Seventeen

Rafe tossed the used towel to the floor and braced a hand on the bed beside Collette’s hip. Her white skin bore the red imprint of his hand, where he’d held her hips in an effort to keep his need under control.

She was still bent over the bed, her body open to him. He could see the pink, swollen flesh between her legs, and he felt his cock twitch. Her head was turned on the bed and she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes glassy with pleasure. She seemed to read his mind and lifted her hips again in what was probably an unconscious invitation, but he knew what he wanted next and it was not another quick rogering.

He pulled her up and turned her in his arms, cupping the back of her neck with his hand and kissing her gently. She seemed surprised at the gesture, but she wrapped her arms around him and responded sweetly. Too sweetly. It was impossible for him not to know how she felt. She’d said it with words, but did she know that she said it with her body every time he touched her? Her lips said it now, and her hands as they twined in his hair.

When they parted, he took the other towel and handed it to her. He climbed on the bed, moving to the far side and leaving the side nearest the window for her. When she’d done her ablutions, she crawled beside him. He pulled her into his arms and held her, not speaking, just knowing this would be the last time he would ever hold her like this.

After a little while, her breathing slowed and her body went limp. She dozed, but Rafe watched the sliver of light on the coverlet widen and grow longer until it slid over their legs, then up to their entwined thighs.

If all went as planned, she would see her father tonight. Tonight he would have to make a decision—to allow her and her father to go free, or to turn them in to the Foreign Office. Duty versus honor. If he did his duty to his country and his former commanding officer, he would turn Fortier over to the Foreign Office. He should turn them both in, but that was where honor came in. How could he give Collette over to men who would undoubtedly see her questioned, perhaps tortured, and imprisoned if not hanged? What kind of man would he be to take her body, lie with her in his arms, then betray her trust?

He had told her he would help her to get away. He would stand by his word, even if it meant losing Draven’s trust forever. Even if he too might be brought up on charges of treason for aiding spies.

He could go with her…

Rafe’s hand, which had been caressing the curve of Collette’s hip, paused. What if this was not the last time he held her, kissed her, touched her? What if he could have her every day and every night? But leave his life in London? Leave his friends and his family and his bevy of admirers for a life as a fugitive?

It might be worth it to have Collette at his side if not for one problem: he would never run away like a thief in the night. Rafe had too much respect for Lieutenant Colonel Draven to disappear without a word or an explanation. Duty and honor went hand in hand on that point.

Collette stirred and Rafe moved his hand over her silky skin again, cupping the lush curve of her hip. Under his touch, her skin pebbled with gooseflesh and then her eyes fluttered open. As soon as her gaze focused on him, she smiled. Rafe’s chest seemed to constrict, making it difficult for him to breathe. How many women had smiled at him? How many come-hither glances had he received? None had ever affected him like Collette’s. None had ever made him feel nervous and tender and randy all at the same time.

“You’re still here,” she murmured, her voice husky from sleep.

“Still here.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

“I didn’t think you were the kind of man who stayed after…” She made a motion with her hand to indicate the bed and what they had done in it.

“I’m not. But I keep telling you, you’re different.” He gathered her closer until her warm body pressed against his. “Don’t you believe me?”

“I am trying.”

He knew what she was not saying. She could not fully trust him until he was put to the test—tonight. He didn’t blame her because he didn’t trust himself.

“I like waking up beside you.” She kissed him lightly on the mouth and his blood started to hum as it raced through his veins.

“Do you?” His hand drifted from her hip to her round bottom. “What else do you like?”

“The way you touch me. The way you look at me. The way you kiss me.”

He resisted the urge to claim her, instead taking her lips tenderly. He moved down to her jaw, then her cheek, then her temple, her brow, and the bridge of her nose. His mouth moved over her skin in feathery strokes until she was sighing with pleasure. He angled up on an elbow and looked down at her. Rafe didn’t think he had ever seen a more beautiful woman than Collette with her moist, red lips and her pink cheeks. He spread her dark hair out on the bed beneath her, then kissed her neck and her clavicle.

She wrapped her arms around him, urging him back to her mouth, but he shook his head. “I want to worship you. I want to kiss every inch of you.”

Shoulders, arms, fingers, belly, knees, and toes. By the time the sun streaked over her breasts, he knew every inch of her. And she was panting with need. He understood that need because his own cock throbbed with desire for her. Her nipples had hardened into points, the sun making their pink tips look almost golden. Her legs had opened, giving him a peek at her womanhood. He hadn’t kissed her there yet, but now he spread her legs wider and brushed his jaw along her inner thigh.

Collette sighed, her breath hitching as he inched closer to her core. She was pink and petal soft here, her skin glistening with the evidence of her arousal. That little, rosy bud looked swollen with need, and when he scraped his tongue over it, her entire body quivered. Her knees fell open wider as she gave him her trust. Rafe took his time pleasuring her. He’d always been good at pleasuring women and he’d always enjoyed it, but never so much he would forgo his own pleasure. But Rafe could have spent the rest of the day pleasuring Collette and never once thought of himself. After her first climax, she tried to close her legs, but he coaxed them open again, and under his ministrations, she was soon writhing and moaning once again.

And then, quite unexpectedly, she tugged at his hair. He looked up at her, at her dark, shining eyes. “I want you. All of you.”

He couldn’t resist the plea in her voice. He didn’t even want to. He covered her body with his, sliding over her and then into her slick, wet sheath. She moaned and her hips rose to take him in until he’d buried himself to the hilt. Her eyes went hazy, her focus drifting as he began to move within her. And then she met his gaze again, and her fingers twined with his so that he pinned her arms to the bed. Rafe was not gentle. He took his pleasure, thrusting deep and hard in a quickening rhythm. He felt her muscles squeeze, and she let out a soft exclamation in French as she climaxed.

He looked into her eyes as she came, felt her body tighten around him, and he had never felt closer to another person than in that moment. His own release was hard on the heels of hers, overlapping it, and he withdrew quickly, but his eyes never left hers as he spilled his seed.

He stared at her, panting, pleasure spiraling through him. He’d never sought intimacy before. He’d wanted encounters designed to give him release, not to feel emotions. But now so many emotions coursed through him that he didn’t know how to categorize them much less what to do with them. But as they finally drew apart and he flopped on the bed, chest rising and falling, Rafe’s rib cage still felt tight. And he knew the specific area where the constriction was strongest—his heart.

He loved Collette Fortier. He, Rafe Alexander Frederick Beaumont, was in love.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

Collette’s empty belly woke her. She opened her eyes to find herself alone in her chamber. Rafe had covered her with the counterpane, but he’d taken his clothing and gone. She sat and peered at the door adjoining their rooms. It was closed.

Lying back with a sigh, Collette closed her eyes against the sting of tears. He had retreated again. She’d thought...but she was a fool to keep hoping he would ever love her. And even if he did love her, they had no future together. She would never sacrifice her father, not even for a man she loved as much as she loved Rafe Beaumont.

The room was dark, but the sky outside was still a pewter gray. Gaines had told them he would fetch them at full dark, which gave her a little time to dress and to think. She washed and pinned her hair and considered her options. She did not know what sort of shape her father would be in, if he would be well enough to travel, but she knew she had to take him far away from England as quickly as she could. If possible, tonight. Wapping was too close to London, too close to the Foreign Office and Lady Ravensgate. She did not want to risk being found and losing her father once again.

She had reasoned it this way. They couldn’t return to France. Her father would never be safe as long as the Bourbons were on the throne. He’d perpetrated too many crimes against them. And they could not go anywhere within easy reach of the British. That left one good option: the United States.

Fortunately, she had found the last piece she needed to make her plans reality. She knew just the man to help her book passage to America.

She had just finished dressing, no easy task when attempted by herself, when Rafe tapped on the door and entered. As usual, he looked as though he had spent an hour with a valet. His clothing, though it had been tossed on the floor like hers, was pressed and unwrinkled. His hair was stylishly tousled and his eyes looked at her with his usual mixture of sinful charm. Only his jaw gave any indication he had not dressed for a night at Almack’s. Dark stubble gave him a dangerous look.

“I took the liberty of ordering tea and scones. Will you come into my chamber and eat something? We have a long night ahead of us.”

She nodded, wondering if he knew exactly how long it would be for her. She did not think she would have time to sleep or do much more than eat a few bites for days, perhaps weeks. Though her belly was tense, she forced herself to drink a little tea and nibble on a scone.

“I have been thinking, and now that I’ve seen this place, I’ve formulated a plan.”

She nodded. “Go on.”

He related the particulars, and though she could see several potential problems, it was better than she might have conceived. She agreed, then set down her uneaten pastry.

“You’re not hungry?” he asked. She might have asked him the same since he hadn’t touched the food.

“I’m nervous. I haven’t seen my father in months.”

“You won’t wait much longer. Gaines has had time to gain information on the ship and its passengers. If we had guessed wrong or anything he discovered contradicted our theories, he would have let us know before now. If your father is on that ship, we will see him before the night is over.”

She took a breath and tried to smile. Collette tried to think of something else to say, but her thoughts spun away before she could grasp one. The silence between them grew, and she was relieved when a tap on the door ended the awkwardness.

Rafe crossed to the door. Gaines stood in the doorway, his brows lifted. “Ready?”

Collette nodded.

“Yes,” Rafe said. “But I need to step out to the stable and speak to my coachman. I want the horses and the coach ready for a quick departure.”

“Of course. We will wait for you in the private dining room.”

Once downstairs, Rafe went his way and Gaines escorted her to a small room lit by a fire. No one dined there now, but beyond the door that opened into the public room, she could hear the rumble of men’s voices and the clink of silver.

“I think you have something to say to me,” Gaines said softly. “Best to say it now before he returns.”

She looked at him, praying she could trust him.

“Am I mistaken?”

“No,” she said. “I may need to leave quickly.”

“And that is why Mr. Beaumont readies the coach?”

“I may need to leave without him.”

Gaines nodded slowly. “And you want help securing passage?”

“I want to go to the United States. I think you are the best man to help me there.”

“I know all the captains and their destinations—their real destinations,” he added. “I can put you on a ship bound for America. There is one that may sail as early as tomorrow evening.”

“Nothing sooner?”

“Not out of Wapping. But if it’s your companion you fear, trust that I will make certain he does not prevent you from boarding the ship. The sailors will not allow him to take you off.”

“I don’t have any money. My father may have some—”

Gaines waved his hand. “I can call in a favor.”

“You would do that for me?”

“I would never have reached England if several men hadn’t done me a good turn. How can I refuse a fellow human in need?”

“Thank you.”

“If I may, why is it you want to escape Mr. Beaumont? He does not seem a cruel man.”

“He is not, but we…we have different loyalties.”

“I see. Then put your faith in me.”

“Why must she have faith in you?” Rafe asked as he strolled into the room.

Collette felt her cheeks redden as heat raced to her face. How much had he heard?

“She must have faith I will take you to the ship we saw this afternoon. Are you ready, sir?”

Rafe’s eyes met hers, and she looked away.

“Ready,” he said, sounding very much like a man to be marched before the executioner.

The night was cool, and Collette pulled her cloak close around her. The Thames stunk less in the evening, as the sun did not beat down on it and fewer ships moved through it to stir up the noxious fumes. And still Collette found herself holding her breath as they made their way along the quay toward the set of steps they had descended earlier. Even from the pathway she could see a couple points of light on The Amaranthe. Lanterns had been lit, and that was a good sign. Someone was on the ship. It had looked so deserted this afternoon.

Gaines led them past the set of steps they had descended earlier, and Collette gave him a curious look. “I assumed you would want to observe from the shadows,” he said in answer, and led them toward the doorway of an old brick warehouse, leaning from age and neglect. Many of the warehouses butted the quay and overlooked the river. If the Thames rose too high, Collette imagined they flooded. “You may watch from here and you will not be noticed.” He brought the spyglass to his eye and stared at the ship for a long time. Then he lowered it and handed it to Collette. She raised it and peered at the ship.

“They’re lowering a jolly boat.”

“Is the man you seek aboard?”

She squinted and concentrated, but she simply could not make out any details of the passengers. There were four or five, but the shapes were indistinct in the dark, and it was difficult to be sure.

“I cannot say.”

“If he does come ashore, it will most likely be along the quay near here. A boat like that can pull alongside a dock and the men can disembark easily. Or they might choose to come in shallow and beach the boat. Be careful if you go down. The stairs are slick at night and the riverside is rocky.”

Rafe held out his hand, and she put the spyglass into it. He peered through it. “Wherever they come ashore, we won’t reveal ourselves until we know Fortier is with them. And even then, we wait until they’re ashore. We don’t want them rowing back out and escaping that way.”

Collette frowned. “Do you think they will try and escape?” That had been the least of her worries. Her fear was once they realized she did not have the information she’d promised, they would try and hurt her or her father.

“I don’t know what they will do.” Rafe took a pistol from his greatcoat. “But I am ready for it.”

He must have retrieved the pistol from the coach when he’d gone to see the coachman. She wished its presence made her feel safer, but she couldn’t help worry that he might use the pistol to take her father prisoner.

“One shot from that,” Gaines said, “and you will have the Thames River Police here. I would not use it unless it’s truly necessary.”

“Point taken.” Rafe dropped the pistol back in his pocket and lifted the spyglass. “They’re getting closer.”

Collette shrank back into the shadow of the warehouse, touching her hood to make sure she was still concealed.

“I would leave you now,” Gaines said. “I don’t want any part in this.” His brown eyes met Collette’s. “But I will be at the inn if you have need of me. I will tell my innkeeper I am to be at your disposal.”

“Thank you,” Collette said, grateful that he seemed to remember their earlier discussion. She knew he must have been referring to her request that he help her find a ship to take her to the United States.

With a nod and then a bow, Gaines took his leave. When they were alone, Rafe handed the spyglass back to her. “Do you see him?”

She peered through it, scanning the dark water until she found the boat. “It’s hard to tell.”

“Look at the man seated in the middle. If one of them is a prisoner, it’s that man.”

Collette studied the man in the middle. He sat in the boat, neither rowing nor directing the other men. His back was hunched and his head down. He wore a dark hat, which shielded his head, and she could not make out the color of the man’s hair. “It might be him,” she said. “I think his size is about right, but I simply cannot see well enough.” But even the prospect of the man in the middle of the boat being her father made her heart pound with anticipation. She found herself praying over and over that she would see her father tonight.

“They’re heading for that dock,” Rafe said, pointing toward a small dock that jutted out from the riverside. It did not seem to belong to any particular warehouse and wasn’t long enough to accommodate a large vessel. But a small boat like this one could pull alongside.

“Should we go down?” Collette asked, no longer needing the spyglass to see the boat’s progress, which was only a few yards from the dock.

“Not until we’re certain he’s with them.”

The boat seemed to make excruciatingly slow progress, and then finally, it was within range of the dock. Collette raised the spyglass again and focused on the man seated in the center of the boat. Lamps lit the quay at sporadic intervals, and she could make out the features of the man in the bow of the boat. He had a long, thin nose and high cheekbones. His pewter hair had been brushed back to reveal a high forehead. She didn’t know this man, but she couldn’t believe he was a sailor. Everything about him, from the way he stood to the tilt of his upturned jaw, spoke of the nobility. The man rowing behind him was bigger and bulkier, but he too wore a coat and neck cloth.

And then the man in the middle looked up. The hood of his cape fell back slightly and Collette saw the glint of white hair. Her belly tightened and her chest sagged. It wasn’t him. Her father had dark hair, like she. In the murky lamplight, this man’s complexion looked pale and sallow, whereas her father had always had olive skin that made it look as though he spent much time outdoors.

And then he looked up, and Collette gasped.

“What is it?” Rafe was beside her in an instant, his hand on her back. She shook her head, unable to lower the spyglass. Unable to comprehend what she saw.

The prisoner in the middle had looked up. He’d looked directly at her, though he couldn’t have seen her. He must have simply looked in her direction. But there was no mistaking what she had seen. He was her father. Only he bore very little resemblance to the healthy, youthful man she’d known. This man had aged years, decades, in only a few months.

Her hand shook and she had to lower the spyglass.

“What is it?” Rafe asked again.

In answer, her eyes filled with tears.

Rafe took the spyglass and peered through it. “His hood has fallen back. Is that him?”

“Yes.” Her voice broke on the word. Rafe lowered the spyglass and took her by the arms.

“You have to tell me what’s wrong. Is that your father or no?”

“It’s him, but he…” She looked at Rafe. “What did they do to him?”

He gathered her in his arms, and she was grateful because she did not know if her legs would hold her. Her father looked so old and frail. She could see the hollows beneath his eyes and cheeks.

“They won’t touch him again. I swear it, Collette.”

She nodded, closing her eyes and savoring the warmth of his body as he held her close. Then she found her strength again and straightened. “I want to go to him.”

“You should wait here. It’s not safe.”

She shook her head. “We had a plan, and my father’s life depends on how well we execute it. I’m ready, Rafe.”

He gave her a dubious look, but whatever he saw in her face must have convinced him. “Come with me, but stay close. The last thing I need is to have to rescue two prisoners.”

He moved out of the cover of the warehouse, and she trailed in his shadow. She wanted them to wonder who she was until the moment she revealed herself, so she kept her hood up and stayed out of view. She and Rafe moved silently, and she needed all of her wits about her to concentrate on picking her way down the slick stone steps.

At the bottom of the steps, Rafe put a hand back to hold her in place. The wall of the stairwell and the quay were on their right; to the left of them, the wall had been set back and was more open to the riverside. The dock, however, was to their right. They might prefer another staircase, one they could see upon approach, but that would mean walking along the river for some way. As Gaines had pointed out, the shore was rocky and difficult to traverse, especially with a sick man. Collette knew Rafe believed her father and his captors would choose to approach the stairs, and to her advantage, they would do so almost blind to who waited for them there.

Rafe tugged his pistol from his coat, primed and loaded it. Then he reached into his boot and extracted his dagger. He handed it to her, and she took it gratefully. She couldn’t imagine using it, but she did not want to face these men completely vulnerable. “Do you have a pocket?” he whispered.

She nodded.

“Put it away. We stick with the plan, and the dagger comes out if things don’t go as expected.” He hugged the wall and motioned for her to do the same. She stood two steps above him, and the instinct to race down the remaining steps and run straight into her father’s arms almost overwhelmed her. She wrapped her hands around the fabric of her cloak and willed the men to hurry. How long did it take to climb from a boat and walk to a stairwell?

Finally, she heard the crunch of their boots and the low whisper of one of them. Rafe held a hand up again, staying her even as she leaned forward. He didn’t move, and the whole world seemed to stop and stand motionless. And then Rafe stepped down and out, blocking the men from the stairway. She was still hidden from view, only able to make out the shadow of the man before Rafe.

“Stop right there,” Rafe said in French. Hearing him speak her language so unexpectedly gave her a jolt. “You have something I want.” He brandished the pistol. Collette could not see the men’s reactions, but from the way Rafe strained forward they must have stepped back.

“Monsieur, you must have us mistaken for someone else” came a voice in answer. Collette would have bet all the money she had it was the man she had seen in the bow of the boat, the one with the sharp features. He spoke French like a nobleman.

“I don’t think so.” Rafe gestured with the pistol. “Fortier, come forward.”

The silence seemed to press like a weight on her ears.

“There is no one by that name among us,” answered the same voice she had heard before. “As I said, you have mistaken us. And while you might have a pistol, it is four against one. I suggest you be on your way, monsieur.”

“And I suggest you hand Fortier over, else I put a pistol ball in the temple of the spy you’ve come to see.”

Although Collette knew what was coming, she was still startled when he grabbed her arm and pulled her against his chest, wrapping an arm about her throat. He did not point the pistol at her head, but he held it close enough that the threat was real and present.

She could see all of the men, though her hood shadowed her face. The man in the front was indeed the man who had been in the bow, and his features looked even crueler in the yellow lamplight. Behind him was the other man, the one who’d been rowing. He held her father on one side, and on her father’s other side must have been the fourth man in the boat. He had been in the back, and she hadn’t seen him clearly. She didn’t look at him clearly now. She looked only at her father.

Now that she was closer, the changes in him were even more apparent. He stooped, and she could hear his breathing was labored. But his eyes were still sharp, and they were fastened on her with something that looked very much like horror.

“No,” he croaked, his voice sounding like the scratch of a pen nib on paper. “No!” he said again.

“Shut up!” the man holding him said.

Collette could hardly drag her gaze from her father back to the leader. When she did, his expression had not changed. He looked impassive. “And who is this?” he gestured to her with a weak flick of his wrist.

“Lower your hood,” Rafe said, his voice hard and cold. She could almost believe she really was his captive. She lifted her hands and pushed the hood back.

“No!” her father said, though it sounded more like a groan.

The leader narrowed his small eyes. “And why should I care about this woman?”

“Because she’s been spying for you for months, and because I believe she has codes you found so valuable that you crossed the Channel to meet with her. All I want is Fortier.”

“No!” Collette had worried she would give all away when she spoke. She was no actress, but the sight of her father standing there was enough to bring real fear into her voice. “No! Let him go. If you give him to this man, I swear I will tell you nothing.”

The leader’s gaze flicked to her and then back to Rafe. His haughty expression didn’t falter. Clearly, he had ways of making her talk. She prayed he would never have the opportunity.

“How do you propose we make the exchange?” the leader asked.

“Send Fortier up the steps. When he reaches the top, I hand her over.”

The leader frowned and turned his head slightly toward her father. “I’m not certain he can make it up the stairs on his own. He hasn’t been well.”

“You bastards.” The words came from deep within her. “You did this to him! I kept my end of the bargain—”

“He is an old man, Mademoiselle Fortier. I cannot be responsible for the health of old men.”

Her hand itched to grab the dagger and plunge it into his belly. Never before had she wanted to hurt anyone, but now she could have cheerfully killed all three men. And then her gaze met that of her father. His eyes flicked to Rafe and then to her. She stepped closer to Rafe, to try, in some small way, to let her father know he was their ally. At least she hoped he was.

“I can make it,” Fortier said. “I’m not so weak I can’t climb a set of steps.” He never looked away from her as he spoke. And she gave him a subtle nod. Yes, go far away, she thought. She wanted him on the quay if Rafe was forced to begin shooting.

“Go then,” the leader ordered. “Release him.”

The two men released his arms, and for a moment, he seemed to stumble. But he righted himself and squared his shoulders. In that instant, Collette saw the man her father had been. Hope flared in her. And then terror because she saw what he intended the moment before he struck.