A Secret in Her Kiss (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-five

M
ari balanced her sketchbook on her knees. She missed her easel. Peering down, she studied where Vourth perched over a sheer ocean bluff. Scaffolding clung to an entire segment of the inner wall of the fortification. Deep trenches connected the old Byzantine fortress to what would soon be the foundations of a new perimeter wall, but construction had yet to begin. She’d expected them to be a lot further along.

She frowned as she drew what she could. If they made any changes as they finished building, the information she provided would be worthless.

Mari paused and flexed her hand, relieving the aching stiffness for the fifth time.

“Are you all right?” Bennett asked. He approached from his vantage point on a pile of boulders a few feet away.

“Rapidity and miniature work aren’t pleasant bedfellows.” She opened and closed her fist, then dipped her quill and added a few more lines. “That’s all the information I can provide from what’s here. Why didn’t they have us wait a few more weeks?” She blew on the wet ink. “Completion is a month or two away at least. Why were you in such a hurry?”

He looked into the surrounding rocks and pines. “I have family matters to attend to in England. But in this case, the timing wasn’t my idea. We received word that the fort was almost finished. Apparently, that intelligence was incorrect.”

She closed the sketchbook. “Apparently. Who gave you the information?”

“Daller. I intend to question him on the source when we return.”

She nodded and tucked the book under her arm. “Then let’s go before we tempt fate past her enduring.”

The pace Bennett set leaving was only slightly less exhausting than the one they’d used to arrive. Her heart hammered, but now it was with simple exertion, not terror. Relief slid over her. They’d done it.

She walked into Bennett’s back.

“Get down,” he ordered, his voice low. “Bandits.”

Terror resumed its familiar tempo in her chest. She dropped to the ground behind a large rock. The gritty sand dug into her cheek.

Next to her, Bennett opened her box of art supplies, unstoppered a jar of ink, and splattered a small amount over his thumb and index finger. “I drew everything in there. Understood?”

She nodded.

He pulled the sketchbook from her limp fingers.

“What would they be doing so close to the fort?” she asked.

“Most likely the same thing we are, gathering information.”

A few moments later, a small group of bandits came into view. One of the men was the greasy-shirted man from the previous afternoon, but the others she didn’t recognize.

The group of men continued to grow. There were at least fifty or sixty men. What was going on?

Each of the bandits bristled with multiple guns and swords.

Bennett swore under his breath. “They must be attacking the fort before it’s completed.”

A shot rent the air. A red circle blotted out the grease stain on the bandit’s shirt, and he slumped to the ground.

Soldiers erupted from around nearby rocks. The bandits panicked, firing their guns and flailing with their swords.

In the chaos, Bennett shifted so his body covered Mari’s. His weight crushed her into the sand and she had to work to inhale. The sketchbook he’d sandwiched between them burrowed into her back.

Now she could only hear the fight. Boots crunched into the sand. Metal clanged as sword met sword. Canisters rattled as balls loaded into guns and rifles. Men cursed in Turkish, Armenian, and Greek, and screamed in pain in no language at all. Bodies fell with muted thuds.

The sounds stopped. Only the cries of the wounded punctuated the sudden silence.

She tried to raise her head to see, but she doubted Bennett even felt her attempt against his chest.

“Search the area. Kill any still alive.”

She flinched at the cold satisfaction in the speaker’s voice. Someone shrieked with rage or terror. A gun fired and the noise ceased.

She inhaled sharply. Dust clogged her nose and coated her throat. “They’re going to—”

“I know.”

“But how—?”

“The soldiers can’t risk the other bandits trying to rescue their friends, not with the fort unfinished. I would’ve given the same order.” He stiffened above her. “We go. Now.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to her feet alongside him. “The bandits in the clearing will only buy us a brief moment.”

She whipped her head around at a gurgling cry. A few dozen feet away, a soldier slid his bayonet from a man’s throat. Bennett’s hand clamped over her mouth, smothering her gasp. His arm still encircling her, he lifted her off her feet and carried her with him.

He led them into the deeper brush. “Can you walk?”

She nodded and he set her down.

Footsteps sounded behind them and the cold voice spoke again. “Fan out into the surrounding area.”

They would be captured. She scanned the area around them. There had to be something— There. “Follow me.” She grabbed Bennett’s hand and tugged him after her. He offered only a brief moment of resistance before following her.

She picked her way to the chosen spot in the copse of firebloom and knelt down. “If you value your skin, don’t let the leaves touch you.”

The small alcove she’d found barely fit the two of them. As Bennett lowered himself beside her, she leaned to the left to give him space. Her cheek brushed one of the furry green leaves and fire seared the left side of her face. She blinked back tears. She’d stumbled into a patch of firebloom once as a girl; the pain was as shocking in its intensity now as it was then.

A pair of soldiers circled some nearby trees. When she trembled, Bennett tucked his hand in hers. As she’d hoped, the men skirted widely around the patch of living hell.

Bennett leaned over and kissed the base of her neck. Pleasure deluged her senses. She tightened her lips. How did he have such power over her? They huddled in the middle of poisonous plants, surrounded by enemy soldiers, and still a single kiss robbed her of reason.

Click
.

It was the sound of a hammer being drawn back on a pistol. “Get to your feet.”

The voice came from behind. Bennett turned his head but made no move to follow the demand.

It wasn’t until the soldier repeated the order that she realized he was speaking Turkish. “He wants us to stand,” she translated.

The soldier issued another order.

“Slowly,” Mari repeated.

They pivoted around. The soldier was young and lanky. In a fight, Bennett could—

The man shouted for his group. Four other men converged on their spot.

Even Bennett couldn’t take five armed men.

“What have you found? I ordered you to kill all survivors.” A sixth man appeared. A thick, bristled mustache underlined the hooked nose that dominated his face. His uniform marked him as the captain. The void in his eyes matched the ice in his voice.

“But, sir, I think they’re English.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed?” His lips stretched into a serpentine smile. He switched to English. “You’re British?”

Mari nodded, as the captain advanced on her and ripped the hat from her head.

After a slow survey of her body, he snapped his fingers and the soldiers rushed to detain them, cursing as they encountered the firebloom. “Let me be the first to welcome you to Vourth.”

Chapter Twenty-six

T
he guard stepped between Bennett and the pine chair as if daring him to try to sit. He needn’t have worried. The chair appeared as harsh and unappealing as the rest of the captain’s office.

Bennett tossed the sketchbook carelessly onto the captain’s desk. Mari proved her merit and didn’t flinch.

“Why have you detained us, Captain?” Bennett asked.

The captain smiled the same superior smile as earlier. “I think we both know the answer to that.” He picked up the sketchbook, then dropped it back on the desk with an annoyed sigh. “You’re here on behalf of the English, are you not?”

Bennett lifted a brow. “We are here so I can draw insects. There are several specimens unique to this region.”

The captain picked up the sketchbook again and flipped through it. “Yes, I’m sure that’s the story you worked out, but I’d like the truth.”

“You have it.”

“I see.” He looked back and forth between Bennett and Mari. “Why did you bring this woman with you? Is she your lover? Or your accomplice?”

The captain didn’t know. Bennett relished the small moment of relief. The captain didn’t know Mari was the agent or that she hid information in her art.

“I most certainly am neither. I’m a naturalist.” Mari’s indignation was unfeigned.

The captain slapped Mari across the face, snapping her head back.

Bennett surged forward, only to be stopped by a sword pressing against his neck.

“You don’t address me unless spoken to, whore.” The captain’s demeanor remained cordial, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he eyed the reddened skin on Mari’s cheek.

“She’s a skilled naturalist, you bastard. She finds the insects for me to draw.”

“Ah, so that explains her clothing?”

Mari spoke. “It makes it easier—”

The crack of the captain’s hand interrupted her explanation. “I wasn’t speaking to you.”

Bennett knocked away the sword at his neck with a quick blow to the flat of the blade, but the other two soldiers in the room drew their swords. “Damn you,” he growled. “The British government won’t stand for this type of treatment.”

“But they won’t know what happened to their spies. You’ll both disappear and they’ll concoct some story to cover your untimely disappearance.”

The blade he’d batted away returned angrily against his side. “We’re naturalists and there will be questions if we don’t return. My cousin is the ambassador in Constantinople.”

“If you think I’m going to invite him here and allow you to pass on information, you’re sadly mistaken. If he’s your cousin, then he’ll mourn your disappearance like all the rest.”

“We’re innocent.”

The captain lined Bennett’s knives and pistol on his desk. “Naturalists normally travel armed?”

“If they’re going into dangerous territory.”

“I was so hoping we could be pleasant about this.” The captain laughed suddenly, eyeing the welt on Mari’s cheek. “No, actually, I wasn’t. I’ll see to them personally in the morning.”

He faced Mari and undid the top two buttons of her shirt, then trailed a finger down her cheek to the cleft between her breasts.

Bennett tensed. To hell with this. If the captain didn’t stop touching her, he’d die.

“You see,” the captain said, “the fear of violence is far more effective than violence itself. The uncertainty is the worst. Not knowing what I’ll do to you.” He drew back to study Mari. “Or have my men do to you. But don’t worry. The pain will come. Pain is a scalpel for extracting truth. And I wield that scalpel well.”

Mari met the captain’s gaze, but Bennett could see the fear in her eyes and knew the captain could also. The man practically glowed with triumph.

Bennett reached for the desk while the captain focused on Mari. The sword dug into his side, but when he grabbed the sketchbook rather than the knives, the soldier didn’t bother to stop him, and turned his hungry gaze back to Mari. Bennett tucked the book in his coat.

“Lock them up.” The captain nodded, and his men grabbed Bennett’s arms.

One of them asked something in Turkish Bennett didn’t understand.

“Well, then you’ll have to clear a space for them, won’t you?” the captain answered.

Another question from the soldier.

The captain tapped his chin and answered in English, no doubt for their benefit. “Just clear out one. We’ll give him one night to try to convince her things will be all right. It will make it all the more poignant when we cut the flesh from her weeping body while he watches.”

Once outside the office, Bennett again scanned their surroundings as the soldiers led them across the compound. Neatly stacked piles of stone and brick rested beside gaps in the walls. The holes should’ve been in their favor, but an increased number of guards had been posted to counteract the weakness. Damn. It was much easier to scale an unguarded wall than sneak through open ground avoiding sentries.

The soldier next to Mari leered down at her. He tugged on her hair and his companion laughed, snickering at some comment. Bennett didn’t have to speak Turkish to guess the nature of their discussion. All soldiers of their ilk thought the same.

But Mari could understand them.

He might not be armed, but he’d not allow these poor excuses for men to torment her further. “If you value your life, you will cease,” he snarled, grabbing the collar of the soldier closest to him and yanking him back. But three other men rushed to restrain him before he could do more than throw the man to the ground. Pain exploded through his skull as a panicked soldier slammed the hilt of his sword into the back of Bennett’s head. He blinked trying to clear his blurred vision, but a sword resting on Mari’s neck ceased his struggle.

A fist landed in his gut like a battering ram and he doubled over, trying to remind his lungs how to breathe. He was shoved forward toward the old Byzantine fortress.

But he allowed himself a small smile as he saw the distance the two guards kept from Mari.

Whether they recognized the threat in his voice or the fact that he stood a head taller than either of them, he didn’t know. But both men quieted and moved their hands to the hilt of their swords.

The guards led them into the old Byzantine fortress. Foul air wafted up a sharply angled staircase.

Bennett and Mari were shoved back as another soldier appeared at the top of the stairs, leading a group of three prisoners who’d been bound together in a chain. The last man’s face was so swollen his eyes were mere slits inside red, battered flesh. When he stumbled, the soldier didn’t stop but dragged his moaning body along behind.

Another voice outside yelled, “Fire!” One of the few words Bennett knew in Turkish. Muskets fired and Mari jerked next to him like she’d been the one hit. He reached for her to ensure she was unharmed, wanting to shield her from this, but the guard stepped between them with a cold sneer. He pulled his sword and motioned down the stairs. Bennett counted the stairs as they descended. Twenty-two. There was no place for a guard to stand watch except at the top and bottom.

Their descent ended in a hallway lit by two sputtering torches. Half a dozen heavy doors lined both sides. From the moans and shouts coming from within, prisoners occupied them all.

Mari’s shoulders remained straight and proud, but Bennett could see the way her hands trembled against her legs. And he could do nothing. Fury and disgust battled within him. He would have done anything at this point to spare her, but he was powerless. What had happened to his bold promises of protection? Mari had been right to doubt him all along.

He turned his thoughts before they crippled him. Besides the two guards that led them down, only one other lounged at the end of the corridor. If he could manage to disarm one, he could probably overcome the other two.

The new guard removed a heavy iron key ring from his belt and unlocked a door. With a grunting laugh, he shoved Mari between the shoulder blades, sending her sprawling on the filthy stone floor of the cell. Her pained gasp drove Bennett forward, until he knelt at her side.

The thick wooden door to the cell closed with a far too solid thud behind him. Bennett blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the dimness, but it did little good. The only light in the fetid room seeped through the small crack under the door.

He helped Mari sit. “Are you all right?”

She rubbed her elbows. “I— Yes.” She scrambled to her feet. “There must be some way out.”

He heard her searching the walls of the room in the dark, but knew she’d find nothing. Before the door had shut he’d seen nothing in the cell but a moldering pile of straw.

Nevertheless, he joined in her search. It was either that or go mad from doing nothing. His fingers skimmed over the rough jigsaw of stone. He worked his way around once, then again. On the second attempt, he came across a bit of loose stone and pried it free from the mortar. He tried to chip at the hole but only managed to loosen a fine dust. Perhaps in a dozen years he might get somewhere, but not in a single night. Still, the rock was something. It was only the size of his palm, but after having been stripped of his knives, it felt solid and heavy in his hand. He would take any advantage he could, no matter how small.

The guards outside called taunts through the door. Apparently, eight inches of oak and a foot of rock imbued them with more confidence to antagonize him.

Bennett pulled Mari into his arms, placing himself between her and the door. “We will find a way out.”

“How?” she asked, her voice remarkably calm. But each of her shudders drove recriminations deeper into his heart.

If he had more time or more supplies they might have a chance, but with neither, the odds were practically nonexistent. He’d been on both sides of too many prisons during the war to nurture false hope. “We’ll attempt to escape when they move us.”

“In the morning when they take us to see the captain.” She drew a deep breath.

“We turn on our guards, take their weapons, and make for the wall.” Which they’d probably never reach. Even if they managed to gain the guns from the guards, that gave him only two shots. Four times that many soldiers lined the walls. And their escape would be in broad daylight.

“Will we make it?”

It would be suicide, but it was their only option. “I’ll do everything I can to see that we do.” He savored the feel of her in his arms, trying and failing to ignore the black thoughts in his mind. If they were unsuccessful in the escape attempt, could he find it within himself to do what it took to spare her? Mercy killings were common on the battlefield. It would be easy enough to snap her neck in a single, painless move.

“What happens if we fail?” she asked against his coat, her voice little more than a whisper.

He pulled her tighter against him, offering her what strength he could. When he’d been at the hands of the French, he’d prayed for death after three hundred lashes. And they had been nothing more than stupid brutes intent on gaining the location of the approaching battalion. This new captain would be far more methodical, far crueler. Bennett rubbed slow circles on Mari’s back, hoping she’d attribute the iciness in his hands to the frigid stone walls.

She burrowed closer until he could feel every breath she took. His fingers followed the gentle curve in her spine up her back and lingered on her neck.

His hands shook so badly he had to drop them before she noticed.

Bennett breathed a savage curse. He couldn’t hurt her, not even to save her. He was a damned bloody failure as her protector. “They’ll torture us until we admit to spying for the British.”

Her chin dug into his shoulder but her shuddering ceased. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“Would you have believed me if I lied?”

She chuckled weakly. “No.”

“I’ll confess to being the spy. You’ll be my lover. They should accept that.” He didn’t add the rest of his plan—that he’d provoke the captain into torturing him first. It wouldn’t do much, but if the captain sated himself on Bennett’s pain, it might save her from being raped and brutalized before they were executed. Hell, when had that become the optimistic outcome?

She stiffened. “You will not.”

“I forced you into this.”

“I’m not a child. I had a choice.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and held her away from him. “I am your protector.”

“Your orders again?”

“No.” His chest constricted until each breath hurt. Duty be damned. He had chosen to push her into this. He should have refused Caruthers in the coach in Ostend. He should have found another way to protect his men. Now he’d failed all of them. His Mari, Sophia, and his men.

One of the guards shouted something through the door and Mari shrank against him in the dark.

“What did he say?”

Her cheek bumped his chest as she shook her head. “Please, don’t make me repeat it.”

He sat on the cold stone floor and pulled Mari into his lap. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, shielding her the best he could from the cell and the bastards guarding it. “Let us speak of something else.” But he struggled for a light topic.

“Why are you in such a hurry to return to England? Is it so terrible here?” She snorted softly. “And by here I meant Constantinople, not this cell.”

He kissed her temple. Pluck to the backbone. “My sister, Sophia.”

Mari went utterly still. “What’s wrong?”

“She—” Even Sophia would agree Mari had a right to know why he’d thrust her into danger, yet still he battled with the words. “After Napoleon’s escape from Elba, I made plans to return to the Continent with my regiment. My family held a small function to bid me farewell. My sister, Sophia, sent her regrets a few hours before. We’ve always been close, so I called on her the next morning. I was in a hurry so I didn’t bother to knock . . .” He drew a deep breath. “She’d been beaten so badly she couldn’t get out of bed. Her husband apparently took great pleasure in knocking her about when he was drunk.” He could still see her lying there in bed, the blankets she’d thrown over her face making the welts on her forearms even more visible. He knew Mari probably felt his tension but he couldn’t hide his rage.