Page 64 of After the Spy Seduces

He shifted her naked body closer in his arms and placed a kiss to her forehead. They’d finally paused after making love a second time to remove what few pieces of clothing they’d still been wearing and now lay bare under the warm blankets. He’d left her only long enough to anchor the boat, which had drawn peals of laughter from her at the sight of a naked man climbing onto the deck and mutters from him about generals’ daughters having no appreciation for the sailors of His Majesty’s navy.

Nestled into the hollow beneath his shoulder as she lay beside him, she made a soft sound of appreciation and brushed her hand over his chest. Then she pulled up the edge of the curtain covering the small window and glanced out at the night. There was nothing to see. Around them, the bay was dark, silent, and still, and for now, he could selfishly let himself believe that the rest of the world didn’t exist and that dawn would never come.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Lost.” He’d never uttered a truer word in his life.

She gave him a chastising purse of her lips.

“Safe,” he amended, nuzzling his face against her neck and breathing in her sweetness, that intoxicating perfume of lavender now mixed with the musky scent of sex. “You’re safe.”

“We’resafe, you mean.”

He grimaced. Leave it to that sharp mind of hers to realize that he’d excluded himself in that declaration. Now that the French had the diary, the Crown would consider him a rogue agent for handing it over, and that’s what he would let them believe—that it had been his idea from the beginning, that Diana and her father had nothing to do with it. He would protect them. But he never would be safe again. “No one will hurt you, love.” That endearment fell far too easily from his lips. “They won’t come after you or the ones you care about ever again. I promise you.”

She traced anXover his bare chest. “Cross your heart?”

And hope to die.But speak of the devil… So he changed topics. “You’ll leave in the morning, on the first coach headed toward London.”

Her face darkened in the silver moonlight that slanted into the tiny cabin through the hatchway that he’d left open, so he could hear if anyone rowed up upon them in the darkness. “And you’ll continue to pursue Garrett.”

“Yes.” As long as Whitehall allowed him to breathe. Which most likely wouldn’t be long.

But Morgan was here in Bradwell, and Kit wouldn’t let this last opportunity for justice to slip through his fingers.

With a frustrated sigh, she rolled away from him and onto her back beside him, somehow managing not to touch him at all on the narrow bed. He felt the loss of her like a chill seeping through his bones, and he fought with himself not to grab her back into his arms.

“Why won’t you realize that Garrett isn’t a traitor?” she said into the darkness. “He’s been protecting Meri and keeping her safe. He was watching over me tonight at the festival when the exchange happened.” In her mounting frustration, she fisted the sheet at her side. “For God’s sake! He had the diary in his hands tonight. If he was working for the French, why would he give it back? Why not just take it from me?”

The chill turned into an electric jolt. He rolled over on top of her, pinning her beneath him.

“He had the diary?” He searched her face for any clues in the shadows. “You gave it to him?”

“Not exactly.” When she tried to wiggle free, he held her still, and she glowered up at him in frustration. “I saw him before the exchange. He told me that the French would be contacting me soon, that Meri was safe and his men were guarding her. He took the diary from me, flipped through the pages, and then gave it back.”

His heart skipped with dread. “He tore pages out of it?”

“No. He just handed it back, said to give it to the French when they asked for it.” Her frown deepened. “What does any of that matter? The French have it now.”

But they didn’t. That realization stood his hair on end. What her brother had done—

He stared down into her confused face as all the pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place, each one fitting into the other like Russian nesting dolls… Why her brother concocted that story about visiting friends before he went missing, why the Foreign Office knew of Morgan’s connection to Fitch-Batten’s murder and didn’t care, why Nathaniel Grey had ordered Kit to stop chasing Morgan.

Her brotherwasworking for the French. But with England’s blessing.

Yet Morgan had known all along where the diary was hidden and could have given it to the Foreign Office at any point. So why work in secret? Why murder Fitch? And if Morgan had nothing to do with his own fake kidnapping or Meri’s real one, then who did?

That was the question now…who?

Another player had entered the field.

“Garrett didn’t take it when he had the chance,” she protested gently, not knowing what information she’d just revealed. “Surely that proves he’s not a traitor.”

His mind whirled, and distracted, he mumbled, “Your brother isn’t what he seems.”

“He said the same about you.”

Of course he did. If Morgan was working for the Foreign Office, then he would have been told about Kit’s manufactured identity. He smiled tightly. “But you already knew that.”