“You are not an alien. You are one of us. Don’t fret, Bella. I shall do whatever I can. You mustn’t have any regrets. Live in the moment,” he advised, turning his head at the sound of Christopher’s voice. “Quickly now. You must take my coat off and put it around your body. Your frock is wet and well that muslin was sheer enough when it wasn’t dunked in the ocean, and now…well, you’re rather displaying everything you own, Bella.”
She looked down at herself, and gasped. “You are quite right. Oh, I look a sight to be sure.” She helped him to shrug out of his coat, and she put it on.
“Good…that’s much better,” he said approvingly.
She stared at the approaching men. She was afraid of them.
Jason pulled her hand into his, and she was grateful for the gesture of support.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised.
It felt so good to be home with the people that she loved, and who loved her in return.
“I have been relying on Daphne and only Daphne for far too long,” she said, her voice wavering. “When I was with Pierre it felt like an eternity of misery. I never want to be so dependent on someone I despise ever again.”
His eyes lit with understanding, and her heart soared.
She was home, and she was free at last. “Promise me that I will never have to go back!”
“I promise.”
He squeezed her hand, and then on a lighter note, she turned her attention to his beard.
“This facial hair of yours simply will not do. It makes you seem quite wild,” she breathed. Her skin tingled, and she turned around as the sound of Christopher’s angry voice. She sighed. It was in high dudgeon for some reason.
Her Saint Christopher had found her, and he looked mad as hell!
Her breath lodged in her throat, and she nearly forgot how to breathe. She’d forgotten how bloody handsome he was. Her heartbeat quickened, and her palms became sweaty, as fire raged through her. Without his mask…with the sunlight haloing him…he quite simply robbed her of her breath.
Napoleon’s court had boasted many handsome men. Christopher far surpassed all of those dandies. Simply put, he was a man of his own making, and it made her blood thrill. She was his, and she would gladly throw herself into his arms, for just one more kiss—she remembered the way his touch felt and the memory made her shiver.
His hair was a dark wild mass of waves that fringed his chiseled face. It was unfashionably long, and reached past his ears. His greatcoat flashed behind him in the wind, and gave him an unrivalled air of power. He wore tight breeches that showcased every sinewy muscle, and made her heart nearly pound out of her chest.
He was dressed with care. His crisp white shirt, further accented his dark green tailcoat, over which he wore a greatcoat. He wore a cravat tied in his own knot.
He was a man with enough confidence for two people. She had never been attracted to anyone the way that she was drawn to him.
Suddenly, she felt as if she were the damsel in distress, for this side of Christopher alarmed her. The way he charged toward her, he seemed more like her predator than her Saint.
“Steady, Isabella. You look like you’re going to run back into the sea. You remain with me.”
Jason’s voice soothed her, and made her remain where she was.
Christopher bore down on her, and the expression he wore, sent a chill racing through her. Jason moved so that he could stare at the man coming toward them, and she was alarmed by the paleness of her cousin’s skin.
“Christopher,” he whispered. His voice cracked with the depth of his emotions, and Isabella suddenly felt the need to protect him.
“Pray stay awake, Jason,” she murmured urgently. “You must stay awake. If you fall asleep, you might never wake up!”
Christopher sank to his knees beside her, and roughly shoved her to the side. This was not her Saint…where was the man that felt passion for her, he’d been concerned about her welfare in France, and now he tossed her aside so carelessly? Who did he think he was?
If this was what Christopher had become. She wanted no part of him.
He barked out a series of orders that seemed to cause mass panic amongst his men. Taking Jason’s greatcoat off, she laid it gingerly over him. He looked so weak, her heart ached.
He pushed her aside again, and she put her hands out in front of her, before she landed face first into the sand. She seethed with anger, as she felt it roll through her in unbridled waves. He had pushed her. Of all the insults! Glaring over at Christopher, she struggled to push herself to her feet. How dare he? His impudence galled her. Whom did he think he was dealing with? Her title might not have much sway here in England, but she was a Duchess, and he would treat her with respect!
She caught sight of the surgeon racing toward them, and her eyes rested on his medical bag. Soon, Jason would be attended to, but Christopher needed attending to as well.
Placing her hands angrily on her hips, she stared down at her feet, as she curled her toes into the sand.
From what she could remember her Saint had always had airs, and right now, he needed a good reminder that he couldn’t treat everyone as if they were dirt beneath his feet!
How dare he push her away from Jason!
Straightening herself regally, she slowly crept up behind Christopher. She prepared herself, and then, before any of his blasted men could shout out a warning, she had slipped her foot beneath the soft sand, and brought it right up to connect with his shapely derriere. She didn’t need her magic to get her point across to him. Maybe she’d be able to fend for herself in this cruel word without the assistance of her magical skills, after all.
He let out an outraged roar, as she lifted him and sent him toppling to the side at an awkward angle. She reached for the water that the doctor had produced, and tipped it to Jason’s eager lips.
Jason’s eyes glittered with amusement, and she winked at him. He nearly spewed out the water that was in his mouth, and stopped just in time.
“There. I daresay you feel much better now. I know I do.”
She could have sworn the doctor was trying not to smile, then again, she couldn’t be completely certain. She stared at him bewildered, as he opened his mouth in gaping astonishment. She turned to see what had surprised him, when she suddenly found herself dangling in mid-air.
Christopher threw her easily over his shoulder, as her own derriere thrust up into the air. He smacked it lightly, and her cheeks burned, as she pounded his back with her fists. She began kicking her legs out, struggling wildly. She already knew her struggles were fruitless. The bloody brute had her at a distinct disadvantage. It was rather hard to fight back in such an awkward position. No matter, she’d give him one hell of a bloody fight, even if she knew she couldn’t win. It didn’t hurt to at least try to make his life a living hell.
“Put me down at once!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. She wanted to bash him over the head.
*****
Christopher was so damn relieved to see that she and Jason were still alive, that he didn’t quite know how to express his emotions. He wanted to take her into his arms and never let her go, but she was being an impudent young miss, and he was using all of his willpower he had to stop himself from taking her somewhere private and ravishing her.
“Now, now,” he said, as he became increasingly aware of the heat beneath his hand. Her dress was incredibly sheer, and clung to her like a second skin. How many of his men had seen her in that state of undress? He knew that Jason had gotten a good eyeful!
“Now Duchess, calm yourself. Whatever would your aunts and uncles and your darling Grandmamma say?”
Isabella’s mind was a jumble of thoughts, and her emotions rioted. Christopher turned toward a large carriage. Her blood ran cold.
“They would be incensed that you thought you could treat me in such an ill manner! This is not be borne, Christopher!”
He pulled open the carriage door, and she just had enough time to let out
an indignant little huff, before he threw her inside. She screamed out in frustrated fury, when he slammed the door shut. She touched her amulet. It gave her no response. Her magic had truly left her in her time of need. Saint, indeed.
The door opened a few seconds later, and she was pelted with his greatcoat. “For the love of God, cover yourself up, Duchess! You’ll catch your bloody death in that state!”
“I’d rather die than put something on that belongs to you, Christopher!” she shouted, as she wrapped the coat around her shoulders.
Ah, to hell with it, she was freezing, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction that her death would bring him. He was a despicable cad, and she’d make sure that she stuck around to make his life miserable. A slow contented smile blossomed across her features, as she sat back against the satin squabs, and listened to her stomach rumble.
Chapter Seven
Christopher wanted to wring Isabella’s neck, and he also wanted to crush her into his arms, and kiss her senseless.
He had travelled to Kent on horseback like the frenzied man he was, changing horses several times so he could make the journey as fast as possible. Clenching his fists tightly at his side, he ambled back toward the doctor’s house. He wanted to check on Jason, and find out from him what he knew about Isabella’s return. If Jason discovered how he’d treated his cousin, he’d have reason to box his ears and frankly, Christopher wouldn’t find fault with that line of reason. He’d react the same way if he discovered someone had treated a woman of his family the way he’d treated Isabella.
On one hand, he viewed her with contempt. On the other hand, he wanted to love her until time stood still, which, more often than not seemed to happen whenever Isabella flew into his life. Did he truly recall the girl he’d met so long ago? She’d been so strikingly different then, it was almost impossible to fathom that she was still the same person.
The doctor stationed in Dover also worked for The Service. Therefore, they could discuss things of the more secretive sort when in his presence. To sum it all up, Theo could be trusted, with anything he happened to hear. As such, he was the only physician that could safely attend to Jason.
The English Channel had been searched, and they had found no more survivors. Isabella and Jason should have been found before they’d made their way to shore and some would have their ears blistered for their incompetence. He raised his hand to knock on Theo’s door when it quickly opened.
Theo’s short plump housemaid opened the door and let out a half muffled shriek when her eyes rested on him. If he didn’t know better he would have sworn she was about to take a fit on him.
“Lord Wyndham!” she exclaimed. Her eyes widened even further. She stared at him, as if he was the big bad wolf and she was his intended prey. She dipped into a respectful curtsy, and moved aside so he could step into the small entryway. He meandered into the quaint entryway, and stared up the straight staircase trying to see if he could notice any motion by the bedrooms. The maid led him into the front parlour and then quickly scurried out of the room, no doubt happy to be out of his presence.
He leaned against the fireplace mantle as he felt the restless energy bubble through him. He needed to know what was going on with Jason, and how badly injured he was. Placing his hands tightly behind his back, he began pacing. Within a few moments, the parlour door opened and Theo’s wife entered.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” Mrs. Cornwell said, dropping into a curtsy. He returned her curtsy with a dignified bow. “Mr. Cornwell has need of you, sir,” she straightened back up, and fixed him with her sparkling brown eyes.
He burst into action and was up the stairs before Theo’s wife even had the time to catch her breath. He entered the room as if he were a bat out of hell, and scowled at the nurse that greeted him with a disdainful snort. Bypassing the prim nurse, he rushed over to Jason’s bedside, and found the man propped up on pillows. Jason wore a contented smile.
“You are supposed to be near death,” Christopher pointed out gruffly. He was happy to see Jason in such good spirits, but he was still worried that Jason might just do something to give himself a relapse. Jason’s grin widened, and Christopher couldn’t help but relax. “And yet, here you are grinning from ear to ear. It is rather good to have Isabella home isn’t it?”
“Aye. Where is she?”
Christopher sighed. “I have taken the liberty of…”
“Yes,” Jason prodded.
“You needn’t worry.” How was he supposed to tell him that he didn’t want to share her with anyone and had her waiting in a carriage where she could possibly catch her death? He should have her here where she could warm herself by the fire…and yet…if he did, Mrs. Cornwell would swoop in and take over the care of Isabella, and he couldn’t bear that. He hated being away from her even to look after Jason.
“Oh, but I do worry. She hasn’t had an easy life these past four years, Christopher.”
“Aye, I know.”
“I don’t want to interrupt two old friends but Lord Elphinstone you should be feeling drowsy soon.”
“And that means I shouldn’t keep you much longer.”
Theo nodded his head. “Aye, you have ten minutes, Lord Wyndham.” Theo nodded at his nurse, and they both left the room. The door clicked shut quietly.
“I trust you shall take good care of Isabella?”
“I will.”
Jason looked unconvinced. “I still don’t want her left in your care. I want her here, do you understand?”
“You’re too weak to be bothered with Isabella. I shall take good care of her, on that you can be quite certain.”
“I…you’re not a relation of hers…you…you being with her could be misconstrued. The best thing for you to do is to bring her here to me, and allow Mrs. Cornwell to take care of her. She can be her protector.”
“She needs no protection from me.”
“At least write to her family—my family and fetch them here. You can’t seek to keep her away from them all forever, and you’d better not be thinking of treating her like someone who is new to the country.”
“Oh, no indeed. I don’t think that’s necessary. We all know who she is…she shan’t have to be registered.”
“She’s scared, Christopher. Pray don’t make her fears intensify tenfold.”
“I shan’t do anything of the sort.”
“I know you, Christopher, and the look in your eyes tells me that you’ve finally decided to set your cap on her. Don’t do anything rash. Don’t do anything foolish. If you do, my father will be quite vexed. He is after all, her adopted father. He’s the only father she’s ever known, and my Papa isn’t someone you should cross.”
“I am quite aware of that, Jason.”
“Did she tell you anything I need to know? About her time spent in France and why she’s here?”
“She told me nothing that you probably don’t already know. She told me about her bastard of an uncle, who made her his ward and took everything from her.”
“And she wants her lands and title back…so she’s agreed to be a spy for Napoleon,” he assumed.
“Now, see here, Christopher, don’t accuse her of such a duplicitous thing.”
“How else could she have gotten away from Pierre Dubois and Napoleon? She must have made a bargain with the devil—or in her case, two devils.”
“I don’t want you laying accusations at her doorstep. I told you she’s bloody well scared stiff. She doesn’t want to go back to France…so give her some kind of comfort, won’t you? And I expect to have her delivered to me come the morning, if you shan’t bring her here today. If you do anything to hurt her, Christopher, you shall have me to contend with after which you can deal with my Papa.”
“I shan’t. And even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have Mrs. Cornwell having to attend to her. This little house would hardly pass muster with Isabella. Think of the extravagance she’s used to.”
“She’s not as bad you paint her.|
“No…
maybe not.” Hell, he knew she wasn’t as bad. He selfishly wanted to keep her to himself for all of the wrong—and some of the right reasons. He wanted her as his wife, and he would damn well make sure he got his way.
“I see what you’re thinking of. Don’t disgrace her.”
“She’s already led a life far detached from the sheltered one your Papa gave her. She’s already been with men, Jason.”
“That’s a bag of moonshine. She’d never sleep with a man outside of marriage unless she had no choice, and she told me that she wasn’t hurt while in France.”
“And do you think she’d confide that to you? If she’d been hurt like that, do you honestly think she’d admit to it?” Christopher asked.
“Aye, I do. She’d tell me anything, of that you can depend. She’d have nothing to be ashamed of, it wasn’t she who did that to herself…the men who did it are the only ones to blame, and blame them I would.”
Christopher sighed heavily. “Aye, you’re right. I shall have the truth out of her, even if I have to pester her about it.”
“You’ll do no such thing. Leave her be. For the love of God, man, she’s been through an ordeal. A trial by fire that we can’t even think to imagine. You shan’t make her feel wretched, do you hear me?”
“Aye. Although, if she warmed Boney’s bed, she wasn’t there against her will. He might be a cretin but I hear he has a way with the ladies. They rather throw themselves at him, he doesn’t have to force them.” Glancing toward the window, he loudly cleared his throat.
For the first time he realized that Jason and Isabella resembled each other, and it was bloody disconcerting.
The Duchess and the Spy Page 8
