The Lord and the Spy

by Slade, Heather

  My resolve when it came to Wren lasted only as long as I was away from her. If she was close enough to touch, I couldn’t resist. If I moved closer still, I had to fight against grazing her skin with my lips.

  The only thing stopping me from climbing the stairs and crawling in bed with her was that I’d promised I’d sleep where she wasn’t.

  Resting my head against the back of the chair, I took another sip of Wellie’s brandy and closed my eyes, remembering how good she tasted, how soft she felt when we’d kissed out on the trail during our ride.

  I’d been in a constant state of arousal throughout dinner, which was only made worse by thoughts of what might have happened at the barn if she hadn’t mentioned Amanda Sanborn.

  My eyes opened when I heard footfalls on the creaky stairs and turned to watch as she looked for me.

  “Wilder?”

  “In here, sweetheart.” I didn’t get up, wanting to see what she’d do if I didn’t.

  “I was wondering…I mean…I’d like a drink of water.”

  “Of course,” I said, getting up.

  “I can get it. Stay where you are.”

  I sat back down and listened to her puttering in my kitchen. I heard her turn the faucet on, then off, followed by the sound of her padding back in my direction.

  Would she go back upstairs without saying anything else, or would she come in and talk with me? I prayed she’d do the latter, if only to get one more glimpse of her in the shirt I’d given her to sleep in. It was long enough that the tails touched her knees, but that didn’t make it any less sexy.

  “Am I disturbing you?” she asked, sitting in the other chair that faced the fireplace.

  “On the contrary.”

  She smiled and took a sip of water.

  “Although, I expected you to be fast asleep.”

  “I was, but then…”

  “What happened, Wren?”

  “I had a dream.”

  I closed my eyes and rested my head against the back of the chair as I had only a few minutes earlier. “Of?” I asked.

  “You. Me. The barn.”

  I opened my eyes and looked into hers. “I had the same dream, only I wasn’t asleep.”

  She sat back and looked into the fire. “I tell myself over and over to keep my distance from you,” she murmured. “But I can’t.”

  “It isn’t any easier for me.”

  “What are we going to do, Wilder? How are we going to work side by side, day in, day out?”

  Her voice was laced with a combination of frustration and sadness. It was the sadness that tore at me.

  “Earlier I said that I’d do whatever you wanted, Wren, and I meant it. But…” The one thing I knew would make things easier for her would be to let her work directly with George. It was the only thing I couldn’t do.

  If it came down to choosing the investigation or Wren, it would be the hardest thing I’d ever done, but I’d have to let her go. I owed it to my family. Until I knew whom Matthew had been working with, or for, I couldn’t ensure their safety.

  “I’d recuse myself before I’d ever ask you to,” I heard Wren say as though she could read my thoughts.

  My disappointment was palpable when she stood to leave.

  “Good night,” I said. “Sleep well.”

  “I’m not ready to say good night.”

  I looked into her eyes. “Wren?”

  Without answering, she turned and walked away, much as she had when she left my office yesterday. Had that really been only yesterday?

  12

  Wren

  When I opened my eyes, it was daylight, although the sky outside the window looked dark and dreary. It wasn’t unusual for England, especially in January.

  I rolled over in the luxuriously comfortable bed and buried my head under the pillow, not so much because of its pounding ache, but more because I’d spent several hours tossing and turning while every humiliating thing I’d done yesterday looped in my head.

  The culmination, the icing on the cake, the coup de grâce, was when I’d gone downstairs for “a glass of water,” and all but invited Wilder to come to bed with me.

  What in the name of all that was holy had I been thinking? I couldn’t blame it on the alcohol; I’d told him soberly I wasn’t ready to say good night.

  I’d never forget the look on his face when he said my name. The combination of regret and pity had sent me scurrying upstairs without another word.

  After my endless protests, telling him again and again that nothing could ever happen between us, I hadn’t been able to stop myself from going downstairs, hoping when I went back up, he’d be with me.

  We would return to London today. He’d drop me at my hotel after our horrendously awkward two-hour drive, and then probably turn right around, returning to spend the rest of the weekend with his family.

  I wished I’d gotten up at sunrise and sneaked out for a walk on the grounds, given I’d likely not be invited back.

  Deciding it was time to face the music, I got out of bed and padded across the hallway to the bathroom. After washing my face, I returned to the bedroom to change into the same clothes I’d worn yesterday.

  I didn’t hear or see any sign of Wilder when I crept downstairs. Maybe he was still asleep and I could sneak in a walk after all.

  As I got closer to the kitchen, the heavenly scent of coffee wafted through the air and into my nostrils. Bless him for his kindness, I almost said out loud.

  Near the French press sat cream, sugar, and a note.

  I regret that I’ve been called back to London on an urgent matter. Darrow will bring you into town whenever you’re ready.

  His sister’s number was scrawled on the bottom.

  An urgent matter. Was that a euphemism for I’d rather avoid seeing you this morning?

  I poured a cup of the still-warm coffee, added cream, and pulled out my cell.

  “I thought you’d sleep much later,” said Darrow when she answered.

  “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

  “Good heavens, no. With all the commotion this morning, I couldn’t go back to sleep after Axel and Wilder left.”

  “Commotion?”

  “Didn’t Wilder leave you a note? How did you know to ring me?”

  “All it said was that he’d had to return to London on an urgent matter.”

  “I see.” Darrow let out a deep breath. “I’ll be over in a sec. Better to tell you in person.”

  I looked at my phone, stunned that Darrow had ended the call so abruptly.

  A few minutes later, I heard a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” I hollered before realizing it was probably locked. I rushed over and opened it.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Darrow answered, hanging her head. Gone was the friendly, fun, outgoing woman I’d met yesterday. In her place stood a woman who appeared to have aged overnight.

  “Tell me what’s happened,” I asked, leading Darrow into the sitting room where Wilder and I had sat together the night before.

  “It’s Matthew Caird. He tried to hang himself last night.”

  “Tried?”

  “The guards found him in the nick of time it seems. He’s in hospital now.”

  “I see.” My head spun with Darrow’s report. Caird had attempted suicide? I mentally shook my head at the possibility.

  Why hadn’t Wilder woken me? Weren’t we supposed to be working this investigation together? More questions flew through my brain, but Darrow wasn’t in a position to answer any of them.

  “My brother said to bring you to town whenever you were ready.”

  “I won’t trouble you. I’ll hire a car.”

  “I’m going anyway. I’ve been summoned to the Kensington flat. Would you like to leave now?”

  “I have a couple of calls to make, and then shall I meet you at your house?”

  “I can wait.” Darrow went into the kitchen.

  I checked the time. It was the middle of the night in the S
tates, and a weekend at that. I’d likely have better luck waiting to contact my team once I was in London. In the meantime, perhaps I’d be able to reach someone from SIS who could give me more information about Caird’s condition.

  I went upstairs and dialed Wilder’s number; the call went straight to voicemail. The same thing happened when I tried Agent Marietta and when I called the man most knew as Z.

  I was getting angrier with every passing minute, but that wasn’t the fault of the woman who was waiting downstairs to give me a lift.

  I thought back on my conversation with Wilder about how it had been Shiver’s decision to let Caird live the night he almost wiped out most of the Whittaker family. I wondered how Darrow had felt at the time. Had she agreed with Shiver about sparing the man’s life?

  “I can hire a car to take both of us. I’m sure this is very upsetting for you,” I offered when I went back downstairs.

  “I’m fine,” Darrow said, walking out to the car. “Stiff upper lip and all that,” she mumbled.

  “I’m not English. You’re welcome to cry on my shoulder, yell and scream, whatever you feel like doing. I can assure you, we aren’t expected to hide our emotions in Texas.”

  Darrow looked over at me before starting the engine. “I wish things could be different.”

  “I understand. It must be very difficult.”

  Her forehead scrunched. “What do you mean?”

  “With Caird.”

  “No, I wish things could be different with you and my brother. I really like you.”

  I smiled. “I really like you too.”

  As we pulled out of the gates of Whittaker Abbey, I felt the same regret I had earlier. It was unlikely I’d ever see it again.

  “I’d invite you to the flat, but I wouldn’t want to subject you to my mother.”

  “I have a great deal of work to do anyway.”

  “Right.” Darrow pulled up in front of my hotel. “Maybe I could ring you when the duchess is finished lecturing me about whatever this week’s topic might be.”

  “Yes,” I answered absentmindedly. “We’ll speak later.” I closed the car door behind me and waved Darrow off.

  I’d just walked through the courtyard of St. Ermin’s and was about to go in through the revolving door of the hotel when my cell vibrated. Stupidly, I answered without checking who was calling.

  “Are you finally back at the hotel, Harlow?” Sanborn spat when I accepted the call.

  How did Sanborn know I hadn’t been at the hotel, or how had she known where I was at all?

  “You’re going to miss your flight.”

  I looked at the clock in the lobby of the hotel. What time had the flight been scheduled for? “It’s fine.”

  “Please. Don’t lie to me, Harlow. I know you went above my head, and I don’t like it one bit.” Sanborn continued her expletive-laden rant, but I turned the volume down on the phone and held it away from my ear. The last words I heard clearly were, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but this isn’t over.”

  I stared at the phone when the DHS officer ended the call. What did Sanborn know, other than I wasn’t on the flight I’d been scheduled to be on, and why did she emphasize my name both times she’d said it?

  Once in my room, the first thing I did was peel out of my clothes and get in the shower. Ten minutes later, I was dressed and ready to leave when my cell vibrated again.

  If it was Sanborn calling a second time, I would let it go to voicemail. I didn’t need the woman’s shit, no matter what kind of cover I was trying to maintain. It wasn’t her, though. The call was from a London number I didn’t recognize.

  “Harlow,” I answered.

  “Wren, it’s Wilder.”

  “What is Caird’s condition?” I asked, trying to keep my temper at bay and jumping straight into business mode.

  “Critical. He’s in the ICU at Thameside.”

  “I see.”

  “Listen—”

  “I’m on my way.” I ended the call before Wilder could protest. If he didn’t want me to show up at the hospital, he shouldn’t have told me that’s where Caird was. He shouldn’t have called me at all.

  When my cell rang again, I considered turning it off. I looked at the screen, ready to reject the call but saw it was Leighton Marietta.

  “Officer Harlow?”

  “Yes, this is Wren.”

  “Agent Marietta here. I’ve been instructed by Agent Whittaker to meet you at St. Ermin’s and take you to Thameside.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I can get my own lift.”

  “I’m already here.” The agent ended the call before I could protest, like I’d just done to Wilder.

  When the elevator door opened, I saw the MI5 agent waiting for me in the lobby.

  “I’ve been instructed to give you a new mobile and confiscate your other.”

  She tried to hand me a phone, but I refused to take it.

  “You are being tracked,” the agent said through gritted teeth. “And Caird did not attempt to kill himself.”

  I nodded and took the phone.

  The agent led me through a door to the stairwell. Once we were one flight down, I took the sim card out of my government-issued cell, tossed the phone on the floor, and crushed it with my boot.

  “We’re pulling up now, sir,” Marietta said, answering an incoming call a few minutes after we’d left St. Ermin’s parking garage.

  “Who was that?” I asked, more to see if the woman would tell me than wanting to know.

  “The DG.”

  “Is all of MI5 at Thameside?”

  “As is MI6.”

  I got out of the car when Agent Marietta pulled up to the door of the hospital, and entered the building through the revolving door. Once inside, I saw Wilder and Z waiting for me.

  “You’ve met Z,” said Wilder.

  “Yes.”

  Z motioned for me to follow and led me to yet another stairwell, down several flights of stairs, and out a door into a parking garage that looked much like the one I’d just left.

  “Where’s Agent Whittaker?” I asked, noticing Wilder hadn’t followed.

  “He’ll be meeting us at the next location,” Z said, opening the passenger door of the only car on that level.

  Before getting in, he put his arm around my shoulders. “What, no kiss hello?”

  I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek.

  “I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

  “I’ve missed you too.”

  Z closed the door behind me and came around the other side. “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Where Matthew Caird really is.”

  13

  Wilder

  “Thanks,” I said, climbing into George’s waiting vehicle. “Did Harlow give you any trouble?”

  George raised a brow and smirked. “For God’s sake, Wilder, she’s a DHS agent.”

  “Officer, but your point is?”

  “She gave me no trouble.”

  “Her cell?”

  “Destroyed.”

  “And her things?”

  “Being delivered as we speak.”

  “I appreciate your help, George.”

  “It’s my job, Whittaker.”

  Moments after Wren had ascended the stairs of my house without me last night, I received the first of a series of urgent messages.

  Pinch arrived at my door five minutes later, and I left to meet with Shiver at the abbey.

  An hour later, I returned to Dorchester House, greatly relieved when Pinch reported Wren had not come back downstairs nor did he hear any noise from her room.

  I’d written the note, thanked Pinch a second time, and was walking out the door when I turned back around. “Hey, mate, be a bloke and make her some coffee in the morning.”

  “Bloody hell,” I heard him mutter in a voice identical to Wellie’s.

  Whoever was tracking Wren already knew she was at Whittaker Abbey. It was best she stayed there until I could get everything set
up in London.

  Darrow had been an unwitting accomplice in delivering her to St. Ermin’s before going to visit the duchess, where Rivet would brief her on what was going on. Or on as much of it as my sister needed to know.

  “I’ll be at headquarters if you need anything,” said George when we arrived at the lowest level of the parking garage of the university hospital.

  I got out of the car and waited there until Z arrived with Wren.

  I opened her door and held out my hand, but she didn’t take it. She looked between Z and me and folded her arms.

  “When is either of you going to fill me in?”

  “Soon, I promise,” I answered, motioning to the lift.

  “Is Caird here?” she asked Z.

  “He is.”

  She didn’t say anything more until after we exited on the tenth floor and I led her into a private room. Z waited in the hallway.

  “Please take a seat. Can I get you anything?”

  “I’ll stand, and no, thank you.” She folded her arms and leaned back against the wall.

  “When did you last speak with anyone from DHS?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Answer the question, Officer Harlow.”

  “Approximately ninety minutes ago.”

  “Whom with?”

  “Amanda Sanborn.”

  I inwardly cringed. “Tell me about your conversation.”

  “Dammit, Whittaker. Quit interrogating me, and tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “Z received a call late last night from someone in your organization who has reason to believe you were being tracked by people not affiliated with your government or ours. This individual requested that you be taken to a secure location.”

  “What about Caird? Agent Marietta said it wasn’t a suicide attempt.”

  I shook my head. “Someone tried to kill him and make it look as though he was attempting to take his own life.”

  “What evidence do you have?”

  “Enough to be certain.”

  Wren dropped her arms and gripped the back of a chair. “That isn’t the question I asked.”