The Duchess and the Spy

by Marly Mathews

  “Speak some sense, and I shall consider listening.”

  “Devil take you, Christopher!”

  “He can try, but I am as you well know, a Saint.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “You are incorrigible.”

  “I know.”

  She didn’t like the sense of impending doom that suddenly slipped across her vision. She fell against him, when a picture of his demise entered her mind’s eye. She fought to catch her breath. She felt sick. She hated seeing the premature deaths of people whose lives she touched. She was the kiss of death—and she wasn’t about to kill him. That thought terrified her senseless.

  “You have to go now, or else they will kill you. Please, Christopher, listen to me.”

  “I am listening to you, Duchess, and yet, I will not leave you.”

  “You must. The time isn’t right.”

  “I disagree.” Without any further explanation, he pulled her into the passageway. The door slid shut behind them.

  “Christopher, please. You have to leave Belle Roche now. You must abandon me. You don’t know what you’re up against, please take the candle and go.”

  He gripped her tightly.

  “I know. My time here is over. And so is yours. You, Duchess…you are coming with me.”

  “No. I am not.” If she stayed with him, something dire would befall him. Why couldn’t he bloody well understand that? “Please go,” she said again. She was close to tears now because he wouldn’t take her advice.

  She tried to wiggle out of his grasp. If she could manage to escape from him, she could keep him from getting killed, to keep from losing hold of the candle, she used her magic to cast a levitation charm on it. Now it would follow their every step until she either took hold of it herself, or broke her spell on it.

  She was bad luck. She’d always known that…anyone and everyone she’d ever gotten close to usually ended up dead. She wouldn’t have another death on her hands, and she certainly wouldn’t have the death of her Saint Christopher on her hands.

  “I pray for you to understand what I am saying. If you don’t go on alone…without me, you will never make it back to the shores of England. You need to trust me.”

  “And you need to trust me, Duchess. I can keep you safe.”

  While they argued, they’d traveled quite a long way…before she’d knew it…he’d lead her out of one of the passages and they’d be speeding toward his death.

  He was too young to die. If she warned him now, she could save him and set him on a new path…if only, he would take her seriously.

  “You cannot do this,” he argued. “I will not be deterred from my mission—I swore I would not leave without you. I gave my word, and I never break my word, Duchess.” Her heart softened toward him. She had to take away his choice in the matter. She summoned her nerve, and used her free hand to touch the amulet around her neck. She channeled her magic through it.

  A beam of green light shot out of the amulet and slammed into Christopher. He released her, and went flying up into the air. She gasped. She hadn’t realized how intense the magic would be that would channel through the amulet. She’d never been desperate enough to use its enchantment for this kind of an attack before. She still didn’t know why her natural born talents had no effect on him, but she was beyond caring at the moment. She just wanted to get rid of him, so he could live to fight another day. If he remained with her…his death warrant was as good as signed.

  Christopher hit the stone wall, and slumped down into a heap, letting out a pained groan as he did so. She held her breath. Maybe she’d unintentionally killed him. She ran toward him.

  “Don’t be dead, please, Christopher, don’t be dead.” Falling to her knees, she reached toward him. She quickly took her glove off her right hand. Gently, she touched his forehead. Heat spiraled through her with the soft contact. She could love this man for the rest of her life, and as their connection took root, she realized that she was destined to love him. She’d always been destined to love him. Dragging in a shattering breath, she sought to rid her mind of the images soaring through it.

  He groaned, and slowly opened his eyes. “That thing packed one hell of a punch,” he said, rubbing his head.

  “Oh, Christopher, I am so sorry. I didn’t know that it would cause you that much injury.”

  “If this was another time…I’d now have enough evidence against you to have you burned at the stake.”

  “But you wouldn’t. You’re not that kind of a man.”

  “I’m not, am I?”

  “Aye,” she smiled. “You’re a saint. You wouldn’t do that to another soul.”

  “I relent. You’re quite right. I could never see you burn that way. Burn with passion, aye.”

  His words unsettled her. Drawing away from him, she pulled her glove back on. She couldn’t face touching him with her bare skin any longer. The emotions their skin to skin contact aroused, nearly brought her to her knees.

  “Come with me,” he said, reaching for her hand. She stood up, and hastily moved away from him.

  “My answer shall not change, sir. You will go on without me. And I am not a courtesan.”

  “Indeed.” He seemed unconvinced. “I can hardly blame you, Isabella. You were taken and probably made to do things, things that have scarred you.”

  “That is utter tosh, and you should know better. Pierre is a wretch, but he never abused me that way. Now, now, I do not regret using this against you.” She placed her hand protectively around her emerald.

  “You should have that bloody emerald taken away from you.”

  “Just try it…and see where it will get you. Shame your manners have degraded in the years since last we met.”

  She lost her balance and fell against him. He caught her, bringing her close to his chest. A delighted sparkle entered his eyes. She wetted her lips, and tried to free herself…but Christopher had a stronger grip than any other man she’d ever encountered.

  “Ah, Isabella. My Isabella.”

  She was breathless. He had his own kind of magic when it came to her. “Release me, sir. This has gone on long enough. I will not be manhandled like this. You have taken the game too far.”

  “Game? This is a game that can end in death, Isabella. Don’t you understand that?”

  His words cut like a dagger into her heart.

  “Aye. If you don’t heed my warning, it shall end in your death. I have made a deal that shall land me in England, so you needn’t worry. You may tell my family that I am coming home. Now, pray, leave me in peace.”

  “Ah, I understand. You have an appointment with destiny to keep. You agreed to become the little Corsican’s lover, didn’t you? Your favours will earn you, his favour. A whore is a whore no matter how noble her intentions.”

  “You bastard,” she said, she slapped him, and he caught her wrists and held her back from hitting him again. “I am no whore, you vile filthy beast. You are no Saint…you are a monster!”

  “Behave yourself, Duchess.”

  “And you can hold your tongue. You besmirch my character, and think I shall still go with you.”

  “If you won’t come willingly, then, I shall take your choice out of it.” He pulled her against him, and she thrashed wildly in his arms. “Calm yourself, Isabella. You’re acting like a petulant child.” She ceased her struggles, and became limp in his arms.

  “Devil take you, Christopher. Fine, have your way. I admit it. I am a courtesan. I am a fallen woman.” The lies burned her mouth, but he seemed to be falling for them.

  “As you are a skilled seductress, then perhaps, taking the time out to become better acquainted is just the thing. Call it a happy reunion, you could use it as research. I hear Boney likes his mistresses well skilled in the many fine arts of seduction.”

  She forgot to breathe. He meant to—her mind whirled frantically. Daphne had warned her about playing with fire countless times in the past and now, she’d finally be feeling the burn. She was suddenly all too aw
are of the rock solid grip he had on her arms.

  “You will regret what you are about to do,” she whispered.

  “Oh, I never regret nights with a well-educated women skilled in the arts of seduction, Isabella.”

  Her heart stalled. Now, she held her breath waiting for him to proceed with a little bit of trepidation, and a bit of excitement. She couldn’t reach the amulet. She glanced down to it. It was as dull as an unpolished piece of glass. For the first time in her life, it failed to warn her of incoming danger, and she knew why. He was no threat to her bodily. The only danger he presented to her was the peril of losing her heart to him.

  His lips touched hers. Gently at first, gradually, the kiss deepened. She moaned. She had to end this. She had to stop him.

  He broke the kiss, as if he could sense her panicked thoughts.

  “Don’t worry, Duchess. I won’t hurt you. After all, once I make you mine, you shall remain mine for the end of my days. Because once a wolf claims a mate, they mate for life.”

  “Christopher, no.”

  Her words made him stop. He looked deeply into her eyes, as if he searched for the girl she’d once been. He wouldn’t find her. She’d died long ago.

  She was his Duchess…and he was her spy.

    Chapter Three

  “Mark my words, Christopher, you will regret your next course of action. I will put a curse on you.”

  “Curses are only for the witches that embrace the darkness. You’ve already assured me you are no such witch, Isabella. So, I can only surmise that my soul is safe with you, and I gather that my heart would be as well.”

  She hated the look of hunger in his eyes. He looked as if he wanted to gobble her up! She could feel him trying to consume her body and soul with just one of his scorching gazes. Gooseflesh continued to prickle along her arms.

  “The sort of curse I’d lay on you wouldn’t be considered a dark curse. How would you like me to make you speak like a little girl for the next year?”

  He snorted, telling her that he didn’t take her threat seriously.

  “I do not think you’d compare well to the other men I have been with.”

  A long pause followed her declaration. Anger simmered in his dark eyes. She shivered.

  “I knew you’d had lovers, but you don’t need to make it sound as if you’ve bedded the whole male population of France.”

  She swallowed the thick lump forming in her throat. Well, she’d effectively painted a mental picture of herself for him now. He would definitely believe that she’d become Boney’s latest conquest. She shouldn’t feel ashamed of herself, and yet, she did. She wanted to despise herself for leading him astray in such a foul manner. If he thought she was going to allow her to ravish her in the dead of the night like this, then he was dreadfully mistaken. She had her reputation and her honour to protect. Not to mention the fact that she couldn’t risk falling pregnant with his child, not when so much hinged on her escaping to England. His passion for her stand in her way. For once in her life, she had to use her wits and not her emotions or powers to get her out of this fine mess.

  We cannot tarry. We must away.” If she had to turn the tables on him, and tell him that she would go with him just to be rid of him, then, she would do that.

  “Ah, now you have finally come round to your senses.”

  “Aye, I have.”

  “I am glad you picked the easy way, Isabella. If I’d been pushed, I would have dragged you kicking and screaming away from here.”

  “Ah, but I scream like a bloody banshee when I am inclined.”

  “I would have gagged you first. With the way you’re behaving, it’s a wonder you have lived this long.”

  She shivered at the commanding tone in his voice. She always knew she walked a fine line between living and dying, and one day, she’d make the fatal wrong move that would cost her to go tripping over that line. She’d made her peace with living, and as such, she didn’t fear the specter of death. She just wanted to live a little on her own terms before she gave into the final death knell.

  “We should keep moving. There is a chance someone else knows of these secret passages, and if they do, they’ll be coming for me. I don’t think you’d want to be discovered by my uncle’s men. Right now, I have the protection of the most dangerous man in all of Christendom.”

  “That is true.” His eyes sparkled. “You have my protection.”

  “You have no issues with your ego, do you?” She kept herself from chuckling. Right now, they faced serious consequences. No matter how pigheaded the man was in front of her, or how much he reminded her of an inflated ass, she didn’t want to see his life end this night. And, if he were discovered, he would be a goner for sure. If her uncle’s men didn’t dispose of him, Boney’s men would.

  “I know that you are a man loyal to your King and Country…so leave, now, before you have your blood spilled this night.”

  “My blood is staying right where it is, safe and sound within my body. And you said that we must away, so we must away.”

  She shook her head. “On second thought no. I must remain here. I have responsibilities here.”

  “Ah, no doubt you want to kiss the foreheads of your little by blows?”

  Rage ran through her. How dare he make such a galling insinuation? The man had totally forced her over the edge again. She placed her free hand against her amulet. He still held her other hand in his firm grasp. “I should send you back to England for that remark. How would you like a free trip across The English Channel, sir?”

  “Even I don’t think you command that kind of magic.”

  “Would you like to test that theory?” She glanced down at the amulet. It had started to glow. Which meant it was responding to her need to use it against him…or else…

  She sensed the presence behind them before he did. Releasing her enchanted hold on the candle, they fell into darkness. Slamming her body into his, she sent them crashing through the door that led out of the passage into the night air. The moon shone down on them in an ethereal way. She gasped for air as they both fell to the ground.

  “Are you hurt?” His voice became excruciatingly gentle as he helped her up.

  “No, I am sorry I get these frightening dizzy spells sometimes, I guess I really had a spell this time.” She was careful to respond to him speaking in French, and this time she would not call him Christopher.

  He had spoken in English, and she prayed that the man lurking in the shadows hadn’t heard him or seen her little bit of magic.

  “We must away. I have a carriage waiting to whisk us to the seashore.”

  “I can’t…” her breath hitched in her throat.

  The next few minutes passed in a blur. Before she knew it, she and Christopher were both thrown off their feet again, only this time it wasn’t of her own doing. He covered his body with hers as they hit the ground, somehow keeping his weight from crushing her, and in an instant, he was back on his feet, while she struggled to gain her bearings. Slowly, she sat up. Her heart stopped when she saw moonlight reflect off the glinting steel of the dagger the attacker held in his hand. She recognized him as one of Pierre’s men. Cold dread washed over her body in waves. She had to help him.

  She moved to rest her finger lightly on her amulet. Before she could take any action, he lunged into attack mode, engaging their assailant in hand to hand combat—it was a furious and fast battle. The attacker let out a gurgle, and then fell limply to the ground. It was over. In a brief second, the man had lost his life. Her stomach nearly revolted.

  “You shouldn’t have witnessed that,” Christopher said softly. He stood up from where he’d knelt to make sure the man was dead, and smoothed his clothing out. “Pray don’t look so horrified, he would have killed me, and then, he would have killed you, but before that he would have made you suffer. I couldn’t let that happen. I shall protect you no matter what. I told you someone didn’t want you to make it out of Belle Roche alive, and now you have your proof.”


  “You were the one targeted. Not me. They meant to kill you, only you. My uncle would have used me just as he has used me these past four years. I haven’t lost my value yet, even though I have betrayed him by agreeing to work for Bonaparte. You worry too much, Christopher.”

  “And you talk too much, Duchess. You are coming with me, and that is final. I won’t stand by and listen to you prattle on.”

  Footsteps rushed toward them. She drew in a sharp breath. He put up his hand, and looked behind her. “You needn’t fear the man that approaches. He is with me.”

  “I take it this is the valuable asset we were sent to collect?”

  She went still. She didn’t recognize the voice, but she didn’t like the coarseness of his French accent. He obviously hadn’t gotten the accent down pat, yet. His words were halting, and you could tell he had to think before he spoke.

  “Aye, this is the Duchess.”

  “Mademoiselle,” she corrected.

  “Come now, Duchess. We must leave. You are outnumbered, and I don’t think you’ll want to put on a little performance for my friend here. You can call him, Waters.”

  “What? No ingenious code name?” She forced out a laugh.

  “He is a seaman at heart. Hence, his name.” He reached down and pulled her to her feet. She brushed his hand away.

  “I can do quite all right on my own, thank you.” Her curt voice held an edge of annoyance to it, one that she hoped he’d notice.

  “Sir, do you know the way out of this bloody maze of an estate? I have had enough of these damn frogs to last me a lifetime. I think we’ll have clear sailing tonight, if we get a move on. You don’t know how glad I’ll be to see the white beaches of our shoreline.”

  “You and me both, Waters. The French can become horrendously tedious, can’t they?”

  This man was a vile foul creature. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t mind his insults against the French. After all, French society had fallen into dreadful decay since The Revolution. As far as she was concerned, all of the men and women involved in The Reign of Terror could go straight to hell. They had cost her more than just her freedom. They had cost her the love of her mother and father. She would never forget that they’d murdered her father and possibly, her mother. She knew she deluded herself when she hoped that somehow her mother had managed to escape the horror of The Terror. She knew that quite possibly, her mother had met the same fate as so many other noblewomen had met. But somehow, she just couldn’t face the fact that her mother had died by meeting her doom at the hands of the guillotine. Every time she envisioned her mother’s misery it made her feel sick inside, and it filled her with the most unimaginable anger. Anger that could literally sap the light out of her soul, if she let it.