His Lady Spy (The Star Elite Series)

by King, Rebecca

  “You’ll let us help?” Portia asked hesitantly, unsure why he was being so agreeable all of a sudden. She could smell a rat, but couldn’t quite make out why. Was he about to trick them? She couldn’t tell. She couldn’t see anything in the wretched darkness and suddenly felt the walls of the barn close around her to such an extent that she thought she would scream if she had to spend another moment in its claustrophobic walls.

  “I need another pair of eyes on the village. If I station you at vantage points, all you need to do is keep an eye out for the Guards. You know who you are looking for. They are dressed in black, and will be moving stealthily. Unfortunately, you saw one of them in the church. A few of them will have been sent out to search for you. Just keep an eye out for anyone skulking about.”

  He had no doubt that the Guards were indeed looking for the ladies, but whether they had remained in Tissington, or had followed them to Headingly, he couldn’t be sure. He hated to admit it, but they were as much at risk in the barn as they were outside, in the open. Sighing deeply, he considered how long it would take for reinforcements to arrive, and fervently hoped that Hugo would be at home when the message arrived. He would send a secondary message to Simon just in case but, until they arrived, it was down to Archie to keep both ladies alive and out of the Guards’ clutches.

  He paused, one hand on the rough wood of the barn door and turned to glare back into the darkness. “Don’t move away from where I leave you. Don’t wander off, no matter how long I may be and please, for God’s sake, don’t alert anyone to your presence.” He knew his voice was harsh but didn’t care if either lady was offended at his dominance. “Stay together, and don’t question any order I give you when we leave this barn. Understand?”

  It was so dark, he had no idea if either lady had meekly nodded, stuck their tongue out or ignored him completely. The quicker they were off his hands and into the safe care of Hugo and his associates, the better. He was far too aware of Portia’s presence in the barn and, despite the lack of light, felt himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Only on this occasion, he was determined he wasn’t going to be the one to get burnt. Although he couldn’t see her, he knew exactly where she was at any given moment, and that bothered him. He had never felt this connection to anyone before, and didn’t want it now.

  Shaking his head, he puffed out his cheeks with a deep sigh and eased the door open, peering through the gap cautiously. Everything outside was as it had been before. Motioning for the ladies to follow, Archie eased out into the night air.

  Archie paused at the end of the road and leaned against the stone wall. He was still encased in shadows, but if anyone did look his way, they would see nothing more untoward than a stranger, leaning against a stone wall. Although his demeanour was as casual as he could make it, he was about as tense as he had ever been in his entire life.

  Cold eyes ran the length of the main street that ran through Headingly. It was the same as any other nondescript English country village. Lines of higgledy-piggledy houses lined both sides of the narrow main road. Although few people were out and about, only a handful of the houses had candles flickering in the windows. Archie wasn’t sure what the hour was, but was fairly certain it was late in the evening. Loud laughter could be heard coming from the pub, across the road. Archie studied the shadows on either side of the two storey building and pushed away from the wall. The lack of movement and moonlight would help him considerably tonight, as he could move about just as casually as the villagers, and not be noted. He wondered briefly if he should adopt one of the many disguises he had in his room, but decided against it. Knowing his luck, he would terrify the ladies who could cause a rumpus when he returned to collect them.

  It took only a few brief minutes before he closed the window to his room, and turned to study the mess before him. Someone had ransacked the small square accommodation. His clothing and a few personal affects were strewn here and there. Shaking his head, Archie moved to the door, noting that the door itself was undisturbed. Whoever had searched his room had gotten access to the key. They were closer than he had thought. He frowned briefly, considering the undamaged wood of the door frame while his mind raced.

  He had arrived at Headingly several weeks ago, and had adopted a disguise as a farm labourer who had come to the village to look for work. He had headed out before dawn and stayed out until after dark. Not unusual behaviour for a farm labourer. His disguise had worked well because so far, he had not encountered anything but mild curiosity from the villagers he had engaged in conversation. The story he had concocted had been realistic and, as far as he had been aware, he had done nothing untoward that would raise anybody’s suspicions.

  But evidently someone had been watching, and had undoubtedly taken advantage of his absence throughout the day to leave him a warning. He was fairly certain that the mess in his room wasn’t down to burglars. This was too contrived, too deliberate to be anything but a stark warning. Was it the Guards? Were they warning him that they knew where he was staying, and were watching?

  Cursing fluidly, Archie’s thoughts flickered to the ladies he had left on the hillside overlooking the village. He fought the unfamiliar surge of panic at the thought of them standing unprotected, waiting to be collected. He could only hope that on this occasion, they would be collected by him, and not the Guards. Swallowing harshly, he quickly packed his few meagre belongings and considered which way to go. Should he head casually out of the front doors, paying his dues with the innkeeper as he departed? Or, should he go back the way he came and hope there was nobody waiting for him at the bottom?

  Sighing deeply, he quickly closed the curtains, and headed out of the room, hefting his pack over his shoulder. In the hallway, he studied the corridor to the left and right, weighing his options. The scent of pie and ale wafted tantalisingly under his nostrils and his stomach rumbled in protest. The ladies were most probably starving too. Decision made, Archie slowly descended the stairs, disappearing into the shadows at the bottom of the stairs like a ghost in the night.

  It took him far longer than he would usually take to leave the sheltered protection of the inn. His nerves were stretched taught while he moved stealthily from shadow to shadow as he passed down the alleyway at the rear of the inn toward the long row of terraced houses at the far side of the village. He could only hope and pray that the ladies had the wisdom to remain where he had left them.

  Shaking his head, he cursed his own soft-heartedness as the scent of meat and gravy wafted up from his pouch. He should have left the blasted thing in the kitchens of the inn. Hunger wasn’t something he was unfamiliar with, and he could cope without food for long periods of time, but the ladies didn’t seem to have much about them and certainly didn’t look as though they could survive missing meals.

  Once again, the weight of Portia in his arms, and the ease in which he had swept her off her feet, bothered him. She wasn’t overly tall for her height and at first glance certainly didn’t seem slim, but there was very little substance to her. Someone of Portia’s build should have more weight on her. Archie felt a flurry of disgust toward their father and wondered if they would ever cross paths. The man certainly had fed his daughters, but only enough for them to get by. They certainly hadn’t been eating enough to ensure that they were well protected against the elements, or any lingering illness. Ladies like Cecily and Portia should be well covered, not skin on bones. Shaking his head, Archie was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts as a flurry of movement at the far corner of the street caught his attention.

  Mentally cursing his own lack of concentration, he slowed his gait to a casual walk, his eyes flickering from one house to another, scanning the shadows for signs of threat. He felt the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and knew that danger was imminent. Easing a hand to the gun on his hip, he cursed roundly with the knowledge that he had left it with the ladies. Dipping his hand into the pocket of his breeches, he palmed the small flick-knife he habitually carried, and squared hi
s shoulders. The scent of the pie was long forgotten as the threatening odour of danger became evidently real.

  The closer he got, the more he became aware of two, if not three people lingering in the shadows. There was one on either side of the road up ahead, and at least one more beyond that. Archie wondered who was bringing up the rear, and had no doubt that someone was. Although he couldn’t hear them, he could feel their presence. Closing out all thoughts of the ladies, Archie squared his shoulders and prepared for battle.

  “I hate villages,” Archie muttered dolefully, wondering which one to take on first. His thoughts flickering briefly to the alleyway skirmish in Much Hampton that had damned near resulted in his death. At least then he had had Simon at his back. He wished Simon was there with him now, or at least someone else from the Star Elite. Right now, he needed someone at his back.

  He lowered the pack from his shoulder, clenching his fist around the material in his palm so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and was about to march forward, flick-knife in the other hand when he froze.

  “Psstt.”

  Archie’s blood turned cold. Closing his eyes on a silent prayer, he turned his head slowly to one side and cursed fluidly.

  “What the f -”

  “Sshh,” Portia whispered, beckoning toward her quickly from the darkness of the small yard she was standing in. The house behind her was dark and appeared to be empty. Archie didn’t bother to glance up and down the street, and practically dived through the gate, closing it behind him with a firm click. Portia scurried into the small outbuilding next to the gate where Cecily stood cowering in the darkness.

  “I -”

  “Sshh,” Archie whispered. All of the swear words he had ever learned were flowing rapidly through his mind, and he physically trembled with the urge to punch something. He wanted to rage at them; scream and rant and rave at them for their stupidity. He was so livid that right now, he couldn’t have uttered a word if Hell had it. Clenching his back teeth, he held one palm upward to silence Cecily, and glared harshly at them both, shoving Portia too roughly into the darkness behind him.

  He turned to stare at the doorway, memories of his ordeal in Much Hampton running wild in his thoughts. He couldn’t risk the same thing happening again, especially with the ladies present. Last time he had been faced with this scenario, he had barely gotten out alive, and still carried the wounds that ached fiercely if he didn’t take his time. This time, he knew the odds were so far against them, that none of them could survive.

  “Wait here,” he growled, throwing a filthy glare over his shoulder. Fingering his flick-knife, he moved toward the door of the house, praying that for once – just once – luck would be on his side.

  Within minutes he was silently pushing the door the house open. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when Portia’s small hands clutched the back of his shirt. The urge to throw her over his knee and paddle her backside for not listening was so strong that he had to lean against the door for a moment while the ladies passed. Shaking his head, he closed the door quietly behind them, and locked it again for good measure. The Guards wouldn’t risk a door to door search for fear of raising the villager’s anger. For now at least, they were safe. Well, he was safe. The ladies were in more danger from him right now than they were from the Guards.

  Portia studied Archie as he closed the door to the small sitting room far too carefully. She took a breath to speak only for Archie to lift one finger to his lips and point to the ceiling. They watched as he disappeared silently up the stairs. Her ears strained for any sound of him moving about. Absolute silence settled around them. Not even a floor board creaked beneath his weight as he checked the upper floor of the two-up, two-down workman’s cottage. Portia had no idea where the occupants were and wondered what they were going to say if the owners suddenly appeared in the doorway.

  Archie appeared so silently beside her that she jumped when his bag landed with a thump at her feet. She could feel the cold anger in his eyes before she even turned toward him. Unless she was much mistaken, he was absolutely furious.

  Archie took a moment to stare down at his familiar bag, ignorant of the scent of food wafting temptingly from his belongings.

  “Do you have food?” Cecily gasped, dropping to her knees and, despite the bag not being hers, began to untie the laces and rummage through the belongings, drawing out the thick pie wrapped in cloth with a low moan.

  Portia’s stomach rumbled loudly and she stared down in awe at the huge mound of pastry Cecily was staring reverently at. She realised then that she hadn’t eaten anything but a well charred piece of toast for breakfast that morning.

  Archie’s anger evaporated at the look of wonder on Portia’s face as she stared at the pie. He wondered just how long it had been since she had eaten such a bounteous feast as a meat pie, and felt another surge of anger toward her sire. Shaking his head with a weary sigh of defeat, he moved to the window to check the road before slumping down onto the floor beside them. From his vantage point he could see the front and back doors, as well as the kitchen window. For now at least, they were safe. Although what he was going to do when the occupants came home, he wasn’t sure, but for now the least they could do was get something to eat and rest for a while.

  He was aghast when minutes later, the last crumbs of pie were demolished. The huge, family sized pie that would usually feed twice as many people had simply vanished with a speed that was simply frightening. Nobody should be that hungry. Although it was most probably several hours since the ladies had last eaten, and their day had been busy and traumatic, neither should be as starved as they were. At any other time he would have made some sort of ribald joke about the voracious appetite of females, but not now. Not when their sheer joy at such a simple feast had humbled him so.

  Despite the dangers they had put themselves in by entering the village, he simply couldn’t find it within him to be angry with either of them.

  Still, he had to have answers.

  He waited until Cecily folded up the cloth the pie had been in and took it off her, tying it back into his pack while he gathered his thoughts, and tried to control his resurging temper.

  “Tell me why you two went against orders and came into the village.” Although his voice was calm and matter of fact, Portia shivered at the danger that laced the rich, masculine timbre.

  “Someone was coming toward us,” Cecily replied in a whisper.

  “We didn’t know what to do. They were climbing the hillside, coming straight at us,” Portia added with a shudder. The fear that had clawed at her at the sight of the two dark figures scurrying along the hedgerow toward them had practically rendered her useless. It had been Cecily who had snapped her out of her daze, dragging her away from the pursuers toward the general direction Archie had disappeared so silently.

  “Did you get a good look at them? Were they the Guards?” Archie whispered, feeling the sharp bite of frustration at the lack of detailed information.

  Pushing to his feet, he peered cautiously between the gap between the curtain and the wall, before moving to the opposite side of the window and repeating the process. Although he showed no sign emotion, he watched two of the Guards split up at the end of the road. One headed toward the row of houses on the opposite side of the road; the other disappeared from sight. Archie wondered how long it would be before they investigated the house he was standing in, especially as it was dark and appeared undisturbed.

  The need to get out of there was so strong that he bit back a curse of frustration. By himself, he would be able to get out without being seen. With not one, but two ladies, it was going to be damned near impossible.

  Turning toward the women, he cursed as he saw the patient curiosity on their faces. Clearly they were waiting for direction on what to do. Archie only wished he knew.

  By himself, he would have taken his chances and left the house. If he was by himself, he wouldn’t even be in the house. But, nevertheless, he had to deal with the situation tha
t was presented to him. Right now, it was imperative they find a place to stay for the night that was relatively safe, and away from prying eyes and, preferably, this village. That presented him with another problem. He couldn’t exactly expect the ladies to traipse across open countryside in the middle of the night, especially in skirts, with nothing to protect them from the cool night air but thin shawls. They would freeze to death before they reached dawn, even if they were up to the journey. He was aware that he had been with them since mid-morning and the pie was all any of them had eaten.

  His mind was frantically racing, considering possibilities and discounting those too dangerous to chance. Silence settled within the house. To buy himself some time, Archie lifted a hand to silence the ladies and moved toward the kitchen, peering cautiously out of the window toward the back gate. Luckily everything appeared undisturbed, for now at least, but that didn’t mean it would remain that way.

  Archie felt trapped, and hated it. He had been boxed into a corner – well, a house at any rate, and although the ladies didn’t know it, it was the most dangerous situation they could be in. Running a weary hand down his face, he wondered just how things could be taken out of his control so easily, so quickly, by two seemingly innocent ladies. Moving back toward the front window, he considered the row of houses opposite. If he could just find them a conveyance, they would be able to ride out of the village relatively undisturbed.

  Moving to his bag, Archie began to tug clothing out until he had assembled a small pile with a smirk of satisfaction.

  “Wait here,” he ordered, grabbing the pile and heading toward the kitchen. Within minutes he returned to the front room where the ladies were still sitting.

  “Don’t scream,” he warned. His smile of satisfaction was wide at the sight of the shock on Portia’s face. Although he still wore his white work-shirt, it had been soiled with soot from the kitchen hearth, and covered by the rough work jacket he now wore. His hair had been slicked back and darkened with soot until there was no trace of the blond strands he had been born with.