The Surrender of Miss Fairbourne (39 page)

He caressed and teased her breasts. The most delicious titillation made her sighs deepen. He aroused with his teeth and tongue in the delicate manner that always drove her mad. Pleasure lapped through her and she abandoned herself to its wonderful sensations, concentrating on his scent and touch and warmth, surrendering every part of herself so she might always own this memory.

Soon impatience claimed her as her arousal intensified. She begged him to take her so she might have all of him too.

“Soon,” he said, kissing her stomach and shoving up the chemise. “Not yet.”

She did not wait for his lead when he moved down on her. Instead she bent her knees, spread her thighs, and lifted her hips. He knelt and cupped her bottom and lowered his head in order to take her to paradise.

D
arius awoke at first light. He became instantly alert as his instincts warned of nearby danger. He stretched to reach the pistol he had laid on a table near the bed.

As his senses righted he heard the sound that had woken him. Down below, boot steps paced across the floor.

He rose out of bed and silently dressed, then descended the stairs. Sounds drew him to the back of the cottage, and the kitchen. Halfway there he lowered his pistol and ceased trying to walk quietly. He knew the voices talking back there.

“You are not going to steal that food, are you?” Ambury said.

“I am sure the lady will not mind my eating a bit of bread when she hears how close to starvation I was. I was on the sea half the night.” Crockery clattered. “There is some ham here too. Do you want some?”

“Of course not.”

“As you like.”

Darius entered just as Tarrington carved off a thick slice of the ham. From the chair where he lounged, Ambury watched with hungry eyes.

Darius took the platter with the ham from Tarrington, placed it down near Ambury, and proceeded to carve. “Share the bread, Tarrington,” he said over his shoulder.

Half a loaf came flying at Ambury.

“We brought you a horse,” Tarrington said as he ate and looked around. “So, where is our hostess?”

“I believe she is still asleep,” Darius said. Beside him Ambury’s jaw twitched, but to his credit he did not smile. “If you are here, Ambury, I assume you handed off our friends.”

“Hodgson and his guest took the road to London as expected, so it went smoothly. They are now the responsibility of the Home Office agent waiting at the crossroad Penthurst indicated in the letter you received. If their trail runs cold, I will kill whoever is responsible, after all the trouble we went through.”

“I trust Penthurst threatened something similar, so diligence would be employed.”

Ambury stuffed a hunk of bread with ham and feasted. “You do know that it will not take the French more than a few months to replace every spy that is caught.”

“Probably. One can only do one’s best.” He watched
Tarrington opening cupboards. “Tarrington, did you stop the boat after it left the shore?”

“Of course. This will shock you, but it was being used for free trade in addition to transporting that spy.”

“So was the last one. It is the cover they have used all along.”

“The last one held a few paltry items. This one was really used for smuggling. Lots of goods on it.” He popped another chunk of bread in his mouth. “I am ashamed to say the lads were ours, not French. It was a galley out of Diehl, no less.”

“They have been using galleys?” Ambury said. “No wonder they have not been caught. Twenty-four men at oars can escape any sloop or cutter. How long is the crossing in a galley?”

Tarrington studied the bread he ate. He shrugged. “I have heard—not that I know myself, now, being a peaceable, lawful sort—that in good weather a galley can make the run in five hours. As for this galley’s crew, they got friendly with the French they deal with in Boulogne, and ended up with this bit of work every now and then too. Hodgson passed the goods for them. It was all very neat.”

It
had
been neat, Darius thought. A galley rows over to France, loads wine and whatever, accepts letters or special passengers, rows back, and is met by a man willing to arrange the sale of the better goods at an auction house for full price.

“Where are those goods now?” he asked.

“Fell in the sea, they did. ’Twas a pitiful thing to see. I’ve the boat in a nice little cove, in case you want to check.”

Darius was very sure there would be no smuggled goods on that boat now. “And the crew? Were they all English smugglers?”

“Most of them. One seemed not to belong with the others. He tried not to talk, but finally he did. He was an escort, if you will. Of that special passenger.” He continued poking into drawers. “Do you know if she has any tea here? I would not mind a cup.”

“He just offered that information, did he?” Ambury asked. “That was generous of him.”

“Nah. He was persuaded.” Tarrington still concentrated on searching the kitchen.

“A pistol to the temple, no doubt,” Darius said, dryly.

“That was how I was going to do it,” Tarrington said. “But Lord Kendale interfered.”

“I am impressed,” Ambury said. “I would not have thought Kendale would intervene.”

“Most helpful, he was. He showed as how a man who is willing to die is not prepared for less than death. Said in the army they got what they wanted fastest with a very sharp knife threatening the privates of a man. Damned if he wasn’t right. That fat Frenchman saw that knife down there and couldn’t talk fast enough.” He came to the table to attack the ham again.

Ambury closed his eyes in forbearance.

“Where is he now? The fat one?” Darius asked.

“With the others, in that cave I have, waiting for your lordships to tell me what to do with them. A few of my lads are keeping watch. Lord Kendale is with them.”

“So we still have the boat, and the smugglers, and the fat man who made sure the special passenger got here safely and met his contact. Only the illegal goods are lost.”

“Right. Bottom of the sea, they are.”

“Ambury, I think we should have a talk with the fat man. The smugglers know from where they put to sea, and this fellow probably knows how to get from there to the lair of those who send the spies in the first place.”

Ambury’s eyes lit. “If you are thinking what I suspect, Kendale will be overjoyed. The admiralty will not like it, however.”

“They cannot stop smugglers from crossing to France, so it is doubtful they can stop us.”

Tarrington’s gaze shifted back and forth between them, following the conversation. “You think to go over? It isn’t as easy as you may think. They have a navy too, and soldiers
crowding the coast these days. In the least, you had better bring an army with you.”

“I was thinking more in terms of bringing you and your lads with us,” Darius said. “I am certainly not going to rely on the traitorous smugglers in that cave of yours.”

“No, no, no.” Tarrington waved both of his hands. “I agreed to one night along the coast.
Our
coast. Not some foolhardy, noble, stupid—”

“Ambury, remind me to ask Kendale what happened to the goods that were on that boat he and Tarrington’s lads stopped last night. Kendale might turn a blind eye, and see it as the spoils of war, but he will never lie outright if the question is put to him.”

Tarrington glared with resentment. Ambury laughed. Tarrington folded his arms and shook his head with resignation. “Hell, you are a hard man, Southwaite.”

“We may pay dearly for this, Southwaite, and I am not talking about the obvious risks to our persons,” Ambury said. “The government does not like its citizens making unauthorized military invasions.”

“If we are found out, there will be hell to pay; that is certain,” Darius said. “We will explain that in truth this was not a military mission. It was a rescue mission.”

D
arius explained what he meant, and whom they would rescue. If Ambury was skeptical, he did not show it. Tarrington only wanted assurance that his lads could take what they could carry. Kendale, Darius knew, would be glad for the action no matter what it was called.

He sent them off to make plans, then went up the stairs. Emma was awake, lying amid the sheets in the early-morning light.

She appeared so lovely. Her hair fanned over the pillows, silken and bright. Her gaze, as she looked over at him, contained memories of last night and a warmth born of the intimacy they now shared.

She believed her brother was still alive. She felt it, she said. She insisted the letter sent to her had not been a forgery. She knew Robert Fairbourne was alive more surely than he knew most things in his life, except his love for her. Who was he to question what her heart could and could not know?

He sat on the bed and bent low to kiss her, thinking, as he always did now, that she was extraordinary in every way. She may have surrendered to him, but in doing so she had captured him, totally.

“My carriage will come for you in a couple of hours,” he said. “It will take you back to London.”

“Are you coming too?”

“Not yet. There are a few things still to resolve, although the plan worked perfectly.”

“When will you be in London again?”

“A week, perhaps.”

Her arms encircled his neck and she kissed him hard and long. He felt emotion rise in her. She bared her heart in that kiss. Amid her love was sorrow, and even some fear.

He gently released her hold, and brought her hands together where he could kiss them. He stood to go.

“Do not forget that I love you, Emma. Never doubt that.”

“L
ord Ambury still has not reclaimed his ring and taken the earrings,” Cassandra said.

“I believe he has been preoccupied of late,” Emma said. “Is he even in town?”

“I have not seen him about. Perhaps he is not. However, the goal was to turn jewelry into money, not end up with more jewelry, so I hope he settles this soon.”

They sat in the garden behind Fairbourne’s auction house. Emma and Cassandra had stopped by here in order for Emma to meet with Marielle, who had just arrived. Marielle was busy untying the cord that closed a little sack that she had brought.

“Stupid Man is gone,” Marielle mentioned as her long, slender fingers worked at the knot. “Ten days now he has not been visible.”

“Who is Stupid Man?” Cassandra asked.

Marielle looked up, surprised, then turned apologetic eyes on Emma. She returned to the knot.

“A man who was bothering Marielle,” Emma said. She
would like to tell Marielle that Stupid Man would never be visible again, but discretion forbade it.

“Oh. I thought she was talking about my brother.”

Emma burst out laughing. Cassandra smiled with naughty pride. Marielle clawed at the string.

Emma wiped her eyes. It felt wonderful to laugh. She had not been in good spirits the last ten days. Southwaite’s absence from her life had left a void. She had not anticipated that, or the way her heart had so quickly resigned itself to living with that void forever.

“Do not forget that I love you. Do not doubt that.”
She did not doubt it. Nor did she expect it to make enough difference. There probably would not be a public scandal, but people who mattered to Southwaite already knew what she had agreed to do for Hodgson, and more would learn of it. If his alliance with her continued, his name would be forever compromised.

A week, he had said. It had already been ten days. She had reconciled to it being much longer. At some point a letter would come, and he would explain it all to her, with sincere regrets. She waited for it the way one waited for any bad news, with a sick worry that almost wished it would just happen and be over.

“Ah.
Bon
.” Marielle finally opened the neck of the sack. She carefully poured the contents on the table.

“Cameos,”
Cassandra exclaimed. She lifted one. “They are exquisite. They look very old.”

Emma held up one of the gems. Its tiny relief depicted Dionysus and his entourage. The agate stone from which it had been carved was so thin as to be translucent. “The carving appears antique, but the setting is later. A Renaissance work, perhaps.”

“That is what I was told. The woman who owns it says it was once owned by the king and is very valuable. She will give it to your auction if you have other fine things.”

Cassandra looked up from her cameo through her long black lashes. She gave Emma a quizzical look. “Are you starting to plan for the next auction already? Town is so quiet in the summer. I would have expected you to wait until autumn.”

Emma rubbed her thumb over the carving. “I do not know if I will have another one at any time.”

Southwaite had always wanted to sell Fairbourne’s. She would no longer resist that decision. If by some miracle Robert survived and returned, the proceeds from the sale would be waiting for him.

“Eh, it is always so for me,” Marielle said after a long sigh. “I find a means to eat, and something goes wrong.” She took the cameos out of Emma’s and Cassandra’s hands. “Perhaps that other one, Mr. Christie, will give me the twenty percent.”

Cassandra’s eyelids lowered. She crossed her arms and looked at Emma. “
Twenty
percent?”

For the second time Marielle realized she had misspoken. She busily stuffed the cameos away. When she was finished, she stood to take her leave. Her attention became distracted however, and she did not move.

“Why is he here?” she asked accusingly. “Like Stupid Man, I thought I was free of him.”

Perplexed, Emma turned and looked at the building. Lord Kendale stood at the building’s garden door. He looked at them, not moving.

Her heart sank. If Kendale was in London, whatever had to be resolved on the coast had been finished. Yet Darius had not called on her. He had not even written since that parting in the cottage.

The sick worry worsened. She knew, just knew, that she would be mourning the end of her first and only love affair soon.

She returned her attention to Marielle. “Do you know him?”

“It is the one who follows me. I told you about him. Handsome Stupid Man.”

“That is a very unkind name for him,” Cassandra scolded.