Undine sat at the small desk of the church office, the room that the duke had been using as a makeshift bedchamber. She touched the desktop, wondering if the evident goodness of Mr. Fleming had imbued the wood with its warm glow. In any case, it was better than considering the fiery and charred colors she saw in her vision regarding what was coming next.
“Are we rubbing this for good luck?” Michael asked gently.
She gave him a weak smile. He made his way to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder. “You know you can share what you’re seeing. I’ve been watching your face, after all.”
Were her feelings so clear? Around him, she was losing the masking skills she’d worked so long to nurture. She squeezed his hand.
He said, “My gran always told me, ‘Shared joy is doubled; shared sorrow is halved.’ I can bear my half.”
She shook her head. “I see unhappiness,” she said, hurrying to add, “but my powers are far from perfect.”
He laughed. “You hardly need to tell me that. I was the person who got yanked out of the twenty-first century, after all.”
She couldn’t help but smile.
“You’ve never asked me to tell you what I see,” she said. “About your future, I mean.”
He pulled up a stool and sat close enough to tuck her hand between the two of his. “I rather thought of it as the thing other men did, the ones who weren’t trying to impress you.”
“Impress me?” she said, lifting a brow. “Is that what you call that hellfire scolding you gave me when you arrived?”
He shrugged. “You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
“No. Nor am I likely to.” She brought his hand to her cheek. “You’re very hard to read, and I wonder if it’s your training or…”
“Or what?”
The dizzying effects of this lust-filled attraction, she thought. It was as if a cloud had settled over him when she brought her mind to him. Oh, she saw color—vibrant, jeweled hues that swirled seductively, filling her senses and blurring her sight. None of it made sense, and almost all of it made her want to crawl into his lap and beg him to bed her.
He looked into her eyes, seeing more than she wished.
“I see,” he said, the corner of his mouth rising. He leaned forward, putting his mouth to her ear. “I should very much like to repeat what we did this morning,” he whispered, drawing his thumb across her palm.
“In a locked room?” she said. “With guards who could open the door at any moment?”
“Oh, aye.”
She caught her breath—barely—and found her hands grasping his knees through the soft wool of his kilt.
“Mmm,” he said, irritatingly smug.
She found his cock and balls and cupped them, which instantly wiped the smugness from his face.
The flesh tightened into warm steel in her hand.
“Mmm,” she said.
“Take care, lass. I have it in my head to take you up against that wall, and too much more of that will make it far more hurried than you’d like.”
She leaned back and opened a knee—an invitation.
He tumbled her skirts into her lap and found her bud. She curled her fingers around the arms of the chair and closed her eyes.
“I should very much like to see the top of that gown loosened,” he said matter-of-factly.
She did as he said, but only enough to allow a hint of the rose-colored circles to appear.
“You’re a temptress,” he said, his cheeks ruddy now.
Her breathing quickened. “I am just as interested in a show as you are.”
With a flick of her hand, she brushed the flap of his plaid over his knee. His thick cock swayed in the light.
“This is getting a wee bit dangerous, don’t you think?”
“Ye have no one to blame but yourself. Can ye finish me with that?”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Oh, I know you can finish to your own satisfaction—I’ve never met a man who couldn’t. But can you finish me to mine?”
He stood and pulled her up with him. He gazed at her, lust and love in his eyes. His fingers brushed hers, and her heart thumped.
“I won’t leave you,” he said. “Not as long as ye’ll have me. And I’ll die to protect you.”
“I know,” she said, surprised at her certainty. “I can feel it.”
“What do you see? For me? For us?”
His presence, so close and so intense, filled her head, clearing the clouds. The suffusion was so violent, she winced. And then she wished she hadn’t seen what she saw.
“Undine.”
“I-I—”
“Tell me.”
She wanted to push it out of her head, this distant, dark emptiness she saw—gray and cold. Like a frozen sea in the dead of winter—
She opened her eyes, and he was back—warm, fleshed, alive. But he knew. He’d seen her face and he knew.
“I don’t see what will happen,” she said sadly. “Men think I do, but I don’t. I see a feeling—a sense of the future. The rest is just magician’s tricks.”
“Tell me,” he said.
“I went to your future,” she said sadly. “Alone or…worse. There’s nothing of joy there.”
His arm fell, and he took in a long breath. “I’ve been alone all my life,” he said. “Dead would be a blessing. But for now, here, with you, I’m alive.”
He kissed her, and in it, she felt acceptance and hope. Her mouth searched for forever, but all the world would give her was now.
“I want you,” she said.
“And I you.”
He pressed her against the wall, and she tugged up her skirts. He entered her slowly, reverentially, his head bowed to touch hers. They moved together, trying to capture the connection and hold it in their hearts.
When the gasp came, Undine clasped his stubbled cheek. He held her there—in the place between love and loss—as long as he could and then found his own release.
She tucked herself into his arms, cold now despite the warmth of the day.
“Michael.”
He touched her lips, silencing the hunger for something that couldn’t be.
“Mr. Fleming will not thank us for this,” she said, voice shaking.
Michael chuckled, still holding her tight. “Perhaps we can point the finger at the duke?”
She felt a tear well and wiped it away. “I’ve never had this…easy intercourse with another.”
He squeezed her waist and she could feel his smile. “I’d hardly say it was easy.”
She laughed. “I want you to know how much this has meant to me—knowing you.”
He cupped her chin and lifted it. “I see nothing of my future. I have no special skills in that area. But nothing you’ve told me has convinced me that I won’t be with you forever and—”
Voices rose beyond the door, and they broke apart.
The door banged open, and the general looked at them, cold fury in his eyes. He looked at the scene before him. It would be obvious to anyone whose experiences were broad enough what had just transpired, and he shook his head.
“You might have told me Bridgewater is your husband,” he said to Undine, and added to Michael, “And you might have told me you two were on the run.”
He slammed the door and paced to the window.
“We have a few moments, no more. Your husband has demanded to have you returned to him, Lady Bridgewater, and I have no recourse but to do what he asks.”
Michael opened his mouth to protest, and the duke silenced him. “He’s asked for you as well. I told him he could press charges if he wished, but he had no right to take you from here.”
“He has no right to her either,” Michael said. “Even if she loved him, which she doesn’t, nor he her, she has the right to leave him if she wants.”
Undine shook her head, fully aware of Bridgewater’s rights in the eyes of the law.
“Naive fool,” the duke said to Michael. “You’re lucky I believe her story.”
She straightened. “You do?”
“Aye. We’ve been watching Bridgewater for a while, but we weren’t sure what he was planning and we certainly had no proof. I’ve had my own men following him, talking to the men he talks to, asking questions. We’ve had to tread carefully because he’s an officer and a nobleman.”
Michael snorted. “Must protect our own.”
“We hold ourselves to a higher standard,” the general said. “I regret if a man who has omitted inconvenient truths and formed a relationship with the married wife of another man finds that distasteful.”
“Take care, Your Grace,” Undine said testily. “I’ve read the souls of noblemen and simple men alike. I’ve never known a man more good than Michael Kent. If you’d like me to make a public proclamation of the stains of your fellow officers and noblemen, I can, and will, if you continue on in this vein.”
The general sighed. “You are exactly as my intelligence officers have described.”
“I take that as a compliment.”
“I’ll tell you what we know. It’s the least I can do, and if your wish is to be free of Colonel Bridgewater, I believe it will be fulfilled soon. Morebright used to be in the queen’s intelligence service. He fell out of favor and moved up here, but he’s kept a circle of very unpleasant friends in Edinburgh and London—men who still work in service to the queen but who sell their country’s secrets to each other and others. Morebright and his friends have profited on the unrest. He’s gotten Bridgewater to hire a group of criminals to pose as clansmen and attack a carriage carrying some of Bridgewater’s servants. We believe the carriage is heading from Lord Morebright’s home to Coldstream this morning. The disguised men will murder the occupants, leaving one man to describe the horror of the clan attack. But you’re wrong about the motive. They’re not hoping to convince the Scottish noblemen to vote for the union. They want to provoke Scotland and England into a war that will never end.”
Her head spun. Attacking the English army was horror enough, but attacking his own innocent servants?
“You have to stop the attack,” she said.
The duke stuffed his hands into his pockets and hung his head. “I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?” Michael asked.
“Because many more people will die if we don’t find out the names of Morebright’s sources,” the duke said hotly. “And if we stop this small attack, Morebright will know he’s been compromised. Ask Undine or her rebel friends what they’d rather do—save the lives of a handful of people or finally remove the men who generate war for profit.”
He was right. She knew he was right. This was war. They had the chance to really turn the tide. Even a union between England and Scotland would be tolerable if peace, that rare jewel, came along with it.
“He’s right,” she said to Michael with regret. The thought of that carriage…
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” the duke said. “’Tis the most awful sort of decision a man in my position has to make. Believe me, I have little desire to sacrifice lives—”
“Servants’ lives, you mean,” Michael said. “It’s only a ‘small’ attack, as you said. You and your army would tear the borderlands to pieces if it meant saving the lives of noblemen.”
“Michael.”
“I won’t be saving any noblemen,” the duke said, sighing. “Certainly not these two. I’ll be damning them both to hell—and a few more besides for good measure. But any regret I might have in helping to destroy the trust our country has placed in men of wealth and position is nothing—nothing—compared to the loss of those servants. But it must be done. And that’s the burden I have to bear.”
“We all do,” Undine said, nauseated.
“Can’t you hold Bridgewater?” Michael said.
“For what? We have suspicion but no proof. Not unless your man shows up with the letter.” The duke crossed to the window and scanned the hills. “Removing Bridgewater from his office, and Morebright and his colleagues from their profiteering, is the most important thing I can do to bring peace to the people who live here. My family seat is in the borderlands, you know. My people suffer too. I need those names. Once I have them, we’ll have enough to arrest Bridgewater and the others.”
A knock sounded at the door.
“That’s your husband,” the duke said. “I don’t know exactly what you meant to achieve by marrying him, though I think I can safely guess. I’m sorry I can’t help you any further, but I have every confidence you have the resources to keep the ruse going until we’ve done what needs to be done.”
“You can’t hand her over,” Michael said. “The man’s a murderer.”
The general looked at Undine, and with a nod, she accepted her assignment and released him from any guilt he might have.
“Undine.”
The door opened, and the hairs on Undine’s arms immediately stood on end. Nothing in Bridgewater’s appearance suggested anything beyond the faintly discommoded, but there was a dark energy in him, invisible to others, that had been lacking for the past few weeks. The man she could see was a barely concealed beast, ready to tear into anything that got in his way with razor-sharp teeth. She looked at Michael and the general. Did either of them see what she saw? Michael, of course, looked ready to kill him, which warmed her heart, but neither he nor the duke seemed to sense the danger.
“I think I should like to lie down for a bit before we go,” Undine said, crossing her arms to hide the shaking.
“You may lie down in the carriage, my dear,” Bridgewater said. “Our time here is over.”
He took her hand to pull her out, and Michael lunged for him, but the duke stepped between them.
“Hold him,” the duke said to his guards, who took Michael by the arms. It pained her to see his sorrow, but she also knew keeping him away from Bridgewater would save him. She was doomed.
“You watch yourself, you bloody blackguard,” Bridgewater sneered. “I’ll see to it you pay the price for your villainy. You won’t be smiling when I meet you next.”
“That’s enough, Colonel,” the duke said. “Keep a civil tongue in your head. Your wife is back in your possession. ’Twill be up to you to keep her there. If you wish to press charges against the man, press them. I want your wife to report to me here tomorrow.”
“Why?” Bridgewater demanded.
“I’d like to ask her some more questions about her work with the rebels. ’Tis nothing to be concerned about. I know she’ll be willing to help us given her new status as an English noblewoman and wife of an officer.”
It was the general’s attempt to ensure Bridgewater stopped short of wounding or killing her. She doubted Bridgewater feared any retribution at this point.
Bridgewater could hardly refuse his commanding officer, at least not to his face. When he had Undine to himself he could do what he wanted. “Aye. Of course.”
“Good. Morning would be fine.”
Bridgewater bit back whatever he was going to say, saluted the duke, and pulled her out the door.