Chapter 5
What the hell was he doing? For long moments after Alice left, he stood there in the darkened room, his forehead against the wall, trying to bring his body under control. Lust raged in his veins. His erection still strained against the placard of his trousers.
He had almost kissed her. Kissed her? He had wanted to devour her. Take her against the wall. Lift those ugly skirts and fuck her until he quenched this fire in his blood. Until she came undone in his arms. Until she recognized she was his.
Madness.
Hadn’t she already proven she was not his? As if being a cuckolded husband was not humiliating enough, must he also play the part of a lust-crazed fool?
But for a few heartbeats there, she had looked at him with the same adoring want as before.
He had sensed the same desire in her and could almost smell her arousal.
It was what always did him in with Alice.
She was always so controlled. The brilliant spy, playing any character with ease, reading people like they were open books.
Always remaining in control. Always cerebral.
Contained. Unflappable. Except in his arms.
When they made love, all that cool exterior cracked open, and she was pure molten lava inside.
The way she came undone in his arms, giving everything, surrendering to him without disguises.
Screaming his name in her ecstasy. It made him feel like a god.
Nobody knew that side of Alice but him. Well…
maybe not anymore. Did she blossom like that with that fool she was having an affair with?
His fingers tightened against the doorjamb.
Hell and damnation. When he had accepted this mission, he had wanted to prove to himself that the memories they had were no more than that.
Memories best left in the past. That he could come to terms with the fact that she had found another partner.
That after all these years, the abandonment and the betrayal, the attraction between them had faded to manageable levels.
He had convinced himself that once he saw her again, he could exorcise her from his mind.
The only thing he had proven is that the desire between them burned as hot as ever.
And that he couldn’t stand the thought of her with another man.
She was his mate, his woman. His body recognized it as such.
They were like opposite poles on a magnet, when brought closer, they would snap together with such a force that nothing could get in their way.
Except they had been separated for years now. Allowing space for someone to come between them. His heart constricted at the thought of her with another, everything in him recoiling at the idea. They were Nate and Alice. A unit. Inseparable.
And now he was going to sever that bond forever.
Not for the first time, he wondered if he could really do it.
If he had the strength to go through with this divorce.
The righteous anger and hurt he had felt upon first finding out about her betrayal, that he had nursed and stoked to a burning rage, had faded to a dull ache.
A wound that would probably never heal completely, but maybe they could bandage it.
Patch it up. Cobble something together with the remnants of their old love.
Did she even want that? If he offered to take her back, would she come back to him?
Maybe her unfaithfulness had been due to loneliness.
Did she regret it now that they saw each other again?
Or was what she felt only lust brought about by their nearness and the memory of their undeniable physical compatibility?
Too many questions, and none he could answer tonight. Right now, he needed to get back to the ballroom.
The music from the party swelled with every step he took along the corridor. When it intersected another corridor, he turned left. Here, some people loitered about, taking a respite from the dancing or engaging in quieter conversations. He slipped back into the ballroom through a side door.
They had gotten a good look at the men. Although he didn’t see the face of the one that had been facing away from them, he thought the man had light hair, a corpulent build, was perhaps in his fifties, and seemed someone important within the embassy.
A high official. His tone and accent had marked him so.
The other man was younger. Wiry build, black straight hair, a prominent nose and sunken cheeks.
Possibly an underling who did the dirty work.
They had a good look at that one. If he was in the ballroom, he would get his name.
By the end of the night, after visiting the card room, talking to almost everyone in the ballroom and dancing again with Yelena, making subtle attempts to get her to talk about the people that were of interest to him, he had to admit that a tactical retreat was in order.
He had not spotted the men again, but at least they had information and a good description to report to Dalton.
As investigations went, this one had gotten off to a good start.
Even if they had found the revelations almost by accident.
Besides, his mind was not on the hunt. Thoughts of his wife kept intruding.
He would have left hours ago, but he was loath to leave Alice alone.
As a server, she would have to stay until the end of the party and possibly help clean up after.
She had taken a much more difficult role than he in this charade.
He knew perfectly well that she could take care of herself.
Had been doing just that for the past five years.
He couldn’t linger past the end of the party, but he still delayed his departure, telling himself he was being thorough in his investigation, while keeping track of her movements with that extra sense he possessed where she was concerned.
In the end, he left the ball at dawn, with just enough time to go home, sleep a couple of hours and report to Dalton’s office at nine in the morning.
Alice was already there, and while she had discarded the costume, washed off the makeup, and changed into the sober morning dresses she usually wore to the office, it was obvious she had had little to no sleep.
Shadows bruised the underside of her eyes, and her shoulders drooped.
This time not from a pretense at meekness but from real exhaustion.
He was not ready for the surge of protectiveness that swamped him as he contemplated her tired smile and terse nod.
She was a real trooper and would never complain, never shirk or postpone her duty.
But all he wanted to do was snatch her in his arms, take her home, remove every stitch of clothing and place her in her soft bed.
Then he would curl up around her and protect her while she slept.
When she awakened, they would make love, slow and deep, savoring each stroke in the wonderful awakening languor.
Insanity, of course. He could only imagine her reaction if he tried something like that in their present situation.
Dalton’s voice yanked him out of his fantasy.
“Alice tells me you made some progress at the Russian Embassy ball last night.”
Nathaniel nodded, beginning the recount of all they had discovered.
Including the descriptions of the two men, the possible motives, and the deal with the missing widow.
“We confirmed that the clerk was indeed assassinated because he apparently got ‘cold feet’. That his wife probably went into hiding, and they suspect she has some important documents, and that she, or someone, plans to pass them along during the masquerade at the Black Swan.”
Dalton raised his brows. “The Black Swan? That is a peculiar venue for a woman in her condition to visit.”
“A woman in her condition?” Alice inquired.
“She’s expecting,” Dalton said baldly.
Alice gasped, while Nathaniel’s fists clenched. Burning anger flared through him. Those bastards had killed her husband and now planned to kill a pregnant woman.
“We need to find her before they do, Dalton. They will kill her after she delivers the documents they want.”
Dalton nodded somberly, frowning. “I suspected that might be the case. Even feared they might have gotten to her already. I’m glad that is not so. We will protect her, but we need to find her first.”
They all nodded, their faces somber with the magnitude of the task.
This had always been a high stakes mission—when the security of the nation was involved it always was—but the fact that the life of a woman and her unborn child now weighed on the balance as well gave it a sense of immediacy. It made it more human. More personal.
“Do we know anything at all about her possible whereabouts? Any family, friends she could be staying with? Where is she from? What is her background?”
Alice’s fusillade of questions had Dalton raising his hands.
“We know next to nothing about her. We keep a dossier on all the Foreign Office employees, but not on their spouses.”
“Damn it. Anyone else in the Office who might have known them?” Nathaniel asked.
“Maybe. But since we don’t know who else is involved, we can hardly go asking around the office, can we? That is bound to raise suspicion.”
“If someone involved knew about her background and where to look for her, they would have her already,” Alice said.
“Exactly. But if we go digging around, asking about her, they will know we are on the trail,” Dalton added.
“True, true. Well, at least we know where she might be this coming Friday. If she is indeed the one who sent the message, she might be at the Black Swan masquerade,” Nathaniel said.
“Let us hope she can stay hidden until then,” Alice said, a frown of concern pinching her brow. “What is this place, anyway, this Black Swan?”
“Only the most expensive and exclusive pleasure club in London,” Nathaniel informed her and shot Dalton a look, continuing in a grim voice. “Membership is expensive, and by invitation only.”
The duke smiled. “I will, of course, get you access.”
“A member, are you?” Nathaniel replied with an insolent smile. He didn’t know what made him poke the duke, but the man was always so proper, so sober.
The duke’s reaction was as haughty and displeased as one could imagine. He raised his brows, and in frosty accents replied, “Don’t be impertinent. Of course not. But I have contacts who can get you an invitation.”
“So you want me to infiltrate it,” Nathaniel said.
“Both of you. Together,” the Duke said firmly. “This is a delicate operation, and we need all hands on deck. We can’t risk missing the widow. Or letting them get to her before we do.”
“Then why don’t you come?” Nathaniel riposted. He knew Alice was no wilting violet, but he still couldn’t like the thought of her in that den of iniquity. The things he had heard about that place…
“Who says I’m not? But Alice needs to be there as well. If we find the widow, a woman might reassure her and persuade her to cooperate with us.”
A beat passed. “That place is not suitable for a lady.”
Alice met his eyes. “Good thing, then, that I’m not a lady. I’m an agent, and this is part of the assignment. I’m going with you.”
“Posing as lovers?” he threw back, just to see her squirm.
Her chin came up at the challenge. “Why not? It shouldn’t be too difficult to pretend. At least we have practice in that area.”
Pretend, uh? There had never been any pretense between them in the physical aspect of their relationship.
And that hadn’t changed. Had she forgotten that just a few hours ago she had been practically trembling with desire in his arms?
Was she trying to deny what had passed between them in that corridor at the Russian Embassy?
Until this moment, he hadn’t made up his mind about what to do with this inconvenient attraction that still burned between them, but her attempt to dismiss it nettled him into proving her wrong.
It might be exactly what they needed to finally let go—to fuck each other senseless until the urge was out of their system.
“How convenient,” Nathaniel drawled, giving her a slow smile. Letting her see his desire, calling forth a similar response in her.
He had the satisfaction of seeing color rise in her cheeks, and her gaze skitter away, flustered.
Pretend, his arse. She was his, and before the week was out, he would prove it.
He would have her squirming under him as he sank into her hot sheath.
The mere thought was enough to make his cock twitch.
Clearing his throat, he crossed his legs.
“Exactly,” Dalton said, looking smug, unaware or uninterested in the undercurrents in front of him. “You two are perfect for this undertaking. I’ll have your invitations by tomorrow.”
“I believe Nathaniel and I should arrive separately.”
Like hell she would.
“And why is that?” Nathaniel inquired, hiding his instinctive reaction to contradict her.
“Because that way we can cover more territory. We can split and make sure we search everywhere.”
“You can’t arrive by yourself, Alice.” Gone was the teasing sensuality. There was steel in his tone now. “That place is a den of iniquity. You have no idea the things that go on in there…”
“And you seem overly familiar with them,” she riposted, her eyes narrowed at him.
“I’ve never been there, if that’s what you are insinuating.” Damn it all to hell, was she reproaching him? That was some gall she had, given that she was the one who had betrayed their vows, not him.
“If that is the case, you are as much a novice as I am.” Turning to Dalton, she asked, “Is it necessary for us to arrive together? Don’t you agree it would be better to split?”
Visibly losing patience, Dalton took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly. “Go together, separately, join forces once there, or split apart. I don’t give a damn how you do it, as long as you keep an eye out for the widow and the men from the embassy.”
“That settles it then. I’ll arrive on my own,” she said this with the imperiousness, the finality, of a queen issuing a dictum.
Obstinate, infuriating, reckless woman. He wanted to argue, but he had learned long ago which battles to pick.
“Suit yourself,” he replied. “I guess I’d better go find a mask.”
Her smug smile followed him out of the office. Let her think she had won this battle. He would turn the tables on her soon enough.