Enticing the Spymaster (War Girls) (5 page)

Chapter Six

Jude hung helpless and silent in Michael’s grip as he stared down at her. What could she say to him that could possibly help him see reason? His first love was to king and country—she couldn’t fault him for that. He now knew she had information he needed, so of course he’d put her at the top of his priorities.

If she loved England as much as she loved him, she’d no doubt do the same. He was also the most stubborn man she’d ever known. He wouldn’t step away from his current course of action until he’d accomplished it.

“Then get me to the Netherlands.”

He frowned. “No more arguments?”

“No. I’ve been rather...foolish, sentimental even. I apologise.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn’t finished. “I promise to follow your orders without hesitation.”

The furrow between his eyes smoothed out, leaving behind a speculative gleam in his eyes. “All of them?”

She pressed her lips together and nodded.

His grip on her loosened. “Then we might get out alive.”

Jude shifted her weight backwards, thinking that he’d let her go, but he didn’t.

“If we’re challenged,” he said, lowering his face until she thought he was going to kiss her, “go along with anything I say, no matter how shocking. No hesitations.”

Her breath stuttered. Something told her he wasn’t going to make this easy. “I promise.”

“Good.” He paused and released her slowly, as if his fingers didn’t want to obey his commands.

Jude spent a long second regaining control of her lungs, then in the most businesslike tone she could muster, suggested, “We should hurry.”

He took her right arm in an unshakeable grip and set off at a pace that had her almost running to keep up with his long strides. His clean scent swept over her and she repressed a groan. No man should smell so good. No man should seem so safe despite all evidence to the contrary.

They walked several blocks before coming across anyone else, and when they did, it was only two civilian men dressed in poorly patched wool. They took one look at Michael’s uniform and the rifle slung over his shoulder and disappeared into an alley.

He led her across the street, hurrying her along even faster than before, towards a building with noise and light coming from a row of intact windows. Male voices and laughter spilling out onto the street.

“We’re almost there,” Michael said. “Try to look worried or a little scared. Avoid looking anyone in the eye. And if anyone talks to us, blush if you can.”

“Blush?”

* * *

The confusion on her face decided him. In order to get them on the train and away from Brussels, Michael had to convince anyone who might see them that he had a damn good reason to be travelling with her.

If he told her she would have pose as his wife, she’d argue or suggest some other solution. But no other solution would do. Not for him.

He wanted her. He had for years. Her father had convinced him that her crush would fade and disappear. That she was meant to marry someone else. Someone with a similar pedigree. Someone safe. Like a good soldier, he’d marched away.

Two years later she still wasn’t married and she was certainly
not
safe.

He might not get to keep her, but he wanted a taste. Enough to feed the hunger time had only intensified.

He picked up the pace and rushed her into a dark gap between buildings too narrow to be called an alley. He slid one hand behind her back, the other behind her head, and took her lips in an almost brutal kiss.

Her lips were soft and delicious. And she kissed him back with a passion he hadn’t expected. He softened his mouth and cradled her in his arms, gentling her. He nibbled and licked a path to her ear.

“I want to kiss every inch of your skin, every part of your body. I want to kiss you until you plead for more, until you’re drunk on your own passion.”

She gasped and clutched him closer.

He kissed her again then pulled away to gaze at her. One thumb traced an intricate pattern on her cheek. “You’re blushing. I can feel the heat under your skin.”

She stared up at him, and he watched her face change as she realised he’d kissed her on purpose, taken her body and made it respond the way he wanted, so she could blush on command.

He hated to see tears in her eyes, hated knowing he put them there.

A single tear escaped. He caught it with a finger.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I seem to be forever apologising to you, but even this small thing might mean the difference between our escaping or not.”

“I understand.” A lie he was sure, but it didn’t matter. All they had to do was survive, get out of danger. Back in England, he’d make sure her father kept her home. She’d be out of danger, trouble and his life for good.

“Blushing shouldn’t be a problem.”

Her voice sounded so bleak he shook her. “Stop. Stop whatever you’re thinking right now.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You think I kissed you because of the situation, because I was forced to?”

“I understand the realities of our position. I harbour no ill will and certainly won’t hold it against you in the future.”

“I’ll have to spend some time explaining to you how something can mean more than one thing at a time.”

“What?”

He took her mouth again. Slid his lips against hers, nipping until she let him inside, her tongue welcoming his. He indulged his need to savour her, hold her for several long seconds, then slowly eased away.

She breathed as heavily as he and probably looked as shocked as he must.

“Make no mistake. That kiss had absolutely nothing to do with our
situation
.”

* * *

Jude stared. She couldn’t help it. He looked down at her with eyes that seemed to say much more, but his mouth twisted into a grimace. Then he pulled her out onto the street and tugged her towards the station.

There were more people about now. Soldiers and civilian men and women, most of them huddled over themselves, their eyes to the ground. A great crowd of soldiers in clean uniforms gathered near the train platform, their officers yelling orders.

Michael had taken that aggressive grip on her arm again and pulled her towards the ticket office. They waited in line a few minutes, Michael’s attention either on the office window or on her face.

Jude kept her gaze on the ground for the most part, though she did peek at him occasionally, blushing every time. When it was finally their turn Michael leaned close to the wicket and spoke in a voice that didn’t carry.

Jude tried to listen in, but Michael pushed her so she stood directly behind him and there was so much background noise she couldn’t make out what the two men were saying to each other. A German soldier—a junior officer she suspected—came out of the office to examine the bottles of brandy. Michael took her pack with the rest of the medical supplies and opened it as well, allowing the officer to inspect it. He looked at her with such a direct gaze she automatically blushed and bent her head to study the boards beneath their feet.

The soldier nodded and Michael handed him the brandy and the pack of medical supplies in exchange for two tickets from the ticket agent.

Michael saluted the soldier and the agent, then grabbed her arm in an unshakeable grasp and towed her onto the train.

The narrow aisle was crowded with soldiers, and Michael kept his body between hers and everyone else’s. He brought her forward through two cars then finally stopped and entered a berth, closing and locking the door behind them.

It was a narrow space, with barely enough room to turn around in and a seat along the length of one wall.

Michael sat down and stowed his rifle under the window.

Jude sat next to him, her back hard and straight. “Where are we going?”

“To a border town in the Netherlands called Maastricht.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

She studied him. The dark circles under his eyes, the strength of his hands and the sinful curve of his lips. “What did you say to those men?”

“I told them we’d just been married and I was taking you to live with my family in Cologne.”

Her jaw fell open. “Married?”

“That reminds me,” he muttered, sitting up. “Here we go.” He pulled something small out from under his shirt. A chain with a ring hung on it. He took the ring off the chain, grabbed her left hand and fitted the gold band onto her ring finger. “Try not to lose this, it was my grandmother’s.”

“Try not to...to—” Anger boiled up from the pit of her belly, almost choking her. She stared at the ring on her finger, clenched her teeth and swallowed the fury. “Of all the
lies
you could have told, why this one?”

“It’s the easiest to believe.”

“What do you mean? You could’ve pretended I was your sister or a cousin. This—” she tugged at the ring, but it wouldn’t come off, “—isn’t necessary.”

“Those men at the station took one look at you and assumed you were my wife. Not going along with it would have been suspicious.”

“Assumed? Why?”

He stood and loomed over her. “Because getting a woman onto a train full of soldiers and keeping her safe isn’t easy. It’s the only reason they’d believe.” One hand cupped her hot cheek.

The expression on his face made Jude forget to breathe. She dimly heard the sound of knocking outside the berth, but couldn’t tear her gaze from his face. He reached to unlock the door then braced one knee next to her on the bench, his arms coming around her, caging her in.

She tried to evade his mouth—if he kissed her, she wouldn’t be able to resist—but he angled her head up and caught her lips as someone knocked and opened the door.

“Tickets, please.”

Chapter Seven

They were both panting by the time Michael tore away from her, reached into his jacket pocket and handed the tickets to the conductor.

He glanced at the tickets, at Michael and, finally, at Jude. “Cologne?”

Michael nodded. “I’m taking my wife to stay with family.”

“You have leave for this?”

“Three days.” He pulled a paper from his inside breast pocket and handed it over.

The conductor looked at the page then returned it with a grim smile. “We’ll be making several stops to take on and let off passengers. Lock your door.” He backed out, closing the door after himself.

Michael engaged the lock.

Jude pressed against the wall and looked at him as if he were a package of explosives about to go off. Not afraid—cautious. A gentleman would retreat, resume his position on the bench and discuss the next part of their escape plan.

He did neither. He remained crouched over her, more than half certain she’d bolt if given the opportunity. He wouldn’t give it to her. “We’re long overdue for a talk.”

She gathered herself, taking a deep breath. “What else is there to discuss?”

He let a grin slide across his face, showing teeth. “I want to know everything.”

“Everything?”

“How you came to be a nurse and spy in the former palace. How you came to be involved in the underground. What
exactly
you’ve been doing since the war started and
why
.” He leaned down so close their noses touched. “We have plenty of uninterrupted time. I want all the details.”

He hovered over her for several more moments until she raised one eyebrow. “You’re going to have a sore back if you stand like that for any real length of time.”

He slowly folded himself onto the seat. “You don’t fear me, do you?”

“Should I fear you?” Her furrowed brow made it clear she wasn’t asking the question lightly.

“I intimidate most people—men and women.”

“Really?” She turned away. “I can’t imagine why. You’re no different than any other man.”

He chuckled. “You’re the only person who has never been afraid of me. You’ve taken me to task when it suited you. And you asked me to marry you. A fact that would have scandalised your entire family had they known.”

“Well, you seemed so disheartened that day. I had to say something to cheer you up.”

“You succeeded.”

“Did I? You seemed somewhat uncomfortable with my question.”

“Well, I could have hardly expected it. And despite how you may have perceived my response, I was really quite tickled by your courage.”

“That will help explain all the rest I should imagine. Simply apply courage to the rest of your questions and you’ll have your answers.”

“Oh no. Don’t for a moment think that you’ve explained yourself to my satisfaction.”

She sighed. “What a bother. Fine, if you insist. After your rejection I was compelled to consider what use I could be to my family, since marriage was out of the question.”

“Why would it be out of the question? I’m sure you’ve had several offers for your hand.”

“None I could accept.”

“Why not?”

She rolled her eyes as if he were a young boy of limited intelligence. “My husband would have to be a man whose honour is above reproach, who could be trusted in a position of authority in possibly two countries. Who could be trusted with information from either government. You know my father’s unofficial position as royal advisor and my mother’s proximity to the Belgian crown. Most of my potential suitors simply didn’t make the cut.”

Regret turned his tongue bitter. “Just as I didn’t.”

“I found you to be...perfectly acceptable.”

“What about your family? Your father? Did they think a man with a profession as dangerous as mine, a man who’s rarely in England for more than a week at a time, a man trained to lie, deceive and kill was
acceptable
as a husband?”

“You lie, deceive and kill because your sense of duty is so strong. You’re willing to sacrifice everything for your country. In my mind, that makes you—
made
you the only man for me. Or so I thought. You corrected that assumption.”

So passionate. Could it be that no one else had seen it? Desired it,
her
enough to fight for her? “I find it astonishing that your parents couldn’t arrange a suitable marriage for you.”

“They suggested two or three possibilities. All eventually withdrew.”

“You mean to say they retracted their offers?” With her family’s position of prominence he could hardly believe a good man—the perfect man—hadn’t stepped forward.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Her cheeks turned a rosy red, but she didn’t answer.

“Why, Jude?”

“I didn’t want to marry any of them. They were politically suitable, but as potential husbands? No.”

“What could possibly remove a man from
your
consideration who’d already met with your parent’s approval?”

She lifted one hand and began ticking off reasons like a list of unpleasant tasks. “Too many mistresses. Snores loud enough to wake the dead. Believes all women are stupid and their only functions are to have babies and host parties—”

“Wait. Too many
mistresses?
”

“I made inquiries.”

“Of whom?”

“Of family and intimate friends, of course. I questioned them carefully, disguised as conversation.”

“Relatives told you about snoring and mistresses?”

“Well, no, not relatives.” She blushed again. “But others who knew them very well.”

“Others?” Her cheeks kept getting redder and redder, and she wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Good God, you talked to their mistresses, didn’t you?”

She shrugged. “Not all of them had anything so formal as a mistress. One used the same prostitute regularly.”

“You conversed with a
prostitute?
”

* * *

He looked as if he were about to have a fit. His cheeks were stung with red.

“I most certainly did.”

Her answer only seemed to befuddle him further. “
Why?
”

“A wise woman makes discreet inquiries into her prospective husband’s life to ensure she’s not tying herself to someone unworthy.”

“Where did you learn that? Certainly not from your mother.”

“Of course I learnt it from my mother. She’s intelligent and careful. She made the same investigation into my father’s character before she married him. He didn’t know, but that’s neither here nor there.”

His expression turned thoughtful. “Did you...”

“Did I ask about you? Yes, but not until after your rejection. I happened to meet Mrs. Emily Bancroft while shopping one afternoon. A lovely woman. It’s sad that her husband passed away only a year into their marriage, but she seemed content with her circumstances.”

His jaw now hung as if no longer hinged. “How did you find out she was my...”

“Mistress? I asked Mother if she knew—and she did.”

His teeth snapped together. “Your mother is a menace.”

“Why on earth did you think Father married her? She has friends everywhere.”

“I think I’ve been a fool. I should have been recruiting women to act as spies.”

“Indeed. Now do you understand why Father let me do this?”

“Don’t put words into my mouth. A certain kind of woman, not you.”

“Why not me?”

“Because.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake.
Why?
”

“Because you’re too valuable to be put in harm’s way.”

“How is my value more or less than any other woman?”

“You said it yourself. Your father’s unofficial position as royal advisor and your mother’s proximity to the Belgian crown.” She opened her mouth to tell him how idiotic she thought his statement was, but he kept talking. “How did you get stationed as a nurse in the palace?”

His clenched jaw convinced her to allow the conversation to move forward. She didn’t want him to burst a blood vessel.

“There was a lot of confusion at the beginning of the war. After it became clear that no one was going to win quickly, I decided to work with Rose Culver. She’d been my teacher and mentor, and I felt relatively safe with her. When the German army set up the hospital in the palace, they came to Rose and told her to supply Belgian nurses to staff it. I volunteered.”

“Your father didn’t know you’d end up working under the noses of the German command.”

“He had no idea I’d end up so close to them.”

“Luck,” he growled. “That’s the only thing that’s kept you out of harm’s way.”

“Perhaps. But regardless of how, I’ve been able to learn things about German military plans that would otherwise go unknown until far too late.”

“You spoke of poisoned gas.”

“Yes. I nearly vomited when I realised what they’d done. It’s a gas that burns the eyes and lungs. It kills, but often slowly. Painfully. A soldier afflicted by it will drown in his own fluids.”

“You’ve seen the results?”

“Yes, it was horrible.”

“When will they use it?”

“Five days I believe, soon to be four. They have some sort of attack planned.”

Michael shook his head. “It seems inhuman to use a weapon so indiscriminate. Can they control the gas? Make it go where they want it to go?”

“How could one control a gas?”

“You can’t. What are they so afraid of that they would stoop to this?” His whisper seemed rhetorical, so she remained silent. She didn’t have an answer at any rate. He stood. “I’m going to see if there’s any food to be had. Lock the door and don’t open it to anyone but me.”

“Of course.”

The expression he turned on her before leaving was nearly hostile.

She locked the door behind him.

One thing was certain. She hadn’t answered his questions to his satisfaction and it was unlikely she ever would.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the door and Michael called out his name. She let him in. In his hands were a basket covered with a thin cloth and a small jug.

“Bread, cheese and water,” he told her, handing her the basket. “The train is full of soldiers on rotation. They get several days in Liege or Cologne, then it’s back to the trenches for who knows how long.”

She took a piece of bread and a bit of cheese. “The wounded who come from the trenches are damaged more than just physically.”

“Shell shock, they’re calling it.” Michael ate some bread. “We’re getting reports of men incapacitated but without a mark on them. Command has had some tried as cowards or deserters and shot.”

“Do you think they’re cowards?”

“No. There’s horror in war that some men can’t bear. Not because they’re lesser men, but because they care too much. Not everyone is capable of facing the gruesome reality of death the way they’re being forced to now.”

“They come into the hospital covered in dirt, blood and God knows what, their clothes infested with lice, ticks and fleas. But it’s their faces that tell me how horrible it is.” She would never get those expressions out of her memory. “Empty eyes, slack jaws. Some of them twitch or jump at any noise.”

“And now we’ll have to deal with poisoned gas.”

“This madness has to stop.”

“Unfortunately, neither side appears willing to surrender.”

“No, I suppose not.” A yawn swallowed anything else she might have said.

“We both need rest.” Michael stood and folded out a narrow bunk from high on the wall. A cramped ladder made it accessible. “I’ll sleep on the bench.”

She nodded and climbed the steps. She lay down and tried to ignore the sounds of Michael removing his uniform jacket. The memory of his touch arched through her body.

Perhaps sleep wouldn’t be so easy.

* * *

Jude woke to Michael’s voice and his hand on her arm.

“What is it?”

“We’re about an hour from Liege.”

She climbed down the ladder. “Is there a room on the train where I could wash?”

He nodded. “The train is full of soldiers and little else. Keep your eyes on me or the floor and stay close.”

“I’m ready.”

They left the berth. He turned right and she followed as closely as she could. There were many soldiers standing in the aisle, and she could see them stare at her out of the corner of her eye.

Michael stopped at a narrow door, opened it, looked inside, then told her to go in.

The room was narrow, but there was clean water and soap. She was able to take care of all her needs in a few minutes.

They made their way back to their berth and Michael locked the door again.

She sat on the bench, staring at the ring on her finger. “Why your grandmother’s ring? What if I lose it?”

“You won’t.”

“Michael, you should be saving this ring for your wife, not using it as a prop in this badly written play we’re acting out.”

The smile on his face looked as if it had been carved by a razor. “I won’t ever have a wife.”

“Give it to one of your female relatives, then,” she said through tightly clenched teeth. She tried to pull it off, but it refused to budge.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I want you to keep it.”

“Why?”

His answer was to lean back and close his eyes. As if that finished their discussion.

Rage swept over her. “Because you feel guilty? Sorry for me?” His eyes popped open and she shook a finger in his face. “Don’t you
dare
.”

He leaned forward. “I feel a great many things for you, but not pity.”

She mirrored him. “I don’t believe you.”

He seized her. “Believe this.” He kissed her, his lips at first hard then soft.

Jude put her hands on his chest to push him away, but her fingers disobeyed. They curled into his uniform and pulled him closer.

He put one hand behind her head while the other slid behind her back, pulling her on top of him into firm contact with his body. His erection felt like a hot, hard rod against her belly.

She braced her hands against his shoulders and she wrenched her mouth away. If he kissed her again, she’d be lost. She’d do whatever he wanted, be whatever he wanted. Distraction was her only hope.

“Wha—”

Too late.

He covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her words. His kiss was insistent, determined and unforgiving. His lips took over, his tongue tasting her as if she were his favourite meal and he was starving.