Clandestine (24 page)

“I am not a damsel-in-distress.”

“Thank goodness. Because I would be a poor excuse for a knight-in-shining-armor. It’s not really my forte.” His voice wry.

Ah yes. Meringue Man was back.

He turned away and continued leading the horse out of the barn. Dawn had strengthened, lighting the eastern horizon with a faint bluish pink glow.

“Linwood is going to have an apoplexy when he realizes we have left.” Kit skipped to catch up with him, falling into step at his side.

“We can always hope. I kind of like the thought of him frothing at the mouth, spluttering in anger—”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Linwood will consider it confirmation of your guilt.” Kit had to point out the obvious.

He just continued to lead the gig. Silence.

“I’m saying you don’t need to come with me.”

He shrugged. “Probably not. But I don’t mind holding your parasol while you fight whatever battle you need.”

He stopped and then winked, holding out a hand to assist her into the gig.

“I don’t own a parasol.” Kit ignored his hand.

“Pity. I was so looking forward to holding it.”

With a disgusted shake of her head, Kit took his hand and hopped into the gig, sliding across the narrow seat so Marc could join her, gathering the reins into her hands.

“Are you ever serious?” she asked as he sat down next to her.

“Not if I can help it.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

Marc chuckled, low and delighted. “Are you asking for suggestions? Because I am
happy
to offer ideas—”

Kit shoved his shoulder.

“And yes, I am always this utterly shameless.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Impossible man.” She clucked the horse to walk on.

She was sure Marc suspected Daniel of spying for the French. Everyone did.

And yet, Marc was still here. Helping to locate her brother. Not one word of recrimination. Bless him.

“Do we know what Daniel took?” she asked after a moment.

“No idea. Something which might help the French, apparently. Do you know where you are going?”

“Generally. I don’t know why I didn’t think to look there before.”

A pause.

“And this place would be . . .” Marc lingered, encouragingly.

“Home. I think it quite possible Daniel has gone home.”

Chapter 15

A country road

Somewhere in Herefordshire

Early afternoon on March 1, 1814

M
arc snoozed as Kit drove. Well, he pretended to snooze.

Despite several hours of driving, he was finding it hard to relax. Kit sat close, the seat of the gig barely holding two people. He took shameless advantage of it, allowing his knee to rest against hers whenever possible.

He was only a man, after all.

The day had dawned bright and clear, a rarity in early spring. As the sun climbed, they stopped to raise the hood of the gig to provide some shade. Though the sun felt wonderfully warm, neither of them wanted a sunburn. A woolen lap blanket provided extra warmth.

All of which would have ensured Marc drifted off to sleep. But his mind kept churning.

He
should
have been worrying over the trouble leaving with Kit certainly caused. How upset Arthur was going to be. How running off would look to Linwood.

But his brain kept wandering back to the barn and their kiss.

What had he been thinking?

That kiss had utterly rattled him. He was man enough to admit it. Holding her, feeling her lips against his. The staggering
rightness
of it.

Brought to his knees by a nineteenth century lady of mysterious origin.

Go figure.

What was he going to do? They barely knew each other really.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had seen flashes of her soul . . . the shy vulnerability she hid behind a wall of confidence. The quickness of her mind, her spunk and courage, not to mention her devotion to family.

That frightening sense of
rightness—
that word again—whenever they were together.

But given everything, he knew dwelling on her was just a masochistic exercise in self-torture. Why, then, had he spent the last several hours agonizing over it?

The gig hit a larger rut, jostling Marc into Kit. He gave up pretending to sleep.

“You want me to drive for a while?” he asked.

So far he had been content to have Kit handle the reins, as she had more experience with it than him and seemed to enjoy it. But he had watched her and the basics of steering the horse weren’t too challenging. Unless it was being shot at, their horse was predictably docile.

Kit shrugged and handed him the reins. She had been remarkably quiet all morning. Lost in thought like himself.

“So where are we going exactly?” he asked, holding the reins loosely in one hand.

“Home. Or, at least, a place I have . . . lived.”

Ah
. What a tantalizing bit of information. Marc rolled his wrist.
Go on
.

“There really isn’t much else to say. It’s as good a place as any to look for Daniel.”

“Does your family still live there?”

A long pause.

“Not . . . exactly.” She offered no other explanation.

Assuming Daniel was a spy for the French, how did she plan on returning home with her brother, no one the wiser? And how were they going to visit a home that was not really Kit’s home?

Marc swallowed his frustration. A few answers but more questions.

And thinking of questions . . . What about them? What impediment did she see to their being together? For all she knew, he was a baron, possessed of a title and probably some property. Perhaps even considerable wealth.

Not that he was, of course, but she didn’t know that.

She seemed to like him. So what was holding her back? Was her family too aristocratic? Not aristocratic enough? Was she engaged to someone else?

That last thought shocked, leaving him with a sinking pit in his stomach. There were just too many legitimate possibilities.

Kit let out a resigned breath.

“I know you don’t want to, but we should probably talk about this.” She gestured between them.

Marc considered pretending to misunderstand her meaning, but as he had
literally
just been thinking the same thing . . .

“Agreed,” he said.

She nodded. “I know why I can’t be with you, but I am curious as to your reasons.”

Huh. Throwing his own thoughts back at him. He remained silent, unsure what to say.

“It’s . . . complicated,” was what he finally settled on. “You?”

She gave a soft laugh and then fixed him with a saucy lift of her eyebrows. “It’s complicated.”

Marc supposed he deserved that. At least she was open to sharing
something
.

But he wanted to know so much more.

No, that wasn’t quite right.

With staggering clarity, he realized he ached to know
everything
about her.

Had she slept with a stuffed bunny until she was eight-years-old? What was her favorite childhood pet? The name of the first boy who had dared kiss her soft lips? Did she laugh or cry when reading overly emotional novels?

The depth of his want terrified him. He longed to drag her into his soul and never, ever let her go.

They drove on for a few minutes, Marc absorbing the unexpected emotions hammering through him.

Birds chirped through the trees, loud and excited for spring to come. The fields spread in every direction, green grass pushing through the debris of winter.

Should he tell her the truth?

It was the first time he had seriously considered it. Up until now, it had felt impossible for her to understand. He had no proof of his twenty-first century origins. No cell phone or other bit of technology. It would just be his word.

Though after the events of the previous night, it seemed Kit had a right to know. Before he had merely surmised Daniel was the man who had attacked him in Duir Cottage.

But seeing the same button in Linwood’s hand had taken away any doubt. Daniel was either the blackmailer or in league with them. All of which meant Daniel—somehow, someway—knew about the portal and had, at the very least, visited 2014.

The thoughts wouldn’t stop running around his head. Daniel had known ties to some kind of French spy network, stealing something critical from Linwood . . .

Europe was at a crossroads, Napoleon on the run. But what if something happened to disrupt that balance? Would the portal allow someone through who would change the course of history? What would it mean for Britain—and the history of the world in general—if Napoleon won this war?

It was almost too terrifying to contemplate.

“Let’s make a deal,” Marc said. “You tell me your secrets. All of them. And I will tell you mine.”

Kit stared impassively out at the countryside. Contemplating.

And then she sighed. “I just . . . can’t, Marc. I am so sorry. But it’s just too much to explain . . .”

He felt her rejection like a sharp blow to the head. Why would she deny him? He had offered to tell her
everything
. What kind of life before coming to Haldon Manor warranted this level of secrecy?

And then something twisted in his gut.

What if she knew about the portal too? What if
that
was the secret she was protecting? What if she were in on the blackmail?

The thought chilled his blood.

He suddenly could see it all too clearly. Kit worming her way into the household at Haldon Manor, sneaking messages to her brother. Blackmailing the Knights for money, plotting who knows what.

Kit was capable of it. It was all those traits he loved best about her: confidence, internal strength, intelligence, resourcefulness.

Marc swallowed.

Wow.

The whole situation had suddenly delved into a murky place.

But even as he thought it, he rejected the idea. Yes, she had the personality to do all those things. But it wouldn’t be in her character to blackmail for personal gain. No, Kit would only do it for some greater good. But what noble cause was she focused on?

Marc let out a long stream of air. Straightened his shoulders. He needed to know everything about Kit and Daniel. Now.

“Kit, enough. I need to know what’s going on. I know you are a good person. Again, please trust me. I am on your side.”

She shook her head. “I can’t, Marc. As I said, it’s difficult—”

“You’ve never struck me as the type who shies away from difficulty. Or perhaps it’s my intelligence you question?”

She turned in her seat and fixed him with such a . . . look. And then turned back to face the road, crossing her arms.

“You just need to leave it alone.”

Uh . . .
no
. He wasn’t going to leave it alone. She had been the one to bring it up, and there was no way she was backing out because the conversation had veered off track. He was going to bait and badger her until she gave him answers.

The whole history of the next two hundred years might be riding on it. Not to mention his own future.

“So you just see me as a pretty face to kiss, but not someone you would trust with the basic facts of your life?”

She sighed. A weary, resigned sound. “Please don’t be ugly.”

“Or do you find my rank and position in society aren’t up to your standards?”

“Just stop this. I can’t tell you—”

“Why? How can the truth be any worse?”

“Let it go, Marc.”

“I can’t. I need to know.”

“You want my secrets? Why don’t you start by telling me one of yours?”

“Fine. Ask away.”

She blinked, obviously surprised he would acquiesce.

“Your sister,” she said without hesitation. “What is the precise nature of the spying activities you do with her?”

Ah, that was an easy one.

“We’re not spies.”

She regarded him for a moment, eyes narrowed. “Why do I not believe you?”

Marc shrugged. “It’s the truth. I am decidedly not a spy. My darling sister invented that entire story for Linwood’s benefit.”

“Really?” Her head went back. A smile tugged at her lips, warring with her stern expression. “She sounds as bad as you.”

“Definitely. Which is why I have kept my connection with Emme secret. It’s a huge misunderstanding which Linwood has blown out of proportion and no amount of telling him otherwise has changed his belief. I admit it’s been fun to play red cape to his bull because—let’s face it—I’m immature like that. But there is absolutely no truth to his claims.”

Kit pursed her lips.

“Now it’s my turn,” Marc continued before she could ask any follow-up questions. “Where were you before coming to Haldon Manor? What is your family background?”

She paused. “Fine. I will tell you what I can.” She took in a slow breath. “My father was Lord Whitmoor, which title Daniel inherited when my father passed away last year. My mother left when I was about nine-years-old. I took care of my father and Daniel after that point. I am as much a mother to Daniel as a sister.

“Of course, Daniel being Daniel, is up to no good and refuses to return home. But without him, I have no home to return to. There are no other male heirs beyond Daniel. So if he is declared dead, the title and property revert to the crown. I will be left without a roof over my head. Not to mention losing the last person in my family.”