The Conundrum of a Clerk

by Sande, Linda Rae

  “You have before, have you not?” he countered.

  Daisy gave a start, her brows furrowing. “Never. Why would you...?” She sat up straighter, pulling herself farther onto the bed while Teddy seemed determined to hang onto her.

  “Weren’t you a spy?”

  The question was punctuated by how his index finger found the divot just above her knee, the place where the puckered flesh proved she’d been shot. The finger circled the wound, barely touching her skin and sending a shiver up her thigh. “How... why would you even ask me that?” She was sure she hadn’t done or said anything specific as to what she had done for the Home Office.

  Teddy gave up his hold on her and moved to settle himself in the bed. He would have pulled the downturned linens over his legs, but they were still trapped beneath Daisy’s body. “How else does a woman get shot on a battlefield?” he asked as he watched her turn over and reposition herself so she was on her front, her bent legs crossed at the ankles and her breasts pressed into the mattress. Although she still wore the silk chemise, it didn’t cover her naked bottom. The pale globes formed a perfect heart shape where they tapered to her waist. He briefly thought of what it might be like to have that bottom tucked against his manhood.

  For an entire night.

  He managed to squelch a sound not unlike a frog in heat before it left his throat.

  “Three other women were shot and killed that day,” she countered. “Camp followers.” She hadn’t known about the deaths at the time, but learned of them later whilst she recovered in a hospital in Belgium.

  “But you weren’t a camp follower.” Teddy said the words more in the hope she wasn’t, for he feared if she was, she would have been one of those who provided sexual favors to the soldiers. He couldn’t imagine her as a laundress or seamstress, a sulter or a cook. The thought of how many she might have bedded before the Battle of Ligny, or worse, Quatre Bas, had him nearly sick to his stomach.

  “I was not,” she agreed, realizing just then that he was imagining the worst. “It’s true. I was an operative,” she finally admitted. “I was one of at least four who carried messages to Wellingham.”

  Teddy straightened, his one arm supporting his torso as he leaned toward her. “Ligny?”

  “How... how did you know?”

  “I was at Quatre Bas.”

  Daisy hissed. “You have my deepest sympathies,” she whispered, his words confirming what she had thought for a long time—that he had lost his arm in one of the last decisive battles involving Napoleon. She lifted herself onto all fours and scrambled to join him at the head of the bed, pulling on the downturned linens until they were both covered to the waist.

  “You must have made it to Wellingham,” Teddy whispered, rather dismayed she had positioned herself to his right rather than on his left. He wanted desperately to wrap his arm around her back and pull her close.

  “I didn’t,” she replied. “At least, not right away. I was on my way. I could see the tents of his men off in the distance,” she murmured, recalling the incident as if it had happened only a moment ago. “And then I spotted another one of our operatives. At least, I was fairly sure it was another operative. I hadn’t seen him in months, but...” She sighed and dropped her face into her hands. Disbelief at the time had her discounting her initial identification of the man. But later, in hospital, she was sure there had been a traitor in their midst. Another operative with the same assignment—at least from the Foreign Office—but whose loyalties lay with the French.

  “What?” Teddy asked gently. “What happened?”

  “He shot me.”

  “By accident?”

  Daisy shook her head, lifting it from her hands to regard him directly. “Oh, no. He took aim with a pistol and shot me,” she whispered. “Quite deliberately. I thought I could at least make it to Lord Henley. He and his men weren’t yet engaged,” she whispered, referring to Viscount Jasper Henley. Another operative—Donald Truscott—had been assigned to deliver a message to him, and Daisy was quite sure Truscott had made it to Henley’s camp. She later learned Truscott had survived despite a horrific injury to his leg, although he wasn’t well enough to return to the Foreign Office when the war was over. “But I had to wait until the traitor was convinced I wasn’t going anywhere—”

  “Was he caught?” Teddy asked then, his sleeve-clad stump pressed behind her shoulder blade in an effort to make her understand he wanted to hold her.

  Daisy understood the prompt and turned and moved her body down along his torso so her head rested into the small of his shoulder. “He was, but not then. Not until a year later, in fact. Henley’s widow caught him trying to pinch one of the late viscount’s rings from his bedchamber,” she whispered.

  Teddy considered the information and frowned. “Because its gemstone was particularly valuable, or because...?” he paused, realizing the ring must have held a secret. Something the traitor needed.

  “It held the proof the man was a traitor. And you did not learn that from me,” she warned.

  Teddy wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He knew of Viscount Henley, of course, but he also knew the man had died at Ligny. He had never considered the officer might have died at the hands of a traitor to the Crown. “How did you survive?”

  Remembering that afternoon of excruciating pain wasn’t a welcome thought just then. Daisy had learned the bullet had passed completely through her leg when she wrapped the wound with a length of fabric ripped from her petticoats. It was nearly an hour before she was sure the bleeding had stopped enough that she could move, and then she did so gingerly. “Once the shooter disappeared, I managed to crawl to a nearby road. One of the camp followers found me. Scolded me for having been in the line of fire. I was sure there wasn’t a French soldier within a half-mile, but by that time, I didn’t have the strength to argue.”

  Teddy’s hold on her tightened. “You could have died,” he whispered.

  Daisy gave his comment a moment’s thought. At the time, she hadn’t considered death an option. Her mission was to deliver a sealed missive to Wellingham. Although she didn’t hand it to him directly, she made sure to give it to a trusted aide. “You could have died,” she countered.

  Teddy jerked beneath her arm. “I was ready. I had nothing to live for. Nothing to come home to.”

  Daisy lifted her head and regarded him with a frown. “Your mother? Your wife?”

  “Remember, Gertrude died while I was there,” he replied. “As for Mother, well...” He sighed. “She was doing quite well for herself, it seems.”

  Continuing to regard him with a worried expression, Daisy sighed. “Surely there was someone you wished to see again?” she prompted. “A friend? Lord Bostwick, perhaps?”

  Teddy allowed a wan grin. “Yes. Him, I suppose. He beat me in our last match on the pisté before I took my leave of England. I thought of that when my arm was blown off. Wondered how I was ever going to be able to fence well enough to get my revenge.”

  Daisy was aware of how the stump next to her elbow jerked in reflex to his comment. “How many times have you bested him since your return?” she asked, a slight smirk causing a dimple to appear in one cheek.

  Teddy seemed to consider her question a moment before he grinned. “We’re even, I believe,” he replied, his expression indicating pride.

  Her gaze leaving his eyes to travel down the counterpane that covered most of their bodies, Daisy allowed a sigh. “I should like to see you fence someday,” she murmured, deciding it better she not admit she had watched him best the viscount just this past Monday. “I already know how well you wield a sword,” she added as her hand moved to cover the growing mound at the base of his torso.

  Teddy shifted beneath the covers, a growl sounding as he grinned at her. “For that, I believe you deserve a kiss, my lady,” he said in a soft voice.

  Daisy blinked. “I do?” His lips were nearly on hers when she placed a hand on the side of his face. “Remember. I don’t know how to
do this.”

  It was Teddy’s turned to blink. “Don’t know how?” he repeated, his brows furrowing. “Even though I demonstrated it quite thoroughly only a half-hour ago, you still don’t know how to kiss?”

  “No,” she replied, although her denial wasn’t the least bit convincing. “We were standing before, and now we’re not. It will be different.”

  Teddy regarded her in disbelief. “I am not the first man you have bedded,” he said, his voice betraying his jealousy. Even before this evening, he had the feeling she was quite educated in the art of making love.

  “You are not, it’s true. But I never allowed the men I was assigned to as a mistress to... to kiss me,” she argued. “It would have been far too...too intimate.”

  Frowning, Teddy considered her words. “How many?” he asked, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it.

  Daisy sighed. She had known that at some point, the question would be asked. She was always sure it would be her father who would put voice to the query. For some reason, telling him the truth seemed far easier than telling Theodore Streater. “Three,” she managed to get out, deciding to include Alex Bradley in the count.

  She watched as Teddy blinked and seemed relieved. “Is that all?” he asked, his question not sounding the least bit sarcastic.

  “What were you imagining?” Daisy countered, lifting her torso so she rested on an elbow.

  Despite his prone position, Teddy seemed to shrug. “Ten? Twenty? You’re rather... skilled, if I may be so bold.”

  “Oh!” Daisy sat up and stared at him. “I’m not old enough to have been on that many missions,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

  “The man who first…” Teddy paused, knowing he shouldn’t ask her about her former lovers. Curiosity and worry would nag him until he learned more about her, though. His heart was in danger. If he couldn’t abide what she had been—who she had been with—he needed to know right then.

  “The man who took my virtue?” Daisy asked in a whisper.

  “I know it’s none of my business—”

  “He was a friend. A… a colleague. I knew my next assignment was going to require me to… to act as a mistress, and I couldn’t exactly do the job if I were a virgin, so I asked him to… to help.” The words came in fits and starts, partly because Daisy knew they were hard for him to hear. He almost seemed ready to silence her before she finished.

  Teddy winced. “Do you still—?”

  “No,” Daisy replied with a shake of her head. “Truth be told, I’ve only seen him once since that assignment, and I didn’t even recognize him at first. He’s a married man now. Married a young Greek woman while he was on a mission in the Aegean Sea.”

  Considering her words for a time, Teddy thought to ask more about her assignment as a mistress when Daisy said, “He taught me how to pleasure a man. Told me how a mistress would behave. He never took advantage. He could have, of course,” she said in a whisper. “But I think he held me in high regard.”

  “Because he loved you?” Teddy asked, his voice gentle. How could he not? The petite brunette was beautiful and clever in ways most women would avoid. Refreshing and yet challenging, too.

  Daisy blinked, the question completely unexpected. “I don’t think in the way you mean,” she murmured, remembering how concerned Alex Bradley had been when he learned she would be playing mistress to a marquess who wasn’t well known to those at Whitehall—part of the reason he was suspected of illegal activities.

  How wrong they had been!

  “But… but if at some point in the future we discovered neither of us had someone in our lives, we might have settled with one another. A cottage by the sea.” Daisy rolled her eyes at the image the words brought forth, blinking to stave off the tears that threatened.

  The very last place she could imagine living at this point in her life was in a cottage by the sea! Alex, on the other hand, would do well living next to the water—his alter ego, a pirate by the name of Captain Crawley—spent most months on the Mediterranean and in the Channel pursuing smugglers and spies, pirates and missing persons.

  “And the man for whom you were a mistress?”

  Daisy sighed. “A lonely marquess who lived in the moors of Yorkshire,” she said sadly. “Turned out, he was not at all involved in the smuggling that was happening on one of his beaches."

  “But you... caught the guilty party?”

  Regarding Teddy for a few seconds before responding, she decided he didn’t need to know the particulars about that poor excuse for a man. “Yes. Finally. He was… he was hanged, along with several of his cohorts,” she said.

  She remembered the relief she had felt at knowing she would never run into Myles Longborn again. She never again wanted to experience the sensation of being followed. Of being watched. And not just because Myles found her attractive. She had often wondered if he suspected she was still seeing the marquess on the side. He would have killed her if she had, and he would have thought nothing of it. “And now I have left that life behind,” she added.

  Teddy arched an eyebrow. “Yet, you’re in my bed.”

  Daisy started to respond and then closed her mouth. She didn’t consider this time with Teddy anything like what she had done in her work as an operative. “It’s not like that,” she finally replied. “I’m not being paid to bed…”

  “Then, why?”

  Allowing a sigh, Daisy was tempted to simply roll off the bed, wrap herself in her mantle, and take her leave of his townhouse. But she knew if she did so, she would never see him again. She would have to return to her father’s house. Decide to live the life of a spinster, or marry someone who had managed to avoid the marriage mart and was desperate for a wife. For someone to bear him an heir and a spare.

  Probably some fat, balding viscount.

  So why was she here at Teddy’s house? In his bed? Telling him things she hadn’t told anyone else? Not even her sister, and certainly not her father.

  “I don’t wish to sleep alone tonight.” Or any nights.

  Teddy sobered at hearing the simple explanation. He pulled her down so her face was within an inch of his. “If I kiss you again, do you promise never to kiss another?”

  Daisy stared at him, stunned by his question. “You’ll have to teach me how to kiss again,” she whispered.

  In the next moment, Daisy wondered how it was possible a one-armed man could have her flat on her back and his body atop hers so quickly. “You’re going to kiss me again, aren’t you?” she whispered in awe.

  “Promise me, Daisy. Promise me I’ll be the only man you ever kiss.”

  “I cannot,” she replied, her head shaking against the bed. “My father always expects a kiss on his cheek when I greet him.”

  “Kisses on the cheek don’t count,” he replied, just then wondering who her father might be.

  Daisy gave a slight nod, aware her pulse had increased to the point where she could hear it in her ears. Feel it in her chest as his pressed onto it. She had never thought she would look forward to a kiss so much. Anticipation had her agreeing before she considered the ramifications. “I promise.”

  Teddy regarded her for only a moment more before he lowered his lips to hers. He used the tip of his tongue to separate her lips, coaxing the soft pillows apart so his could take purchase with his own.

  When he finally had her lips locked with his, he touched her teeth with the tip of his tongue. Then he barely pulled away so that he could nip her lower lip and then start all over again.

  When Teddy finally pulled his lips away from hers, he felt a bit of a thrill at seeing the expression of awe on her face. Her blue eyes, wide and rimmed by dark lashes, seemed unfocused for a moment or two before they cleared. “Well?” he whispered.

  Daisy blinked. “It’s different whilst lying down. It’s not at all what I expected,” she murmured.

  Frowning, Teddy pushed himself up as far as he could on his stump. “What did you expect?”

  Her eyes darting to the side, as i
f she was trying to decide how much to admit, Daisy sighed. “Wet, slobbery, mush mixed with halitosis and a fair bit of moaning, I suppose. Instead, it was rather… lovely, with just a hint of champagne. Would you think me greedy if I asked you to do it again?”

  It was Teddy’s turn to blink. Then he grinned. Rolled his eyes and allowed a slight chuckle. “Never greedy,” he replied before he lowered his lips back down to hers.

  This time, Daisy knew what to expect. Knew what to do with her lips. Her hands moved to either side of his head, her fingers spearing his dark blond hair. A moan from his throat was followed by a quick end to the kiss.

  “I apologize,” he said as he fell back onto the bed. “I cannot hold myself up like that for very long.”

  Daisy lifted herself onto one elbow, her gaze going to where his right arm ended beneath the sleeve of his shirt. She regarded the fabric-covered stump, realizing it had been shoved into the mattress to hold him up as he kissed her. She lowered her lips to it, and was about to bestow a kiss when Teddy pulled it away from her.

  “Does it still hurt?” she asked, moving her lips to his shoulder. She kissed the space where a collarbone and the edge of his shirt ended.

  “Not usually,” he managed, rather stunned at the sensation her lips created where they touched him. “Sometimes it… tingles, though,” he replied. “As if the rest of my arm and hand are still there.” He gave a start when her kisses moved down the side of his chest. Despite the layer of fabric that separated her lips from his flesh, her kisses were still effective at arousing him.

  “Could you see to removing your shirt, please?” she asked in a quiet voice. “It’s become quite inconvenient.”

  Swallowing hard, Teddy moved to sit up. “Close your eyes,” he said.

  Daisy sighed but did his bidding. From the way the mattress moved, she knew when he lay back down. “Can I open them now?” she asked, just before she moved her face closer to his torso. Reaching out with her lips, she kissed him between two ribs, grinning when he gave a start and inhaled sharply.