The Spy Beneath the Mistletoe

by Shana Galen

  “Much.”

  “I brought you bread and cheese. Are you well enough to eat?”

  Pierce devoured the bread and cheese as Eliza looked on with a small smile. With a full belly, including two mugs of ale, he was feeling much more like himself.

  As he ate, they’d been talking about the mission, and Eliza had told him how the magistrate had taken the highwaymen away. But now an awkward silence descended.

  “About what I said earlier...when you were lying in the snow,” Eliza began.

  Pierce looked down at his feet. He wished he had pulled his shirt on before this moment had come. He felt strangely vulnerable and naked without it. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “You were distressed. You spoke in the heat of the moment. I won’t hold you to it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  The cot jerked as she jumped to her feet. Her hands were on her hips, and she was obviously annoyed. “I—ah, nothing.”

  “I was not distressed nor did I speak in the heat of the moment.” She moved closer so he could feel the heat of her body on his naked flesh and smell the scent of apple. “I do love you, Pierce. I should have said it before.”

  “I should have said it before,” he interrupted.

  “You?”

  He took her hand, pulling her close. “I think about my feelings so much I forget to...feel them, I suppose. I do love you, Eliza. I didn’t realize how much until the moment I saw Penter—or whatever his name is—point his weapon at you.”

  “You dove in front of a man firing a pistol.” She sounded almost angry, although her eyes were wet with tears.

  “Love makes a man do foolish things. I knew in that moment, without thinking, that I couldn’t live without you. I would have rather died than lived without you.”

  She squeezed his hand almost painfully and pulled him to his feet. “Pierce, you realize that is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  “It may be the last romantic words from my lips. I’m no poet, Eliza.”

  She released his hand and stepped into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I know exactly who you are, Pierce. And I love you.”

  She kissed him then, her mouth hungry and full of unleashed passion. She’d not kissed him like this before, without any hint of reserve. It fired his blood, and he knew this night would be a true test of his willpower. Her soft body pressed against his bare chest, and her hand slid over his skin until she cupped his hard length. He broke the kiss. “Eliza, let me—”

  “Oh, no. None of your naughty books tonight. Tonight there is just you and me and this.” She kissed him again. He would have laid her on the cot, but the pathetic excuse for a bed might very well collapse if the two of them tested it. Instead, he pushed her up against the wall of the stall, his eyes meeting that of the horse occupying the stall beside his.

  “Perhaps we should go inside,” he suggested. She slid her mouth over his neck, scraping her teeth along his flesh. His hands clenched on her hips. “There is no privacy here.”

  “Everyone is inside,” she murmured. “Besides, we’re spies.” She smiled up at him. “We like adventure and risk.”

  “I keep forgetting.” And then he did forget everything but the feel of her in his arms, the shape of her body as it molded to him, and the sounds she made as he joined with her.

  Later, when they were both spent and exhausted, they lay on a blanket in a cozy bed of clean straw and looked up at the roof. The brazier had expended almost all of its coal, and Pierce would send Eliza to her warm room before the hour was up. He turned to look at her, so beautiful with her hair spread on the blanket and her eyes half-closed.

  “I’m not going to Switzerland.”

  She opened her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t leave you, and your place is in London, at the Barbican.” Amazing how easy it was to make sacrifices for her now that he knew he loved her. They weren’t really sacrifices at all.

  She pushed up on one elbow. “But Switzerland is a wonderful opportunity for you. You can’t stay a clerk forever, even a clerk in the Barbican group.”

  “I’ll be close to you, and that is what I want.” He stroked her cheek, happy in the knowledge he could freely touch her now. She was his.

  “You will be close to me in Switzerland. I’m going with you.”

  He stared at her. “No. Your work is here—”

  She put a finger over his lips. “My life is where you are, and I’m not going without stipulation.”

  He raised a brow.

  “You must promise to return to England.”

  “Of course. The appointment is for a year or two at most.”

  She kissed him. “Good. If I can work for the Foreign Office abroad, I will. If not, the Barbican group will go on without us for a little while.”

  “Then you want to return to work for the Barbican group at some point?” he asked.

  “Of course. One day, I plan to be the director.”

  “You plan...” But why not? This was Miss Qwillen—Q. She could do anything.

  Twelfth Night, London

  The noise from the revelers on Piccadilly was muted within the secure stone walls of the Barbican headquarters. But it said something of the spirit of the celebration that Q and Moneypence could hear it at all in the bowels of the building, deep in the Dungeon.

  As this was the night of feasting and balls, the offices of the Barbican were largely empty. The agents were either out reveling or home with family exchanging the traditional gifts. It was the perfect night for Eliza and Pierce to peruse some of the lesser-known volumes of the Dungeon. They sat side by side at one of the stone tables in an alcove hidden behind rows and rows of files.

  Moneypence pushed a book toward her. “What do you think of this?”

  She turned the book upside down, and then right side up. “I do not believe my body will contort into that position.”

  He laughed. He laughed much more these days. “It will be excessively diverting to try it.”

  “Perhaps for you!”

  “For both of us,” he said, and his expression grew serious.

  She drew back slightly. “What is it? You did not buy me a gift, did you? I thought we agreed.”

  “If I have a gift for you, it’s not the sort one might buy.” He winked, his eyes full of promise. “I shall give it to you later.”

  “You are very naughty.” And she loved him for it.

  “I want to ask you for a gift.”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  He pushed back from the table, and she realized he was falling to one knee. “Pierce!”

  “We’ve spoken of it, Eliza, but I must do this properly.” He took her hand in his and looked into her eyes. Ever since she’d been a small girl, plain and mousy, she’d dreamed of the day a man asked for her hand in marriage. She had not thought any man would ever see her, much less want her for his bride. And now Pierce was asking her, his words as sweet to her ears as honey was on her tongue.

  “Eliza, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? I love you. I cannot live without you. Please say I will never have to. Please give me the gift of your love.”

  She kissed him tenderly. “Yes. Oh, Pierce. With my whole heart, yes.”

  He had impeccable timing. On this night of traditional present-giving, when all the world celebrated the gifts given to celebrate God’s greatest offering to humanity, how could she not say yes? Pierce was correct. This love between them was the perfect gift, the most wonderful gift of all.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to Grace Burrowes, Carolyn Jewel, and Miranda Neville for the work they did on this novella when it was published as part of the Christmas in the Duke's Arms anthology.

  Thanks as well to my agents Joanna Mackenzie and Abby Saul for helping me release it singly.

  Thanks to Kim Killion for the great cover and to Gayle Conchrane for her input.

  About Shana Galen

  Shan
a Galen is the bestselling author of passionate Regency romps, including the RT Reviewers’ Choice The Making of a Gentleman. Kirkus says of her books, “The road to happily-ever-after is intense, conflicted, suspenseful and fun,” and RT Book Reviews calls her books “lighthearted yet poignant, humorous yet touching.” She taught English at the middle and high school level off and on for eleven years. Most of those years were spent working in Houston's inner city. Now she writes full time. She's happily married and has a daughter who is most definitely a romance heroine in the making.

  Wonder what Shana has coming next? Join Shana’s mailing list, and be the first to receive information on sales and new releases. Shana never spams or sells readers’ information.

  More from Shana Galen

  If you enjoyed this story, read more from Shana in her next anthology, A Gentleman for All Seasons.

  Want more Moneypence and Q? Their story starts in Love and Let Spy.

  In the mood for Christmas stories? Read Shana's novella, “A Prince in Her Stocking” in Christmas in Duke Street.

  Or dive into one of Shana’s many series...

   The Covent Garden Cubs series begins with Earls Just Want to Have Fun.

   The Lord and Lady Spy series begins with Lord and Lady Spy.

   The Jewels of the Ton series begins with When You Give a Duke a Diamond.

   The Sons of the Revolution series begins with The Making of a Duchess.

   The Misadventures in Matrimony series begins with No Man’s Bride.

   The Regency Spies series begins with While You Were Spying.