It Takes a Spy...: A Secrets and Seduction book (14 page)

She shifted her weight and lifted the hem of her skirt, climbing back up the stairs until she stood next to him and could meet his gaze while on even footing. “Because you aren’t speaking from reason, you’re speaking from fear— fear for my well-being. The
reasonable
thing would be to let me help, considering how few friends you currently have.” She smiled tenderly at him and her voice softened. “You know you’d be lost without me.”

He smiled softly as he brushed back a strand of her hair, and the back of his fingers grazed against her cheek, sending a spark of connection between them. He continued the motion, tucking the bit of hair behind her ear. “But that’s the problem, don’t you see? I
would
be lost without you.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “I can’t risk your safety for my personal benefit.” He shook his head in frustration as he slid his fingers around to the back of her neck and cupped her nape in his hand. “How am I supposed to stand aside and let you put yourself in danger?” The heat of his breath brushed warmly against her cheek. “It goes against my every instinct.”

She sensed that deep within him, a small war was waging, and in an effort to soothe him, she placed her palm on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath it. She could see that his need to control and direct the world around him, including his fiancée, was battling with her demand that he respect her right to make her own decisions. “You need to trust me,” Cecilia said, her voice soft and soothing as she looked deep into his eyes. “You need to believe that I know my own mind, that I have a right to make my own choices, and that I won’t put myself at risk on a whim. I need you to have faith in me, Devin, even when you don’t understand my reasons.”

He closed his eyes and dipped his head so their foreheads touched. “You always were strong-willed. I should have known better than to believe that the prospect of marrying me would change that. You’ll always be this way, won’t you?”

Cecilia tensed at his words.

He lifted his head slightly and opened his eyes as he gazed into hers. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He pressed his mouth against hers in an intense, claiming kiss. “You’re my Athena,” he murmured against her cheek.

A moment later he pulled away. It hadn’t been a lingering kiss, and was over a moment after it had begun, but Cecilia sensed that it signaled a change between them.

He reached down and took her hand in his, tucking it through the crook of his arm. When she gave him a bemused look, he grinned back at her. “What is it you always say to me? ‘If you can’t see the solution to your problem, look at it from a different angle and
create
a new solution.’ That’s right, isn’t it?” He continued down the stairs with her at his side.

She nodded, pleased that he had remembered her words.

“So I’ve decided to change my point of view.”

“And what is your new point of view?” she asked as they reached the bottom step.

“That having a wife who thinks for herself gives me one less thing to worry about. My error was in thinking of your independence as a problem rather than a solution.”

The tension she’d been carrying with her for months suddenly evaporated, leaving Cecilia with a sensation of lightness. A slow smile spread across her face, and by the time they reached the others, she was wearing a broad grin.

“Be on your guard,” LeCompte said, raking his gaze over all three of them. “I don’t trust Kenning.”

Cecilia’s smile faded. She needed to stay focused. This next half hour or so would be crucial. She couldn’t afford a misstep.

LeCompte waited until they all nodded their understanding before turning to face the door leading to the street. He reached for the doorknob, but never had a chance to grasp it because the door suddenly swung open, almost hitting him.

Kenning stood facing him, holding a large, sturdy leather case in one hand. Kenning smiled in polite surprise upon seeing LeCompte, but as soon as he caught sight of the rest of the group, his expression froze.

Cecilia focused on the case he carried. It was just the right size to accommodate Mother’s stolen jewelry collection. Her pilfered dowry was dangling from that man’s hand. She was certain of it.

Kenning pulled the case back as though trying to shield it from her view, but it was too late. He must have known that, because he spun away from them and raced back to where a ragged-looking young street urchin was holding a horse’s reins.

Evangeline was the first to react. She tore after Kenning with LeCompte fast at her heels.

Cecilia and Devin surged forward, pushing through the door and onto the street.

Evangeline was quick. She darted forward and grabbed the handle of the case, yanking at it with a twisting motion, but Kenning didn’t lose his grip.

The man jerked it back, but Evangeline refused to let go, hanging on to the case like a terrier with a death grip on a rat.

Kenning glowered at her and reached his free hand into a voluminous pocket of his overcoat. When he pulled his hand back out, he held a large black pistol.

He didn’t pause in his motion, but carried the weapon in a swinging arc until the barrel of the muzzle pointed directly at Evangeline’s heart.

At the sight of the pistol, Cecilia stumbled to a halt and grabbed Devin’s arm, forcing him to stop as well. She didn’t want to do anything that might make Kenning pull the trigger.

She couldn’t risk it.

Of their group, LeCompte was closest to her sister. He’d only been a step behind Evangeline, and Cecilia watched with mingled relief and horror as he shouldered his way between Evangeline and the gun barrel. What if he caused Kenning to pull the trigger?

Cecilia held her breath. She had to believe that LeCompte could handle the situation. Somehow, he’d calm Kenning, she was certain of it. The sounds of the street seemed to disappear, as though all of London held its breath along with her.

An instant later, a gunshot shattered the silence.

Evangeline screamed. But it wasn’t a girlish scream. Instead, it was a scream full of animal fury, and somehow it seemed to give Evangeline the strength she’d been lacking just a moment earlier. This time, when she yanked at the case Kenning held, she jerked it free.

LeCompte fell to the ground. A black ring marred the buff-colored fabric of his suit coat. No, it wasn’t a black mark anymore. Now a red flower was blooming from the center of the ring. Cecilia shook her head, trying to clear away the strange image. How could a flower be there? No, it was blood, not petals, that spread out from the round dark hole and it quickly obliterated the black mark on his shoulder.

With Kenning no longer providing an opposing force pulling on the case, Evangeline almost fell over backward. But she compensated for the change, spun around to harness the unexpected energy, and continued turning in a circle, whirling the case around in her outstretched arm. As she spun, she aimed the case so it slammed into the side of Kenning’s face.

Evangeline knocked the man off his feet as soundly as any pugilist could. Cecilia blinked in surprise.

Kenning shook his head, as though Evangeline had rattled his brain loose from its moorings. He still had the pistol clutched in one hand as he planted one foot on the pavement. He focused a murderous glare on Evangeline and raised the weapon toward her again.

LeCompte was flat on the ground, clutching his hand to his shoulder, but despite his injury, he swung out with his foot and slammed it into the back of Kenning’s hand.

Kenning’s pistol flew from his grasp and went skittering across the brick pavers, bouncing haphazardly until it landed beneath the hooves of Kenning’s mount.

The horse reared up at the perceived threat, prancing to kill the small black thing that had startled it. A hoof caught the corner of the weapon, causing it to bounce up again and then fly across the pavers so that it disappeared under a nearby cart.

Kenning stumbled to his feet. With a roar of frustration, he stumbled toward the ragged-looking boy and knocked him across the face with a brutal backhand. “I’m paying you to keep that horse under control, not just stand there!” he shouted. “Can’t you do anything right?” He rounded on Evangeline and balled his fists. “And you!” Kenning’s grimace of fury left Cecilia in no doubt of his intent.

She clutched Devin’s arm. “You have to save them.”

He steeled his face. “I have an idea. Stay here.” He darted forward and put his hand over the handle of the case Evangeline held. “I’ll draw him away,” he told her.

Evangeline didn’t say a word but simply let go of the handle. Devin spun on his heel and ran pell-mell down the street, pushing people to the side as he made a path through the pedestrians, carts, and horses that blocked his way.

Kenning spit out an angry curse and took off after him.

Cecilia was frozen with indecision as she glanced at LeCompte, bleeding on the ground, and then at Devin, running down the street. Should she stay and help LeCompte, or assist Devin?

Evangeline pulled LeCompte’s neckcloth off and began winding it around his shoulder to stanch the bleeding. Her obvious competence made Cecilia’s decision easy.

Cecilia glanced back up just as Devin rounded the corner and disappeared from her sight. Kenning tore after him, with only a few yards separating them. She caught the frenzied glint in Kenning’s eye as he rounded the same corner, and her stomach clenched in panic.

Kenning looked like a madman.

She took a stumbling step forward but then stopped. How could she possibly catch up with them? She couldn’t very well run while wearing a corset. With the way it constricted her lungs, she’d be close to fainting from lack of air by the time she made it to the corner.

Cecilia frantically scanned her surroundings for a solution, and her gaze landed on the street urchin holding the reins of Kenning’s horse. There it was. Her solution. All she’d needed to do was look at things differently.

She rushed toward the stupefied child. “Don’t just stand there,” she shouted to him, “fetch the police!”

The boy stared at her, mouth agape.

“Now!” She reached out and snatched the reins from his hand. “Go on,” she shouted. “Now.”

The boy closed his mouth with snap as his bewildered gaze cleared. Now he looked much more intelligent than she’d first assumed. The boy glanced at LeCompte and Evangeline and then gave Cecilia a firm nod. “Yes, miss. You can count on me,” he said, and then raced down the street.

Cecilia led the horse over to a small box, set one foot on it, and clambered onto Kenning’s saddle. Her skirts rode up her legs, leaving them bare from the knees down for everyone on the street to see, but she ignored the impropriety.

Devin’s life was in danger.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Devin, with Kenning at his heels, wove through the narrow streets. Each time he pulled ahead, some object or person blocked his path and slowed him, allowing Kenning to close the distance again. He didn’t know this part of London well, but it would seem that Kenning did.

Now that it was eight in the morning, plenty of people were on the street. Devin dodged through the crowd, trying not to plow into anyone. But Kenning had the advantage of following in the path Devin had cleared for him.

There was a clearing up ahead, and Devin ducked past two men carrying a large, heavy container out of a house toward a nearby wagon. Devin’s nose quickly identified them as night soil men. They must be making their weekly rounds and picking up the house’s refuse.

Pounding hoofbeats approached from behind and Devin glanced back. The two sights that greeted him made him widen his eyes.

The first was Cecilia, astride a horse with her legs bare to the knees, bearing down on them. Her face blazed with determination. She’d come to rescue him, like some avenging angel. She veered to skirt the wagon, staying well away from the night soil men.

The second thing he registered was Kenning. The man tried to dodge the two men carrying the container of waste, but he wasn’t entirely successful. He slammed his shoulder against the back of one of the men, causing the heavy burden to slip from his hands.

Despite himself, Devin paused for a moment to watch the events unfolding in his wake. The container the man dropped slammed onto the pavement. The lid flew off and the household’s accumulated waste from the week exploded onto the ground, spewing a foul spray that splashed Kenning across the back. Fortunately, the wagon blocked Cecilia from the excrement.

Kenning didn’t break stride under the deluge, but kept running…closing the gap on Devin.

He redoubled his efforts and rounded first one corner and then another. The streets weren’t as crowded here, and he finally began to put some distance between himself and his pursuer. He tore into the next alleyway. He’d soon lose Kenning.

But no. The alley was a dead end.

He was trapped.

Before Devin could double back, Kenning rounded the corner into the alleyway. Devin hesitated. Should he try to run past the man?

A wicked grin spread across Kenning’s face. He had the advantage now, and he darted forward with his head down and his shoulders rounded. He clearly meant to plow into Devin and knock him to the ground.