Raven straightened, instantly alert. “Kit? Why, what does it say?”
Heloise glanced down at her hastily scribbled translation then back up at him. “It’s dated three weeks ago, addressed to Rovigo.”
Raven nodded. “That’s Anne Jean Marie René Savary, Duc of Rovigo. He was Napoleon’s top spymaster, along with Fouché, but he managed to retain his position despite the French defeat. The man’s as slippery as an eel. Who’s it from?”
“It’s signed Alvarez.”
He frowned. “I don’t know who that is. What does it say?”
“ ‘The prisoner is in poor health and gives us no new information. I urge you to consider completing the exchange you suggest quickly. The Baker will be of more use returned to us than this English Apollo. I can bring him to the church at Endarlatsa with notice of a few days.’ ”
Raven’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “Apollo? Are you sure?”
“Yes. That’s Kit’s code name, isn’t it?”
Castlereagh’s spies all had code names based on the Greek and Roman gods. Her brother Nic was Mercury, god of messengers and thieves, and Richard, being the eldest sibling, was Jupiter. She’d yet to discover Raven’s code name.
Raven exhaled slowly. “Yes. And this suggests he’s still alive. Or, at least, he was three weeks ago.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Bloody hell. Do you know where this message was intercepted?”
Heloise shook her head.
“Is there nothing else? A seal? A watermark? Anything that might determine where it came from?”
“No, but I looked at an atlas. There’s a village called Endarlatsa; it’s in northern Spain, near the border with France.” She glanced up at him. “Who’s the Baker?”
Raven’s jaw tightened. “The French give their agents code names based on trades or professions. The Doctor, the Farmer, the Shoemaker. The Baker is a man called Marc Breton. He’s currently our guest in Newgate. Richard and I are the ones who brought him in for questioning.”
The way he intoned the word “questioning” held a world of dark menace. Heloise shivered.
Raven pushed off the desk and started pacing. “I have to go and get Kit.”
It was no more than she’d expected. Raven was insanely loyal to his brothers in arms. “Do you think the French have already approached Castlereagh and indicated that they’re willing to swap Kit for this Baker?”
“No. Castlereagh would have told me if he’d heard Kit was alive.”
“What if Savary’s changed his mind?”
He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “It doesn’t matter if he has. We know where Kit is now—it must be somewhere within range of this church.”
“What if they haven’t offered because Kit’s already dead?” She hated to voice the question, but it needed to be said.
Raven fixed her with a piercing look. “If there’s even a chance he’s still alive, I’m going after him.”
Heloise nodded. She’d do the same, in his place. “Well, the good news is, now I’ve cracked this code, I’ll be able to read all the other messages we’ve intercepted. One of them might reveal something more about his location. I can go to London immediately and show Edward how to—” She stopped on a pained gasp. Edward wouldn’t be there to tell.
Raven stopped pacing. “No. London’s too dangerous. Someone’s already taken a shot at you.”
Heloise bit her lip. “I suppose Castlereagh could send the remaining messages here by courier. Or I could go to one of the safe houses, until all this blows over.”
Raven nodded absently, as if his mind was already on something else. “Could you write a message in this code?”
“I suppose so.”
He strode back to the desk, pulled forward paper and ink, and waved her over with an impatient hand. Heloise crossed to the chair he pulled out for her and sank into it. “What do you want me to write?”
“Date it for last week. Say, ‘Still in hospital. Expect to make a full recovery.’ Encoded French, of course.”
Heloise shot him a how-stupid-do-you-think-I-am glare, pulled the sheet toward her, and flattened the translated message on the desk. She ignored the inward curl of pleasure that being so close to Raven produced. Her whole body hummed in awareness. “I have all my notes and workings at home. This would be a lot easier if I could just—”
Raven shook his head. She frowned as he hovered over her shoulder. “I’ll need a while to work this out, you know. Go glower somewhere else, at least.”
He stepped back and she began to reverse-engineer the code into its individual letter components. Muffled sounds of revelry from the party downstairs joined the scratch of her pen as she first wrote out the message in French, then started to encode it, letter by letter. “What does it mean, anyway?”
“It’s a French spy code. ‘Still in hospital’ means still a prisoner. ‘Expect to make a full recovery,’ means he’ll await rescue or further instructions. Sign it Baker.”
Heloise nodded. So this was supposed to be a note from the Frenchman in custody. At least the name was easy—it was already encoded in the original message. “There.” She turned to Raven and handed him the note then glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. “So now what?”
He folded the note and slipped it inside his jacket. “I’ll send this to Castlereagh. He can get it into French hands without arousing suspicion.”
Heloise stood, smoothed down her skirts. Raven sidestepped, blocking her escape. He was half-smiling again, a look that made her instantly apprehensive. His dark gaze dropped to her mouth and a traitorous warmth curled through her. “I haven’t thanked you properly.”
He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips. Heloise frowned. Was this a goodbye kiss, because he’d be going to Spain? He kissed her again, and everything went a little hazy.
When the back of her knees hit something hard she realized, dimly, that he’d maneuvered her to the side of the bed. She shivered when he entwined their fingers and drew her arms behind her back, angling his head to press kisses along her jaw, her ear, her temple.
“Hellcat…” he murmured against her lips. “I’m sorry about this.”
Heloise frowned. Sorry? Why would he be—? A terrible suspicion formed the exact moment something cold closed around her wrist with an ominous metallic click. Raven reared back. She felt her arm jerk sideways and glanced down. Disbelief quickly gave way to fury.
The pig-swiving bastard had handcuffed her to the bed.
Chapter 7
Heloise took a deep, calming breath.
Raven, sensible devil, took a few more steps back—well out of kicking range—and regarded her with a distinctly self-satisfied air, arms crossed, legs apart like a pirate surveying a ship full of treasure. She gave her wrist an experimental tug. The cuff rattled against the wooden bedpost and scraped uncomfortably against her skin but didn’t give an inch.
“No point struggling.” Raven grinned cheerfully. “That post is the best Cuban mahogany.” He held up a small metal key, tucked it into the breast pocket of his waistcoat, and patted it.
Heloise strove for a reasonable tone. “This is completely unnecessary. Let me go.”
His obnoxious smile widened. “Can’t, I’m afraid.” He leaned back against the wall, all long and lean and supremely relaxed. Bastard.
He shrugged. “I can’t let you go home. I promised Castlereagh I’d keep an eye on you until we find out who killed Edward. Don’t glare at me like that, Hellcat. I care more about your safety than your good opinion.”
She rattled her wrist. “It never occurred to you to simply explain and ask me to stay? No, of course not. You boys always prefer the dramatic physical gesture over intelligent diplomacy. This is kidnapping!”
“Tsk. ‘Kidnapping’ is such a strong word. Let’s call it ‘protective custody.’ ”
“Calling it something else doesn’t alter the facts.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled.
“You think this
is amusing? Let me tell you, Ravenwood, you’re as funny as a toothache.”
“It’s for your own good. Think of me as your bodyguard.”
She folded her arms across her chest. At least she tried to, but her right arm was pulled up short by the handcuffs. She gave a frustrated growl. “I’m perfectly capable of guarding my own body, thank you very much.”
His gaze turned wicked and his eyes flickered down the length of her in a leisurely perusal that somehow seemed more intimate than a caress. Heat rose in her cheeks.
“Ah, but I’ll do a much better job.”
She didn’t even want to think about how the man had such easy access to a pair of handcuffs. In his bedroom, of all places. Her skin prickled. As if he’d read her mind, his eyes took on a wicked glint. “You know, some people like to be restrained.”
“Do you?” she fumed, then bit her tongue. Antagonizing him was not going to help matters.
He laughed. “God no, I’ve had more than enough imprisonment for one lifetime, thank you. No one will ever control me like that again.”
“Yet now you’re the one imprisoning someone.”
Raven inclined his head. “The irony’s not lost on me. But I’ve always found it easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
He sent her a mock-evil leer. “Having you so completely in my power, Miss Hampden, is a heady prospect. You should be glad I’m such a gentleman.”
“Really?” Heloise allowed her sarcasm full rein. “I should thank you for shackling me to a bed?”
“No. But you should be grateful I’m not taking advantage of the situation. A more unscrupulous man might.”
“Ha! You have the scruples of an alley cat. My brothers will kill you when they find out about this.”
“I doubt it. They’ll probably applaud. What do you think I’m going to do? Molest you?”
Heloise flushed. Of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t truly desire her, despite what had happened in the orangery. He’d simply been trying to embarrass her, or frighten her off, and she…well, she’d chalk it up to a champagne-fueled aberration. One she had absolutely no intention of repeating.
She gave an inward sigh. If she were any other woman, he’d probably be seducing her into exhausted acquiescence right now. And curse it, even as annoyed with him as she was, a part of her—the very stupid, brainless, part—wished she were one of those other women.
Raven must have interpreted her silence as uncertainty, however, because his expression darkened. “Don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe with me,” he growled. “Christ, you don’t really think I’d hurt you, do you?”
Heloise shrugged. “So what do you propose to do now?”
“Tonight’s attempt to kill you failed, but I can guarantee that whoever it was will try again.”
A cold wash of fear skittered down her spine as the truth of what he was saying began to register, but she shook her head.
“You disagree?” he said silkily.
“Of course I disagree. If I ever find myself agreeing with you, Ravenwood, I’ll need a moment to sit down and recover. We don’t know I was definitely the target. What if you’re wrong? What if you were the target? If that’s the case, I’ll be in more danger with you than if I leave.”
“You’re staying with me.” He forestalled her argument with a raised hand and glanced over at the clock. “How many languages do you speak?”
She narrowed her eyes. “A few. Why?” His expression immediately made her want to defend herself. “What? Maman is French and Father’s English, so I learned those two from the cradle.”
“Which others?”
“Greek, Latin, Italian.”
“Can you be pleasant in any of them?”
“You are such a—”
“Apparently not.” He sighed wistfully. “Any Spanish?”
“No.”
“Pity. Because you’re coming to Spain with me. We’ll leave at high tide.”
Chapter 8
Heloise’s heart slammed against her ribs. “I’m sorry, did you say Spain? Have you hit your head?”
He set his mouth into a tight, stubborn line and shot an ironic glance at her wrist. “You don’t have a choice. If you haven’t noticed, you’re in no position to argue.”
She could hardly breathe. The thought of going anywhere with Raven was a heady prospect, but for pride’s sake she ought to make at least a token protest. “I understand your desire to go and help your friend, but you have to consider things from my perspective. I can’t go haring all over Europe with you. I’ll be ruined.”
“A good man’s life is worth more than your reputation. Besides, I thought you wanted to get rid of your suitors. This is the perfect opportunity.”
“People will think we’ve eloped.”
“Not if they know either one of us,” he replied succinctly. “If we both disappear they’re more likely to assume I’ve murdered you and fled the country.”
Heloise scowled. He was right. Raven’s well-known aversion to marriage would work in his favor. People really would believe he’d kill someone rather than get married. “It’s all right for you. You don’t have a reputation to lose.”
He wasn’t shackled by his gender and the suffocating restrictions of society. The flagrant double standards between behavior acceptable for men and that permitted to women was one of the things that irritated her most about the ton. Yes, she’d been fortunate enough to be born into a wealthy family, but money hadn’t been able to buy her the equality she craved. Or the freedom.
Raven tilted his head as he approached her. “Argue all you want, but I’m not going to change my mind. You’re staying with me.”
Heloise sighed. She couldn’t go home. With her family away, the house was staffed with only a handful of servants and she undoubtedly needed protection. Raven might tease her, but she had absolutely no qualms about his ability to keep her safe.
The idea of being ruined socially didn’t particularly concern her. Maybe Collingham and Wilton would think twice about her as a suitable bride if she disappeared with Raven. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’ll need to let my family know where we’ve gone. They’ll be worried sick if I just disappear.”
He recognized her acceptance with a nod. “I’ll write to Castlereagh and your brother Richard and tell them where we’re going.” He undid his cravat and slipped it from his neck in a slow slide. Heloise watched the movement with deep suspicion.
“What are you doing?” The way he drew the silk through his left hand was both menacing and a caress. Suddenly uneasy, she edged backward. “I’ve said I’ll come with you. Don’t touch me,” she warned as he came closer.
His smile was not reassuring. The mattress dipped as he placed one knee beside her. Heloise shrank back against the bolster.
“I doubt any of the party guests would investigate if they heard you shouting,” he murmured, “and the servants are too well trained to interrupt, but just in case…”
Quick as a flash he slipped the silk across her mouth and tied it behind her head. Heloise punched him with her free hand but he warded off her blows with a chuckle and stepped back to survey his impromptu gag. The beast had got it between her teeth, like a horse’s bit. She tried to pull it down with her free hand but the knot at the back of her head was too tight.
Thoroughly incensed, she kicked out at him with her foot. She had a moment’s satisfaction when she connected with his thigh, but realized her mistake when he caught her ankle and her skirts rode high up her legs, giving him a scandalous view of stockings, garter, and thigh.
His brows shot up in surprise. She jerked her leg, but instead of releasing her, the devil traced a maddening circle around her ankle bone with his thumb. Heloise stilled, mortified by the hum of awareness his touch generated.
“You’re so well educated, I always assumed you wore blue stockings under there,” he said, grinning. “But no. Who’d have thought such a demure outer garment would hide such exotic underclothes?”
> Her face burned. Her one sinful extravagance was an abiding love of beautiful underwear, a passion for silk and lace inherited from her very French mother. She rebelled against the staid, conventional exterior ordained by society by wearing the most decadent and inappropriately colorful underwear she could buy. And she’d imagined herself to be safe because, really, who would ever see?
“Peach is one of my very favorite colors,” Raven drawled. He released her foot and Heloise scrambled to rearrange herself into a more demure position, then glared at him over the gag. His smile widened at her impotent fury.
Determined not to rise to the bait, she held perfectly still as he caught her chin. She thought about trying to kick him again but her body seemed paralyzed by the hot, wicked look in his eyes. His breath tickled over her skin as he leaned forward and kissed the very tip of her nose.
Chuckling, he stepped away and crossed to the door and Heloise realized incredulously that he was going to leave her, like this, gagged and handcuffed to his bed. She made a muffled sound of protest and he turned, his eyes glittering with amusement.
“Stay where you are, sweetheart. I’ve got a few things to do, but I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
The furious, ironic look she shot him needed no translation. Just to prove she wasn’t cowed, Heloise pulled off her slipper and threw it at his head. Unfortunately, her aim with her left hand was poor. The bastard didn’t even have the grace to duck. It bounced harmlessly off the doorframe next to his head.
—
Raven leaned back against his bedroom door with a sigh. Kissing Heloise again had been beyond stupid. He’d done it partly to annoy her—he loved her tousled and furious—and partly because he’d needed her flustered enough to get her over to the bed so he could secure her.
Taking her to Spain with him was insane. It would be hard enough trying to track down Kit without having Little Miss Hampden trailing along, driving him to distraction. The terrain of the Peninsula was harsh and unforgiving. She had no field experience at all. She’d probably never been farther afield than London.
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