The Lavender Keeper (33 page)

‘I will bring you straight back, Loewe, once we return.’

Luc chose not to push his luck. Besides, he had promised himself that he would no longer interfere with Lisette’s plans. He had risked his own cover enough. He had family to find and lavender fields to plant again. And he had Lisette to love … if she would let him. But their love was in her hands now. He would no longer try to save her from herself.

‘Yes, sir. How long will you be away?’

‘Up to a month.’

Luc betrayed nothing, but his fears for Lisette began to grow. ‘Safe travels, Colonel.’

‘Thank you. Oh, and Loewe?’

Luc turned.

‘Have you heard Lisette mention a fellow called Lukas Ravensburg?’

Luc felt the fear pulse through him. He shook his head. ‘No, Colonel. Is he someone I should have come across?’

‘Unlikely.’

‘Where’s he from?’ How much did Kilian know?

‘Not Paris. He’s a southerner, apparently.’

Luc shrugged, his fear escalating. Had Lisette told Kilian this, or had von Schleigel? ‘His name sounds German.’

‘He is German. That’s why I mention him. Anyway, keep your ear to the ground for me.’

Luc nodded. ‘
Auf wiedersehen
, Colonel.’

He went straight to Lisette’s flat, hoping to ask her about Lukas Ravensburg. But he was too late. After being stopped a dozen times for being out after curfew, he found her flat empty. He knocked on Sylvie’s door, hating to reopen that wound, but even Sylvie was nowhere to be found. His last port of call was Sylvie’s letterbox; they used it as a means to pass each other messages. Right enough, there was a note for him:

He screwed the notepaper up in his fist and groaned.

Before Lisette departed with Kilian, she had managed to leave a final coded message at the café for Playboy. She advised London she would be away with the colonel and to not expect contact for up to a month. She hesitated before mentioning that part of her cover had been compromised, but assured that the integrity remained intact. She would report back as soon as she could.

After Kilian had spoken to Walter and arranged for her to be away, Lisette and Markus had left the city in mid-May. That day felt like just a moment ago. But here it was, already June. Where had the time gone? It had been lost in weeks of pure escapism. Lisette’s one regret was that she hadn’t been able to say goodbye to Luc before she left for the Loire Valley, but perhaps it was for the best.

Everything had happened so quickly between her and Luc, and going away had given her the physical and emotional distance that she needed to focus on her mission. She had never
felt more confused – and at the same time so clear-headed. It was as though she were two people. One Lisette did love Luc, but the same woman did not regret asking Kilian to replace his driver, and refused – even in her quietest moments – to dwell on Luc. She found a place to set him aside in her heart, and played at being a translator by day and consort by night.

By London’s measure, she was carrying out her mission perfectly: she had successfully infiltrated Kilian’s life. But the truth was she had failed London miserably. She was none the wiser to whether any conspiracy plans existed, let alone whether Kilian might be actively involved. Her instincts told her that he was part of a plot, but hunches were not enough. And she could not hurry the process of extracting information. First she knew she must distance herself entirely from the Gestapo, from anything that connected her to the potential for espionage, and especially from Lukas Ravensburg.

And then there was Markus himself. The more Lisette got to know him, the more she realised that the danger Luc had spoken about was not the threat to her wellbeing so much as the threat to her heart. As each day passed, and especially as each night was enjoyed, her attachment to Kilian helplessly and unconsciously strengthened.

As their days drifted into weeks, working together, eating and sleeping together, she sensed him relaxing, beginning to trust her. She made a point of talking about every possible subject other than his work to put his suspicions to rest.

And he was in love with her. She knew that now. He had not said so, but she knew it as surely and as intimately as she knew the taste of his skin, the golden tips to his eyebrows, the laugh lines that appeared when he smiled. Even when he was happy, Kilian always appeared as though
deep in concentration – assessing, analysing. Lisette never underestimated his ability to make sharp observations. Nevertheless, he loved her and his laughter reflected it. His pale, hungry gaze followed her faithfully, his mouth was hers, ever ready to seduce her with passionate kisses under cover of darkness.

In under five weeks she had achieved what many women had failed to come close to in years. Markus had even begun to open up about Ilse, his former fiancée. And the Markus whose heart Lisette had won was all passion; he was passionate about the men he had led, for Germany, for the arts – he was even passionate about chocolate. Most of all, he was passionate about her.

And that’s what scared Lisette as they returned to Paris. It had been three weeks of running away from reality, and now both of them had to face occupied Paris again, with her red flags and rules, her salutes and constraints.

Late spring in provincial France had been magical. There had been much laughter together as they travelled through the picturesque countryside. Markus had even taken Lisette shopping, insisting on buying her some new clothes – summer frocks that showed off her figure. She’d opened up about her early life. It felt cathartic for Lisette to talk about her dashing father, her beautiful mother, their tragic end – she’d wept in Markus’s arms for the first time since she’d been told of her parents’ death, and he’d kissed away her tears. Lisette had realised with a mix of regret and sharp surprise that she had not guarded her own heart well enough; it seemed, without any awareness, she had steadily fallen for Markus Kilian. As they approached Paris, she felt a fluttering sense of panic at having to let him go. It was devastating to appreciate how important Kilian had become to her – and his love that was as stable as it was strong.

And for the first time her mission felt uncomfortable. Until now, the demands of the role had empowered her, given her drive and courage and the ability to cast inhibitions to the wind. She had discovered a new Lisette – one who was funny and mischievous, sensual and playful, and she thought this new persona would protect her true feelings. But Kilian, like Luc, had found a way beneath her shield and, through sheer force of character – his irresistible personality, his lovemaking, always surprising and generous – had navigated to her heart.

It was here where Luc resided; silent, patient, sad. It was here that she kept him safe, kept him hers, kept him alive, and as they entered Paris proper, she could swear that the fragrance of lavender was all about them.

‘Do you smell that?’

‘What, the rutabaga?’ Kilian joked, although she could see he wasn’t amused by his own jest.

‘I smell lavender.’

‘We left that behind in the south. It’s your imagination playing tricks.’

But Lisette couldn’t fight it, and her first sight of the Eiffel Tower brought back thoughts of Luc that she’d kept successfully separate for weeks. It also reminded her that she had little to show for her clandestine holiday, other than an aching conscience.

‘What’s wrong, my darling?’ Kilian asked. ‘You look pensive.’

‘I wish we never had to come back here.’

‘But Paris is so beautiful … and summer beckons.’

She decided to take the risk. ‘I hate what this war is doing to all of us. Why can’t someone just kill Hitler so we can all get on with a truce?’

She saw Kilian glance at the driver’s partition, checking it was closed.

‘Hush. Don’t speak like that.’

‘Well, you agree, surely?’

‘I think a lot of people want to find a solution to achieve an end.’

‘Talk plainly, Markus. If enough of us feel this way, then why isn’t someone acting? What about the bastard who claims he loves Germany but keeps sending our young men to a senseless death?’

Kilian pulled down the jump seat opposite Lisette and moved into it to face her, effectively cutting off Klaus’s rear vision. ‘What has got into you, Lisette? This is dangerous talk. Remember where you are. Remember who you’re with!’

‘But you know it’s true!’

‘You know I do,’ he growled.

‘Then do something! You and your colleagues who want to end this. Stop feeling oppressed and persecuted and so … helpless.
Do
something!’

His expression contorted into shock, the vertical line in his forehead deepening. ‘I am, damn it!’ he snarled, grabbing her wrists and squeezing them so tight it took her breath away. ‘But leave it be.’

‘I … I’m sorry, Markus.’

He twisted away, genuinely furious with her. ‘I’ve said too much,’ he muttered to the window.

She clutched at him, knowing she needed to sound clingy. ‘Please, I just don’t want us to end. I want this selfish life of ours to go on.’

He swung back, searching her face with that icy stare. ‘But why should we end?’

‘Because we’re back here, back to the reality, back to the endless days of ration coupons. When the weather turns to autumn, I’ll know the cold and hunger again. Men are dying by bullets, Jews are dying in prisons, babies are dying of malnutrition. And it’s all one man’s fault!’ A tear escaped her eye, and it was not for show. ‘We have to make it stop.’

His voice was brittle when he spoke. It was clear he was far from impressed by her uncharacteristic outburst. ‘You’re young, Lisette. And perhaps you’re fraught – I blame myself for that – but I can’t control your feelings in the same way that I can’t help mine. What has to stop right now is today’s erratic demands,’ he said tightly. ‘Our decimated army in the east is retreating so fast it’s having to leave the injured behind. And still our leader refuses to acknowledge the defeat. His Operation Citadel in Kursk was lunacy. Hundreds of thousands of captured miles are being reclaimed by the Soviets and they are showing no mercy – nor should they, given what we’ve done to them even as we’ve been retreating. There is no pride left for the Wehrmacht now; we are nothing but barbarians under Hitler.’ His voice was so taut she feared he might break down. ‘Millions of our men have spilt their blood, for what?’ He groaned. ‘But those are my men, damn it. I can’t begin to plumb the depths of my guilt that they die while I drink wine and make merry with you in the Loire Valley.’

He looked deeply into Lisette’s eyes. ‘I know we live here in a strange cocoon, but you do realise, don’t you, that the British and Americans are threatening to land on French soil at any minute?’

Lisette played dumb, looking anxiously back at him.

‘They’ll take Calais any day.’ Markus shook his head. ‘I know you want more from me, but our lives are unimportant
in the scheme of what is unfolding. You’re a rare woman, Lisette – your humour, your nerve, your whole attitude to life. Don’t let me down now. We’ve had enough self-indulgence.’

She felt a flush of shame as she realised she’d had to disappoint him in order to get what she needed. She wanted more, but she’d pushed him far enough today.

‘I won’t let you down,’ she said, in a tone loaded with remorse. ‘I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me.’

He searched her eyes, his voice gentle once more. ‘Do you think I don’t feel it too? Do you think I’m not dying a little inside that I have to give you back to Walter, to your horrible little studio, to your impoverished lifestyle? I too want this war to end. I want you to be mine, Lisette … as you’ve been mine these last few weeks.’ He ran a frustrated hand through his neat hair. ‘Damn it, I want you to be my wife!’

They both stared at each other, thunderstruck. The words reverberated between them, loaded with meaning.

‘I’m sorry,’ he finally said. ‘That was … misguided.’ He cleared his throat and slowly moved to sit alongside her again, took her hand. ‘I know it’s confusing you, Lisette.’ He kissed her palm. ‘Now, listen to me. I love you.’ He fixed her with such a fierce gaze that she felt weak, and guilt pressed around her as though it were physical. His eyes were so ablaze with emotion they sparkled like aquamarines. ‘But this is not the time to act upon that love. We can’t escape where we are, the situation we find ourselves in, or who we are. For now, just know that if I survive this war, then I will ask you properly to marry me.’ He paused, and looked down as he continued softly, ‘There won’t be a happier man on this earth if you say yes.’

Lisette’s heart swelled with emotion, and she knew she
had to respond. But all she could think of was how similar Markus’s face was to Luc’s. Did Luc know he looked so similar to her colonel? It was a punishment for her. ‘Why do you talk of survival as though it may elude you? If the Allies take Paris back as they threaten, then you’ll surrender and—’

‘Be put on trial at the very least.’

She frowned. ‘No, Markus. I—’

‘Listen, it’s irrelevant to speak of what may happen. We can but live in the present.’ He kissed her tenderly. ‘We are almost back at my office. You will wish me farewell, write those reports I asked you to compile and then deliver them by Friday afternoon. I cannot see you for a while.’ He touched her arm gently. ‘We must be resolute. My time will not be my own in coming weeks. I may even be sent out of France. But you have to be understanding. Go back to work, return to your life and wait. It may be months before we see each other again.’ She looked startled. ‘Or it could be days. I just don’t know. But you have to be patient. Can you do that for me?’

She nodded, bewildered, but all the more anxious to know what he was hinting at. ‘I know that you’re seeing General Stülpnagel today and—’

He frowned. ‘How do you know that?’

Lisette feigned innocence. ‘I heard you speaking about it on the telephone yesterday.’

‘But you were not in the room.’

‘I know that, Markus,’ she said, slight indignation in her voice. ‘But one could hardly miss that man’s booming voice when he announced the military commander’s office in Paris had been reached.’

‘But why should the general or my meeting with him interest you?’ Kilian looked irritated.

So he
was
meeting Stülpnagel. She thought quickly. ‘Well, I wanted to ask you to mention my name.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t want to keep working at the bank. This time away has changed everything. It was never a permanent position anyway – just something to tide me over. I can hardly demand a role in your office, but … oh, it doesn’t matter. If you’d prefer not to …’

His features relaxed with relief. ‘I see. Well, I don’t mind mentioning it.’

‘Really? Thank you. Perhaps I could be a full-time translator – any department is fine.’

‘Leave it with me.’ Markus gave her a polite kiss goodbye on each cheek, mindful suddenly of Klaus opening the car door. ‘I’ll be thinking of you constantly,’ he assured her quietly. ‘I’ll reach you.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll be waiting.’

‘Klaus will take you home. Thank you for your help. You charmed the clerics, of course, like you charm everyone.’

‘I’m glad I made a difference.’

‘It would have been loathsome without you,’ he whispered as he smiled. ‘Say hello to Walter.’

‘I’ll miss you, Markus,’ she said, as he closed the door and tapped on the roof. He lifted a hand in farewell and she watched him as the car drew away from the kerb.

Kilian wasted no time. In fact, he’d cut his trip short once the message had come through from Stülpnagel two days ago.

Kilian had begun the tour putting in a call to the general every few days as requested. They’d agreed that if there was no change to the status quo, they would discuss work details
or make small talk about Kilian’s trip. However, if Stülpnagel opened their conversation by asking him how the weather was, then that was Kilian’s signal to get back to Paris urgently. It meant the plot to assassinate Hitler was moving to reality … and to a date. And yesterday the usual polite conversation had shifted. Stülpnagel’s first question had been whether Kilian was enjoying some early summer sun down south, and Kilian felt his heart begin to beat at twice its normal speed.