The Lavender Keeper (26 page)

‘Neither am I, to tell the truth.’ He told her of his habit of eating very little normally.

‘That’s admirable.’

‘I don’t do it for admiration. I just … Well, it’s out of respect for all – not just Germans – who go hungry. Look at this,’ he said, waving his hand at the ostentatious surrounds, rich fabric hanging in great swathes from the ceiling. ‘Maybe a hundred young German soldiers have died in the time we’ve eaten two courses, and an equal number of Russians.’

‘Oh, that’s bleak.’

‘It’s your birthday. I’m sorry.’

‘No, don’t be. I should be reminded of it. We all need to be. It makes the hunger pangs easier to ignore, the cold easier
to bear. We’re alive to feel those sensations. Too many young men no longer are.’

He cupped his chin in his hand, leaning an elbow on the table to gaze at her. ‘Do you see yourself as French or German?’

‘Neither. I am a woman of the world, that’s all. And I think if women ran the world, we would not be at war.’

‘You could well be right.’

She smiled ruefully. ‘How about you? Are you a good Nazi, Markus?’

He obviously wasn’t expecting such a question. His expression clouded, and after glancing around he stared at the white starched tablecloth, teased at a stray crumb on the table. ‘Let’s not talk politics.’

She swallowed. Tonight … her dress … her perfume … his attention … all the flirting – it had to amount to something worthwhile, or the guilt would smother her.

‘Why not?’ she pressed. When he looked up, she gave him a soft smile. ‘I’m not a girl who has to be protected. We’re in a devastating, seemingly endless war. To sit here and sip six-year-old calvados in my gorgeous dress and eat rich food, drink real coffee …’ Her voice reflected the awe she still felt. ‘It’s …’

‘What?’ he frowned.

‘Obscene,’ she finished, her expression instantly apologetic the moment she’d uttered the word.

‘I’m sorry,’ he replied, now looking wounded.

Lisette instinctively moved to reach for his hand. It was a large, warm hand, the nails blunt and well kept with neat half moons. Her touch was gentle, affectionate. Surprised, perhaps, but obviously also delighted, Kilian returned it with a gentle squeeze. In that moment there was a heartbeat of intense connection.

‘Forgive me. That came out wrong.’ Their hands had been noticed by others and he seemed to understand when she gently withdrew hers. ‘I think what I was trying to say, and badly, was that I don’t want us to pretend.’

His gaze met hers again and in that instant Lisette could no longer fool herself. She was no cool professional playing her role in this piece of theatre. She could not force the way her cheeks burned, or deny that her heart was pounding, or ignore the rare and exquisite tingling coursing through her body. Markus Kilian. German. Wehrmacht colonel. Her enemy. But nonetheless a devastatingly attractive man, and not just in looks – in fact, in spite of them. There was something inherently decent and fine about him as a person, and everything about him appealed to her – from the timbre of his voice to the sorrow that seemed to walk alongside him.

‘Pretend?’ he echoed.

This was the moment to strike … to win him. No more innuendo. She would be direct.

‘We shouldn’t pretend that nothing is happening between us. I’m young, not stupid. We both know what is going on.’

Again she’d caught him unawares; she could see it in the set of his mouth, the flare of surprise in his eyes. Kilian fixed her with a gaze she couldn’t fully read and she held her breath. Had she really just uttered those words? Did she really know what sort of precipice she was now standing upon?

‘So what
is
going on, Lisette?’

She didn’t have the luxury of time to tease him. Taut silence stretched between them as they regarded one another. For a second or two she wasn’t sure what to say.

‘Colonel Kilian, I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir.’

The tension snapped and they both blinked, drew a breath.

‘Yes?’ Kilian said, cutting his gaze away from her to the maître d’ looming at their table.

‘My apologies,’ he said in perfect German. ‘Your driver is here. You asked him to return at nine.’

‘I did. Tell him to wait,’ Kilian said curtly, only just refraining from snapping.

‘Yes, Colonel.’

‘
Merci
,’ Lisette said. Be friendly with everyone, she had been taught. You never knew when it might be useful. And it didn’t hurt to demonstrate good manners. ‘Dinner was exquisite. The hay-smoked rabbit was the way I remember my grandmother cooking it,’ she lied.

The man paused to regard her. ‘Thank you,
mademoiselle
. I will pass on your remarks to our kitchen.’

He nodded and beneath the polite smile she saw the glow of pleasure ghost across his face. When she looked back at Kilian, his gaze had softened.

‘The way you swap languages so effortlessly is wonderful to witness. It’s another reason why I need you in my life, Lisette. You speak the right languages at the right time.’

‘Another reason? What is the first?’

‘I’ll leave you to ponder that. But I do want you to consider working with me.’

‘You barely know me.’

‘I know I can trust you.’

She swallowed. ‘And not others?’

He smiled sadly. ‘I’ve explained that I’m not Berlin’s favourite officer.’

‘But you are a loyal German.’

‘And therein lies Berlin’s problem with me.’ He dropped
his voice to a murmur. ‘I am indeed a loyal German, Lisette, but I’m far from being a loyal Nazi.’

She decided to play dumb. ‘Are they not one and the same?’

He gave a choked laugh and shook his head. ‘No. They’re worlds apart. There are many good German officers who don’t share the ideology of our Führer.’

‘So why—’

‘Why follow his orders? Because so many of the people who are now in power are good men. They never had a chance under the Weimar Republic. Hitler promoted them, has given them status and opportunity. It’s a double-edged sword. The right men, in the right places …’

‘Under the wrong leader?’ she asked softly.

His forehead furrowed, full of burden. ‘I would die for my country – and probably will – and I hope history will show that the Wehrmacht was led in the main by honourable officers following orders. Those of us who disobey those orders do so with a respect for human life.’ He sounded desperately sad suddenly.

‘Markus …’ she whispered.

He raised his eyes, glittering pale in the candlelight, and shook his head. ‘Don’t. The excellent food, wine, the good listener has loosened my lips. I’ve said too much. Come,’ he said, standing. ‘This is no conversation for a beautiful dinner guest on her birthday. Can I offer you anything else?’

She shook her head and smiled but was disappointed the moment was lost. He might never speak so candidly again, and she was sure he’d had more to say. Markus could be ripe to be turned … and she could become his go-between instead of spying on him. Should she allude to it? No! Report
back first; let the decision come from London. Her thoughts tumbled over each other as he spoke.

‘I’ve kept you out long enough. I don’t want to excite Walter’s wrath.’

She stood and let him wrap the stole around her shoulders.

‘Tell the driver to turn the heater on in the car please, for
mademoiselle
,’ he instructed the maître d’, who had returned silently.

‘Very good, Colonel.’

Kilian escorted her out of the fabulously ornate chamber with its
trompe l’oeil
ceiling of dusky pinks and soft golds.

‘Will you be accompanying me home?’ Lisette asked, suddenly unsure.

‘I don’t think it will be good for you to be seen too often with a German officer in your neighbourhood.’

‘And you think your car slipped out of Montmartre unnoticed earlier today? Or how about Corporal Freyburg delivering your gifts in broad daylight?’

He paused in the hotel lobby.

‘You’re right, of course. We shall have to think that through better next time.’

Next time.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said, grinning. ‘How about you ride with me to my hotel and then go on with the car? It means a little longer together.’

‘That sounds nice,’ she replied. Had she lost control of this situation? She had hoped he would ask her to spend the night. For a woman like her it was not the done thing to say yes, but she did not have the luxury of propriety. There was no time to worry about what others might think. But now he seemed reticent, almost apologetic. She had to press him. ‘But, please
don’t feel you have to do anything more for me. You have ensured I’ve had the most glorious birthday in years – in fact since I turned five and my father gave me my own pony,’ she said. She had never ridden a horse in her life. ‘I will treasure tonight always, Markus.’

He stepped around to face her. ‘You sound as if you are not wishing me goodnight but goodbye, Lisette.’

‘No … I …’ Damn her hesitation. And now he was laughing at her. ‘Don’t grin like that at me.’

‘I rather like to see you flustered. It’s endearing.’

She straightened and found a smile. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening, Markus.’

He grinned more widely. That was plain infuriating. She turned to leave but felt him take her arm, and then he was pulling her around the corner, away from the main lobby to where a small telephone cubby was. He pulled her inside it and closed the door. He stared at her in the soft gloom of their compartment. The air was close and warm between them.

‘All night long I’ve wanted to do this,’ he said as he bent to kiss her.

It was the reaction she’d intended to provoke – certainly what London needed her to achieve – but nothing could have prepared her for her feverish response. He pulled her so close that she could feel almost every inch of his body. And while one hand held her in the small of her back, his other hand pushed away her stole so he could kiss her shoulders, her neck.

He groaned, returning to kiss her lips.

‘Markus, stop.’

Kilian pulled away, breathing hard. ‘I’m sorry. Forgive me. That was wrong of me, I …’

‘Take me back to your hotel,’ she urged softly.

‘What?’ Again she’d surprised him. He stared at her, his breathing slowing. ‘You’re sure?’

She nodded. ‘I want to be with you.’

‘You’re young, beautiful, Lisette. And I should know better.’ He shook his head, looking irritated with himself. ‘I have already behaved badly and it would not be fair to—’

‘I’m
not
a child. This is my decision. Please.’ Her gaze slid over his body. ‘Let me help take your mind off things.’

He grinned in surprise. ‘I adore you, you know.’ He held her face between his hands and gazed at her for several seconds before kissing her tenderly.

‘Let’s go before we’re seen,’ she begged, but he took his time wrapping his heavy military coat around her shoulders.

‘There. Now Walter can’t entirely blame me if you catch a cold.’

The doorman opened the car door for them. It was warm inside and she relaxed as the heat enveloped her. Kilian put an arm around her. ‘What would your mother think of you?’

‘She’d remind me that history repeats itself. She was French and fell in love with a German.’

He smiled softly, cradling her hand in his lap. ‘Hotel Raphaël,’ he called.

The driver stared ahead and simply nodded. Lisette barely spared him a glance as Kilian leant forward to close the glass partition. The drive was a blur. She was aware of moving through streets she recognised, but beyond that her attention was fully focused on Kilian. He was certainly paying no attention to the cityscape that was rolling by.

He pulled her closer and first kissed her hair. ‘You smell unbelievably good,’ he said, gently nipping at her earlobes and grazing her neck with soft lips.

‘It’s your fault,’ she whispered, surprised at how aroused she felt.

She closed her eyes, sure that the driver was watching them in his rear-view mirror … but she didn’t care.

Kilian kissed her deeply. She couldn’t help herself; her treacherous arms snaked around his neck and she could feel the small curls of hair at his collar under her fingers. Just for that minute, nothing else seemed to matter – not that he was German, that he was wearing a Nazi uniform, that he had probably killed dozens in the war. For this tiny window of time he was her lover … and, she hoped, one of the courageous few who might bring down the Nazi regime from within.

The car lurched to a stop, a little violently, but Kilian didn’t seem to notice. He reached forward to open the partition and speak with the driver. ‘Wait until you are sent for. Later I will need you to take
mademoiselle
to an address in Montmartre. You are to park outside her doorway and watch that she goes inside safely. Better still, escort her up. Understood?’

She saw the man’s head nod.

‘Lisette.’ Kilian sighed. ‘You can still change your mind, you know. I will not be offended. I did not anticipate this, but now that it has happened I feel as if I’ve been given a glimpse into heaven. I’m not sure I deserve it.’

‘You really are a romantic, aren’t you?’

He shrugged bashfully, not meeting her gaze.

‘Take me upstairs.’

Once again she moved in a daze. She didn’t register leaving the car when the doorman rushed to open their door, or entering the hotel, or arriving at Kilian’s room. She was vaguely aware of the plush interior of the lobby – not as grand as the Ritz with its huge mirrors and crystal chandeliers, but
full of rich ornamentation and plenty of German uniforms. Kilian spoke to a couple of men and she was sure she was introduced, but although she went through the motions of politeness, she felt disconnected.

And then they were truly alone and he was pulling off his coat from around her, sliding his fingers tenderly over her bare shoulders.

‘Lisette? Are you all right?’

She blinked and came out of her curious stupor. It had been filled with the smell of lavender and of blood, and of another German she barely knew – one whose memory was tugging unfairly at her heart when she least wanted it. Kilian was staring anxiously at her. The room was still dark, although moonlight had seeped in to illuminate the bed.