.
Mena kept her dagger pointed forward as the men stood back. Two of the men were weaponless and already injured.
She’d caught Luke and John off guard when she’d entered the room right behind them. Her cuts had not been deep but had been done quickly enough and with enough surprise for Marianne to steal two knives from the tea table across the room and knock the guns from John and Luke’s hands. Thomas, unsure of who to attack first, had moved after Mena, firing a bullet and missing, but the noise had been enough to alert the rest of the house of the danger. However, by then, she’d kicked two guns toward Marianne before moving to protect the princess.
In the end, it left two men injured men without a weapon and one holding a gun with only a single bullet. Who would Thomas shoot? It was the question of the last hour. He’d warned the soldiers who’d arrived outside that if they moved in, he would shoot the princess, then Thomas had sent Luke and John forward.
This had not gone well. Both men were injured and Marianne, who wasn’t the best-trained fighter, had already shown she knew how to handle a blade. But it was Marianne who’d picked up the last knife and showed she was more than ready for a fight. If the two hadn’t been injured, she was sure they’d have put up a better fight, but since they were, Marianne had managed to deliver a few more cuts to go with the one Mena had given them both and sent the men backward.
So, they were all at a stalemate at the moment.
Thomas had taken a chair, placing it by the door, and kept the gun aimed at Victoria. His eyes moved to Mena with disgust. “I thought you were on our side.”
“I would never betray the princess,” she said flatly, her dagger hanging by her side. Her arm had grown tired of holding it up, so she was saving her strength.
Marianne urged, “Just let the guards in. There is no way you’ll make it out alive.”
“Shoot her.” Luke nodded his head toward Marianne. He was holding his bloody arm. “We can manage the other woman and take the princess.”
“There’s no way out,” Mena told him. “Don’t you realize that by now every guard in London is here?”
“But they’ll not move if they think I’ll kill Victoria,” Thomas said with confidence. Then his eyes flickered behind her before frowning and he turned back to her.
Mena knew better than to look. She’d used a similar trick on Miash. She kept her eyes forward and focused.
Marianne, however, moved closer to her and whispered in her ear, “Our men will come, and this will end. Stay alert.” Then she moved back to Victoria.
Mena didn’t know if she could call Morgan hers anymore, but she agreed that they would come. She was confident of it and would stay alert.
A knock sounded on the door. One second, Luke was turning to look at it and in the next, he was down.
A scream broke out and Mena realized it was her. Glass broke in and Mena felt herself being pushed to the ground and landed with a thud. She was disoriented as she heard more shouting, then she heard someone in her ear. She turned to see Morgan. His arm was around her back protectively.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She stared at him with shock.
He turned her over and she kept her eyes on him as he looked over her body before returning his eyes to her. “Are you hurt?” he asked again.
She managed to shake her head but couldn’t speak.
He looked up when someone called his name. There was much happening around them, but Morgan looked calm. The danger was over. His brown eyes returned to her and he said, “I’m going to help you onto your feet, all right?”
Mena nodded again and felt herself lifted off the ground.
She saw soldiers moving all around her and watched Thomas, Luke, and John get taken into custody.
Another soldier approached her, and Morgan’s arm that was still around her tightened.
The soldier frowned at her and said, “I have to take Lady Philomena in.”
“I think not,” Morgan said.
The man looked at Morgan. “She attacked the princess’ guard.”
“She was acting under the authority of the government. You can ask Sir Neil Elkin.”
Mena’s eyes widened as did the soldier’s, but he looked at her again, disbelieving. “The secretary of Foreign Affairs approved of her attacking the princess’ guard?”
“He approves of what it takes to get the job done,” Morgan countered. “You have three men in custody who can be tied to Creed, the man who’s wanted Princess Victoria dead for years. We’ve done well today, Soldier. You should be pleased.”
“I agree,” Miash said, moving closer. “She helped save the future queen. We’ve reason to celebrate, Charles.”
Mena looked at him and he smiled before addressing a man he obviously knew.
Charles stared at Miash and said, “If you’re not upset any more than neither am I.” The two shook hands and Charles moved away.
Mena turned to Miash. “Thank you. I suppose you forgive me for what I did to you earlier?”
He smiled at her and said, “Indeed I do.” His smile was lovely and seemed to linger on her for a while.
Morgan took her hand, moving in a way that would catch the soldier’s eyes.
Miash took a step back, bowed, and smiled at Philomena before looking at Morgan. “Thank you. I don’t understand how a marquess gathers the skills that you have, but I’m sure the king will wish to share his gratitude.” Then he excused himself and moved to Victoria.
Mena watched him go. Someone else caught her eye and she smiled as she spotted Their Graces, Lord and Lady Wardington, standing with Marianne. Abigail was holding Marianne’s face in a loving way, and Marianne seemed to glow under the attention.
Lord Wardington caught her eyes and moved forward.
“Are you all right?” the duke asked, looking her over.
“I’m well. Morgan saved us.”
“The princess was in good hands,” Morgan said. “Mena and Marianne managed to hold the criminals back long enough for me and Miles Miash to get to them.”
The duke chuckled and shook his head. “I’m off to see the king, though I’m sure he’s been informed that everyone is all right.” Then he stared at Morgan and asked, “Did you get him?’
“Creed is going to hang.”
Mena, despite herself, reacted to that news. It still saddened her greatly.
Wardington looked down at her with soft eyes. “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”
She nodded and looked down, ashamed that she could love a man who would hurt the innocent.
Wardington placed a hand under her chin, caught her eyes, and gathered her from Morgan’s hands. He pulled her into an embrace.
Mena buried her face in his shirt. She took deep breaths to pull herself together and then backed away when she felt more stable. “Thank you.”
He nodded and turned to Morgan. “Take care of her.”
Morgan gathered Mena against him again. What was proper in such a circumstance? Mena wasn’t sure, but she was glad to have his strength. “I plan to.”
Mena looked at Morgan at those words and didn’t watch as Wardington moved away.
Did he truly mean it? Did he plan to take care of her or had he simply said what he suspected Wardington wished to hear? In the end, while Morgan had seen that she wouldn’t hang next to Creed, she had helped Creed in the worst way possible. She’d come to the palace on a mission she’d not known was hers. She’d trusted the wrong man and surely that would cost her dearly.
“Come with me.” He took her hand and led her through the soldiers. They were in the hall when Warren, Simon, and Lucas came inside.
“She’s with the princess,” Morgan told Simon right before the man ran off to see his wife.
Morgan led Mena away from the crowds and into a deserted hall in the house. He found an empty room and pulled her inside, and Mena thought of everything she should say to him, starting with the confession of her feelings and hoping it would be enough for him to give her another chance.
He didn’t give her the chance to speak.
Morgan pulled her close. His hand went to the back of her head, and Mena closed her eyes just before his mouth settled on hers. His kiss was warm, and she moaned as he pulled her closer. Her arms went around his neck, and she kissed him with all the passion she could summon. If this was to be her last, then she would make it worth it.
And he seemed to kiss her just as desperately. The only sound was the short breaths they took between kisses and the sounds of their growing passion.
Morgan spoke against her mouth. “I’ll never get enough of you.”
Happiness blended with desire and she whispered, “You never have to worry about that, because I’m yours.”
He slowly pulled away and met her eyes. “Does that mean you’ll still have me?”
She thought his question the height of ridiculousness. “Of course, Morgan. I love you. I chose you days ago.”
His hands moved to her cheeks, and he leaned forward and kissed her again before saying, “Thank God.”
She smiled.
“I love you,” he told her. “Even if you’d told me no, I’d already planned to have you anyway.”
She laughed and settled her hands on his shoulders. “How would you have managed it?”
He grinned. “We spies have our way.”
She didn’t doubt it. “Is it always this way?”
He shook his head. “Not always and since I’m titled, I’ll likely have to retire soon. Simon and the others are thinking of doing the same.”
She seemed surprised. “But you’re the Order of the Second Sons.”
“And more Second Sons will follow us,” he told her. “We’ve done our duty. We’ve saved the future queen. It’s time to let another man take over.”
She smiled and said, “I like the idea of you being home, but if you’re doing it for me, I don’t want you to. I believe in what you do, Morgan.”
He slid his hands down her shoulders and to her sides before he gripped her hips. “Thank you for your words, Mena, but I’m doing this for us. I’ll always be a spy, but I want to be more now.”
“What more could you be?” she asked.
“Your husband. I want to spend every moment I can with you and eventually raise my children with you. Nothing will be more important than my family.” He kissed her again and Mena felt tears fill her eyes. He thought being her husband was more important than being a Second Son. Her heart was full and soared with joy.
She was to marry the man of her dreams. A soldier. A spy. A marquess, and as Marianne had called him, her man. He was hers. Every part of him belonged to her, just as she belonged to him and for the next few moments in Morgan’s hands, not a single thought bothered her.