One Night With a Spy (13 page)

Pickles sniffed. "Best boil it, too, to kill the taste."

Beppo shook his head slowly. "It will take too many wagons and barrels to bring enough to last us all."

Julia shook her head. "No, we can send some of our people to stay in the village. Furman has shed the last of those young men, hasn't he? He can put them up at the inn, four to a room if we must. It isn't far to come if we need them. Cover and shut up every room that isn't in use, and let the gardeners go home early for the season. Only the main house staff will stay. Will that do?"

Beppo's brow wrinkled. "If we put the horses to the north pasture with the dairy cows where they can drink from the lake as well…"

Julia smiled with relief. "Excellent. I'm sure they'll enjoy the rest after hauling water all day."

"Why are we hauling water?"

The deep voice behind Julia sent a jolt of deep pleasure through her. Before she thought, she'd turned and beamed a wide, welcoming smile up the stairs at Mr. Blythe-Goodman, the man she'd sworn to stay away from.

Marcus
. After all, she had kissed him and bathed naked with him. It wasn't such a presumption—and she liked his name. It was strong and noble, like him.

Then she remembered that she could not afford such a challenge to her balance. He seemed harmless, standing there with a small intimate smile of greeting on his lips just for her, but she could not underestimate the danger he presented.

The danger of falling in love.

And, dear God, she could fall forever into those deep forest eyes—

"My lady." He interrupted her absorption with the way his green eyes caught the morning light. "The water?"

"Hmm?" She saw Marcus's lips twitch. He was laughing at her! Julia snapped her attention back to the problem at hand. "The well has been fouled." She stood, shaking out her skirts, thankfully in control of her wandering thoughts once again.

Marcus sobered at once. "Was it due to last night's damage?"

She shook her head. "Meg checked the water before bed. Someone did it after we retired for the night."

Bloody hell. Destroying an estate's source of clean water was a grievous offense, far beyond the inconvenience of a privy bomb. It was frankly an act of war.

Yet, as he watched Lady Barrowby—surely he could think of her as Julia? It would save so much time—organize her people, he saw that she was more than up to the challenge. If this was some sort of test by Lord Liverpool, it seemed the Fox's protégée would pass yet again.

So she had brains aplenty. That didn't mean she wasn't also cunning and ambitious.

Qualities that sound a bit familiar, don't you think?

Intelligence was not the only requirement for the Four. Any accomplished criminal had the essential mental capacity. Their primary enemy, the French spymaster known as the Chimera, was alleged to be entirely brilliant. What was needed—what absolutely radiated from the three men now in office—was a deathless loyalty to their country that outshone every other thought and commitment.

Something Julia had yet to prove to him she had.

Someone rapped on the front door of Barrowby. Quick as a flash, Beppo was down the stairs. Julia and Marcus followed more leisurely.

Elliot stood in the hall, tugging his gloves from his fingers. "Here I am, my lady!" He smiled brightly, only to let the smile slip when he spotted Marcus. "Blythe-Goodman, what the he—heavens are you doing here so early?"

Marcus grinned easily. "Her ladyship was kind enough to offer the hospitality of Barrowby when things ran late last evening."

Elliot grimaced. Marcus could almost read his mind. Advantages of cutting out of the wretched labor versus advantages of staying overnight in her ladyship's house… The resulting conclusion was evident in Elliot's sour expression. As Julia greeted him calmly and sailed on past, Marcus clapped the other fellow on the shoulder.

"Don't take it so hard, old man. We can't all be heroes."

"You're treading on my territory, Blythe-Goodman," Elliot said with surprising ferocity. Then again, even a dandy had his own. sort of hill to defend. Her ladyship's income was quite a prize.

Marcus spread his hands. "I didn't impose. I was plainly invited."

Elliot narrowed his eyes. "She's pledged to me."

Marcus couldn't help it. He pursed his lips. "Is she reconsidering that decision after yesterday, do you think?"

Elliot looked a bit worried. "Well, I am here now."

Marcus nodded. "Yes, just in time to haul many, many heavy awkward barrels of water from the lake."

Elliot paled. "Haul?"

"Come on, man." Marcus gave him a sympathetic clout on the arm. "A bit of hard work never killed anyone."

He turned to follow Julia, but not before he heard Elliot grumble, "Ballocks. Hard work kills people every day."

Julia couldn't help but return to her earlier sunny mood once the work had begun. The autumn day was fair and her two swains were supplying an excess of high entertainment in their efforts to impress her. Men and their muscles—how adorably obnoxious.

Surprisingly, Mr. Elliot was holding his own. Who would have thought there was actual strength beneath that vibrant waistcoat? She paused in her bucket-toting to watch Elliot and Marcus combine their brawn to load a full cask onto the wagon. The great cart had to stand high enough on the drier bank so that its wheels would not sink into the earth. They never ceased their arguing, even as they worked effortlessly together to bring home more water to Barrowby than she'd dared to hope for.

It had been Elliot who had argued that they ought to dip from the far side of the lake so as to avoid any contamination from the privy mess. It had been Marcus who had initiated the idea of using Barrowby's copper bathing tubs to hold some of the water so that the barrels could return to the lake for another filling. Julia didn't know what she would have done without the two of them.

Not to mention the fuel for fantasy as the day wore on and Marcus removed his jacket and weskit to work in his shirtsleeves. Of course, it was inevitable that some barrels would slosh over on that shirt, wetting it to his rippling chest again and again. Julia nearly chewed her lip right from her mouth as she watched him, hair damp, nearly bare-chested, as he flexed his impressive strength on her behalf.

His gaze caught hers numerous times—hers guilty, his knowing—speaking volumes across the silence that never seemed truly quiet between them.

Really, it was a lovely day…

At last, the final barrel was filled and rolled away, leaving the exhausted Elliot, Marcus, and Julia behind. It wasn't until the wagon was well out of sight that Julia clapped a wet hand to her cheek.

"Oh! We ought to have ridden on the barrels! Now we'll have to walk miles back to the house." How could she not think of that? Then again, with Marcus rippling and flexing before her, who could have been thinking?

The look on Elliot's face was priceless, truly, but Julia was too upset to laugh. "How thoughtless of me, and after you have helped me so today!"

Marcus only grinned and put two fingers to his lips to emit a piercing whistle. A quarter of a mile across the pasture, his stallion, a fine creature the color of Julia's evening cup of chocolate, raised his head but didn't move a step to leave the other horses.

Marcus frowned. "I fear he's grown fond of that pretty mare." He whistled again. The stallion snorted and then began to reluctantly trot in their direction. Marcus smiled, then bowed to Julia. "May I offer you transportation, my lady?"

She raised a brow. "It doesn't seem that you shall have to, sir." She gestured to where her milk-white mare, Miel, had begun to follow his stallion like a schoolgirl with a crush.

She and Marcus laughed to see the two horses in the depths of infatuation. Elliot gave a whistle of his own. His aged mount continued to graze with great absorption. Elliot put his hands on his hips. "Filthy nag."

Marcus laughed. "You may double with me."

Elliot folded his arms. "Thank you, no. I'll walk. My magnificence has taken enough of a beating today. The last thing I want is for her ladyship to see me thumping along on your stallion's arse." He stomped off in the direction of the herd.

Julia turned. "Mr. Elliot, you may ride with me," she called after him. He sent her a careless wave and continued on his way. She turned back to see that Marcus had darkened at her offer. So he did not wish her to ride with her arms about Elliot's waist? How gratifying.

Stop that. Remember, Marcus is not what you want.

Except that wasn't true, was it? He was precisely what she wanted.

Moreover, she needed him at the moment. His help had been invaluable, and Aldus had taught her to prize such an asset. She would send him on his way once this crisis was over with.

Cold and cruel.

Yes, most definitely. But then, she was not just the benevolent lady of the manor. She was the Fox. And he was useful.

And you don't want him to leave.

Lady Barrowby on horseback was truly a sight to behold. She and her mare moved as one, despite the lack of saddle and her position astride—or perhaps because of it. With the skirts of her practical dark gown covering little below her knees, she rode unashamedly, laughing as she and her mare left him and his mount behind.

He let her ride on for a moment as a thought wandered across his mind. This was so very like one of the entries in her diary that he had to wonder if she had planned it thus.

Yet, how could she know that her well would be fouled and that the horses would be in the pasture with them?

So, was it merely a happy accident? Marcus bent low and encouraged his stallion to more speed. If so, then he meant to take advantage of it.

He easily came abreast of her. She cast him an exhilarated smile. The path entered the wood and he edged his mount closer to hers.

Abruptly, he leaned in and swept her from her horse with one arm. She squeaked in alarm, but nimbly twisted as he sat her across his lap. He slowed the stallion, letting her mare run ahead.

She brushed her fallen hair back from her face. She was plainly furious. "Why ever would you do such a thing? You could have harmed Miel!"

Marcus blinked. Well, hell.
Women
! He thought fast. "Branch," he said, cocking his head back the way they'd come. "A very low branch."

Her eyes narrowed and she leaned to peer behind them. "I saw no branch. And I ride this way often."

He nodded emphatically. "A branch. Very large. It had to be done."

She wriggled a bit in his lap and his eyes nearly crossed.

"Well, we must catch Miel."

"Will she not merely return to the stable looking for her oats?" Marcus tugged very carefully on the reins. The stallion's walk slowed to an amble. "I hate to press my mount when he must carry two."

As he'd suspected, her concern for his horse overrode her uneasiness. "Oh, of course you shouldn't."

Marcus said nothing more, only letting his easy, respectful hold and the rhythm of his horse's walk soothe her fears. Of course, in his mind he'd already thrown her to the leaves and divested her of her gown, but that was a harmless diversion. His intent was not to ravish, but to ensnare.

" 'Tis a lovely evening," he observed mildly. Damn, she smelled remarkable. For the rest of his life, he was going to become aroused by the clean scent of lake water.

Julia felt what was happening near her hip, but Marcus was behaving so admirably she forgave him for what he certainly could not help. Besides, it was lovely riding along in his arms, the gentle rocking of his horse allowing her to relax against his broad, hard chest.

"You were wonderful today," she told him. "I cannot thank you enough."

He smiled down at her. "It was nothing. I enjoy a bit of toil now and again." He chuckled. "I think even Elliot enjoyed himself, although he made sure we wouldn't think so."

Julia laughed. "Elliot fears if we catch him enjoying it, he'll be made to do it more often."

His laughter rumbled up through her and she felt a tiny quiver run over her skin. His clean manly scent was all over her and his heat burned off the chill of her dampened gown.

"Are you cold, my lady?" His arm tightened slightly about her. She allowed it, for she longed for nothing more than to drop her head on his shoulders and close her eyes to the world.

Dangerous.

It was odd how that reproving voice grew fainter and fainter by the hour. Now it was hardly more than an echo in her mind.

Absently, she noticed that the stallion was scarcely moving now. Marcus's heart was beating faster, she could feel it. The heat and tension between them rose in the silence and cocooned them from the real world.

She drew back to gaze up into his eyes. He was looking down at her, his hunger apparent and ferocious. She waited breathlessly for his control to break, for she longed for him to remove her from doubt and logic, but again, he did nothing but watch her.

She licked her lips. His gaze shot to her mouth. She felt him swell against her—heavens, who would have thought it could become yet
larger
?—but he did not so much as twitch in her direction.

He could be hers. All she need do would be to reach out her hand…

She was promised—to the Four and to Elliot, although for the life of her she could not remember why she thought she could bear to wed Elliot. However, she was not the sort to break a promise.

She swallowed. "Marcus, you are a fine man and I… admire you a great deal. But Mr. Elliot and I have an understanding—"

"I know. He told me."

She nodded regretfully. "It would be for the best then if you and I did not…" She drew a breath. "If we did not share this…"

"This what?"

God, he was without mercy. "This attraction. Yes, that is the word. Attraction." She straightened away from him. "I will not break my word to Mr. Elliot."

The stallion stopped. Marcus dropped the reins and took her by the waist. She gasped and pressed her hands to his chest, gazing up at him in alarm.

He smiled slightly. "My lady, I am not going to assault you. We are but half a mile from the house. I am going to dismount to walk the remainder and I don't want you to fall."