Once a Spy

by Putney, Mary Jo

  “Aye, she’s from Hill Brook Farm.” Roper took a similar stance next to him. “Part Arabian and beautifully trained. Will cost a pretty penny if you decide to keep her.”

  Simon chuckled. “I think there’s no ‘if ’ about it. Luna seems as sweet natured as she is beautiful.”

  “Aye, and well trained.” Roper gestured with his chin at the adjacent loose box. “The Duke, the chestnut in the next stall, is a good mount that’ll suit your weight well.”

  Simon looked in that direction and nodded. “A very handsome fellow. I’ll look forward to deepening my acquaintance with the Duke tomorrow morning.” He entered the loose box and joined Suzanne. “Tomorrow morning you’ll find out if Luna is as lovely to ride as she is to look at.”

  “She will be,” Suzanne said confidently. “But now I suppose it’s time to go inside and prepare for dinner.”

  “Exactly so.” Simon took her arm and they left the loose box.

  Suzanne gave Roper a smile that made him blink. “Thank you, Mr. Roper! You have wonderful taste in horses.”

  She took Simon’s arm as they left the stables and walked through the dusk to the house. “I’m so glad we married, Simon. I feel young again.”

  “So do I.” He patted her hand where it rested on his arm. “But I don’t suppose that eliminates the darkness of more recent years.”

  His words were like an icy hand on the back of her neck. There had been so much darkness. “No, it doesn’t. I wish I could wash the stains from my soul and be normal again!” She was startled by her vehemence.

  “I’d like that, too,” he said quietly as they entered the house. “Give it time. Time and happiness can work wonders.”

  She hoped he was right. As he took her cloak, she studied his handsome face, thinking how dear he had become to her. With sudden hope, she wished that they were both normal newlyweds who were learning to rejoice in each other’s bodies.

  As soon as the thought took form, her body shrank back, repulsed by the idea of being used sexually.

  Yet she was capable of accepting his warm embrace at night. In fact, she loved it. Surely that pleasure was a good omen?

  She wished she could be sure it was.

  Chapter 11

  It was difficult for Suzanne to remove herself from the delicious warmth of Simon and her bed, but anticipation of riding persuaded her to slide out from under the covers. The room was chilly so she wrapped her warm robe around herself and shoved her feet into slippers.

  Hoping the day would be fine, she moved to the window and gazed out, catching her breath at the sight of the white horse emerging from the dawn mists just as Simon had described the day before. She sighed happily.

  Simon moved so silently that she didn’t realize he’d joined her until she felt his body’s warmth against her back. She leaned against him. “I find that I am enjoying marriage.”

  He chuckled. “So am I. It looks as though it will be a grand day for riding.”

  “Can we ride over to the white horse?” she asked. “I’d like to see it close up.”

  “It’s several miles and you might want to take it easy your first day back on a horse.” He rested a warm hand on her shoulder. “Let’s see how it goes.”

  That made sense. She wished she could banish the uneasy feeling that everything was going too well.

  * * *

  By the time Simon and Suzanne had dressed and breakfasted, the sun had emerged and the day was cold and hazy bright. She was bubbling like a happy teakettle as they walked out to the stables.

  Roper was waiting with their saddled and bridled mounts. “’Tis a good day for a ride,” he said jovially.

  Despite her impatience, Suzanne took the time to check the saddle girth and tack. Simon approved. “Ready, milady?” He laced his hands to help her up.

  She set her neatly booted left foot in his hands and he tossed her up into the saddle. She landed gracefully as thistledown. She grinned down at him as she adjusted her full skirts to fall over her legs. “One of these days I’m going to try riding astride. I was never allowed that before.”

  “As you wish, milady,” he said agreeably. “But for today, will you settle for looking like a princess on your sidesaddle?” It was no less than the truth. Suzanne’s new riding habit was the dark green of the army’s rifle companies, and it was a perfect foil for her creamy complexion and green eyes.

  “Flatterer,” she said with a laugh. “Shall we be off?”

  He introduced himself to the waiting chestnut, checked the tack, then mounted. The Duke was a bit frisky at first, but it didn’t take long for them to reach an accord. “Behind the stables there’s a pleasant trail that follows the hillside. It’s good for a gallop when you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready now!” She set off in the direction he indicated at a canter. By the time they were on the trail, she and her moon mare were flying. If her riding was rusty, it didn’t show. He kept pace behind her, enjoying the speed and the memories of rides they’d taken together in the days before her wedding.

  Eventually she slowed her mount from a canter to a trot. Suzanne was laughing and her face was flushed with pleasure. “How marvelous! Luna is the best horse I’ve ever ridden. Her gaits are smooth as silk.”

  Simon pulled up beside her, matching her speed. “The Duke is another fine horse. As you said, Roper has a good eye for horseflesh and he’s delighted to spend my money.”

  “He’s spending it well,” Suzanne said as she ran her fingers through Luna’s silvery mane. “I love White Horse Manor. I’d like to stay here forever, but I suppose we must go back to London and infiltrate the émigré community.”

  “Yes, but I think it will be more pleasure than pain.” He turned to head back to the house. “I’m rather looking forward to it. It’s been a long time since I’ve moved in the sort of French society I knew as a boy.”

  “Returning to that will be interesting,” she said as she turned Luna to follow Simon. “Though it’s been a wonderful ride, now I must tour the house with Mrs. Stanley.”

  “We both have our responsibilities. I need to sit down with the steward and go over the books, which he is keen to show me. But tonight, we can once more indulge in the domestic fantasy of sitting together in front of a fire.” He grinned at her. “Simple pleasures, and then a good night’s sleep.”

  Her return smile was intimate, as full of anticipation as his. He was a lucky man. All he had to do was control his unruly male desires.

  That was all.

  * * *

  That night when they retired, Suzanne winced as she climbed onto the bed. “The riding was wonderful, but the sore muscles have arrived with a vengeance!”

  “If you lie on your stomach, I’ll see if I can massage some of the pains away,” Simon offered.

  “Thank you!” Suzanne responded by rolling over on top of the covers. Her nightgown fell softly over the curves of her back, bottom, and legs. After a moment of masculine appreciation, he drew a deep breath, then knelt beside her and began to gently massage her neck, shoulders, and upper back.

  She sighed with pleasure and relaxed under his hands. “I don’t know if this will help with the sore muscles, but it feels wonderful,” she murmured.

  Her soft body felt equally wonderful to him. Though her nightgown was heavy enough for winter, it was still only a single layer of fabric between his hands and her lithe body. He kneaded his way down her back, making sure no muscle was neglected. Her bottom was round and firm, her thighs and calves a tempting sensual delight.

  He was ruefully aware that if they were lovers, this would be a splendid form of erotic foreplay. He would eventually raise the hem of her nightgown so his bare fingers would be touching her naked skin. His hands would work their way upward....

  He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the sexual burn spreading through him. This massage would not be allowed if she didn’t believe that he’d lost sexual interest and was touching her only as a friend, a brother, might. If she looked at him, she
might realize the damning truth.

  But she was mostly asleep now, a contented smile on her lips. He gave her bottom a last gentle pat, then climbed from the bed and pulled the covers over her. After banking the fire, he lit the dim night candle that stood on a table across the room and joined her under the covers.

  She had rolled onto her side with her back to him, her breathing slow and even. Since the pulse of desire still throbbed through him, he didn’t tuck his body around hers, only rested one hand on her hip as he lay on his back.

  Closing his eyes, he slowed his breath and concentrated on relaxing, reducing his desire, telling himself he must sleep. And if he had carnal dreams of his wife, no matter as long as he didn’t act on them.

  His lovely wife, whom he was pledged to treat as a friend . . .

  Chapter 12

  The night was cold and Suzanne instinctively wriggled back against Simon so that they lay spooned together. He was asleep, but even so, his arm came around her waist. He was so wonderfully warm....

  Too warm. A bolt of panic shot through her and she came sharply awake when she realized that a hot, hard part of him was poking against her bottom. She gave a choked cry, jerked away, and stumbled from the bed. “Damn you . . . !” she gasped. “God damn you to hell!”

  Her cry woke Simon and he jolted awake. There was enough light from the night candle to see the swift procession of emotions as he pushed himself up on one elbow: the instinctive reaction of a soldier reacting to possible danger. Confusion at her cry and words. Then horror as he realized what must have happened.

  He swore, then said hoarsely, “Suzanne . . . !”

  “You lied!” she exclaimed, on the verge of weeping. “You said you weren’t interested in sexual intimacy. I never would have married you if I’d known that wasn’t true!”

  He swallowed hard, his expression miserable. “I didn’t lie. At the time, what I told you was true. It had been so long since I’d felt physical desire that I thought that part of me had died.”

  She dragged on her robe and wrapped it around her shivering body. “Yet after a mere three days, you’re . . . you’re . . .” She choked, unable to say how molested she’d felt.

  “Believe me, I did not expect this to happen! And certainly not so soon.” He climbed from the other side of the bed and pulled on his robe, keeping the broad bed between them.

  “You said you’ve felt younger since our marriage. So have I. Like a young man in springtime.” He drew a deep breath. “Our first night together I realized that desire was returning. I was shocked and concerned because I knew this wasn’t what you wanted, but I thought my willpower was strong enough to control my reaction when I was with you.”

  “You were wrong!”

  He grimaced. “Obviously my body is not so disciplined in sleep.”

  “I noticed,” she said bitterly. “I speak not as a nervous virgin, but as a woman who has been the victim of male desire far too many times.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, his expression agonized as he absorbed her words. Opening them, he said in a rough whisper, “As I said once before, we can have the marriage annulled. The legalities won’t be pleasant, but it should be possible since the marriage hasn’t been consummated.”

  She stared at him, feeling as if she was being torn in half as she thought about his kindness, his companionship, his understanding and humor—and his lust. “I don’t want to end the marriage,” she said haltingly. “I want it to remain the marriage of companionship we both agreed to.”

  “That’s no longer possible,” he said reluctantly. “I swore I’d never force you to do anything against your will and I’ll keep that promise. But it means no longer sharing a bed. I can’t sleep with you and not respond.”

  She shivered again. They’d both enjoyed that physical closeness so much. But no matter how good his willpower was during the day, he obviously couldn’t guarantee the same restraint when he was asleep. “You’re right,” she said painfully. “I hate the idea of separate bedrooms, but . . . it’s the only way.”

  He nodded unhappily. “I’ll leave, but now you need to get back to bed. You look like you’re freezing. I’ll build up the fire.”

  He was right that she was shaking with cold, though it wasn’t only from the winter night. Keeping her robe and slippers on, she climbed back into the bed and rolled onto her side, pulling the covers over her like a cocoon.

  The fire flared as Simon added more coal. Then he pulled a heavy quilt from the chest at the foot of her bed. He shook it out and spread it over her for extra warmth.

  “Thank you.” She stared at him bleakly, knowing they were equally miserable. “I’ll miss sleeping with you.”

  “And vice versa.” His smile was crooked. “For a brief time, we had the marriage we planned on. I wish it had lasted longer.”

  Needing to know, she asked, “Are you sorry that you’ve recovered desire?”

  He hesitated. “Yes, because it has wrecked the marriage we had planned and both enjoyed so much. But also no, because I feel fully alive. A whole man again. I hadn’t realized how heavy my spirit had become until you began to lighten it.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish I was different.”

  “Don’t apologize. We’ve dealt honestly with each other and you have nothing to apologize for. But . . .” His voice trailed off as he regarded her, his brow furrowing.

  “But . . . ?”

  “People change. It’s inevitable. I changed rapidly and rather disastrously, but you might also change. What seems repellent now might come to feel . . . less so. Can you open your heart and mind to that possibility?”

  She bit her lip. She loathed the thought of sweaty, violent, panting male aggression. Of fear and bodily invasion and helplessness.

  But this was Simon, who was unlike any man she’d ever known. Simon, who was honest and kind. “Perhaps that might be possible,” she said haltingly. “But it’s almost beyond my imagination.”

  “If your feelings ever change enough that you’re willing to allow marital relations, perhaps we might have a child,” he said softly. “That’s worth some risk, isn’t it?”

  She closed her eyes against the pain. “In all my years of marriage and then life in the harem, I never quickened. I think I’m barren.”

  “But you can’t know that for sure.”

  “Gürkan sometimes used . . . devices,” she said in a choked voice. “They hurt. I think they . . . damaged me inside.”

  “Dear God!” For a moment Simon’s hand clasped hers in wordless shock. Then he swiftly let go. “No wonder you want to avoid men, ma chérie. You have been treated abominably.”

  “I don’t blame all men for the crimes of a few,” she whispered. “But you see why I told you that I was no longer fit for marriage.”

  “And I in my selfishness persuaded you against your better judgment.”

  “Perhaps against my judgment, but not against my will.” She opened her eyes and gazed at him. “I wanted to believe our marriage of friendship would work.”

  He regarded her gravely. “Know this, Suzanne. All the choices belong to you. All the power is in your hands. Whatever you wish, you may have, even if it is an annulment, or a separation. The choice is yours.”

  He turned and quietly left the room. She managed to hold back her tears until he was gone. Then she disintegrated into wrenching sobs so intense, there was no space inside her for anything but pain.

  Gradually she ran out of tears and lay buried under the blankets, filled with bleak despair. She forced herself to think. For a few bright shining days, she’d thought her luck had changed and she’d found happiness with the one man in the world who could be a perfect loving friend, understanding her as no one else could and not asking the impossible of her.

  Their brief Eden had shattered, ironically, because he had become happy. Their marriage had benefited him as much as it had her, bringing him to a level of happiness he’d not imagined and restoring vitality and desire. She
couldn’t wish him unhappy; she suspected he had a chamber of horrors that matched hers.

  Her situation was enormously better than it had been a fortnight before. Thanks to Simon’s generosity, she now had the money to live in comfort. She could have a home and friends—along with a return to loneliness that would be all the worse for having been briefly lifted. Their marriage had barely begun and already she was so used to lying with him that his absence made her bed feel achingly empty.

  When they were discussing a possible marriage, they had talked in abstract terms about what might happen if one of them regained desire. They’d assumed that if that happened it would be in the distant future. They’d also rather smugly decided that they were French; they could work that out. Discreet lovers were mentioned.

  Now that possibility loomed, and the thought of Simon lying with another woman made her want to vomit. She realized that her hands had curled into claws.

  She could leave tomorrow and Simon would not reproach her. To spare herself humiliation and notoriety, she could reject the idea of annulment and leave him in limbo, unable to ever take another wife.

  But those possibilities were superseded by a promise she had made to him: to do her best to make this marriage work. That meant not giving up after three days. She was, after all, French and very adaptable.

  They could continue living together but avoid touching each other, but they both loved it so much. Was there a compromise that would enable them to maintain a mostly satisfactory marriage? Perhaps, though it would be more satisfactory for her than for him. It was worth trying.

  Needing to act before she lost her courage, she slid from the bed and pulled off the quilt, then carried it in her arms as she padded from her bedroom, across the cold sitting room, and into Simon’s room. She’d not been in it before, but dim light from fireplace coals showed that the layout was much the same as her bedroom.

  She was trying to move silently, but was unsurprised when Simon asked, “Suzanne?”