by Candace Camp
Philippe moved to her other breast, loving it too. His breath was ragged. He was frantic to have her now, pounding with need, but equally determined to miss none of the pleasure, none of the love. He kissed her everywhere with lingering, arousing kisses that made Alyssa writhe with desire.
He moved between her legs, and she took his hard maleness joyfully, pushing up to meet his thrust. He groaned out loud, his fingers digging into the sheets beside her. His face was contorted, his eyes closed, his sight turned inward to some deep, magical place. He moved, gloved by her tightness, aware of nothing but the shimmering reality of her love, and then he was plunging faster, rushing past sanity to the blissful point beyond. They crashed into a sparkling, white-hot world, melded together for a moment. For an eternity.
“My love,” Philippe whispered. “My love.”
Chapter 23
Philippe rolled onto his back, wrapping his arms around Alyssa and pulling her with him. She nestled contentedly against his shoulder. She didn’t know if she had ever seen his face look this relaxed, this open and peaceful. Alyssa smiled; she couldn’t stop touching him—light little brushes of her fingertips, as if to reassure herself that she was there and he was real.
He sighed and said with more resignation than anger, “You know who I am?”
Alyssa nodded. “Yes. Scorpion let it slip. He thought I knew.”
Philippe smoothed his hand along the line of her waist and hips. “You are so very lovely. I’ve ached for you a long, long time.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Alyssa rose on her elbow to look into his face. “Why did you let me believe you were a traitor?”
His hand brushed her cheek. “I had no choice. No one could know.”
“I would never have told anyone! Never! You must know that.”
“Yes, but the more people who know, the more dangerous it is. The only others are my contact in Paris and Scorpion.”
“And Georges.”
“Yes. You see how many that is already, and those are out of sheer necessity. When you left France, I was afraid that once you were in the United States, you might tell a friend what I was really doing, thinking it safe to reveal it there. Or you might defend me if you heard someone condemn me as a collaborator. Most of all, I knew you would want to stay if you knew the truth, and I couldn’t risk that.”
“You could have told me since then. You saw me playing a double game in Washington; you must have known I could keep my mouth shut. Or when you got me out of prison. Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“I wanted to. God, how I wanted to! I couldn’t bear the disgust in your eyes whenever you looked at me. I knew you hated me for being cold and cruel. I had to do it; it was part of the act for Gersbach and Schlieker.” His voice dropped, hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t endanger everything for the sake of my own selfish desires. You had to despise me; I couldn’t risk your knowing the truth. You might have looked at me with love. You wouldn’t have seemed scared. It would have tipped them off.”
“Who? Frau Heuser? Walther?”
“Yes. They were Schlieker’s spies—” He managed a faint smile. “Given to me, of course, under the guise of great kindness.”
Alyssa ached for him. “How hard it must have been for you. No privacy. Living with spies in your own house, having to keep up the front all the time.”
“The worst was pretending to be friends with the bastards. Fawning, flattering, smiling, all the while hating their guts. I began to feel stained by their dirt. Filthy myself.”
“I know.” Alyssa’s hand caressed his cheek. “I felt that way in Washington. But at least I could go home afterwards and be myself. My countrymen didn’t look on me as a traitor or try to assassinate me. I didn’t lose everyone I loved—and at least I had Blakely to talk to.”
“Who?”
Alyssa saw the little flare of jealousy in his eyes, and she chuckled. How nice it was to have something so ordinary between them. “My contact when I was in D.C. Nothing to worry about; he was hardly even a friend.” She paused and her expression turned serious. “You believed me, didn’t you, when I told you in Washington that I hadn’t slept with Paul?”
“Yes, I believed you. I knew you better than that. I was just crazy with jealousy. I’m sorry for the things I said to you.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters. Everything to do with you matters.” Lazily his fingers tangled in her tumbled hair. “Your love is the most precious thing on earth to me. It’s just that the world got in our way. Sometimes I think I hate the Nazis most of all for that.” He sighed. “We must get up. You have to return to Scorpion; the sooner you get out the better.”
Alyssa sat up abruptly, her face registering horror. “Oh, God, how could I have forgotten! When I saw you, everything left my head.” She slipped out of bed and began pulling on her clothes as she talked. “Come on. You need to get dressed. We’re both leaving.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I know who the traitor is in the Rock network.”
“Who? How did you find out?”
“His name is Unicorn. I told Scorpion, and he promised that they’ll find him. But the important thing is—my group wasn’t the only one he betrayed to the Nazis. Dragon was arrested with me.”
“Dragon!” Philippe jumped out of bed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. He had given me a message to transmit from the Duke—from you, though I didn’t know it at the time. When I met Dragon to give him the reply from Mother, we were arrested. Only Unicorn and Dragon’s cousin knew about our meeting.”
Philippe closed his eyes. “Poor Charles.” He sat down on the bed and ran his hands through his hair. All the years had come back to his face.
“I know. But the important thing now is for you to get away. At any moment he could reveal your identity to the Gestapo.”
Philippe shook his head. “No. Not Charles. He will never tell, no matter what. He’s a tough old soldier.”
“Philippe!” Fear and frustration ran through Alyssa. “You can’t know that for certain. Anyone could be made to talk. Anyone. It’s too big a risk to take.”
“No. It’s a slight risk. But reasonable. Charles has one of your L-pills; he will take it if he has to.”
Frantically Alyssa tried to think of something to say to convince him. “It’s not cowardly to run. There’s nothing to be gained by staying here for certain death. You could do things for France in England now, important things. You’d be far more helpful than you would be dead.”
“If I thought the Gestapo knew who I was, of course I would go. But with Charles, I don’t think the risk outweighs the—“
“All right, then,” Alyssa broke in, “I’ll stay here with you. You’ll need someone to transmit your messages.”
The horrified expression on his face clearly told his answer. “No! Don’t be absurd! It’s too dangerous.”
“If it’s not too much risk for you, then why is it too much for me?”
He glared at her and started to speak, but he stopped, his attention caught by a noise outside. Raising his hand to her to be silent, he padded over to the window and looked out. “Nom de Dieu! It’s Gersbach.”
“They’ve found out. You have to go.”
Philippe dressed quickly, his brow knitted in a frown. “It’s too soon for Walther to have reached Paris to tell Schlieker of the attack. You must be right.”
The door flew open, and Georges rushed in. “Monsieur! Gersbach is outside, and there are six men with him.”
“Get Alyssa out of the house. Where’s Scorpion?”
“He returned to camp to set up your departure.”
“Take Alyssa to him. I will go down and talk to Gersbach.”
“No!” Alyssa exclaimed. “You have to come with me!”
“Don’t argue! There isn’t time.” Downstairs they heard the loud thud of the heavy metal knoc
ker against the door, again and again.
“I’m not going without you!”
“You have to. If we both run, Gersbach will immediately institute a search, and we’ll both be caught. But if he’s looking for me, he probably won’t even bother to search for you. If he does, at least I will have delayed him long enough for you to get away.”
“What do I care about getting away if you’re here?” Alyssa cried.
“If you are caught, do you know what would happen? They would torture you in front of me. How long do you think it would take before I told them everything I know to keep them from hurting you? My love for you would make me vulnerable. The only way you can help me is to go with Georges. I must know that you are safe.”
Tears clogged Alyssa’s throat. There was something in Philippe’s face that she had never seen there before, a touch of fear. She knew that her presence had put it there. He was right. She made him vulnerable. “All right,” she said. “I’ll go.” She stiffened her spine and, with a single backward glance at Philippe, she followed Georges from the room.
They ran along the deserted hall which they had used earlier and down the stairs to the ground floor. Georges reached for the door, but Alyssa stopped him. “No! Isn’t there someplace you could hide me in the house where they couldn’t find me?”
“Probably in the wine cellar, but—“
“I know what Philippe said. But if Gersbach doesn’t know I’m here, we might be able to rescue Philippe. I’m not going to just run away if I can save Philippe’s life.”
A smile touched Georges’s lips. “Yes, mademoiselle. This way.”
They walked along the hall to the kitchen. Alyssa saw Philippe come down the huge main staircase and start toward the front door as Georges whisked her into the kitchen. It was late enough that all the servants were in bed, so that the kitchen was deserted. There was no one to see them cross the huge room and open a door in the far wall. Georges turned on the light switch and motioned for Alyssa to precede him down the steep stairs. Georges pulled a lantern and some matches from a cabinet and followed her.
“This is the basement, mostly storage,” he told her, lighting the heavy lantern and switching off the stairway light bulb. “Better that they not see a light down here if they happen to walk through the kitchens. Follow me.” He led her past boxes, crates, and bins of food to an even narrower set of circular stairs. He preceded her, and Alyssa was glad; she didn’t relish descending the stone stairway into the unknown.
When they reached the floor below, the glow of Georges’s lantern revealed a room filled with racks of bottles. He took her to the back of the room, where a low doorway opened into a small cubicle. He handed her the lantern. “There is a blanket there. I’ve hidden a refugee or two down here.” There was also a candlestick with a thick candle in it, and Alyssa lit it gratefully “I’ll pull a couple of casks in front of the doorway to conceal it. I’ll come back as soon as I find out anything.”
Alyssa nodded. She handed him the lantern back, and he crawled out of the room. He shoved two barrels in front of the low door, cutting off most of the light from his lantern.
When even the edges of light from around the casks were gone, she knew that Georges had left the basement. Alyssa glanced at her candle’s low glow and hoped fervently that it wouldn’t go out. She settled down to wait.
*****
Philippe pasted a smile on his lips as he strode forward to greet Gersbach. The Gestapo agent stood in the middle of the entryway, hands belligerently on hips, glaring at the tongue-tied servant before him. Five armed guards filled the foyer behind him. “Dieter! What a pleasant surprise.”
“There you are!’ Gersbach’s fearsome gaze swung to Philippe, and the servant eagerly scurried out of the room.
“I’m sorry,” Philippe went on calmly. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have had a room prepared. I shall send a maid to look after it right now. And for your men.” He sent a questioning glance toward the crowd behind Gersbach.
“Where is the girl?”
Philippe assumed a puzzled look. “But surely Walther told you—no, no, I suppose he can’t have reached Paris yet. You don’t know. The girl is gone.”
Gersbach looked singularly unsurprised. The dancing nerves in Philippe’s stomach increased.
“The maquis took her,” Philippe continued. “They stopped my car and pulled her from it. Gave me this bump on the head.” He gestured toward the dark bruise on his face and sighed. “They’re going to execute her for giving me information. Poor girl. She was so lovely, too.”
“I’m sure she still is,” Gersbach replied with heavy sarcasm. He turned and snapped an order to the men behind him. “Search the house for her. Everywhere. Don’t miss a spot. Except Braun. You stay here.”
The men trotted off, guns in hand, to search for Alyssa. Philippe smiled sardonically and crossed his arms. “What’s the matter? Don’t you trust me?”
The remaining guard stepped to the side of Gersbach, his rifle pointed at Philippe. Gersbach smiled evilly. “No, as a matter of fact, I don’t. Let’s go into a more comfortable room where we can sit and talk—Monsieur le Duc.”
Philippe managed a smile of disbelief. “Is this a joke of some kind?”
“I am not fond of jokes, Michaude.” Casually Gersbach raised his hand and struck Philippe backhandedly across one cheek. Philippe staggered backward. He tasted blood. Fervently he hoped that Alyssa had gotten well away. Gersbach motioned forward. “Now, shall we go?”
Philippe turned and led them into the drawing room.
*****
Alyssa could hear nothing in her cubbyhole. It seemed as if hours had passed. She rested her head on her pulled-up knees and tried to think how she could help Philippe.
There was a noise outside. Alyssa’s head flew up, every sense alert. The sound came again. Boot heels on the stone. Someone was coming down the steps! Hurriedly she blew out her candle. They mustn’t spy the light around the edges of the casks. She waited.
There was a light in the cellar outside her room and the sounds of someone walking. A man spoke in German, and she heard a whistle of surprise. Another man laughed and replied. They must be admiring the cache of wine bottles. The steps came closer, and Alyssa shrank as far back into the corner of her room as she could. She wished she’d thought to grab some sort of weapon.
The steps halted outside the small doorway. They talked again, but Alyssa’s German was too poor to understand what was said. One of them kicked casually at one of the casks, and it wobbled. Alyssa stopped breathing.
After a moment, the footsteps retreated, and the light was gone. Alyssa was left in utter darkness. A shudder of relief ran through her. Sweat was trickling down her sides; she hadn’t noticed it before. She unbent her cramped muscles and moved forward, her hands slowly sweeping the floor until she encountered the candle, then the box of matches beside it. By feel she pulled out a match and lit it, touching it to the candle. Light sprang up in her cell again, and she released a shaky sigh. She had feared she would be doomed to complete darkness until Georges came back.
Again she waited. After some time there were noises on the stairs again, and she jumped to blow out the candle. A man walked very quickly, close to running.
“Alyssa! It is I!” Georges hissed in a stage whisper. Alyssa relaxed and crept to the doorway. Georges rolled the casks aside and helped her out. His heavy, square face, normally so stolid, was pale and frightened.
“You were right. Gersbach knows who Philippe is. He plans to take him back to Paris to be questioned.”
Alyssa couldn’t say anything. She was more scared than she could ever remember, even when the Gestapo had come for her. She knew how Philippe must have felt when he saw her escorted from Gestapo headquarters.
Georges stared back at her, his face mirroring her fear. “What shall we do?” he asked.
Alyssa swallowed. Georges was a good man and a brave one, but it was obvious he
was used only to taking orders. She must decide what course of action they should follow.
She shook off the freezing fear. It wasn’t as if this were a surprise. She had spent most of her time in this cubbyhole trying to think of a way to rescue Phillippe. “Go get Scorpion. Tell him what’s happened. They can set up a blockade for Gersbach’s car, as they did with mine, except for real this time.”
Georges shook his head. “There isn’t enough time. Gersbach plans to leave immediately. It would take me twenty minutes to reach Scorpion, and another hour for them to set up the roadblock. It’s impossible.”
“What are Gersbach’s men doing?”
“They’re in the kitchen eating at the moment. As soon as they’ve finished, they will leave for Paris.”
“They’re eating? All of them?”
“Gersbach has a tray in the drawing room, and there are three soldiers eating in the kitchen. When they are through, I assume they’ll change places with the two guarding Philippe. There’s one outside watching the car.”
Alyssa fumbled with her skirt, ripping at the hem. Three pills tumbled out. “Put these in their food. This one makes a person ill for a few hours. This is what we call a ‘Mickey’ in the U.S. Knocks one out. And this is pure poison. Are they drinking out of the same bottle?”
He smiled. “I will bring up a bottle of wine for them from the cellar—already treated.”
“Good. Be sure to break this pill; it won’t dissolve. Can you do that?”
“Yes, of course.” Georges was steadfast and confident as long as someone told him what to do. “And I will take a tray of food and wine to the one guarding the car.”
“Can you get me a handgun?”
“Yes. More than one.”
“A small one. Like a derringer.” Alyssa demonstrated the size, and Georges nodded. “Take care of the men eating first, then come back here with the gun.”
She followed Georges through the wine cellar to the bottom of the circular stone steps leading up to the basement. She waited for interminable minutes before he opened the door above and trotted back down the stairs. “They’re sick as dogs. I dumped the men in the pantry and locked it and collected their weapons. I’ve armed the servants.” He reached in his pocket and extended a small, snub-nosed revolver to her. “Here’s the gun you wanted. What do we do now?”
