His Lady Spy (The Star Elite Series)

by King, Rebecca

  The inn keeper was true to his word. Archie wasn’t aware of anyone watching them as they made their way up the back stairs toward one of only three guest rooms the inn provided. Nodding carefully at the maid, Archie held out a coin and offered her is most placating smile, but was unsurprised when it did little to ease her fears and she scurried off without a backward glance.

  He was tired, cold, wet and thoroughly fed up. His patience was wearing thinner than he could ever remember and the last thing he wanted now was for Portia to start to create a scene, but Archie knew that there was nothing for it. He could hardly continue with the subterfuge now that they were in the relative safety of the inn. He had to reveal the truth to her, and remind her that she had in fact brought this afternoon upon herself.

  Pushing her into the room before him, he followed her in, making no attempt to replace the scarf that hid his face from view.

  Portia turned and gasped. The wave of relief that swept through her at the familiar sight of Archie hidden in the depths of the cloak was immediately replaced with rage. Her mouth opened, closed and opened once more as her mind struggled to find the words she needed to say what she felt at that moment.

  “Don’t bother,” Archie snarled, yanking off his hood and glaring at her. Dragging the scarf from around his neck, he tossed it with disgust onto a chair beside the bed and began to remove his cloak. “You brought it upon yourself.”

  “I what?” Portia screeched, her fists clenching into tight balls of fury.

  “Keep your voice down, unless you want half the tavern to come and investigate. I warn you now that if there are any French Guards down there, spy smugglers, or anyone else, they can bloody well have you,” Archie snapped, placing his hands on his hips as he glared at her. “I know one thing for damned sure, I won’t be fighting them.” With that he threw his cloak onto the chair and sat down on the side of the bed to tug off his boots.

  “I can’t believe I ever asked you to fight them for me,” Portia declared flatly. The urge to hit him upside the head was so strong that she trembled with the need to lunge across the bed at him.

  “Ha! I don’t believe I had much bloody choice, did I?”

  “Well you were free to leave at any point,” Portia growled, waving toward the door. “I didn’t ask you to bring the might of the spy smugglers with you. If you had let me go on my way in the church, I would have gone home to my father’s house and be in Tissington by now.”

  “What? Facing marriage to an old man who is twice your age?” Archie shook his head, launched from his seat and turned toward her. “Oh, I only want one adventure before I have to settle down,” he mimicked in a high-pitched parody of her voice. “Well, you have had your adventure. You are in it right up to your pretty neck, and you are dragging me along for the ride, are you happy now?” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and broached the topic that was really fuelling his anger, refusing to be appeased just yet. “I do believe you were told by everyone that you had to stay in the bloody prison walls for just a little longer. I didn’t realise at the time that you were unable to absorb anything but your own thoughts.”

  “Excuse me?” Portia gasped, her cheeks flushing with indignation.

  “Back in Headingly, you were told to stay in the room. It was only for a little while, and would keep you and Cecily away from danger. What did you do? Head off for a little wander.” Archie shook his head in disgust and began to pace backward and forward. It was either that or he would shake her only if he laid hands on her. “Back at the jail, all you had to do was wait for a few hours more but no, not you.” He snorted in masculine disgust. “You had to risk your bloody life, and mine, looking for blasted ribbons!” He knew he was shouting, but fury was flowing through his veins like molten lava and there was nothing he could do to vanquish it.

  “You had no right to kidnap me from the street,” Portia gasped, thinking of her vomiting spell by the side of the road. “I am not a prisoner, you know. You cannot expect me to just si –”

  “I bloody well expect you to do as you are told!” Archie bellowed, pointing one long finger at her.

  Portia glared at the long digit inches from her nose, and pushed it scornfully out of the way. “You have no authority to tell me what to do.”

  “What do you want me to do? Send for your father and tell him to come and fetch you?” Archie knew that was the last thing he would do for her, and would kidnap her again – against her wishes if need be, to prevent her tying her life to any old man.

  “Do you know something, I think I would prefer to be married to an old oaf than stand another minute in the same room as you!” Portia huffed, snatching the hood of her cloak off her head, and tossing her head back to glare at him haughtily.

  She stomped across the room toward the door only to find herself yanked unceremoniously back into the room. Indignation lodged in her throat and she turned to pour scorn upon him only to be silenced by the hard lips that swallowed her cry. One large palm slid into her hair, holding her head still as his marauding mouth plundered her.

  Portia placed her palms against the solid expanse of his chest and pushed only for him to ignore her feeble attempt at objection with the minimal effort. One long arm drew her flush against him and he backed her toward the wall. His fingers caught her wrists, drawing her hands up until they were level with her shoulders. She gasped as the feel of the hot sweep of his tongue inside her mouth grabbed hold of her senses. The small whimper that escaped her wasn’t one of aversion or fear; it was the toe-curling need that clawed within her.

  Although she didn’t want to succumb to the desire he so masterfully built within her. She was still angry with him for this afternoon’s ordeal, but she was unable to withstand the sensual onslaught of the silken glide of his lips against hers and found herself retuning the almost frantic caress. She was only vaguely aware of his thigh roughly pushing between hers as he brought both of her hands together above her head until he was holding both wrists in one palm. The hold wasn’t tight, but firm enough to assure her that she wasn’t going anywhere until he was finished.

  Even if she did have the strength to break free, she wasn’t certain that she wanted to. It would be some time yet before she could forgive him for what he had put her through, she was intensely glad that her kidnapper had turned out to be him after all. She had no idea how he had managed to get them out of the town without being seen, but could only be glad that it was him, and not Pie, her father or the French Guards.

  This afternoon had proven to her just what life would be like without this man in it, and she knew she wasn’t going to like it. At some point in the not too distant future he would have to continue doing what he had been sent to Tissington to do, and she would be allowed to continue on her journey to Aunt Adelaide’s. Their futures were heading in entirely different directions and, despite the claim she already suspected he had on her heart, she was powerless to offer him anything that would entice him to remain with her. After all, he had made it clear back in Headingly that although he wanted her, he didn’t want to want her, and that hurt. She wanted him to want her unconditionally, without reservation. The thought was enough to enable her to find the strength to wrench her head away from the tempting slide of his lips and gasp for air.

  Tears threatened and she had to blink several times to stop them from falling.

  “Portia,” Archie growled, easing back to look at her. He hadn’t done anything different to suddenly make her change her mind but, whatever she had been thinking about had clearly affected her as quickly as an ice cold bucket of water. Where moments earlier she had been soft and malleable, she was now clearly uncomfortable and although wasn’t fighting him, made it clear that she wouldn’t welcome any further intimacy.

  Archie frowned. He knew he shouldn’t take his temper out on her. Especially given that she was untried, but the desperate need to taste her softness, and assure himself that she really was alright, had gripped him to such an extent that it had been impossible to i
gnore.

  “Please,” Portia gasped, unable to stop the single tear that escaped the corner of one eye.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Archie murmured, kissing the salty wetness as it caught the edge of her lips.

  Portia closed her eyes at the gentle brush of his lips and sighed, tipping her head to rest against his briefly. “I know,” she breathed. “But I know this is only because you are angry with me, and I don’t want that.”

  “You don’t want me to be angry with you?”

  Portia shook her head slowly. “It doesn’t matter,” she sighed, pushing against his chest and frowning when he wouldn’t budge.

  “It does matter. I wasn’t going to let things get too far, if that is what you are worried about,” he hastened to reassure her. It had taken a lot of effort to make sure that he didn’t lose control, but it was a close-run thing. A few more minutes and he would have backed her toward the bed and made the most of it.

  “I know,” Portia gasped, feeling her temper rise again along with the frustrated hurt of caring for a man who had no idea how to return the feelings she couldn’t – wouldn’t, put a name to. “But I am not going to provide you with a sensual diversion just because we are alone together, and there is nothing else to do.”

  “Sensual diversion?” Archie felt his blood boil again, and he glared at her in dismay. “Let me tell you something, if I wanted a mere sensual diversion it wouldn’t be with a bloody stubborn, idiotic -”

  “Idiotic?”

  “Yes, idiotic, woman like you, when there are other women around who are willing to do as they are told, do recognise danger when they see it, and don’t take bloody risks with other people’s lives.” Archie knew he was shouting again but didn’t really care. Anyone who knocked on the door to object would be told what to do with their objection to the noise he was making, including the burly inn keeper.

  “Well, why don’t you go and find your biddable female then who will lie with you whenever you click your fingers, because I am not going to be used.”

  “Ha! I wouldn’t dream of using you of all women,” Archie snorted, snatching his cloak up and glaring at her.

  Portia felt tears of anger sting her eyes and she moved to the wash-stand, moving the jug to one side as she hefted the bowl.

  “You throw that bloody thing, and I’ll paddle your backside,” Archie warned, glaring at her warily.

  Portia snorted inelegantly but didn’t care at that moment. “What, like you did earlier? You need to find yourself a maid that doesn’t mind your little perversions, you oaf!” She snapped, throwing the bowl with all of her might.

  Archie managed to catch the bowl and dropped it unceremoniously onto the floor, rising just in time to see her heft the jug.

  “You bloody do -” he growled, sidling around the bed as he eyed the challenge in her eye.

  “Get it through you head that I am not some biddable female you can order around left, right and centre. I have a brain, and I am just as entitled to use it as you are.”

  “Then use it right now and put that jug down because as far as I can remember, you don’t have the funds to pay for any damages. You can explain to the innkeeper why you have smashed a pot you cannot pay for.” Archie’s eyes glared at her fiercely, but strangely, Portia wasn’t afraid of him. The fluttering of feminine awareness that was beginning to unfurl inside her was not welcome, but there was little she could do about it. She watched Archie edge slowly toward her and heft the jug meaningfully.

  “You forget, I didn’t ask for this room, you did, and as such, you are responsible for any damages,” she shot him a spiteful smile and hefted the jug at him.

  Archie caught the jug too, but not before the entire contents soaked him from head to foot. The feel of the cold water on the warm skin of his chest took his breath and he stared down at his sodden shirt for several long moments.

  Portia watched the muscle ticking in his jaw and felt the first tendrils of alarm as he slowly righted the jug and placed it all too carefully onto the wash-stand. She saw the water dripping of the cuffs of his shirt and swallowed nervously. Eyeing the distance between the door and where she stood, she knew she had to jump over the bed to get there, and could only hope he would slip on the puddle of water now at his feet.

  Luck proved to be looking the other way though as she had no sooner taken two steps than she was hauled off her feet and tossed unceremoniously onto the bed. She wriggled around to try and clamber over to the other side only for Archie to grasp hold of a knee in either hand and draw her legs to either side of his hips. The intimacy of their position made her freeze and she glared up at him. She watched as he slowly eased his sodden shirt of his chest and stared at the sight of his bared chest. It was the first time she had ever seen a man’s chest before and stared raptly at the dark smattering of fur that disappeared into the waistband of his breeches.

  “Let me get one thing straight,” Archie drawled, dropping his shirt on the floor before turning toward her. “I have been trying to do the right thing. That is all I have ever wanted to do by you.” He leaned over her, studying her closely for any sign of fear. A small warning voice reminded him of the changes he was about to bring to their lives, but he quickly closed it out. This was the right thing, and he knew it. She knew it too if the glint of feminine challenge in her eyes was anything to go by. She wasn’t scared. She was intrigued, and watching to see what he intended to do. He was more than a little aroused by her rampant curiosity.

  “That is all I will ever do by you,” he whispered, placing a hand on either side of her head. Leaning down, he stopped when their noses were almost touching. “You don’t make it very easy on anyone, but I can promise you hear and now that if you ever throw another jug at me again, I will paddle your backside, and that will be the right thing to do.”

  Portia glared at him, aware that he had been using her curiosity to his own advantage. The stubborn side of her refused to allow him to have the last word and, determined to get something out of this skirmish, slowly slid her fingers into the small curls on his chest. They crinkled under her fingertips as they curled around her fingers.

  “Portia,” Archie growled, sensing the last threads of control slip from his grasp. Lowering his head, he eased down onto his elbows, allowing his full weight to rest over her. Still, she showed no fear. Lowering his lips until they were almost touching hers, he whispered. “I’m not an oaf.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” Portia replied, her breath mingling with his.

  “Truce,” Archie whispered, smiling back at her.

  “Truce.”

  Giving in to temptation, he slid a hand onto her thigh and drew her into his kiss, laying siege to her senses the only way a determined invader could.

  The following morning, as Portia awoke, she slowly became aware of a growing sense of discomfort, and it wasn’t only physical. She frowned and reluctantly opened her eyes, staring blankly at the wall for several moments as she took mental inventory of the changes last night had wrought upon her life.

  Although she was now physically changed forever, she emotional changes went far deeper. The strength of the feelings that Archie had so skilfully teased out of her had shaken her. The physical sensations his masterful fingers and oh, so clever mouth had scattered her senses to the four winds, leaving her wrung out and clinging helplessly to his every move. She had never felt so close to anyone in her entire life, and was amazed as well as she was scared.

  Now though, she didn’t know what to expect. Their argument had been fierce, but their love making had held a tenderness that was in stark contrast to their warring tempers. There were so many things unsaid between them, so many uncertainties that she wasn’t certain last night had only made matters more difficult between them.

  “That’s a fierce scowl,” Archie muttered, standing warily at the end of the bed. He followed her gaze to the wash jug and bowl standing on the dresser and wondered if she was thinking of throwing it at him again.

  In all honest
ly, he couldn’t exactly blame her if she wanted to. He had taken far too many liberties with her than he ought, especially given the dangers they were currently in. He had wanted her to want him because she was attracted to him, not because he was the only protector she had when her life was in danger. But it was too late now. After the way she had responded to him last night, it was impossible to consider a future with anyone but her. She had declared herself as his by giving herself to him with as much dedication as she had when she had hefted the bowl and jug at his head. Right now though, from the look on her face, she was far from happy with the prospect of a future with him.

  “I’m just thinking,” Portia replied, acutely aware of her own state of undress in contrast to Archie’s fully clothed state.

  “They must be fierce thoughts.” He moved to sit on the side of the bed, and picked up her hand, holding it between his while he tried to find the right words.

  “I’ll get up,” Portia whispered, uncomfortably aware of the distance between them. She tried to prise her hand out of his only he wouldn’t let go.

  “We need to talk first,” Archie warned, turning around until she met his direct look.

  Portia hated feeling at such a distinct advantage. “Let me get dressed first though.”

  Archie had no choice but to relinquish his hold and stay where he was while she left the bed and donned her clothing. The tray of food he had arranged to be sent up lay forgotten on the dresser. It was of little consequence while so many decisions had to be made.

  “What happens now?” Portia asked, moving to stand beside the window and gaze out across the vast expanse of fields beyond.

  “You know what must happen between us, Portia,” Archie chided, ignoring the urge to move to stand beside her and draw her into his arms. He wasn’t ignorant of the staining on the sheets as he moved to sit on the bed, his legs stretched out casually before him.

  “What?” She turned quizzical eyes on him, a frown marring her perfect brow.