I Spy a Duke (37 page)

She’d saved herself when he could not save her.
 

He held her close to him as Arden and Nixon went for Sauveterre, crossing his hands and feet and then binding them. The bastard let out a pitiful groan, but James spared him no mind. This time, he would gladly leave his agents to dealing with the enemy—the most important person in their mission was already with him, snuggled up against his coat.

He pulled her closer to him, hunching over her to hide her eyes from the butchery around them. But instead, she lifted her head up from his coat, refusing to be shielded.

“You don’t have to protect me anymore,” she murmured. “You made sure I could protect myself.”

“I will always—” He’d been about to tell her he’d always protect her. But he’d just watched her fight through hell and come out on the other side. He looked down at her, a proud smile on his lips. “I solemnly swear to never underestimate you again, my brave survivor.”

“Your brave
spy
,” she corrected.

He released her, his mouth agape. But before he could question her, she rose up on her tiptoes, kissing him. She drew him closer to her, anchoring her hand on his neck. He let her steer the kiss for a minute. Then he took over, claiming possession of her, plundering her mouth. He kissed her until every bit of her body was imprinted again upon his mind, until he slowly said goodbye to the guilt that had consumed him in this last year.

When they finally broke apart, it was because they could no longer spare their breath. Still she stayed in his arms, her head nestled against his chest. He knew that for the rest of his life, he’d want her by his side. She was a fierce minx. A damnably aggressive, impossible woman.

She was all his. Forever.

Approximately an hour later, Vivian sat on the settee in the main room of the cottage, a lukewarm cup of tea cradled between her hands. James had poured it for her, insisting that it would help her get her strength back, but she couldn’t summon up the energy to lift the cup. She leaned her head back against the settee, shuddering.

Arden watched her from her perch across the room. She’d come to sit with Vivian after helping Northley into bed. The maid would mend from Sauveterre’s blows, but she needed rest and relaxation to speed along the healing process.
 

“It will take some time to recover,” Arden said, her quiet words a balm to Vivian’s tired soul. Everything today had been too loud, too rough. “The first time you’re taken hostage is always difficult.”

“The
first?
” Vivian turned her head toward Arden, her brows arched. “How many times exactly have you been taken hostage?”

“Seven,” Arden said, said after a moment of reflection. “But five of those times, it was a tactical move on my part to catch the enemy off-guard. The other two…well, I prefer to think of them as mistakes to learn from.”

“I see,” Vivian said, her head beginning to spin again. “I have much to learn about spycraft.”

Arden smiled. “You have the best teacher in James.”

Vivian looked toward the end of the hall, where James and Nixon had moved Sauveterre for a preliminary interrogation. She hadn’t heard anything from that side of the house since they’d closed the door. Either the walls were thicker than she’d assumed, or they’d found a way to make the bastard talk without needing to inflict pain. Since all of his men were now dead, she suspected it was the latter—above all else, Sauveterre seemed to value his own life.
 

The door to the back room opened and James emerged. He started down the hall, his strides quick. Dirt and blood streaked his breeches. Stained his skin. His white shirt was ripped, and a pool of crimson stained his chest from where a knife must have nicked him. He came to a stop at the edge of the parlor, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. His knuckles were raw and bloodied.

But he was alive.

And he loved
her
.
 

He crossed the room, coming to sit next to her. His baritone was the most welcome sound in the world. “We’ve finished with Sauveterre, at least for now.”

“Good,” Arden said.

“Did he tell you much?” Vivian asked.
 

“A few things.” James did not expand on that thought further, and she did not ask. He would share what he could. “Arden, do you think you might give us a moment?”

Arden nodded. “I should go check on Northley anyhow.” She stood, laying a hand on Vivian’s shoulder as she passed by the settee.
 

Once she was gone, James turned to face her. “We have just barely started with Sauveterre. I believe that back in headquarters with our best people, we could obtain much more information from him.”

“You mean you could torture it out of him,” she supplied.

He blenched. “I was hoping for a more delicate phrasing, but yes.”

“I no longer harbor any illusions about your work.” Her smile was bittersweet. “It’s bloody and distressing, but it keeps men like Sauveterre from harming innocent people.”

“About what you said outside,” James said. “Did you mean it? You want to be a spy?”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “I want to be a part of the Clocktower. I
need
to be a part of it.”

“I was not expecting that response.” He took her hand in his, the warmth of his palm steadying her rapid heart. Everything made more sense when he was around. “Though I am glad.”

“But I want to do it on my terms,” she said. “You told me you’d assign my missions. After today, I know that there are some lines I’m not willing to cross.”

James clasped her hand tighter. “I wanted to speak to you about that. With what he knows, we might be able to shut down the Talons permanently.”

“That would be wonderful.”
 

“It would be a huge blow to Bonaparte’s government. Without his team of assassins, we stand a much better chance of unseating him.” James pursed his lips. “But...”

She tilted her head toward him. “But what?”

James sighed, taking in a deep breath. Whatever he was about to say weighed heavily on him. “But with everything you went through to find this bastard, I can’t take away your chance at revenge. Not after he hurt you like this.”
 

“You’re offering me the chance to kill Sauveterre?” She blinked, unsure she’d heard him right. “After everything you said before?”

“Perhaps I was wrong,” James hedged. “Perhaps I had no right to tell you what you needed to grieve.”

It was her turn to squeeze his hand now. “Or perhaps you were correct all along.”
 

His jaw dropped.

“All this time, I have thought only of vengeance for Evan,” she said. “As if that was the only way to ever make things right after his death. But I see now that I should have been looking for a way to honor the life he led.”

Understanding crossed James’s scratched face. “You did what you thought was needed.”
 

“Perhaps it was Sauveterre’s blasé justification of Evan’s death.” Her gaze drifted toward the back room. “He didn’t care who he had to kill to achieve his goal. Evan. Me. Even Northley. I don’t ever want to view human life as collateral damage.”

“You could never be the horror that Sauveterre is,” James assured her, his faith in her supporting her.

“Maybe not,” she mused. “But I don’t want to take that chance. When I looked into Sauveterre’s eyes, I saw nothing but coldness. No feeling. If I take his life, then maybe that coldness settles in me too. I choose not to take that chance.”

A wave of relief spread across James’s face. His posture relaxed. Were it not for the dried blood clotting on his face, he would have looked truly
happy.

In that moment, she knew she’d made the right decision. “If you can shut down the Talons, then Evan’s death wasn’t for naught.”

The best way Vivian could think to carry on his legacy was to continue his work.

But she also never wanted to be a victim again. For too long, she’d put control of her life in the hands of other people. Going forward,
she
would control her destiny. James’s instruction here had given her the preliminary resources, but it was not enough. The more she learned, the more she realized that this was where she was supposed to be: protecting people who couldn’t help themselves. Who didn’t even know that a threat was coming—and if they succeeded in keeping the nation safe, they never needed to know.

“Then I will tell Nixon to ready Sauveterre for transport. We’re going back home.” He released her hand, pushing himself up from the settee.

“One moment.” She held up her hand, and he plopped back down. “Sauveterre isn’t going anywhere. Could we just…sit here for a minute? You and me.”

“Absolutely.” He pulled her toward him, and she laid her head down on his shoulder.
 

They’d weathered the storm. They’d faced an assassin. The terrors of their past. And they’d come out stronger, better versions of themselves.

Together.
 

EPILOGUE

Three months later

“I’ve found it,” Vivian whispered, waving for James to come over to her. As soon as he slid into place next to her, she shone her candle on the slip of paper, tapping her thumb on the postmark on the letter.
 

“Very good,” James praised.

She’d expected that after three months of heavy training with the Clocktower, his commendations would begin to matter less to her. Yet with every new achievement, she still loved to hear him extol her success. He supported her, giving her enough free rein that she felt independent on missions, but he was still always there for her if she needed him.

“Now what do we do?” she asked, careful to keep her voice quiet.
 

They’d snuck off at a soirée hosted by a wealthy magnate, Mr. Samuel Rivers, who apparently owned half of Bristol. But more importantly, James had received a tip from one of his assets in France that Mr. Rivers had been seen last month with several key members of the First Consul’s government.

James took the letter out of her hands, slipping it in his coat pocket. “We filch the letter and run like hell.” He motioned toward the door.

She blew out the candle, dropping it in her reticule. Her new lady’s maid, Kinsey, would decry the waxy residue, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She certainly couldn’t leave the candle behind, nor could they risk anyone seeing the light. Moonlight already streamed in through the big windows, a spy’s worst enemy.
 

But the risk was worth it. That piece of paper contained tangible evidence that Rivers conspired with one of Napoleon’s top generals to provide him with several shipments of arms.
 

Besides, in the past three months, she’d grown accustomed to stalking about in the dark. Sometimes, she even preferred it now, for she no longer feared for her life when a shadow crossed her path. Sauveterre was heavily guarded in gaol, awaiting execution for his crimes. As James had predicted, he’d given them a list of all the people he’d personally known in the organization, including several names neither James nor the rest of his agents recognized.

She followed James, her slippers making no sound on the floor as she crept toward the entrance of the library. Every part of her body was on alert, ready to act.

Footsteps sounded outside the door, and James signaled for her to take cover. She ducked, scurrying behind the couch. She held her breath. The footsteps continued, past the library door and down the hall.