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Anger, frustration, indignation, shame, disappointment, remorse – all tousled around inside her and jostled for space. The whole non-encounter was like carrying a large bucket filled with water a good distance, only to find, after considerable physical exertion, it had a hole you had not noticed, and all your carefully carted water was lost and gone. Frittered away to a dry mocking emptiness. It was enough to make you both laugh at your own folly and scream. Finally, in the wake of this bombardment, there came a perverse sense of relief. Perhaps it was for the best. If she had encountered McCrae in the state she was in, who knew what she would have said?
She started to giggle at her self-made comedy of errors. Standing outside a bachelor’s lodgings, that was folly enough, but she was employed by Cavendish to be his spy. If spies were supposed to be discreet, quiet, and stealthy, she was the worst spy in the history of the world.
With a sigh she turned away and set off for home. She was still angry with McCrae. She would not let him off the hook for the way he was treating her. It was cruel and humiliating to court someone by staying away. But it was a beautiful balmy twilight, the type of twilight that promised to last for hours. Half of London was out and about making the most of it, which is most likely why McCrae was not at home. She took her time, dawdling along, the frenzied pace she employed to get to Whitehall replaced with something more leisurely and sedate. She was walking past the Savoy Palace, admiring the dress of a wealthy merchant’s wife, a black brocade decorated with gold swirls weaved into the fabric, when a voice rang out and pulled her to a halt.
“Signorina Evans?”
Signorina? Oh goodness. She knew that voice. She stopped but did not turn, waiting until the blush that set her face on fire subsided to a more becoming pink. She counted each second as the footsteps drew closer and closer. Three, four, five…and then, there he was in all his dark, swarthy, meet-me-in-the-bedchamber, handsome Spanish glory.
“Signorina Evans, what a wonderful surprise.” Signor DeGuerra took her hand and brushed a kiss on the back of her palm, setting parts of her twitching that she tried to ignore. Was that really how greetings were conducted in Spain? How would you ever be able to respond? The fire in her face roared to life again as his eyes swept over her hovering like a bee intent on raiding nectar. When their eyes finally met, it was a jolt to her chest. “May I inquire what brings you to Whitehall?” His English really was quite excellent apart from the accent which only added to his devastating charm. Bees have stings as well as honey was one of Grandma’s pithy sayings, a saying she would do well to heed.
“I…er…arr,” she stammered. “I was delivering a message for… (Do not say McCrae, do not say McCrae), on behalf of my Grandmother. I help her when I can. The demand for her services is very great.”
“So I have heard. She is most admired.” He lingered over the word in a way that made her flare with unbidden heat, not so much at the laden innuendo, but because she suspected that if she was a flower, she would willingly surrender every drop of her nectar if De Guerra buzzed around her petals and waggled his wings. “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to accompany you on your journey home?” She hesitated. He smiled and reassured her. “In London I have observed it is quite proper for a gentleman to walk with a lady of his acquaintance. There do not seem to be as many constraints on the fairer sex as there are in my homeland.”
It was something of a stretch to call the likes of her a “lady“. It was also highly unlikely that there was anything proper about his intentions, but what could happen in the middle of The Strand? So she fell into step beside him, matching the speed and cadence of his walk. They were so close she could feel the raised embroidery of his doublet brushing against the back of her hand. She could smell the spicy scent of the lotion he splashed on his skin. She could hear music floating in the air, lute, violin and virginals.
“That music? Where is it coming from?”
“The court musicians use a room quite close by to rehearse. I can hear it quite clearly from my room. Some of our delegation complain. They think it is an English plot to deprive us of sleep so we will give many concessions away in the negotiations.” He shrugged and gave another smile. “Me, I am content to enjoy music after listening to tedious talk all day.” They walked in silence for a while, the twilight sun still high enough to keep the temperature warm.
“Signorina Evans, if you do not think me too forward, I have a declaration to make. Walking with you in this glorious English sunshine is the most stimulation I have enjoyed all day.” On my, this was unexpected. She kept her eyes ahead, waiting for him to either grow silent or continue to expand. “While I was obliged to spend the day in the company of old men, translating dry legal agreements, the sun did its best to tease and entice me. At the best of times I find it difficult to resist temptation. Normally, I sin first and pay my penance later, but today I believe I paid my penance in advance.”
He stumbled on a cobble, knocking her slightly off balance, causing him to grasp her arm with a steadying hand. “So sorry,” he said. “Your presence is so dazzling it turns me into a clumsy clod.” He gave her a grin so deliciously wicked her cheeks began to flare again and her thighs to throb.
“In Spain do you have specific lessons in the art of flattery?”
“It is not flattery when one states the truth. Many a time I have watched you at Whitefriars. You are a most striking and intriguing woman but always so busy there is rarely an opportunity to converse. I must confess, out here in the sunshine, having you all to myself is so immensely pleasurable it feels like we are committing a sin.”
She went to gulp, but her coordination deserted her, breathing and swallowing becoming so un-meshed that she choked on her own saliva, coughing and spluttering violently, unable to stop and catch her breath. Alarm registered on his handsome face as she gasped and continued to choke. He raised a hand and sharply and abruptly struck her on the back. One strike was not enough to stop the choking, so he steadied her and repeated the blow. Out of the corner of her eye she registered movement but in her state of distress she could do nothing to react. Suddenly instead of one man holding her by the elbow, there were two men, one on each side.
“Lucinda! Are you all right?” She nodded her head and gasped. “Look at me lassie. Take slow deep breaths.” Missing for a week and now he miraculously reappeared. Robert McCrae had the most exquisite timing. Not to be usurped in his ministrations, Signor DeGuerra rubbed her on the back. With the Scotsman at her elbow and the Spaniard at her back her body had become disputed ground in a border war. She pushed them both away.
She was not territory to be fought over.
“I am perfectly fine. It was only a small coughing fit. Good evening to you Master McCrae. Signor DeGuerra and I were enjoying a companionable walk.”
McCrae turned to the Spaniard and gave a small bow. “I must thank you for accompanying my intended. She has a habit of rushing about London on her own.”
Her head snapped around to face him. “Your intended? I was of the understanding that our courtship was suspended since I have seen neither hide nor hair of you for over a week.”
DeGuerra shifted from one foot to the other as she and McCrae glared at each other using the power of their gaze to draw blood.
“My uncle…sent me on some business,” McCrae said through gritted teeth. “Now I have returned, we are at liberty to resume where we left off.”
A likely story. He would have to work a lot harder than that.
“I was quite content in the company of Signor DeGuerra. I would not dream of taking you away from important business.” She turned her shoulder on McCrae and smiled at DeGuerra, watching for McCrae’s reaction with a sidelong glance. His face darkened, and his lips compressed. She held the smile fixed upon her face, a perfectly genuine smile now. What a joy it was to make the Scotsman spin.
McCrae turned toward DeGuerra. “I am grateful for the chivalry you have extended toward my betrothed, but I must insist on escorting her the rest of the way home.”
He must insist? Well then, she must refuse. He had no right or ownership over her, no claim on her time or her person. This was exactly why she did not wish to marry anyone at all.
DeGuerra, on the other hand, opted for conciliation. “Your betrothed has been delightful company. You are indeed a fortunate man. I shall bid you both farewell and offer my congratulations.”
Lucinda held up her hand for the Spaniard to kiss knowing how this would inflame McCrae. “I thank you, kind sir, our sojourn has been most delightful though I feel you are too hasty. There is no need to depart in a rush. We could all walk together? It is such a fine and pleasant evening.” Take that McCrae. The Spaniard still held her hand while McCrae’s hand hunted for the hilt of his broadsword.
“Delightful as your proposition sounds, I would not wish to intrude on your discussions. Good evening Mistress Evans, until we meet again at the academy. It has been a pleasure.” He leaned down to kiss her hand and did not hurry about it.
