Page 79 of To Love A Spy
It had, by necessity, come between them before.As it would now.
There was no other way. She understood it, as did he. Both of them were professionals. Both of them knew it was the right strategy to keep a distance from now on.
This fleeting tryst should cool his ardor. Maybe the attraction would burn out of its own accord. After all it had been banked for ten years, and wild conflagrations were by their very nature over in a flash—a burst of flame, then embers, then ashes and cold coals.
But his heart didn’t believe it. She wasn’t a passing fancy.
She never had been.
But like other tests of his willpower, he would find a way to come through the fire.
Chapter Nineteen
Steel slashed through the sunlight dappling the Sword Courtyard of Mrs. Merlin’s Academy for Extraordinary Young Ladies, the swift thrusts and parries punctuated by the sharp ring of blade against blade.
“Well done,” called the fencing instructor as he stepped back and signaled the end to the bout. “Next time, work on keeping your wrist a touch firmer on your ripostes,bella. But your footwork is vastly improved.”
He cut a last flourish with his saber and pointed at the group of students standing close to the chalked circle. “I trust that the rest of you paid close attention to the techniques we demonstrated today. Tomorrow, I shall expect you all to match Verona’s prowess.” Cocking his hip, he flashed a grin. “Anyone needing private instruction may come to my quarters this evening. I shall be happy to show off the fine points of wielding a blade.”
The student known as Verona made a rude noise.
“I heard that,signorina.” Marco Moretti della Ghirardelli waggled his weapon. “Have a care that I don’t hand out a demerit.”
She stuck out her tongue, then turned and stripped off her padded doublet. “Rather a black mark on my record than your lecherous hands on my person, Mr. della Ghiradelli,” she retorted with a saucy smile.
He laughed and shooed the group of girls on their way. “Hurry, or you will be late for Ballistics.”
“The training is coming along nicely, Marco,” murmured Mrs. Merlin as she watched the students file off to their next class.
“Si.” He wiped his brow. “She is good—damn good.”
The headmistress nodded. “Yes, she is almost ready.” A feathery sigh escaped her lips. “Another few weeks . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Marco cocked an inquiring brow. “You have a mission in mind for her,signora?”
“Not anymore. Lord Lynsley decided it could not wait.”
He frowned. “But none of the students has been sent on assignment.”
“No.” A long pause. “He went himself.”
The fencing master muttered a rather colorful oath in Italian. “If His Lordship considered that the Merlins were not up for the job, he could have turned to me.”
“The perils were prodigious,” replied Mrs. Merlin. “And the stakes extraordinarily high.” The wrinkles around her eyes deepened. “He did not wish to ask anyone else to face the dangers.”
Marco swore again. “Porca miseria, he should not be risking his life in the field. The action ought to be left to someone like me, who is half his age.”
“Don’t let him hear you so.” The headmistress allowed a faint smile. “The marquess does not consider himself quite past his prime.”
“True,” admitted Marco. “During our weekly training sessions, I am hard-pressed to best his skills with a saber or foil.” He pulled a face. “And in the saddle, we run neck and neck.”
There was a sliver of silence, broken only by the tapping of the fencing instructor’s blade against his boot.
“Where is he?” Marco finally asked. “Somewhere on the Eastern front, trying to intercept the Emperor’s retreat from Russia?”
“No, he’s gone straight to the lion’s den, as it were.” Mrs. Merlin watched the sun playing hide and seek with scudding clouds for a moment before adding, “The City of Light—Paris.”
“Paris!” Marco’s dismay took on an even sharper edge. “What the devil is he after?”
