Where the Heart Chooses (11 page)

“I’m very game.” I reached up and kissed his
chin.

“Portia…” he breathed. “My ice
princess.”

“My ice prince.”

His smile was a little crooked. He kissed me
quickly. “Let’s go. Jackie will hate it if we’re late!”

* * * *

Nigel’s mission was based in Berlin.

There had been rumors that the Communists
were becoming increasingly agitated about the number of East
Germans who were choosing to leave the country of their birth and
make a life in West Germany, and he was assigned to look into
it.

We’d been in the American sector of Berlin
for almost three months, and while Nigel dealt with bureaucrats
both German and American, I toured the city. I was as poor a cook
as ever, but I’d found a German woman who was willing to prepare
dinner for a few marks plus the cost of the food.

On this particular day, Nigel came home
early. “Sorry, darling, but I won’t be able to have dinner with you
this evening.”

“Oh? Are you looking up an old girlfriend?”
I teased him. I knew he’d never do that. He was too honorable a
man.

“If only,” he teased right back. “I need to
make contact with a former associate.”

“Shall I keep some
schnitzengruben
warm for you?”

“Not necessary. I’ll grab a bite after I
meet with Milos Diomedes.”

“The Greek?”

“How do you know the Greek?”

“Be careful.”

“It’s just a simple—”

“I know.” I went to him and stroked my palm
over his hair, smoothing it down. “Humor me?”

“What’s wrong, Portia?” He took me in his
arms, and I tucked my head under his chin.

I couldn’t tell him that for the past two
days I’d felt as if someone had been watching us. I’d glance around
casually, but couldn’t see anyone suspicious.

I raised my head. “Just please be careful
tonight.”

Nigel stared down into my eyes, then cupped
my face with both hands and brought my mouth to his. His lips were
warm, and I deepened the kiss and wrapped my arms around him and
held on.

We were both breathing heavily when we broke
the kiss. He rubbed his cheek against mine. “I wish we had
time…”

“When you return home. Right now, you’d
better shave.”

His huff of laughter teased my ear, and I
hummed with pleasure. Finally I stepped back.

“Shave, darling. You don’t want to keep
Diomedes waiting.”

* * * *

I was in bed when Nigel returned home
shortly before midnight. “How did it go?” I asked casually.

“Waste of time. He never showed up.” He sat
on the edge of the bed, untied his shoes, and toed them off. “Did I
wake you? I’m sorry.” He removed his socks and stood, tugging his
shirt out of his waistband.

“It’s all right. You know I can’t sleep
unless you’re next to me.”

“God, I’m exhausted.” He unbuttoned his
shirt and peeled it off.

“Come to bed, darling.” I watched as his
torso was revealed. My fingers twitched with the need to stroke the
hair that covered his chest, but if he was that tired, I’d let him
get some rest.

The early hours of the morning were always
an excellent time to make love.

* * * *

In the hours just after dawn I was awakened
by abdominal cramps and a wave of nausea. I barely managed to get
to the bathroom before the nausea overwhelmed me.

The sound of my retching woke Nigel, and he
found me doubled over the commode. He held my hair off my face as I
continued to vomit until finally there was nothing left to come
up.

“That
schnitzengruben
really didn’t
agree with me!” I was certain it must be a touch of food poisoning
and tried to make light of the situation. “I don’t understand it.
I’ve never reacted to German food this violently.”

“I’m sorry, darling. This hasn’t been much
of a honeymoon for you.”

“Nigel…” I pressed my palm to his cheek. I
wanted to tell him that it was being there with him that made it
such a pleasure, but I felt too wretched.

“I promise for our next honeymoon I’ll take
you to Paris.” He brushed sweat-damp hair out of my eyes.

For two intelligent people, we were
amazingly blind.

“Do we have any Bromo-Seltzer?”

“No, but there must be an all-night pharmacy
somewhere. I’ll go—”

“You can’t. You need your rest. You have
that meeting in the morning.”

“I’ll cancel it. “

“No! You worked too hard to set this up;
it’s too important. If Bryan thinks I’m a liability to you, he’ll
try to make me go home.”

“Do you think I’d let him separate us?”

“Of course no-” My stomach roiled, and I
breathed shallowly. “Perhaps you’d better try to find that
pharmacy, Nigel.”

He worried his lower lip. “I’ll be back as
soon as I can. Will you be all right?”

“I’ll be fine, darling. I promise you. Just
help me back to bed.”

I expected him to set me on my feet, but he
scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the narrow bed we
shared. That was such a gallant action. Weak tears filled my eyes.
I never wept, and that frightened me even more than the pain that I
was keeping from my husband.

He set me down on the bed and pulled the
duvet up around my shoulders, then stroked my hair, leaned down,
and pressed his lips to mine before I could turn away. I murmured a
protest.

“Portia, why wouldn’t you want me to kiss
you?”

“I’ve been puking my insides out. My mouth
is so sour.”

“Darling, I…” His smile held a touch of
sadness, and if I hadn’t felt so wretched, I would have questioned
him about it. As it was, I just wanted him out of the room while I
could still bite back the moans. “That’s a rather inelegant manner
of phrasing it. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I nodded, and he dressed and kissed me once
more before he left. And of course, as soon as he closed the door,
the pain subsided. I gave a sigh of relief and closed my eyes,
determined to catch up on the sleep I had missed during the
night.

But the need to use the bathroom became
overpowering, and I growled a swear word I’d overheard my brothers
using when they hadn’t realized I was nearby. That was something I
would normally never permit myself to do. I pushed aside the duvet
and got to my feet.

The tugging pain was back, coming in waves
now, and I had just reached the bathroom when I felt a warm gush
between my legs.

Blood, bright red, pooling on the floor. I
was having a miscarriage.

* * * *

My diaphragm had failed; the doctor who saw
me gave that as the reason for the pregnancy. He had no explanation
for its loss.

I wondered briefly if the baby I’d lost
would have been a boy or a girl, and if he or she would have
resembled me or my husband. But there was the crisis in Berlin to
worry about, and I pushed it out of my mind.

Nigel had seen that the information was
passed on to Bryan, who sent word that we were to return to the
States, that the NOCs, the officers with non-official cover, would
take it from there.

We were in Nigel’s office, packing up the
odds and ends we had accumulated in the past six and a half months,
when Jefferson strode in.

“Hello, little sister.” He kissed my cheek.
“Mann.”

“Sebring. I assume Bryan contacted you?”

“Yeah. This is my sector now.” Jefferson
would make sure key people were in place in East Germany, and he
would encourage equally key people to leave before it became
impossible. “Word is a Wall will go up within the next two
weeks.”

A junior officer tapped on the door. “Mr.
Mann? The ambassador would like to have a word with you.”

Nigel looked puzzled but shrugged. “I’ll be
right back.”

“No rush, Mann.” My brother’s expression was
bland. I knew he was up to something.

“Jefferson, you don’t blame Nigel for the
miscarriage, I hope.”

He scowled at me. He had happened to be in
Berlin at the time and managed to pay a flying visit. “He never
once spoke of it. You could have bled to death on that bathroom
floor.”

“You’re exaggerating.” The hospital hadn’t
even seen the necessity of keeping me more than a couple of
days.

He continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Doesn’t
the man even
care
?”

“He cares.”

Nigel had awakened me one night shortly
after it happened, shaking so hard and holding me so tightly I
could barely draw a breath. Hot tears scalded my neck and
shoulder.

I managed to turn into the arms that were
wrapped like steel bands around me. “We can have another child,
darling.”

“
Fuck another child, Portia!
I could
have lost you!
”

“He cares more than you can imagine,
Jefferson. And if you ever say anything so horrible about him
again, I’ll smack you.”

He had the grace to look abashed. “It’s your
marriage, Portia.”

“Yes. Now I imagine the ambassador has no
idea he’s supposed to talk to my husband, so suppose you tell me
why you wanted to speak to me without him being here.”

He pulled something out of his pocket.
“Here.” Three live violets, only slightly crushed, their light
fragrance rising up to scent the close air of the small cubicle. “I
was asked to give you these by a friend of a friend.”

Folana.
My lips formed the name, but
I didn’t speak it aloud. I met Jefferson’s eyes and extended my
hand.

He placed the violets on my palm, and I
stroked the fragile petals.

“Is she well?”

“Yes.” His mouth tightened. “He told me she
had learned of your ‘illness.’ He said she wanted you to remember
her promise to you. What promise, Portia?”

“I fail to see that that’s any of your
business, Jefferson. What was between Folana Fournaise and me
remains strictly between Folana Fournaise and me.”

“Look, little sister, this woman is
dangerous. She and that maniac who calls himself her
second-in-command are traveling in East Germany, trying to
establish identities there.”

“For Sir Bowne?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He took a
turn around the cramped room, running his hand through his dark red
hair. “Bart’s using the name Nils Halvorsen. I’ve already told him
that if ‘Nils Halvorsen’ crosses my path I’ll have no qualms in
shooting his dick off.”

“Jefferson?” I rarely saw my brother so
irritated. He was the lighthearted one who took nothing seriously.
The fact that he’d actually used a slang term for that part of the
male anatomy demonstrated how aggravated he was.

“Jesus, Portia, do you know what the Limey
bastard had the gall to say? ‘Then I guess I’ll ‘ave t’ make sure I
don’t cross your path, luv.’”

“‘Luv’?”

“You know the Brits.” He hunched a shoulder,
refusing to meet my eyes. “They call everyone luv.”

“Of course.” Did he really think I believed
that? I knew well enough that there were times he turned to men for
physical companionship. Even if I hadn’t been involved with Folana
for that very short period of time, I’d never sever ties with my
brother—with any of my brothers—simply over the matter of whom he
chose to love.

“Besides, I’ve been more or less involved
with someone else.”

“Of course. Jefferson, that innocent
expression hasn’t worked with me since I was twelve, and Mother
told me that contrary to your assurances, I could not get pregnant
simply by kissing a boy.”

“It was worth a try to keep you out of
trouble. Boys were already giving you the eye.” His mouth curled in
the scamp’s grin that had women falling at his feet. And the
occasional man. Although when he caught the women, it was to simply
set them on their feet, give their backsides a pat, and move on to
the man.

“And you never gave me credit for being able
to take care of myself.”

“I just didn’t want to see you getting hurt.
I still don’t.”

“And I love you for it, but Jefferson, I’m
twenty-six. I hope you won’t be offended by me saying this,
but—”

“I know, I know, you’re a big girl now.”

Nigel strode in, pausing to scowl at my
brother. “I hope your conversation with my wife is finished,
Sebring. And I hope you haven’t upset her!”

“Or?”

“Or it will give me great pleasure to punch
you on the nose.”

“Yeah? Think you can take me, Mann?”

I interrupted before things could
deteriorate any further. “What did the ambassador have to say,
darling?” Men.

“He just gave me the usual malarkey about
what a pleasure it had been working with me, to give his regards to
your father, et cetera, et cetera. The man had no idea he’d be
called upon to make a farewell speech; it was so obviously
off-the-cuff.” He glared at Jefferson. “If you tell me I’m
paranoid, I
will
punch your nose.”

My brother looked down his nose at him,
sneering.

“That is not an attractive look for you,” I
told my brother, and he laughed reluctantly. “I’m a little hungry,
Nigel. Why don’t you take me to lunch? Jefferson, would you care to
join us?”

“No, thanks, little sister. I have some
things to take care of. I’ll see you before you leave.”

“Fine.” I kissed his cheek. “And please make
sure you’re in the States next June.”

“Next June?” He tried to look mystified, but
my unyielding gaze defeated him. “Oh. The wedding. Are you
sure…?”

“Sebring, your sister is married to me, and
not only is she going to stay married to me, but we’re going to
make your mother happy by getting married
again
. Get used to
that fact.”

I leaned against my husband, and my brother
gave a rueful smile at that demonstration of solidarity.

“I’ll be there. I promise.” He paused at the
door. “You might want to put those violets in water.”

“Violets, Portia?”

“From the friend I told you about.”

“You told him?” For some reason Jefferson
seemed perturbed.