Sweetest Little Sin (10 page)

“Ah, but I have a very great desire to speak with you,” purred Jardine in her ear. “What the hell are you doing with Radleigh?”

“You’re the clever spy. What do
you
think I’m doing?”

She tried to step away from him, but he caught her arm easily and pulled her into him, one arm clamped around her waist, one hand forcing her chin up so she looked him in the eye.

“Stay away from him, Louisa. He’s not what he seems.”

She searched his face, noting the faint smudges under his eyes, the deepened lines about his mouth. “Which of us is?” she whispered.

His eyes widened a little, then narrowed. “Are you in love with him?”

“Love!”
The word burst from her before she could stop it. Where had that vicious snarl come from?

She lowered her voice. “What do I want with love? Radleigh is rich, he’s respectable, and he’ll no doubt make an undemanding husband. What more could a woman want?”

Jardine’s hot gaze raked her face, settled on her lips. His arms tightened around her.
“This.”

His mouth crushed hers in a kiss that scorched and shook her, picked her up, and flung her to the stars. His tongue stole inside her mouth like a secret agent and she was helpless, plummeting, falling. They were bound so tightly by his strong, leanly muscled arms, she imagined them locked together like this until they turned to stone.

The earth shivered, dissolved beneath her feet until he was her only anchor to the world. She fought to kiss him with every bit as much force, as much passion, as he showed her. They were matched, their souls so intricately entwined as to be one. Sublime. Damned. Destined to rise or fall together, whatever might come.

Hadn’t she known that, all along?

His long, deft fingers began working at her clothing while he kissed her. Some part of her registered what he did, craved it, but she was not so lost to the world as to forget what he’d done.

Her brain whirred to life, and with the reawakening of her mind, logical thought popped to the surface like a cork. She gulped back a sob and shoved at his shoulders, wrenching her mouth away.

His hands brushed her breasts as they fell from her bodice, the bodice he’d been deftly unpinning as they wrestled passionately in the sun-dappled forest. Jardine was breathing hard; his dark eyes were hazed with desire.

Quickly, she re-pinned her gown. When she looked up from her repairs, that old, cynically indifferent look had already fallen over his sharply handsome features.

How could that be? Surely, he’d been affected by the fiery physicality of their encounter. How could he distance himself so quickly, so easily?

“Break it off with Radleigh, Louisa.” He gripped her shoulders. “Tell him you never wish to see him again.”

“You expect me to jilt a respectable man on
your
command? That—that kiss was a tactic, I take it, to make me more malleable. I think not, my lord.” She struggled against his hard grip. “Let me go.”

His mouth tightened. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I’d say I’ve a fair idea.” And it terrified her, but she refused to show him her fear.

His long fingers bit into her shoulders. “You bloody little fool! Radleigh is corrupt. Dangerous. He’ll
hurt
you.”

Hurt her? Radleigh? He hadn’t laid a finger on her, hadn’t even dared to steal a kiss. Would Jardine go to any lengths, tell outrageous lies to stop her marrying him?

Louisa swallowed hard as she searched Jardine’s eyes for the truth. If Radleigh posed immediate physical danger to her, it was something Faulkner had neglected to brief her about.

No, she wouldn’t let him make her doubt her cause. She would not accede to Jardine’s wishes. She’d no intention of going through with the marriage, after all, and what could Radleigh do to her in the midst of a house party?

Even if she believed Jardine, she couldn’t let him know it, or she’d have no ostensible reason to continue the engagement, nor to visit Radleigh’s home.

Quite apart from the fact she’d given her oath to speak to no one about her role in Faulkner’s plans, she couldn’t imagine what Jardine would do if he knew why she’d agreed to marry Radleigh. Close those long, white hands around her neck and wring it, most probably.

“I thought you’d tired of our
entanglement
, yet you risked being seen with me to tell me scurrilous lies about my fiancé?”

The last word seemed to inflame him. Air fired through his pinched nostrils.

Suddenly, he released her shoulders. With a strained, muttered curse, he swept her into his arms.

She turned her head to dodge the anticipated kiss, craned her neck to keep her mouth out of his reach.

Her breasts, her body pressed against his hard form in a contact that was delicious torture. On a groan, Jardine bent his head, slowly sliding his lips along her exposed neck.

She didn’t fight him; she had enough trouble fighting herself. Despite the call to arms that trumpeted in her head, every cell, every nerve ending in her body urged her to surrender.

Tears of frustration gathered behind her eyes as he drew her fichu aside and kissed the swell of one breast.

She shuddered and forced out on a sobbing breath, “You don’t want me. Why do you torment me like this? Let me go, Jardine. The least you can do is let me go.”

“Break the engagement,” he said roughly. “Break it, or I’ll kill him.”

She stared up at him. He meant it. He truly meant it. Radleigh might be the worst kind of villain, a traitor, a betrayer of brave men and women, but she wanted him brought to justice. She didn’t want his death to be at Jardine’s hands.

Jardine’s mouth softened a little. “Don’t do it, Louisa. Don’t settle for him.”

Fear whipped into fury. “You are the last person on earth who has any right to tell me whom I should marry. My
God
, Jardine, you have a hide.”

“Tell him no.”

“I will not!” Louisa’s anger hit boiling point at his autocratic tone. She wedged her hands between them and shoved at his chest. “If you want me, just tell me so! Don’t come here with threats because you don’t know how else to keep me for yourself without actually claiming me as your wife. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’re a dog in the manger, Jardine.
You
don’t want me, but you can’t stand the thought of someone else taking your place.”

He let her go, then. Flung away from her to pace, murder written over his features.

Louisa squared her shoulders in determination. She needed to nip this in the bud, before he put himself beyond redemption.

Her voice trembled. She was shaking all over, despite her stiff posture. “When that boy died last summer, you told me you didn’t kill him, that you were no assassin, despite what I’d always believed. Jardine, killing for your country . . . I don’t like it, but I’ve learned to live with it, as a soldier’s wife must. But murdering out of jealous spite is something I
will not
forgive.”

She swallowed. “I don’t know if you care what I think of you. But I will not renounce my betrothal. And I will
never
forgive you if something happens to Radleigh by your hand. You will not win me by eliminating him.”

She turned on her heel and left the clearing, blindly seeking the path that Max had brought her down.

WELL, that had gone bloody swimmingly, hadn’t it? Jardine dragged hands through his hair in frustration, then stalked off in the other direction, keeping a careful eye out for watchers.

He’d spent hours before this meeting getting rid of two surveillance operatives who had dogged his steps for days. He was certain no one had followed him here, but he’d left Nick to keep vigil, in case he’d been mistaken.

He’d had to take the risk, hadn’t he? Needed to warn her what Radleigh was.

A mistake to do it in person, perhaps. He ought to have allowed Nick to speak with her. Nick would not have helped her enact a damned Cheltenham tragedy, nor could she accuse him of telling her lies out of jealousy or spite.
Badly done, Marcus
. But he’d been desperate to see her.

The hell of it was that his threat against her fiancé had been an empty one. He couldn’t kill Radleigh. He needed Radleigh to get to that agent list.

He came to the stream where Nick stood with their horses, waiting, silent and alert.

Nick raised his eyebrow and jerked his head in the direction of the copse.

Jardine gave a quick shake of his head. Dammit, even Max would have handled that situation more diplomatically.

But Jardine couldn’t regret any time he stole with her. He’d needed to touch her. Kiss her. Remind her how they were together. How they always would be.

He clenched his teeth as the memory of that rising tide of passion swept over him. Despite the years of torment, he couldn’t regret a second of knowing her. But it would be so much easier for her if they’d never met.

Did she hate him now? Despise him so much she didn’t even trust that he had her safety at heart when he’d warned her against Radleigh?

Without a word to Nick, Jardine headed to his horse, stroking one hand down the mare’s soft neck while he struggled against the urge to go back. Unless he told Louisa his true reasons for rejecting her, she would not allow herself to be swayed. But he couldn’t give her honesty, not now. If she knew his plans to rid himself of Smith once and for all, she’d want to help. He couldn’t afford the distraction.

The agent list was bait. Smith would give anything for that list. Imagine the power a man like Smith would have if he knew every operative employed by the British secret service. Once Jardine retrieved the list from Radleigh, he could lure Smith out into the open and finish him, once and for all.

To acknowledge Louisa as his wife now would be to make her a target of Smith’s revenge. And if he failed, if he perished in the attempt, Louisa would be better off believing Jardine had rejected her. She’d be free.

He swung himself into the saddle and urged his horse to a walk, winding along a little-used path until they came to the edge of the copse. Once he and Nick found open ground, Nick spoke.

“I have news from Radleigh’s camp.”

“News? From the little clerk?” Jardine’s instinct bristled. He hadn’t been mistaken in Nick, then. He’d turned someone in Radleigh’s employ. “Good man.”

“He’s Radleigh’s secretary, actually,” said Nick. “Nervous, but there’s a good mind there, I think. I ought to qualify this by saying it’s entirely possible the man is laying bets on both sides. He informed me that Radleigh’s putting up that list of agents to the highest bidder. He’s had offers but nothing that tempts him. He’s going to drive a hard bargain.”

“We need to get our hands on that list.”

Nick tilted his head. “Steal it? We have no idea where it might be. He might not even keep it on the premises.”

Jardine squinted, as if he could bring Radleigh’s estate into focus. “I think he’ll keep the document close. Do we know who will be at that party?”

“My source wouldn’t divulge that information. The staff have been told to prepare twelve bedchambers.”

“They’d better prepare for thirteen.”

Nick’s head jerked up. “What?”

Jardine returned his gaze coolly. “I’m going to get myself an invitation to this party.”

“But if Radleigh has that list, he’ll know you’re one of us.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” murmured Jardine. “I’m not employed by the Home Office, or the government, come to that.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’m what’s known as a private individual with useful connections, old boy. I’m not on any list, anywhere. Besides, the document is in code and Radleigh doesn’t have the skill to break it.”

“Who has the key?”

“That, I do not know.” Without the list, the key didn’t matter. But he must obtain that list.

He turned his head to look at Nick. “While I’m at this sterling event, I’d like you to do something for me. There’s a house in Lincolnshire that I’d like you to watch.”