Kissing The Enemy (Scandals and Spies Book 1) (20 page)

Morgan made a face. “And risk hurling you into the parson’s noose? I would never.”

Tristan swallowed twice before he was able to speak again. Somehow, his hand found its way back into his pocket. The linen handkerchief, soft from many washes, soothed him. He took strength from it. Freddie wouldn’t have left it if she didn’t care for him to some degree. He meant something to her, even if he didn’t know what that something was.

“I’m a grown man. I don’t need you to look out for me.”

Morgan’s nostril’s flared. “If I don’t, then who will?” His voice was loud, belligerent.

It shocked Tristan into silence. Morgan’s temper wasn’t usually this volatile.

In a more moderate tone, Morgan added, “I’m your brother. I care for your well-being.”

“I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions out from under your bloody shadow.”

Silence rang as Morgan’s face grew slack.

“You don’t truly feel that way.” There was a note of incredulity in Morgan’s voice, a question.

Tristan made a face. “Of course I do. You’ve been the golden boy ever since we were small, the heir. When you became Duke…”

A shadow fell over Morgan’s face like a veil. It cut off any trace of emotion in his eyes. Softly, he admitted, “I never asked for that. I never wanted it.”

Tristan recalled that grief-stricken time, when the fun-seeking, carefree brother he’d grown up with had turned into the austere man standing in front of him now. “I know.” Tristan’s voice was every bit as soft. The words tasted bitter as he spoke them. “But that doesn’t change the fact that everyone started to look at you differently. I became an afterthought, more than I already was.”

Morgan’s eyebrows twitched, a hint of fierceness soon subdued. “You aren’t an afterthought. You’re important.”

“To the spy initiative, yes.” Tristan clenched his hand around the handkerchief. “It was the only goddamn thing I had in my life that mattered, that made me feel like I was contributing, but you had to have that, too.”

Morgan’s gray eyes grew cloudy. “You think it’s fun being Duke? I can’t go off to war like Anthony. I can barely leave the blasted estate without something requiring my urgent attention! I wanted something that made me feel a little less like a prat who spent his entire life behind a desk.”

He still spent his time behind a desk, albeit some of that was for the spy movement.

Fiercely, Morgan added, “I wanted to contribute, too, to keep my family safe.”

“I know.” Tristan’s voice was so soft, he barely even heard it. He knew exactly how Morgan felt, because he felt the same way.

They so often butted heads that he didn’t stop to consider that Morgan might chafe at his role in life, too. And, come to think of it, Tristan wouldn’t trade him for the world. He wished his brother a long life and an army of sons. Tristan enjoyed his freedom too well to relinquish it for the responsibilities and notoriety of a dukedom.

What about for a wife? He’d always considered marriage to be a trap, a constriction on his life. With Freddie, he didn’t feel trapped. In fact, he considered her a ray of light in a bleak and sometimes black existence. He had done many things he wasn’t proud of, more than one of them in the name of spying. Freddie didn’t know the specifics, but she certainly suspected that he wasn’t a saint. When he was with her, she was a balm to his wounds. She made him feel important.

He had to protect her before she unwittingly found herself thrown in prison for Harker’s crimes.

Tristan shook his head. “This time you’ve crossed the line, brother. Even in the name of keeping the family safe. You know I would never do anything to jeopardize our family.”

“I know that you are blinded by her.”

“I love her!”

Lud, had he just said that aloud? Judging by the hard look on Morgan’s face, he had.

“That is exactly why I have to do this. If she wasn’t in Harker’s pocket, I would give you my blessing, but…”

“So take Harker instead,” Tristan spat. “He’s the bigger threat to the war.”

Shutting his eyes as if in pain, Morgan rubbed at his temple. “You know I can’t do that. We’ve been forbidden to interfere with him.”

“Why?”

“Supposedly he’s being monitored. Does it matter why?”

Tristan clenched his fists. He still held the handkerchief in his right hand. “It does when you’re trying to make me choose between my family and duty or—”
the woman I love.
Tristan shut his mouth. He couldn’t bear to speak the words again. With each repetition his conviction grew stronger. What if he couldn’t save Freddie? It might kill him.

Morgan’s voice turned cold. “The choice should be easy. If you warn her, you’ll be tearing apart everything you care about. I know it isn’t like you to allow your heart to interfere with your judgment, but…trust me on this, brother. I’m only looking out for what’s best.”

“No,” Tristan spat. “You’re doing what you’re told. I would have thought a duke would be able to make his own decisions.”

As a painful lump built in his throat, Tristan turned on his heel. He couldn’t argue with Morgan any longer. He had to act.

But what could he do? His superiors had ordered him not to touch Harker.
They can’t know the depth of his depravity.
Then again, neither did he. How had Harker convinced a sweet, innocent, perceptive, caring woman like Freddie to spy for him? She’d hinted, but never told him the specifics.

He needed to know. Now, more than ever.

He couldn’t warn her about Morgan’s duplicity. His brother was right, he would be turning his back on his country and family, not to mention Morgan’s trust. He hadn’t realized until that moment that for all their squabbles, he valued his brother’s trust. At the end of the day, they were family.

But if he kept his silence, the woman he loved could die. His head throbbed with the force of his predicament. He didn’t have much time to decide. There had to be another option.

F
reddie waited
for her sister to look the other way before she stumbled on the way to the door to their room. She purposefully snagged her hem on her toe and leaned her weight into it. The resulting
rrrrip!
sliced through the air. For once, her clumsiness came in handy, even though she landed on the carpet.

Charlie bounded to her side, hiking her skirt to her knees. “Freddie, are you all right?” She kneeled to help Freddie to her feet.

I’m in pain.
Freddie bit her tongue to keep from admitting as much. Her plan had been to rip her skirt, not fall face first onto the floor. At least she’d accomplished her goal. She twisted to examine the tear in her skirt. She fit three fingers through it.

Charlie batted her hand away. “Who cares about your skirt! Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Freddie said. She accepted her sister’s help to stand. A twinge stabbed her ankle, but she leaned her weight onto the other foot and hoped it would go away soon. The dinner hour approached and she still had to escape through the manor and across the lawn to the overlarge oak tree.

With Charlie’s help, she crossed to the settee and sat. She felt her ankle. A bit tender, but once she had her ankle boots on perhaps it would ease.

Her sister perched beside her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

She forced a smile. “Of course I am. I fall all the time, you know that.”

Once again, she reached down to finger that rip. It might be her most impressive yet—it was at least three inches long.

She feigned remorse. “You’ll have to go down without me. I need to change my dress.”

Charlie stood. “I’ll send in Lisane.”

“Don’t!” Freddie regretted her high tone the moment it left her lips. She stumbled over her tongue trying to recover before Charlie guessed that she was trying to avoid dinner. “I mean, she’ll be disappointed with me. You know how she hates when I rip my clothes. And she has so much work with you and Mama, too… It’s only the net overdress. There aren’t any laces. I can put it on by myself.” She shut her mouth with a click and tilted her head up to offer her sister a smile.

How could she possibly hope to impersonate a French spy when she couldn’t even lie to her sister about a dress?

Charlie looked dubious. “If you’re certain…”

“I am.”

Her sister narrowed her blue eyes. “I can help you dress.”

“If you do, you’ll be late. I’ll be fine on my own.” The corners of Freddie’s mouth started to ache. She held her smile in place by will alone. “I can take care of myself.”

As she sighed, a look of resignation crossed Charlie’s face. “Very well. I’ll see you down shortly.”

“Of course.”

The pain in Freddie’s cheeks mounted as she continued to smile. Charlie hesitated by the door, glancing over her shoulder as she slowly pulled it shut. Only once she was alone did Freddie let the smile fall from her face. Her ankle stung with short, insistent bursts that faded slowly. She took a steadying breath.

Standing wasn’t difficult. A little sore, but nothing she couldn’t manage. Her ankle wasn’t swollen and fit easily into her ankle boot, which provided additional support. In case she happened to come across Charlie afterward, she changed the thin muslin overdress for another. She had just settled it into place when the door opened behind her.

Her muscles tensed. She forced a smile. “I don’t need your help. I managed fine on my own.” When she turned, she stopped short, her jaw hanging open.

Tristan shut the door behind him as he slipped into the room.

She stepped closer. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was the barest hiss, in case someone was nearby to overhear.

“I’m stopping you from making the worst mistake of your life.”

His gaze lingered on her. He stepped closer, almost coming within arm’s reach. She hadn’t seen him since she’d snuck out of his room this morning. She hadn’t expected the encounter to feel so…natural. She’d expected pain, torture at knowing the pleasure he’d evoked between them. Instead, it felt as though she’d been missing one shoe all day and the moment he arrived she’d finally slipped her foot into it and was whole again.

She swallowed hard. Did he know the specifics of what she was about to do or was he only guessing? He looked so earnest, so adamant, that she couldn’t know for sure.

She cocked up her chin. “How do you know what I’m about to do?”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his beige waistcoat. “At a guess, I would say that you’re planning on interrupting the meeting my brother is having with his contact.” Tristan’s gaze sharpened. His eyes never left her face. “Please, Freddie, I implore you. Don’t do it. Don’t go.”

How could he know? She must have been a little too good at avoiding him today. He must have gotten suspicious. She opened her mouth, but her throat tightened. Her chest burned. She couldn’t bear to lie to him.

“I have to. If I don’t, Harker will…”

Tristan’s eyes narrow. “He’ll do what?” His voice was edged with steel.

She averted her gaze. “He’ll force himself on my sister.”

“He said that?” Tristan’s sharp, brusque tone punched through the air. He reached out to frame her shoulders with his big palms, preventing her from moving away.

She pressed her lips together, trying to collect herself. The sting in her eyes told her that she wasn’t far away from becoming a watering pot. Her voice was small when she answered, “Not in so many words, but he hasn’t hidden his wandering eye of late. I know it will happen if I don’t do something to stop it. That’s why I struck the deal with him.”

“What deal?”

He already knew. Why not tell him the specifics? “I have to bring him the book. The code book.”

Tristan said nothing at all. His silence was as ominous as storm clouds.

She nibbled on her lower lip. She still couldn’t look him in the eye. “I have to stop Harker. I can’t let him hurt my sister.”

“You don’t understand.” Tristan’s voice was every bit as soft. Almost pained. “You can’t do this. It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t care.” She lifted her head. Her show of strength evaporated as she met his gaze. His brown eyes were soft, pleading. She shook her head, trying to shake of the effect he had on her. “I’ll do anything to keep my sister safe.”

His hand tightened on her shoulder, pulling her marginally closer. Not quite into his embrace, but far enough that the heat of his body lured her. How good would it feel to press her cheek against his shoulder and let him hold her up for a moment or two? She was so tired of all this spying.

But the end was in sight. She had to stay strong.

“Are you willing to risk your life?” he asked.

“Of course I am.” The words flew out of her mouth without thought. “Wouldn’t you, for your sister?”

Dropping his hands, he turned with a muttered curse. When he turned back, running his hands through his hair, he admitted, “Yes, I would.” He lowered his arms to his side. His gaze turned pleading. “If I can’t stop you from doing this, then let me come with you. I can’t let you go alone.”

She frowned. Was he offering to change his allegiance? Slowly, she said, “We’re on opposite sides, Tristan.”

He caught her hand. His grip was firm, but not painful. “We don’t have to be.”

She pulled away. “Yes, we do. Even if Harker wasn’t involved, I would never betray my country.”

A look of bewilderment crossed Tristan’s face. “How can you say that while you’re working for our enemies?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re working for Harker. He’s a French—”

Freddie’s stomach threatening to turn itself inside out at the word
French.

“—spy.” Tristan took a small step forward, hands outstretched, though he didn’t touch her. “Didn’t you know that?”

Her head swam. Her knees turned to gruel. She sank onto the nearest flat surface, the bed. She lowered her head into her hands as her ears roared, for a moment drowning out all other sound.

When sound returned, and her spotty vision cleared, she heard herself say, “That can’t be.”

But it could be. In her heart, she’d known Harker was a villain all along. She stared at the toes of her ankle boots.

Gingerly, Tristan lowered himself beside her. He reached out to caress her knee. She raised her head to look him in the eye.

“Harker told me
you
were…”

Tristan sighed. “I don’t know why I didn’t consider that he might twist my allegiance. No, Freddie. I work for England. Morgan, too.”

“Can you offer any proof?”

His lips thinned as he pressed them together. After a moment, he ventured, “No. I’m a covert spy, remember? Any proof I have I am forbidden to show you.”

He might be lying.
After all the time she’d spent with him, she didn’t believe so. She hadn’t been able to reconcile the man she knew with the traitor Harker painted. Her relief at not having mistaken Tristan’s character was palpable.

But it presented an entirely new horror.

She lowered her head into her hands. “Oh, God. What am I going to do?” If she didn’t bring Harker the code book, he might do unthinkable things to her mother and sister. If she did… she would be betraying her country, and the man she loved, too. Her stomach swished as she contemplated her options. There was no way to win.

“I have an idea,” Tristan said. He sidled closer, slipping his hand into hers.

In wonder, she lifted her gaze to his. He still wanted to help her? She leaned forward, capturing his lips in a fleeting kiss. She poured all her gratitude, all her love into that kiss.

“I have to save my family. I’ll do anything.”

When she pulled away, he smiled and tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. He didn’t relinquish his hold on her hand. “Then hear me out,” he said. “I think there’s a way we can trick Harker into exposing himself, but you’re better at thinking ahead than I am. I’ll need your input. Freddie, I love you. I know nobody stronger or smarter. If we work together, I’m sure we can do this. We can do anything.”

I love you.
Her heart sang at the words.
We can do anything.
Yes. At that moment, she’d never felt like any words contained more truth. She didn’t feel diminished by his help. If anything, he lifted her up. As much as she needed him, he needed her, too.

Was this what marriage was supposed to be about?

She tightened her hand on his. “I love you, too. You’re right. We can do anything. What’s your idea?”