Seduced by a Spy (21 page)

“You need not stir. I know how much this enforced alliance goes against your principle of every man for himself.”

“Whether we like it or not, we are comrades for the moment.”

A fleeting friendship.
A reminder not to get too comfortable with him. Whether the mission ended in victory or defeat, life or death, one thing was certain—they would go their separate ways.

Not so very long ago, she would have heaved a sigh of relief. Now, as she watched his wind-ruffled hair dance against his open collar, her breath seemed to catch in her throat.

“Comrades in arms,” he amended, offering her a hand over the rough stones.

“Don’t worry about me.” Shannon didn’t mean to sound quite so hard. “I am used to going it on my own.”

As the afternoon remained gloriously clear and warm, Shannon suggested that they cut short the afternoon lessons and take a hike in the surrounding hills. Orlov readily agreed, and as they packed a picnic for teatime, she saw him slip a brass spyglass into the basket. His weapons, she knew, were hidden on his person. As were hers. If the enemy attacked they were armed and ready.

“Let us head for the top of Beinn Moran,” he said. “I have not yet had a look at the far side of the valley.”

“The choice is yours, sir.” She added her sketch pad and pencils. Another detailed map of the surroundings might prove useful. Already she had memorized several possible escape routes through the rugged moors.

Once they had passed by the loch and started up the steep slope of wild meadow, the children raced ahead to chase the sheep. Emma scrambled to keep up with her brother, her skinny little legs tangling with her skirts as she climbed over the stone fence and tumbled into the grass. Orlov could not keep a straight face, though there was some hint of deeper emotion in the baritone chuckle.

“Fearless, isn’t she?”

Shannon felt a ghost of a smile form on her lips, the sight bringing to mind a long-ago little orphan, undaunted by a challenge.

As if reading her thoughts, he said, “The imp reminds me of you, save that she is so tiny. She has the spirit of a lioness, though I fear her limbs will never quite catch up.”

Shannon experienced a painful squeeze of her chest. “She may grow like weed in another few years. I was very small at that age.”

He looked askance at her, allowing his gaze to linger for some moments. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It is true.” She closed her eyes. Darkness brought no relief, only a rush of long-fought memories. Without her quite realizing what she was saying, the words slipped out in a ragged whisper. “Delicate might be a more apt description. Like a china doll. At least, that is what the drunks and dippers used to call after me in the alleyways. Said I’d earn a pretty penny if I put myself under their protection.”

Strange how despite her hardened muscles and deadly fighting skills, the echoes of anther age still sent a frisson of fear down her spine. “I learned early on that the only hope for survival was to fight like hell. Even in the face of overwhelming odds.”

She opened her eyes to find him studying her intently. “Were you…”

“Raped?” She shook her head. “No. But when you grow up alone in the stews, you don’t remain an innocent for long. There are other lewd acts that a very large man may force upon a child.”

“I am sorry,” he said simply. She saw sympathy in the set of his jaw, the press of his lips. An understanding, born of a firsthand experience, that life was often not just or fair.

Yet another bond they shared.

“Don’t be. He won’t be subjecting any other young girls to such horrors.” Realizing that she had stopped, Shannon turned quickly and forged ahead, determined to make up for her momentary weakness. The conversation was revealing too much, too fast. Anger, antagonism was an armor of sorts. Stripping away such defenses could leave her far too vulnerable.

“Is that what drew Lord Lynsley’s eye to you?” asked Orlov softly as he caught up to her.

“He did not witness that particular example of my prowess with a blade. Our paths crossed later, when I was fighting off a pair of pimps who were trying to drag away two of my friends. I expect he thought my savage instincts could be channeled to a more useful purpose.”

“The marquess would likely describe those qualities as courage and loyalty.”

Her lips quivered. “On the contrary, Lynsley is likely regretting the choice. While he values strength and skill with a lethal weapon, he puts a higher premium on discipline and devotion to duty.”

Orlov had not yet answered when a high-pitched cry rang out from above. Drawing his pistol, he sprinted for the crest of the hill, motioning for Shannon to circle around the rock outcropping to their left.

Attack what they love first.
How had she let Sun-Tzu’s principles slip her mind, even for an instant? She had tried to make herself invincible. And had failed miserably.

The scrape of stone against her hand pushed aside all thoughts of self-pity. Nothing mattered, save Emma and Prescott. A silent, spinning leap brought her to the top ledge. D’Etienne would not find it easy to outwit or outfight Orlov. There would be an instant, an opening—and when it came, she would swoop in for the kill. Pistol cocked, she clamped her throwing knife between her teeth and dropped lightly into a narrow crevasse. From there she inched forward, muscles coiled, ready to spring into action.

“Damn!”

Shannon spotted the jagged gap in the footpath at the same moment as Orlov. Loosened by wind and rain, the shale and soil must have given way under the children’s footsteps.

He reached the spot first and flung aside his weapon. “Hold on, sweeting,” he called as he flattened on his stomach and peered over the edge. “Don’t try to move. I’m coming for you.”

“I’m lighter—let me go,” said Shannon, her teeth clenched to keep them from chattering. The drop was quite steep, broken by only a few narrow juts of rock as it tumbled nearly one hundred feet down into a slivered ravine filled with rushing water, shattered stones, and splintered pine. Emma had somehow managed to come to rest on a narrow ledge some thirty feet below them.

Her demand seemed to have been swallowed by the swirling gusts, for Orlov was already peeling off his coat. “That goes for you too, Scottie.” The boy had bravely started down after his sister, but another shard had broken off, leaving him trapped just out of reach. “Stay still, lad. I’m going to knot my sleeve and lower it to you.”

Shannon inched out for a better view of the situation. It was not looking good—

“For God’s sake, stay back,” snapped Orlov. Sweat was beading his forehead despite the wind. “If another piece breaks away…”

Rather than finish the sentence, he gave a last twist to his jacket sleeve, then slowly slid the garment down the rock face. “I want you to grab this, Scottie, and hold on tight. Miss Sloane will anchor it on this end while I come down and get you. Understand?”

The lad looked up, and though his face was ashen, he nodded.

Shannon saw what Orlov had in mind and quickly took hold of the tail end. “I’ve got it.” Fisting the fabric, she added a silent prayer. “Go.”

She held her breath as Orlov found a handhold and swung his weight over the edge. He was so solid, so strong, yet the rock was so fragile… Her own self- control started to crumble. If only she had kept her mind on the mission. If only she hadn’t distracted him with talk of her past.

If only, if only.
Perhaps Lynsley was right to question whether she was capable of learning from her past mistakes.

The wind stung her cheeks, bringing tears to her lashes. But she would not let them fall, she vowed. A tug tightened the cloth in her hands. Not when there was still a shred of hope to cling to.

“Hold fast!” Orlov’s voice swirled.

Shannon dug deeper for a foothold in the wet earth.

After what seemed like an eternity, a hand appeared at the rim of rock, then a face… two faces. Reaching out, she grabbed Prescott’s collar and pulled him to firmer ground.

Orlov loosened Shannon’s hold on the boy. “No time for sentiment.” He set Prescott in the shelter of a large boulder. “Stay here.” He had meant the order to include Shannon, but she stayed right on his heels as he scrambled around to a different vantage point. He didn’t waste his breath in ordering her back.

“See there…” He pointed to where a large fissure cut down the craggy rock wall. From where they were crouched, they could see that there was a narrow trail, barely wider than the span of his hand, leading down to where Emma sat hunched against the whipping wind.

“I’ll—”

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

“But I am trained in gymnastics—”

“For God’s sake, do as I say! One gust, and your bloody skirts will turn into a kite.”

She had the sense to step back. “B—be careful, Alex.”

His boots began to inch along the windblown rock. “Don’t worry,” he muttered. “Having made it made it this far in life, I have no intention of cocking up my toes now.”

A sliver of shale broke away from beneath his boots and was quickly swallowed up by foaming waters. Through the linen of his shirt, Orlov was aware of the knife-edged rock against his back. As if he needed any reminder of his precarious position.

On finally reaching the ledge where Emma sat, he slowly inched to within arm’s length. “You’ve been a brave lass, sweeting. We have just one more balancing trick to do.”

“I—I remembered what you told me, Mr. Oliver. D—don’t look down and you won’t get dizzy.”

“Exactly right.”

“L—like balancing at the very topmast of a ship.”

“Aye, no pirate captain could have done it better.”

Fortunately, she was too scared to flinch as his fingers slowly curled around her sleeve and lifted her up. All it would take was one errant twitch to send them both tumbling onto the jagged teeth of rocks far below.

“Steady, lass… now put your arms around my neck.”

Emma nestled against him. He could feel the beat of her heart.

So far, so good.
Hugging the child to his chest, he started the agonizing climb back, taking care to keep his gaze from drifting downward.

Shannon’s eager hands steadied his last few steps.

“Oh, Alex! You were absolutely magnificent!”

Orlov realized that he had never felt quite so proud of himself.

“I’m sorry,” whimpered Emma as soon as her feet touched the ground. “I didn’t mean to… but it looked so pretty sitting there.”

Shannon reached out and took the small object the child had clutched to her chest. It was a lump of quartz, so clear and smooth that it appeared translucent in the pale sunlight.

“Very pretty,” she replied.

“I spotted it first on the edge of the trail.” Prescott’s lip quivered. “And I challenged Emma to race me for it—first one there could keep it.” He hung his head. “It’s my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” said Orlov. “But it is a reminder to both of you that the hills can be dangerous. You must both try to exercise more caution in the future.”

He saw Shannon examining the stone more closely. Her expression was grim. And with good reason. He, too, had noticed that there was not another piece like it within sight.

“But I’ll hold my lecture until later,” he went on. “Right now, let us bundle the two of you back to the castle and get you settled in front of a roaring fire.”

Shannon slipped the quartz into her pocket. “You go on ahead. I’ll retrieve our things and catch up.” A meaningful glance at the verge of grass reminded him of the pistols lying in full view.

Orlov nodded, giving silent thanks that the children had been too shaken to notice them.

A few sweeping strides, and she had the weapons concealed in the waistband of her walking skirt. From there, he saw her circle around the rock outcropping to pick up the picnic basket. Checking, no doubt, that no other threat was lurking close by.

Scottie insisted on walking, but Emma allowed Orlov to take her in his arms. She was so quiet that he thought perhaps she had fallen asleep, sheltered deep within the folds of his upturned collar. Holding her tighter, he began to hum an old Russian lullaby.

It wasn’t until Shannon rejoined them that Emma ventured to speak. “Mr. Oliver was a hero, wasn’t he, Miss Sloane?” Her breath was sweet and warm on his cheek.

He smiled, but his blood went cold at the thought of how close he had come to losing her.

“Just like one of the knights in shining armor we have been reading about in the adventures of Sir Galahad,” continued Emma.

“Indeed, a storybook hero,” murmured Shannon. Her voice was cool, but a sidelong glance revealed that her gaze had a strange sort of blurred glitter.

Damn.
The warrior was not weeping, was she?

“There was a scene in ‘Bluebeard the Pirate’ where one of his crew climbed a cliff to capture a Spanish cannon,” offered Prescott. “I daresay Mr. Oliver was braver than that…”

Recovered from their initial shock, the children began to chatter like little magpies on the merits of knights and pirates. Orlov was glad to see that they were acting as if the outing had been a grand adventure rather than a traumatic ordeal. The young were resilient. As for their guardians…

He slanted another look at Shannon. Her face was still leached of color, and her spirits seemed as heavy as the clouds hanging low over the distant mountains. She refused to meet his eye and barely managed to respond to the children’s questions.

He had little time to mull on her melancholy mood. As they entered the castle through the back doors of the kitchen, Cook guessed immediately from their dirt-streaked faces and disheveled clothing that something had gone amiss. The events of the afternoon were recounted in great detail, punctuated by enough gasps and dropped pots to draw Lady Octavia from her sitting room.

“Little devils,” she snorted, once the tale was finally done. A “Hmmph” hid a small sniff as she squeezed their shoulders, then waggled a bony finger. “You were lucky to have two guardian angels hovering close by. Promise us that you will be more careful in the future.”

“Yes, grandmama.” Emma and Prescott looked dutifully chastised.