him.
“What about you?” he whispered.
“What?”
“What will you miss?”
“Everyone.” She struggled not to allow her tears to fall. “This. Us. Being able to cook for people. While I won’t be sorry to see the back of the danger, and moving around here and there, I am going to miss running a proper home. I am going to miss having someone to share my day with.”
Oliver nodded. “I am going to miss this. Us. You. I really don’t want to, but I know that I am going to worry while I am gone.”
“About what?”
“You.”
“Why? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. If the Smidgley brothers stay behind bars, I am safe. With you and your colleagues chasing that uncle, he has other things to worry about,” she whispered. “But it is good to know that you are going to worry about me.”
Oliver smiled at her. “Oh, so you want me to worry about you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Definitely. It’s only fair seeing as I know you are going to be chasing after danger. I have seen first-hand the kind of things you do in the course of your work. While I fully appreciate why you do the job you do, I know the dangers you face. I will worry myself sick until I know you are all right,” she assured him quietly.
A strange, somewhat wary silence settled between them. Neither of them wanted to broach the topic they needed to discuss in case they were disappointed and their wants, needs, emotions weren’t at least matched by the other.
“It isn’t impossible for me to have a life outside of the work I do. Other men have done it. A lot of my friends have married in the last several months and they all seem to make it work,” Oliver mused eventually.
“Marriage is a very big step,” Emmeline whispered.
“I know,” Oliver growled. “But I really cannot conceive of just delivering you home and riding off without any idea of when I will be back.”
He sighed and shoved away from the table. Stal
king over to the window, he planted his fists on his hips and stared blankly across the garden for several moments before he whirled to face her.
“If you do go home, what will you do with your time? Except miss everyone, of course.” Personally, Oliver understood that she would be miserable and alone. She had gotten used to the men being around; coming and going at all hours of the night. The company, the gentle teasing of his friends, was more than enough to fill her day with work and idle chatter. To go from a busy house like the safe house, and a lot of cooking for several burly men, to living like a shadow in a house by herself, would leave anybody miserable. He hated the thought of it. What he didn’t like, though, was the thought of marrying so early in his relationship with her.
“We don’t know if we are compatible,” Oliver whispered. “We don’t know if we are attracted to each other because of the danger we have faced or if we are genuinely in love.”
“There is no reason for us to marry now,” Emmeline replied carefully.
She slid into a chair at the table. She wanted to say so much more; demand a lot more from him, but she didn’t because he was right. It was far too early in their association to be even thinking about marriage.
“I could always join a local team,” Oliver whispered. “But the men are my friends as well as colleagues.”
“Nobody should expect you to choose,” Emmeline whispered. “They are your life. Without them fighting at your back, you would not survive many skirmishes. You know that, Oliver. Part of your success is because you work as a team. I have witnessed that. Nobody should ask you to leave them and work somewhere else, especially in a local group. If you did decide to do that it has to be because of what you want, not what you think is right for someone else.”
She would never ask him to give up so much.
“I don’t suppose you would want to move,” he sighed again, turning to face her. “All of your friends, family, and connections are in the village.”
“My only family was Caroline, Oliver,” she assured him. “Other relations live in Suffolk, but I don’t get to see them very often seeing as, like I have said, my parents didn’t travel very much. My friends are few and far between.”
