The Duchess and the Spy (5 page)

A carriage rolled up to meet them. Waters whipped the door open and before she could do anything else, the damn pig pushed her into the carriage, and Christopher let him do it!

“You are going to regret taking me with you,” she said softly.

The interior of the carriage was unusually dark. He followed her into the carriage and eased onto the seat next to her. With a cunning smirk that he didn’t see, Waters slammed the carriage door shut.

She glanced down at the amulet glowing against her skin. She quickly placed her hand over it to conceal it from the man that sat across from them. A shiver ran up and down her spine. She tried swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Why would I regret taking you with me?” Christopher spoke in England. She swallowed the large lump in her throat. The damn fool had just signed his own death warrant.

She had done it again. She’d killed another innocent just by being with him. She was a curse to those that came too close to her.

She had to act fast. She would be damned if she let him die.

“You are going to regret it taking me with you, because only death awaits you this night,” she whispered ominously.

He looked over at her—and then he looked at the man that sat on the red satin squabs across from them. Recognition dawned in his brilliant blue eyes. He’d just realized he’d been betrayed.

“Waters, you are a bloody dead man,” he growled furiously.

She shivered. She didn’t want to be in Water’s boots, but then, her Saint had been cornered. There was no way he’d be able to exact his revenge. He would die this night unless she did something to stop that from happening.

“My dear Mademoiselle, you may rest easy now. You have been rescued. We will take you back to your chambers at Belle Roche, and you can wipe this unfortunate night out of your memory. Your uncle will no doubt be most relieved to see you safe and sound.”

“Your Imperial Majesty, I do thank you.” She moved to sit beside Napoleon. “What fate do you have in store for this horrible devious man?”

“We have reason to believe he is a British spy, my dear. Do not concern yourself with such trivial matters, I will take care of everything.” He patted her hand reassuringly.

She couldn’t let her Saint die. God help her, but her heart already belonged to him.

Closing her eyes, she looked to the heavens, saying a silent prayer.

She concentrated intently with her hand clasped tightly over the amulet. If her natural born talents wouldn’t affect The Wolf, then they had to still work on Napoleon. He of all people wouldn’t be immune…and since they had no witnesses, she could do what she pleased. Her emotions couldn’t get in the way of her powers working, not now. Not when so much hinged on her magic coming through for her—if it didn’t, he would be tortured—and then, killed. The thought of it made her ill.

“You must let him go,” she said, infusing her words with her magic. “You must allow him return to England. It is the only way. And, now you are so drowsy you must sleep.”

“And, now I must sleep,” Napoleon mimicked her instructions. His eyes drooped shut, and his head lolled to the side. Loud snores soon filled the carriage.

“The men outside of this carriage must sleep as well,” she murmured a flash of green light shot through the carriage as her spell was cast on the men outside.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“The Spy and his Duchess make a pretty formidable duo, don’t you think? If you’re worried about the driver and Waters, they are now fast asleep just like his little Imperial Majesty here.” She looked toward the carriage door. “You need to leave, now—your enemies might still lurk in the shadows, and my enchantment only cast over the men I knew were an obstacle for us. Waters betrayed you. And I am saving you. I would call that divine justice. Help me get Napoleon out of the carriage, and you take one of the horses. And, then, you must leave me.”

“I won’t leave you behind, and I won’t let Waters get away. He is a damn traitor, and needs to be punished.”

“If you don’t go now, you won’t leave these shores alive. You will only be safe once you reach England. Once there, I can’t endanger you anymore.”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, but if you think you’re the reason why I was captured—”

“Don’t you see? We don’t have the time to argue. This is the only way—I don’t want to see you lose your life.”

His eyes sparkled. “You are lovely, Isabella.”

She leaned forward. “My enchantment over The Emperor and some of his men will only last so long—my powers aren’t as strong as I would like them to be. As for Waters, leave him to me, I will make sure he gets what is coming to him.”

“I would say your magic is formidable enough.”

“Unfortunately, my magic isn’t always strong enough to save those I love. For some reason, death always finds them. For that reason, you must go now.”

“I shall be seeing you again.”

“Yes, you will—in your dreams,” she said softly.

He pulled her to him, and kissed her gently, but quickly.

“I…”

“Pray, so no more. We dare not speak of anything else.”

He pushed the door open, and helped her down. Then, he reached in for Napoleon’s limp body. “It could be so easy to kill him right now—”

She inhaled a sharp breath. “You are a spy, not an assassin. Pray do not end him this way. I do not want his blood on your hands. Besides, fate will mete out its own form of justice for this man—I can feel it and almost see it.” She gave him a soft smile. “Now we must stop talking, and start acting.”

He gave her an odd look. The shouts of men closing in on their positions filled their ears.

“You have to go, now. Pray, heed my words, I beg of you.” He hesitated for a few moments longer, long enough to gently caress the side of her cheek. Even though he wore gloves, his tender touch made a sharp shiver rush through her.

She watched as he unhitched one of the saddled horses that led the carriage. He jumped up, and then glanced back at her. “I shall see you in England, my dearest Isabella.”

“I…I do not know about that.”

“Oh, you do. You know we shall meet again. I believe in fate, Duchess. And you are most certainly part of my fate.” He winked at her, and then rode off into the darkness.

She was alone.

Just as she always had been. Just as she always would be.

****

Christopher Brandon, Lord Wyndham, codenamed, The Wolf, looked back at the shores of France. He had left without Isabella. And, until he found his way back to her he would be the Saint without his angel.

He knew she would be arriving in England soon. She would come as one of Napoleon’s spies. And, when she finally landed on English shores, he would be waiting.

Isabella stared down at the lifeless body of Napoleon. Soon, his guards would arrive. She had to act fast before her duplicity was discovered. She looked down at her lovely frock. She had to make it look as if a struggle had ensued after The Emperor had been knocked out. Closing her eyes, she reached down for the exquisite fabric. It had already been torn on something in the secret passageways. If she were lucky, her look of disarray wouldn’t have been noticed by Boney. As long as she messed her hair up and summoned some womanly tears, she should be able to get out of this fine mess unscathed.

She only hoped that Christopher had reached the English Channel without any complications. If she’d used her powers to put Boney to sleep, and by doing so, risked her life and limb, then the bloody man better have gotten off Scot Free!

She reached up for the pins that held her hair in place and pulled them out. She shook her hair down around her shoulders, and ripped part of her dress off one shoulder. She hoped she looked as if she’d been through a rough ordeal.

Dragging in a large breath of air, she dropped to her knees by Bonaparte’s lifeless form. Touching the emerald, she activated her powers.

In the next instant, he was gasping for air. His face had gone bright red. His eyes bulged out of his eye sockets. Bloodthirsty rage flickered in his eyes.

“Your Imperial Majesty, thank the heavens you are alive!” she said, her voice breathy. “I feared the worst when that mad Englishman got the better of us. He threw me aside, and then, he went for you. I was barely able to pull him off you, after which, he turned on me. He was going to ravish me, except you gained your bearings, and you managed to pull him off me. You were ever so heroic. You called for the guards, but Waters over there betrayed us. The guards managed to knock him out before the English churl got to them as well, knocking them senseless. Then, the two of you struggled, and you knocked your head, while you were disoriented, he ran off with one of your horses. You were so courageous. I have never seen such a thing in all of my days.”

“I do not recall anything whatsoever. The knock to my head must have affected my memory. That English knave must be apprehended, I will have his head for this outrageous act! As for Waters, he shall be shot at dawn. I do not tolerate betrayal.”

He seemed to be gobbling her story right up. That meant she might just get out of this scrape alive. He caught her hand within his large thick one. For being such a short man, his hands were quite large. The strength within them could be her undoing if she were to fall prey to his ill-tempered side.

“I pray you will not blame yourself, Mademoiselle. Come with me, we shall go back to the Belle Roche, and you can put this bothersome incident out of your head. My men will have an easy time tracking down that filthy blasted British spy.”

“Ah, but you use your own spies, my lord.”

“Yes, I do…but my spies are working for me. Therefore, they are on the side of truth and justice.”

“You are a cunning man, my lord.”

“I do try, my dear. Ah, here are my men now they must have heard the struggle and that bastard’s daring escape, we can only hope they have captured him.” He shouted out orders to the men that had just rode up and told them to remove the still unconscious driver and take Waters away to be put in irons. “Now, then,” he murmured, turning his attention back to her. “We shall get back into my carriage. The driver will have us back at the Chateau in mere minutes. You’ll need to get your sleep, Mademoiselle. Tomorrow, your training shall begin, after which, you will be sent on to England.”

“I understand.” She felt the blood slowly drain from her cheeks.

“Don’t be afraid, Mademoiselle. You shall be fine. ”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Her mind wandered while he helped her back into the carriage. Settling onto the satin squabs, she barely noticed his hand on hers. Her thoughts were still focused on Christopher. The entire atmosphere of the carriage still held his imprint.

“On second thought, my darling, perhaps, you should come back with me to my chambers. At least then, I’ll be able to protect you from any further harm and we can comfort each other.”

Her skin crawled and her heart raced.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, my lord.” Heat worked its way up her body from the pit of her stomach. She knew one thing, she wouldn’t be doing tonight. She wouldn’t be allowing Napoleon to touch her. Not in the way he planned. How could she?

If she did, she would feel as if she was betraying Christopher, and she couldn’t bear that. He was the only man for her, he’d always been the only man for her. As a young lass, he’d bewitched her, and now, that as a woman, her love for him had been reignited. Christopher’s touch was the only touch she ever wanted to feel, and the sensations of his touch still lingered on her skin

Napoleon would be with her in her dreams, because her heart, body and her soul belonged to her Saint Christopher.

What was the point of being a witch if she couldn’t have some magical fun now and then? Napoleon was in for the ride of his life tonight, but he’d be on that ride alone.

*****

Isabella’s heart raced. She looked down at the sheer muslin nightgown she wore. Reaching for her red dressing gown, she wrapped it around her body. Napoleon slept soundly in the bed beside her. She’d already given him the night of his dreams—in his dreams. He hadn’t gotten past touching her and giving her a few kisses. As soon as they’d been left alone, she’d gone to work. Fortunately, though she’d kept her body chaste, she knew far more than most maidens about what happened in the bedchamber. Her knowledge came from being around far too many Cyprians, hearing them talk about the exploits, and using her magic to read their minds to take away what she needed to know to make other men think she had become one of their many conquests.

Come the morning, Napoleon would be absolutely infatuated with her—but her reputation, as she knew it had gone to hell in a hand basket. After the news of tonight spread throughout the court, she’d be known as the new Courtesan to the Corsican.

She’d been prepared to sacrifice herself for the greater good, so she should be prepared for the consequences. Still—she didn’t know if she’d like getting the stares the other courtesans received. But ah, well…soon, she would be in England, and she’d be free!

A loud rap at the door caught her attention. She looked over at Napoleon. What was she going to do? She’d put him in a deep enchanted slumber, and even she couldn’t use her magic to pull him out of it. She could only hope she’d be able to put off whomever was at the door until the morning.

She slipped her feet into her slippers, and padded quietly toward the door. She listened. Carefully opening the door, she found a guard standing waiting patiently for her.

“This is for you, Mademoiselle. I will not keep you from His Imperial Majesty. Have a good night.” He winked at her. Her stomach flipped.

Her heart stopped when she looked down at the wax seal. What did Pierre want to pester her with now?

Hastily, she broke the wax seal, and started reading the missive.

My dearest Isabella,

I’ve heard of your dangerous liaison with The Emperor. I’ve also heard that you’ve been given a different set of orders, and that you shall be trained to be a French Intelligence Agent. I do not doubt you are up to the task, however, pray keep in mind that I am your true master. I’d like to give you a reason for remaining loyal to me. I have Mademoiselle Trudeau in my custody. I shall be keeping her until you return. Never fear…she will be safe, as long as you toe the mark. Make one wrong step, dearest, and Daphne shall have her little neck slit. Once you reach England, if you do not return to me when I call for you—she will be sacrificed. I have eyes everywhere. Remember that.

With all of my love,

Pierre

Isabella’s hands shook. Walking over to the fireplace, she threw the letter into the leaping flames.

She would see her bastard of an uncle rot in hell, if it was the last thing she did.