Sophie awakened with the morning’s first light, smiling to herself as she rolled onto her side. Sleeping beside her, Gavin bore none of the arrogance he often used like a disguise.
She drew a fingertip along the line of his jaw, feeling the crisp new beard, the slight prickly texture that held an appeal she couldn’t quite define. What was it about this man that led her to cast her best judgment aside like an ill-fitting shoe? What was it about this man above all others that made her crave him so—not only the pleasures of his touch, but the tenderness and wit that shone in his eyes?
I love him.
The realization took her breath away. Sophie fell back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. Surely, this was nothing more than a lingering response to his lovemaking. She knew better than to fall in love—with any man, let alone the likes of Gavin Stanwyck.
She covered her eyes with her forearm, as if that might shield her from the truth.
With a sigh, she rolled over and propped herself on one elbow. For a leisurely moment, she studied the man who’d broken through the shields she’d erected around her heart.
I’ve gone and done it now, Gavin—I’ve fallen in love with you.
Well, there was nothing to be done about it, was there? She would savor each kiss, each smile, each touch. And when it was over—when he returned to his life, and she to hers, she would cherish each delicious moment she had spent in his arms.
His lids lifted slowly, and he took her in.
“Good morning.” He reached for her, drawing her close with one sleek-muscled arm. “I trust you slept well.”
“Wonderfully,” she replied.
“You’re good for me, Sophie.” He brushed a kiss over the bridge of her nose. “And I suspect you might say the same of me.”
She frowned, rather deliberately. “Actually, you’ve destroyed my ability to resist your dubious charms. I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
He smiled drowsily. “Now, why would you want to do a thing like that?”
“I’ve always prided myself on my resistance to seduction. In my line of work, control over one’s passions is an asset.”
Gavin nipped at her earlobe, unleashing an utterly delicious tingle that cascaded to her toes. “Self-control is highly overrated, or so I’m told. It’s not a virtue I’ve bothered to cultivate. Besides, you’ve never been seduced by me, have you, darling?”
She shuddered against him, seeking more of his touch. “You do have a point.”
He nuzzled her neck, pressing velvet kisses to her flesh. His hands roamed over her, tantalizing her breasts, coaxing a sigh from her lips. Propping himself on one elbow, he studied her. His eyes darkened, and he kissed her again. Hot, wild, and reckless, the possession seared her to the core.
“I want you, Sophie.”
Before she could answer, his clever hands set about rekindling the desire he’d sated so thoroughly the night before.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” she murmured against his lips.
His eyes stormy and unreadable, he pressed her back against the mattress. Gently rolling onto her, he caged her in his embrace.
“I’m yours, Sophie. As long as you’ll have me.”
…
Gavin studied the woman in his arms with a sense of awe. Sophie was so damned beautiful, she threatened to take his breath away. What was it about her that rendered speechless a man who’d had his fair share of women? Was it her lovely eyes—dark and welcoming as a chocolate sweet? The soft curve of her face? The rosy hue of her well-kissed mouth?
Or was it something more—her zest for life, her tremendous sense of conviction? The woman in his arms would fight for what was right. She relished a challenge and didn’t resort to employing her feminine assets when engaged in a feisty debate. Her loveliness had drawn his eye from the first and set his cock into rebellion with wanting—there was no denying that, but her immutable spirit had captured his interest. Therein lay her magnetic pull. He could well imagine himself fifty years in the future, sitting by the hearth with Sophie, firelight reflecting off the polished ebony of his cane. They’d engage in a spirited discussion, or battle wits over a cutthroat game of chess. A woman like Sophie would intrigue him until the end of his days.
Damned shame she deserved better than the likes of him.
He could give her anything she desired. Anything, that is, except a piece of his heart.
He dipped his head, brushing his lips over the cinnamon-freckled bridge of her nose. “Ah, my sweet, clever Sophie.”
When she looked at him like that, her eyes soft and trusting, revealing her inner hunger, her secret desires, he longed to make her his. Not just for a night, or a week, or a blasted year.
For the rest of their lives.
He pushed the thought aside, shoving it into some deep trough in the recesses of his mind. Sophie would expect…no, she would need…more than he had to give.
He would adore her. Cherish her.
But he bloody well could not love her.
Love made a man weak.
Love was not for the likes of him. If he’d learned anything from his father, it was that a man was far better shunning such ridiculous notions.
He would treasure Sophie. He would kill for her. And he would die for her.
Damned shame he could not love her.
…
Sophie plopped onto a comfortably worn wing chair in the library and skimmed through the reference binder she’d obtained from the Herald’s archives. Colton had assigned an operative to track down Beatrice Hathcock, but something about the name nagged at her. Somehow, somewhere, she’d come across that moniker before. But where?
The long-case clock chimed a quarter hour past three. She threw a covert glance over the frayed binding, watching as Rebecca huddled on a small sofa across from her, flipping through page after page in a novel. She sighed, a rather dramatic sound, fiddled with the spectacles perched on her slender nose, then cast the volume atop the rapidly growing stack by her feet.
My, she was restless as a cat dumped into a tub of soapy water.
Behind the lenses of her spectacles, Rebecca’s eyes widened. Had she noticed Sophie watching her?
“Have you found anything of interest?” Sophie asked.
“I cannot say that I have. I would’ve thought a collection of this size might have a novel or two that would appeal to me.” She came to her feet, making a show of smoothing nonexistent wrinkles out of her black skirt. Her footsteps were quiet but purposeful as she went to the window and pulled back the curtain. “It is a lovely day. I see no logical reason why we should be shut inside these stone walls.”
Sophie swung her legs over the arm of the chair. “At this juncture, security is of the utmost importance. Colton indicated he would dispatch perimeter guards today.”
“I believe they arrived a short while ago.”
“Are you quite sure? I did not hear any unfamiliar voices downstairs.”
“Of course, I suppose I could be mistaken. I thought I heard voices I did not recognize.” Rebecca leaned against the windowsill, her expression suddenly wistful. “The countryside is glorious. I crave a bit of adventure. Shall we explore the grounds?”
“I don’t think that would be wise…not yet, at least. I will ask Henry to provide an armed escort.”
“Very well.” Rebecca closed the curtain and moved toward Sophie. “What do you know about MacAllister Campbell?”
“Not so much as you, I’d wager.”
“He lets on little about his life outside the office.” Rebecca gave a little shrug of her shoulders. “I do not fear his judgment as you do. This is my first field assignment, and I do not intend to spend it confined like a prisoner.”
Sophie furrowed her brow. Fear his judgment. Such an odd statement, much less from Campbell’s secretary.
“Whatever do you mean?”
She breezed past Sophie. “I’ll go in search of Henry. At the very least, it’s a fine excuse to seek
him out. He is quite pleasing to the eyes, if you haven’t noticed.”
She’d ignored Sophie’s query, but perhaps it truly was for the best to change the subject. “He appears to be rather taken with you.”
“Does he now?” Rebecca smiled. “He’s a strapping specimen, wouldn’t you say?”
“Quite so.”
“Sophie, why don’t you come along with me? I’d thought you more daring than this.”
Rebecca’s comment should not have stung, but somehow, it pinched just a bit. Sophie pondered the challenge in her words. Truth be told, the tedium of the day was taking its toll on her nerves.
“I suppose you’re right. There’s no harm in taking a look about the grounds and breathing a bit of fresh country air.” Sophie set her book aside and came to her feet. “I’ll bring my pistol along for good measure. It will make short work of any threat.”
With the sun’s rays streaming over its towers and turrets, Hunter’s Folly was indeed magnificent. Standing on a rope bridge over a small stream that resembled a moat, Sophie took in the striking architecture. The castle radiated a sense of nobleness, of history. How many generations had lived and died between those walls and on the grounds? How many battles had been fought to preserve a claim on this particular patch of Earth?
Rebecca strolled through a garden, pausing to smell the delicate fragrance of lavender. She bent over a chrysanthemum, snapped the flower off its stem, and tucked it in her hair.
Sophie rubbed her temples, pondering Miss Beddingham’s change in demeanor. For years, Rebecca had presented herself as precise, prim, and efficient. Now, something seemed off about her movements, about her reactions.
Her comments about Campbell had taken Sophie by surprise. Gone was the vibrant woman who’d played coy with Henry the day before. Now, she held her back as rigid as the castle’s cold, gray stone.
Rebecca traced the seam of her skirt with one hand, gliding along the hidden pocket sewn into the garments of all female agents. Sunlight glinted off the object she now held partially concealed between the folds of fabric, a pearl-handled two-shot derringer.
Why in blazes did Rebecca have a gun? Had something in the distance—something Sophie had missed—put her on alert?
“Rebecca, what are you doing?”
“I heard a noise…is that a carriage?”
Sophie went silent. In the distance, she detected a sound that might’ve been the clop of horses’ hooves. Was a coach at the gate? Had Colton dispatched other agents for security, or had intruders breached the grounds?
Removing her pistol from the reticule tethered to her wrist, Sophie pulled in a calming breath. “There is no cause for alarm. Still, one can never be too cautious.”
“How very unexpected, coming from you,” Rebecca replied, her tone cool and dismissive. “After all, you’ve become rather close to Stanwyck. What do we truly know about our host’s motives? It all seems a bit too convenient, wouldn’t you say, luring us out to this lonely place?”
“Stanwyck is an honorable man. You’ve no reason for concern.”
“Honorable?” Her mouth curled at the corners—not a smile, but a look of derision. “Of course you would believe that. After all, you did spend the night warming his bed. Most unprofessional. And here you were supposed to be training me.”
Her words seemed a hard slap to the face. “You were spying on me?”
Rebecca gave a little shrug. “So, you don’t deny your dalliance with the man. You’re far too gullible, too trusting. Or is that one of your methods—render a man insensible with passion, then hope he feels an urge to confess his sins as he sprawls sated against the sheets?”
Sophie steadied herself, refusing to visibly flinch against the verbal attack. What in bloody hell had come over Rebecca?
“What I do behind closed doors is none of your concern. I can assure you, whatever is between Stanwyck and me has nothing to do with the investigation.”
“Sadly, you’re mistaken. Your liaison offers the potential for leverage that can be used against Stanwyck.”
“Leverage?” She gulped a breath, calming her racing pulse. “What in blazes has come over you?”
“Is it really that hard to deduce? All these years, I have scurried about like some blasted genie, eager to fulfill MacAllister Campbell’s every command. I deceived myself into believing that if he found my competence invaluable, he would eventually come to appreciate me…as a woman. But I was wrong. The man is as cold as gunmetal. I wasted so many years trying to please him. And for what? I doubt the man could even tell you my given name.”
“Campbell is dedicated to his work. I won’t argue that. But he highly values you, Rebecca.”
“It doesn’t matter. Not now.” She ran a fingertip over the gun in her hand, almost lovingly, as if to kindle Sophie’s fear.
A knot dug into Sophie’s belly. She braced herself against it. “If you think to frighten me, it’s not working.”
“My, I do think you’re protesting a bit too vigorously to be credible.” Rebecca shook her head, slow and reproachful.
The rumble of carriage wheels grew louder. Was fear getting the better of Rebecca? “I don’t understand what’s come over you. I understand you may be alarmed.”
“You’re not as clever as you like to think, Sophie. I have no cause for fear. As for you…well, that’s another story.”
Sophie turned toward the approaching coach and assumed a firing stance. Rebecca’s laugh cut through her like a dull dagger.
“Pity you didn’t think to check your weapon for ammunition.”
Sophie stared down at the weapon. Calmly, she checked the chambers. Empty! Shock squeezed the air from her lungs. For a moment, she could scarcely draw a breath.
“Rebecca, what have you done?”
“I’m sorry, Sophie…sorry you’re a part of this. After Trask’s accident, I thought you’d have the good sense to leave. You’ve always treated me as an equal, unlike the rest, but there’s no changing it now.” She sighed, regarding Sophie with eyes as hard and cold as blue diamonds. “If it’s any consolation, Campbell will be able to capitalize upon your fate. Tragedy sells a great deal of papers, or so I’m told. Your dear friend Jennie did me a great favor when she asked me to accompany you. I’d thought I would be stuck in that cramped little office, playing the part of the dutiful assistant, ferrying secrets to those who would pay to see you and Stanwyck suffer some dreadful mishap. But now, I will be able to disappear. No one will question where I’ve gone, what I’ve done. Miss Beddingham will simply fade away, presumably a victim in the melee. I will be a wealthy woman. I do believe Paris will be a lovely place to take up residence.”
“My God, have you gone mad?”
“Walking away from a fortune would be the true madness.” Rebecca’s mouth pressed into a malevolent smile. She raised her weapon, taking aim at Sophie’s heart. “I really should thank you. But I’ll leave that pleasure to our guests.”
A coach slowly made its way along the path—the same coach Sophie had spotted the night of the attempted abduction. Her heart raced. In the light of day, a gilded symbol stood out against the ebony wood. She knew that emblem—Lord Ellicott never wasted an opportunity to show off his distinguished family crest. The man was widely regarded as a confidant and advisor to the Queen. What role did he play in this deadly game?
Dear God, she had to warn Gavin—but how? She eyed Rebecca’s gun. One pull of the trigger would sound an alarm. She had to take control of it.
“You don’t have to do this… It’s not too late for you.” Sophie lowered her voice, infused her words with a gentleness she did not feel as she assessed the other woman’s vulnerabilities. Taller, bigger-boned, and trained in the art of self-defense, Rebecca would be a formidable opponent. Sophie would have to employ the element of surprise to gain an advantage.
“You’re right. It’s not. In fact, I’m only beginning to live.” Rebecca turned, signaling the coach to proceed with a wave of her hand.
&nbs
p; Sophie seized the opportunity. She whipped around, slammed her elbow into the larger woman’s arm. Still, the traitor clutched the gun in an unyielding grip. Stunned, Rebecca staggered backward, stumbling over her skirts. Sophie seized her forearm and gave a vicious twist.
Rebecca fought Sophie’s hold. Her fist plowed into Sophie’s cheek. Pain shot through Sophie’s skull, but she held tight. Wrenching Rebecca’s wrist, she battled for possession of the weapon, all the while forcing its barrel away from her, keeping its aim toward the ground.
She twisted hard, driving her elbow into Rebecca’s belly. Oomph. Another blow, to her ribs.
Rebecca’s piercing scream reverberated against her ears.
Strong, wiry hands caught Sophie’s shoulders, dug into her upper arms. “Let her go, ye bitch, or I’ll kill ye now.”
Jack. There was no mistaking the rotter’s voice, nor the feel of the gunmetal pressing against her ribs. She released her hold.
Hatred gleaming in her gaze, her mouth twisted in contempt, Rebecca stared down at Sophie. “I should’ve known you’d try to save the day.” She shot Jack a glance. “Put her in the coach.”
“Take your hands off me.” Sophie bucked his hold.
“Get her out of here. Now.”
Jack twisted Sophie’s arm behind her back. “One move and I’ll break it in two. Understand?”
She bit back a moan against the pain. “Yes.”
“Miss Beddingham, is everything all right?” Henry called, approaching from the stables.
“Ah, here comes the cavalry.” Rebecca turned toward the voice in the distance. “Ever gallant, that gorgeous Scot.”
Sophie made to cry out, but Jack clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling the sound. She struggled against his hold, desperate to warn Henry of the danger, but her captor held her tighter, nearly cutting off her oxygen.
Henry covered the ground with long, sure strides. Rebecca’s gaze tracked his movements, facing Henry with what seemed a perfect mask of a smile.
“I see you’ve come to protect us,” she said.
“If need be,” the broad-shouldered Scot replied. “Where is Sophie?”
Rebecca inclined her head toward the coach. “She went to greet our visitor.”
When a Lady Dares (Her Majesty’s Most Secret Service) Page 28
