Authors: Marie Lavender
She smiled sadly. “I am sure they all think I'm destined to remain a widow...”
“Oh, surely not.” It was something that Fara did not see in the cards, for
Madame
Devereux was still young, a mere thirty-two years. The only other option for a woman of her status was to marry a man of similar position who had either been married before and become widowed or had never married previously, though the latter situation was less heard of because of the age difference between her and the majority of potential suitors.
Fara studied the woman. Her face had not a wrinkle or anything to indicate she was unfit of receiving a proposal. With dark hair, brown eyes and a flawless complexion, she was still a beautiful woman and had contrived to even keep her figure all these years.
“Would you ever consider taking a lover?” It was France, after all, and the concept had not yet lost its appeal for some.
“If I found a man fascinating enough, perhaps I would...”
“Then,
Madame
Devereux, do not lose faith. You will find someone, I just know it.”
“You sound so certain,
chère
. A young and bright woman you are,
Mademoiselle
.” She shook her head. “Why bother yourself with my affairs?”
Fara shrugged. “I am fascinated by other people and have a firm belief in fate.”
“
Chère
, you are not a Catholic?”
“I am afraid it is the one belief my parents or my uncle did not instill within me...” She did not mention her years in the convent; diversely, being there had done nothing to convince her otherwise.
“You miss him,
Mademoiselle
?”
She looked over the woman's brunette head. It was indeed something she found quite difficult to admit. “He was an unforgettable man.”
“
Oui
, many people were quite taken with Michel.”
Taken, she mused. He had been, more or less, a hard man to please. “And you as well?” This is my chance, Fara thought. If she could get
Madame
Devereux to admit to a relation with Michel
de
Bellamont, all would soon be well.
The problem was that when Fara had introduced herself, she had been so distracted with the knowledge of Grant's activities, that she had given the name Perét, her friend Helene's surname, had even gone so far as to claim
Madame
Devereux's brother had taken her in as his own for a time when she lost everything. It was a lie that she and Grant had come up with in case things did not go well, but she hadn't intended to resort to it right away.
It was utter madness, and she knew no way out of it now. Deception was not her forte, but there was little choice. She knew that Lina Devereux would accept her if she told her the truth, but the tenuous threads of the relationship she'd formed with Grant Hill required more.
“Michel was a kind man at times, but very set in the ways of society as you well know. He often visited Marseille
on business and attended functions as often as possible. Similarly, I attended a ball held in La Rochelle several months ago. Do you recall it?”
She nodded, feeling that Lina was trying to change the subject, was perhaps avoiding it for a reason. Then an ache gripped her heart.
Madame
Devereux was grieving also, and for a brother at that...perhaps even for a sibling she'd hardly known. She couldn't do it; she absolutely could not tell Lina that they were related by blood. It was much too soon.
Her uncle's lawyer was supposed to have sent word, and Grant had assumed that the woman would already know of her identity, but she had said nothing to indicate she was aware of the situation, or that she suspected Fara was not who she claimed. Grant's concern had been for her aunt's temperament, and that if it was unpleasant, Fara might need a way to create some distance between them. That's why he thought up the story, should Fara meet her and there be an immediate aversion.
Her aunt looked up then to see a woman approaching them.
“
Madame
...there is a man to see
Mademoiselle
Perét.”
“Where is this man, Francoise?”
“In the library. He says it is urgent.”
Fara nodded and stood, hoping it wasn't that damned officer again. “
Bon
. I will meet him there.” She turned to her host. “
Madame
, you will excuse me?”
“Of course,
chère
.”
She smiled and followed the maid to the library. From the doorway, she recognized the dark waves of his hair and his broad shoulders. “Grant?”
He turned, and with heated purpose he approached her, grasping her forearms roughly. “You scared the hell out of me, disappearing like that.”
His fingers pinched her skin, but she met his concerned gaze. “I was here.”
“
Oui
...the information took its time getting to me. Pierre so politely informed me of your change in plans.”
“I would have sent a message, but I was dealing with something...”
“Why?” he pleaded, desperation ringing in his voice.
Why indeed had she abandoned him? “I was detained by a man from the government, I regret to say.”
He released her and turned away. “What did he want?”
She tensed out of fear, sensing he knew exactly what the man had wanted. She decided to reply as innocently as possible. “The government is concerned about your actions, Grant.”
“What did he want from you?”
She frowned. “He wanted to know if you'd given me any information.” She laughed bitterly. “In the throes of passion, no less.”
He turned back to her. “That's it? He told you nothing else?”
“He gave a warning, that's all...that you should be very careful before something happens that you might regret and that you should watch your back. He said there may not be an opportunity for defection otherwise.”
He frowned. “I see.”
“What's going on, Grant? Tell me,” she whispered, grief plainly in her voice.
“There is nothing to tell,” he replied.
As she looked up at him, his face revealed nothing. The truth was evidently behind that cloak of impassivity. She realized out of instinct that the officer
had
been telling the truth. Grant was a spy for some country and its leader, and to top it off, he just now lied to her straight-faced. Perhaps she'd been taken for a fool. She sighed. “You would tell me if--”
His thumb brushed her lips and then his mouth replaced that brief touch. Her mind left her instantly as she felt the wonder of his kiss flooding her senses. Moments later as he pulled back from her, a gasping breath left her and she felt his forehead rest gently against her own. Caught up in the very scent of him, she sighed once more. Then her thoughts returned to her. She leaned away to look at his face. “So many things have happened...” she began softly.
“
Oui
,” he agreed as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Impossible, she thought. He believed she was completely innocent just as he also believed she thought he was innocent, which was far from the truth. “That officer from the army...I was taken off guard when he approached me.”
“Was he very forceful?” he whispered into her ear.
She shook her head against him. “Not forceful, but very blunt about our relationship. He knows about us, Grant, and the things he accused you of....”
“Do not heed anything that was said. Just trust yourself.”
My instincts tell me you're a spy, she wanted to cry out. “You're scaring me,” she said instead.
“Oh,
chère
. It was not meant to scare you. None of this...I never meant to make you fear me.”
“I'm not afraid of you.” Just what you're doing to yourself, she added in her mind.
“Of course you're not.” He pulled her against him in an embrace meant to be comforting but somehow achieving the opposite. “But you
are
afraid of what might happen.”
She nodded. “I can't help it.”
Grant lifted his head. “We will stay here and keep up appearances. You must introduce me to this
Tante
Lina of yours.”
“Grant...” She searched his eyes, imploring him to let her in, but his face was set, and she knew the subject was not open to discussion...perhaps it would never be. “Very well.”
Chapter Fourteen
Several days later, she still could not let go of what she had learned from that officer and more, what was so obvious to her about Grant's actions was not obvious to society. Only the government knew of Grant's political indiscretions. It made sense now that they would know about their relationship if they had been watching him all this time. In their room at the inn, he announced he would leave soon.
Her heart thudded inside her chest. Things were getting worse and worse. Instinctively, she knew it was not the threat of the authorities that made him feel he had to go. It was the fact that he really traded with the enemy and France was not a forgiving country.
“I find it odd that you mention that after I was confronted by that officer.”
“Would you not accept that it is merely coincidence, Fara?”
“You must think I am an imbecile!” Why, just the day before she had agonized over missing her monthly flux. Instinctively, as a woman, she knew the reason. And really there was nothing bad about the situation...but now that he told her of his departure, it changed everything. Overwrought with confusing emotions, she exclaimed, “You will get yourself killed with what you are doing!”
He grinned. “Do you now feign concern, love? You know men are willing to do anything for the sake of patriotism. Why not include death?”
It was treachery he referred to, not patriotism, but she was not supposed to know the truth. “You've gone mad,” she said softly, swinging from him to approach the window, her wits scattered.
“That's quite possible, Fara. Will you pretend your anger has more to do with your approval of my methods, or the lack thereof?”
She rolled her eyes as she looked into the darkness, which served to swath the harbor in its entirety.
Mon Dieu
...he was rather sensitive lately. And it had been a long time indeed since a man had cared for her opinion on anything. Only her father had bothered to see her as an equal on some level, though she'd only been a child. “I have nothing to say of your methods.”
“Nothing at all? No well-deserved opinions, which might be expressed fervently if you trusted me?”
“None.” She turned to face him and saw unchecked pain flash in his eyes before it vanished behind the curtain of his control. “Is this really about trust?”
He shrugged. “I think that you're only upset because you fear for your life, which is, by the way, perfectly normal. That officer startled you.”
She shook her head and ringlets fell from her upswept hair onto her shoulders. “So you think my anger is self-serving. What faith.”
“Isn't it, Fara? You never pretended to feel anything besides desire. I expect you to be concerned for your welfare.”
“Will you listen to me for once?!” When his dark eyes narrowed in consideration, she went on. “I trust you with my life. You are my only protector at the moment. And I am, by the evidence, your mistress.” Shaking, she managed, “And for your information, I've never pretended anything. This isn't a ruse to throw you...to fool you into doing something. This
is
concern, however preposterous it may seem.” She sighed. “You're being so impulsive, Grant. You could very well get yourself killed!”
“That fact isn't news to me. It's definitely something I won't forget, but only choose to overlook for the moment.”
“It's insanity!”
“God knows I can't always be rational...”
“Can't you be serious?”
“I don't intend to be a martyr, love. To dwell on death would not be living.” He approached her. “Can you be so worried for me? I've not yet left on my journey.”
She shook her head and sighed resolutely. “I cease to understand men!”
“The same could be said for women,” he commented softly as his lips traced a fiery path along her jaw.
She shivered at the first stirrings of desire. “Perhaps, but women aren't as complicated...” she replied with something less than coherence.
“I beg to differ,
chère
.” He didn't allow her to say more; his lips had found hers and were seeking, even demanding.
She wrenched her mouth away, stiffened, and her palms began to push against his chest. His strength was quickly overpowering her and her resistance failed miserably. “We can't...” she murmured.
His dark gaze leveled with hers. “Why, my love? This is not an unfamiliar request. Tis' also something we both want.”
“Still, I am upset. Would you take advantage of that?” She smiled. Throwing chivalry in his face might remind him to be a gentleman.
“No, of course not. But, do try to forget. You may be angry with me later.”
Her emotions drifted away for a moment and she forgot why she fought his seduction as his fingers deftly released the buttons of her dress. As his lips found the pulse at her neck, she could not prevent those emotions from returning. She wanted to melt against him, but her mind wouldn't abandon the problem at hand.
He would leave soon and she had begun to depend on him; she'd allowed herself to become accustomed to those able arms holding her in the night, those which turned her from ghastly sights, from nightmares, from her past...and those same arms that provided stability.
Everyone had known that she couldn't live on her uncle's will alone. There
was
the issue of her dowry. That was only available if she was married. And only her aunt could approve of such a union. Now, however, the likelihood of that was minimal. Her aunt did not know about Grant's treachery, but she would in time and that was a problem Fara did not wish to confront. At the moment, she would make do with what Grant could offer her.
And he would leave very soon...the thought made her chest heavy with uncertainty and despair. Love had not been in the cards, but it had happened. Tears sprang to her eyes and she cursed herself for that female weakness.
“Stay with me, Fara,” he murmured as he loosened the laces of her corset and the whalebone stays.
She realized that her dress had ended up in a pile about her feet. There was not time to compose herself or forget the painful reality of the future. Tears continued down her cheeks and she managed, “I'm here, Grant,” trying to sound reassuring. She prayed he would merely concentrate on the burden their clothing presented and not watch her reaction as he usually did. She felt his lips graze her temple and continue along her cheek. As she heard a soft indrawn breath from his throat and his head reared back, she silently muttered an oath.
His fingertips slowly brushed away the tracks of tears. “Do not despair, love. Is something wrong, Fara? Have I hurt you?”
She shook her head and was caught by the intensity of his gaze. Dear God, what did he
think
was wrong with her? He seemed to always feel she didn't care about anything involving him, and yet that assumption was far from the truth. Could she be completely honest now? “I was thinking about...”
“Thinking about what, love? I don't object to conversation.”
Fara hesitated. He'd come far in undressing her. She was nearly naked, almost to the point of falling out of her corset. She turned away to survey the room, to focus on something besides his tempting, masculine presence. “I am sorry. I know that you want this...”
“But, you do not.”
“No, I do want you. I won't lie to you...”
“Not about wanting me, but perhaps about other things. Why are you crying,
chère
? I strive only to make you happy.”
The torment she heard threaded throughout his voice struck a chord deep inside of her. “And, of course you make me happy as no one else has. But, it is that you're leaving...”
“My leaving?” He approached her from behind. “Are you certain that is what makes you sad and nothing else?”
Other than my heart yearns for you, she thought. “That is all.” She suddenly felt his steel grip on her forearm as he swung her to face him.
“I promised you, Fara, that I would never abandon you. I don't want to cause you more grief,
chère
. I must leave, but I will most definitely return for you. Do you realize that you are the only woman worth returning for, the only woman I need?”
She felt a flush upon her cheeks and she shook her head. Lord, she was so close to telling him everything...her love, her knowledge of his mission, even the chance of a child lying small within her womb. It all had to wait though. The prospects were still too dangerous. “Grant, I--”
“Shh
, chère
. It is all right. No more words.”
* * * *
Grant's eyes never left hers as he searched out her lips still tainted with the salt of her tears. His hold tightened on her and he threw the fabric of her corset aside to reveal a thin shift.
The fabric parted and two firm globes proudly stood out from her upper torso. A stray thumb rolled over a straining nipple and he grinned as Fara sucked in a tight breath and clung to him. He lowered his lips to her breasts and delighted in her half-stifled moans and fingers clutching the dark waves of his hair.
He felt Fara shiver even as desire urged them both on. “Grant,” she moaned and innocently found his lips parted and kissed him, easily inserting her tongue in his mouth.
Pleased with her participation, he enjoyed the sensation of her hands roaming over his muscled torso, toying with the buttons of his shirt. She unfastened them, one by one, before she yanked the fabric from his gray slacks. She tossed his shirt aside and explored his bare chest, hesitating slightly over a taut pap, which soon suffered the ministrations of her tongue. The tight span of muscle across his chest flexed in response and she tasted him again. His lashes swept down automatically, but he lightly grasped her upper arms. He sucked in a breath as she traced the soft, brown line of hair down the middle of his abdomen to his slacks with her tongue. It was there that he pulled her roughly to her feet.
Grant groaned; he couldn't stand the exquisite torture of her tongue for long. He reached down and dispensed of his slacks, and then lifted her against him as he carried her to an old chaise. Setting her down on the cushioning, he went to one knee and finished tasting the sweetness hidden in the valley between her breasts. His tongue soon nuzzled the auburn triangle between her thighs and his fingers gently eased them apart. He glanced up at her face and saw color begin to rouge her cheeks and she stared at him with wide eyes. He bent his head to devour her.
Even as he sampled her, Fara's hands clenched into fists, gripping the edges of the chaise. He felt the inferno sweep through her body and she cried out, clutching at his shoulders to bring him home. His body suddenly rose above her own. When he penetrated her waiting flesh, she gasped and buried her face against his throat, her tongue flicking that expanse of skin.
Grant felt his body explode in a million pieces. But, he couldn't get enough of her and she seemed too far away for him to make sense of it. He gathered her closer and arched against her, driving into her silken depths. She cried out, meeting his gaze for a moment, and he met her with a final thrust. His world spun into a timeless vortex and he gripped Fara in a futile attempt to keep her with him.
Stay, he pleaded silently. He berated himself. Surely he panicked for no apparent reason. Where would she go? She
could
likely leave him in her supposed emotional state. Fara had claimed to be upset about his departure, but could it have been something else? Could she have feigned mere melancholy when it could have meant so much more? What if she'd found out about the mission and only seemed troubled by his betrayal? No, she couldn't know. The mission was to be kept confidential, even from the woman who dominated his thoughts. And damn him if he'd endanger her life by letting her in on that secret.
Fara couldn't know the truth, Grant decided. It was certainly obvious that she was upset by the mere news of his departure. Lord, he didn't want to leave her. But, his obligations said otherwise, and if he saw any kind of future with Fara, he would do the mission and be done with it.
* * * *
It had been days since Grant had warned Fara about his departure. Since then, she had tried to fill every waking moment with chores or social activities in order to keep her mind off of it. She could not accept what he was doing in any way. It went against her every sense of morality.
Fara's aunt invited her to stay as a guest at the house so Fara no longer needed her room at the inn. Grant had also been invited and they had been careful to make it seem as if they'd only met while in town.
Fara glanced over at
Madame
Devereux, a vivacious and gently overbearing socialite. The woman was chatting with
Monsieur
Bergen. She wondered if Lina knew about Grant's exploits and what she might do with that knowledge once she found out. He would certainly not be welcome in her aunt's house again. Lina was a woman willing to do almost anything to uphold her place in society, but she would not betray her own country. And he certainly wouldn't be welcome once they all found out she'd missed her monthly flux completely.
“
Mademoiselle
Perét, you must tell us about your intrigues with
Monsieur
Hill. By the way, is he not here? Why did he not show for the evening meal?”