A Secret in Her Kiss Read online

  So she kept reassuring herself, whether she was drawing of her own free will or because the British forced her, she was still working toward her mother’s greatest wish of freedom for her people.

  Yet it wasn’t the same. Not in her heart where it really mattered. They had robbed her of her right to choose and made her a slave as surely as the ones the Ottomans sold in the market.

  She’d sworn long ago that no one would ever force her to do anything against her will again. But the English had proven her promise wasn’t as strong as she’d thought, and she hated them as much for that as she hated herself.

  She shouldn’t have come here today. She was no longer a child to flee to Esad’s side when she was troubled. Especially when she couldn’t burden him with the problems she faced.

  Esad looped an arm around her shoulders before she could escape and led her through the intricately tiled archway that marked the main hall of the house. “Now confess.”

  Confess? Mari tripped over her feet.

  “One of my men saw you in the square with that English soldier.”

  The blood drained from her face and pooled in her feet. Heavens, they must have told Esad about the kiss.

  Confound Major Prestwood. It was his fault she’d been lured back to Esad’s in the first place. She’d just needed that tiny bit of comfort. Of sanity. But the comfort here was no longer hers to claim.

  Esad moved her to one of the low benches built into the walls. “It must be serious then. Perhaps we should sit.”

  Mari sat with a plop and tucked her feet beneath her. She clenched her hands together.

  Esad studied her. “At least tell me his name.”

  That at least was information she could share. Achilla had been more than happy to share the information she’d gathered on the man last night. “Major Bennett Prestwood of the Ninety-fifth Rifles. He’s a cousin of the ambassador’s.”

  “Recently arrived in Constantinople?”

  She nodded reluctantly. He’d no doubt already found out the details for himself despite this interrogation. “Quite.”

  A woman didn’t kiss her husband in public, let alone a stranger. Disappointment flickered in Esad’s eyes at her admission, and she hastened to dispel it. “Our mothers knew each other.”

  Which quite possibly wasn’t a complete lie. Perhaps they had met at some point. Her mother had thrown herself into the social scene when they lived in England, constantly trying to raise funds to help the Greek rebels. Yet the lie knotted up her insides, and she ducked her head so Esad couldn’t see the falsehood in her face.

  Understanding lit his voice. “They had hopes for the two of you.” Esad understood much about her English upbringing, but he conveniently filled in the few gaps in his knowledge with Ottoman traditions. Such as mothers arranging matches for their children. “Are their hopes justified?”

  “No!” She cringed at the way he believed her lies without question.

  He frowned as she scrambled for an explanation. She needed some reason for Major Prestwood to be seeking her company and kissing her. “I mean, maybe. We have to see if we will suit first.”

  Esad sighed. “You English. Beria and I have been married forty years and we never even laid eyes on each other before our wedding.”

  But hope danced in his expression. He and Beria had been after her to marry for years despite her steadfast resistance.

  She hated that she’d have to crush his expectations, but it was unavoidable. If she had her way, Prestwood wouldn’t last the week.

  Chapter Four

  Even though she strolled down the street without pause, Bennett knew the moment Miss Sinclair spotted him. Her back stiffened. The fabric of her robe ceased its graceful undulations and instead snapped in sharp flicks around her feet.

  He fell into step next to her. “Did you enjoy your visit with the pasha?”

  Her jaw locked and she fixed her gaze on some distant point as she increased her pace.

  “I do appreciate that you would’ve made it home in time for our meeting.”

  Her eyes darted to him, then jerked straight ahead. “That was you this morning, wasn’t it? Watching me. Did that give you a thrill? Did you think I’d be more likely to do your bidding if I was frightened?” She skirted a broken brick in the path. “Well, all you’ve accomplished is to make me more determined to avoid you.”

  Bennett waited for her tirade to end. After her quick thinking and evasive maneuvers, he’d been prepared to give her espionage skills the benefit of the doubt. But hell, she was more naive than he’d feared.

  He lowered his voice. “If you think you can feel someone watching you, you’re a fool.” She sputtered, but he didn’t give her time to speak. “There is no such thing as intuition. All you have are your senses. What alerts you is something so subtle your mind doesn’t even register it. A muffled footstep. An extra breath behind you. A darkened shadow in a doorway.”

  He’d killed too many French officers to doubt the truth in his words. They’d never seen their death coming, not even when he’d waited for hours with his finger on the trigger. The last thing they’d felt hadn’t been some unworldly premonition; it had been his bullet.

  Miss Sinclair cast a disdainful glance over her shoulder. “Well, you must not be adept at trailing your quarry because I knew you were there.”

  Bennett stepped closer her. “You did not.”

  She thrust out her elbow to keep him at bay. “You’re just angry that I lost you.”

  He caught her arm, wishing he could shake some sense into her. “No, you lost the inept bumbler who was also following you. I watched him as he watched you.”

  Goose bumps pebbled the arm he still held. But she raised her chin. “If you are trying to scare me, it won’t work.”

  He slowed her pace. “He followed you until you used that cabbage cart for cover.”

  She shook her head slowly.

  “You did indeed lose him with your quick thinking.” Frustration still churned that he hadn’t been able to follow the bastard, but he couldn’t risk losing sight of Miss Sinclair. “But that was because he was a novice.” He pulled her closer.

  Uncertainty flickered in her hazel eyes.

  Good. She needed that if she was to survive this mess she’d embroiled herself in. “I, however, continued to follow you. I followed you to the house. I saw your hiding place in the shutter. I trailed only a few feet behind you all the way to the pasha’s.”

  Her breathing came fast and shallow.

  “This is not a game, Miss Sinclair. If you’re going to treat it like one, you have no business being involved.”

  “As if I have a choice.”

  Did she need the money so badly then? His hand tightened on her arm and she flinched. Bennett frowned and pulled back her sleeve. Angry red scratches scored her pale skin. One of the gouges in the center of her forearm had drawn blood.

  “How did this happen?”

  She yanked her arm from him and hurried toward her house that loomed down the street. “The bushes this morning. I’m fine.”

  “Those need to be tended.”

  “I will see to it.”

  The door opened as they approached. The same servant he’d seen her talking with in front of the house yesterday greeted them. Miss Sinclair nodded to the man. “Thank you, Selim. That will be all.”

  Selim bowed but his gait was slow as he exited. Bennett suspected the butler didn’t retreat far.

  Bennett caught her shoulders. Hell, he was touching her again. When had his bloody hands begun acting on their own accord? He didn’t walk around London ballrooms pawing random debutantes, yet for some reason he ached for even a brief contact with Mari.

  She shifted, her tongue nervously moistening her lower lip. Lips he’d tasted before. He released her before his mind wandered too far afield. “My task is to keep you alive. You’re being watched. Are you willing to do what is necessary or do you want this to end now?”

  What would he do if she said she did
want to end this now? Mari laced her fingers together. No doubt, he’d simply remind her of her agreement with the ambassador.

  Someone had been following her. She fought a wave of nausea. Then Bennett had continued to follow her without her realizing it. What if the situation had been reversed this morning? If the stranger had tracked her to Nathan’s, she might have compromised them both.

  She studied the overbearing man in front of her. She still didn’t want his protection. The tall, golden Goliath stood out like a hawk in a flock of sparrows. He knew nothing of Constantinople and its customs. He thought he could order her about like one of his recruits.

  But if he had tracked her as he’d claimed, perhaps he might know a thing or two that would be of use. “What would you have me do?”

  “First, we will continue this conversation in a more private place.”

  Mari glanced up. Selim watched them from a doorway across the room.

  “The women’s quarters.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Follow me. My rooms are on the other side of the house.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “It cannot be proper for you to entertain me in your bedchamber.”

  “Perhaps not. But where else can I go if I plan to have my wicked way with you?” The taunt would have been more effective if it hadn’t sounded so appealing.

  “Miss Sinclair—”

  She interrupted what was, no doubt, a stern reprimand. “You really have no idea about Ottoman culture, do you? It’s common here for women to have a living area private from the men. Haven’t you heard of a harem?”

  His eyes darkened and her cheeks heated. Men. “No, you’re thinking of the women who live in a harem. The word simply refers to separate women’s quarters as opposed to the selamlik where the men gather.”

  Major Prestwood frowned. “Your father abides by these traditions?”

  Mari shook her head, although she longed to parade in front of him in the traditional garb of a harem slave just to vex him. “No, not at all. But since there is only my father and me, the women’s quarters simply became mine. The male servants avoid it out of tradition. Only my maid and the cleaning woman enter.”

  She led him down the white marble corridor that marked the entrance to her domain. The passageway opened into a central space that served as the common area.

  Major Prestwood froze just inside the door. He couldn’t really be such a prude, could he? She suspected a man of his looks had entered the private rooms of many a woman. She turned back to chide him, but it wasn’t offended morality on his face.

  He stared at the frescoes covering the walls. “You did these?”

  She’d painted the vines and birds that capered over the walls in one of her more fanciful moods. “Yes.”

  He reached out and traced the curve of a bird’s wing. His reverence sent tingles skittering over her skin.

  “How do you capture their vitality? Even the plants look like they are straining against their entrapment in a static plane.”

  She blinked up at him. Straining against their entrapment?

  He spun away from the wall. “Back to the matter at hand, if you please.”

  As if she’d been the one to change topics. But she’d seen the curiosity and admiration in his eyes when he’d looked at her paintings and a small bubble of pleasure warmed her. She smiled at him.

  He continued as if he hadn’t seen her small overture of friendship. “The man who followed you was of middle height, olive-complexioned, with a thin beard and mustache. He wore a white turban and brown clothing not of the best quality. His left hand appeared disfigured. Does he sound familiar?”

  Her smile faded. “Except for the hand, he sounds like every other man in Constantinople.”

  Prestwood folded his arms. “Most likely he’s been hired to follow you. Who knows of your work?”

  Mari frowned. “Only three people know of my work. The ambassador, my former contact with the Foreign Office, and my maid.” And whoever had been at Chorlu, but he should know all about that. It was why he’d been sent.

  “Who was your contact?”

  She shrugged. “I won’t betray his identity. He would not have betrayed mine.” If her luck held, Nathan would be plotting a way to get Prestwood sent back home as they spoke.

  “Your maid then?”

  “Achilla Rankopita. You met her yesterday.”

  “How much do you trust her?”

  “Completely.”

  Prestwood walked over to a basin of water set on the table without asking her opinion of Daller. Apparently, he didn’t question the reliability of his cousin. “Come here.”

  She’d already closed the distance before it occurred to her to disobey. He removed his handkerchief and dipped it in the water. The major caught her hand and lifted her sleeve.

  “This really—” The words died a quick death as the cool cloth slid over her arm. She tried to concentrate on the discomfort caused by the cleaning, but she could hardly discern that sensation at all. Cold droplets of water dripped from the handkerchief onto her arm as he lowered it to the delicate skin on the inside of her elbow. He then trailed the cloth with gentle, caressing strokes to her wrist.

  “Must you insist on touching me?”

  “Yes.” Bennett cleared his throat, tracing around one of the damp scratches with his index finger, his callused skin rough in comparison to the fine linen. “I’m supposed to protect you.”

  “From bushes?” Rather than emerging with the wry humor she’d intended, the words gasped from her throat.

  “From anything that would harm you.” Water splashed as he swirled the cloth in the basin.

  Overbearing. Rude. Prying. Mari listed all the reasons in her head why she shouldn’t be enjoying his touch.

  Yet when he pointed to her other arm, she held it out wordlessly for the same exquisite torture.

  Darkness made her realize she’d closed her eyes. She blinked them open. Luckily, the major was focused on her wounds, not her face.

  He wrung out the cloth and placed it by the basin. “We need a story to explain our continued interaction. I’ll claim some interest in the local flora and fauna. It will give us a plausible reason to be seen together.”

  Oh heavens, this is what came of her impulsive answer to Esad’s question. But they needed their story to be consistent. “No, you are courting me.” Her words emerged in barely more than a whisper.

  Major Prestwood stilled. “What was that?”

  She cleared her throat. “We’re courting.”

  His look of horror would’ve been comical if it weren’t so insulting. Had she truly smiled at him a few moments ago? “Some of Esad’s men saw our . . . our kiss. I had to explain it. I told him our mothers had known each other in England so when you arrived you called on me.”

  “And was instantly enamored?”

  He didn’t need to sound so dubious. She hated him. It was as simple as that. “I didn’t have many other options. Would you rather I claimed you were ravishing me in the street? Perhaps you were overcome by my description of the thin, spiny leaves on the Alkanna tinctoria?”

  “You should have consulted me first.”

  She folded her arms. She couldn’t change what she’d said.

  Prestwood advanced on her, only stopping when his boots touched the tips of her slippers. “So, I’m infatuated then. What is it about you, Mari, that entices me?”

  She gulped at the sound of her given name on his lips. It made sense for him to use it given the whirlwind nature of their supposed relationship, but it sounded indecent somehow. “I really couldn’t say, Major.”

  “Bennett now, I believe. We are friendly enough to kiss in public, after all. Formality would ruin our deception.” He tugged gently on a strand of her hair. “Was it your curls, perhaps?”

  She shoved against his chest in a sudden spurt of anger. Of all the cruel, boorish things to say. It wasn’t her fault her hair corkscrewed out of control. It defied containment no matter what she
tried. “How dare you—”

  A large, fast-moving man in brown robes tackled Bennett and drove him to the tile.

  Bennett hit the ground with a grunt and rolled with his attacker.

  Mari opened her mouth to scream for help, but then she recognized Bennett’s native-garbed opponent. It was Nathan. “Nathan, no!”

  Bennett glanced back at her and Nathan used the opening to drive a punch into his jaw.

  She lunged toward them and wrapped her arms as far around Bennett’s shoulders as she could. He tried to buck her off but she clung to him. “You’re both on the same side.”

  Her words penetrated the scuffle and both men froze, staring at each other. Bennett’s eyes narrowed. He climbed off Nathan and offered him a hand up. Although Nathan was tall, Bennett still outstripped him by a good six inches. “Abington, is it not?”

  It was Mari’s turn to still. Abington?

  Nathan looked sheepish and glanced over at her.

  She planted her hands on her hips. “You told me your name was Smith.” Oh, she had guessed that wasn’t his name, but it still irked to have her suspicions confirmed. She swallowed to clear the tightness in her throat. Good thing she hadn’t trusted him completely.

  Bennett ignored her and turned to Nathan. “What are you doing here?” He surveyed Nathan’s filthy clothing.

  Nathan frowned and straightened. “I’m here on assignment from the Foreign Office. More than that, I can’t tell you.” He turned to Mari. “I apologize for misleading you as to my name, but my mission involves some secrecy, as you know. My name truly is Nathan, however.”

  She glared at his paltry peace offering.

  Bennett folded his arms across his chest. “What is your relationship with Miss Sinclair?”

  She gasped. “Of all the overbearing—”

  Nathan held up his hand, stopping her tirade. “Prestwood is your protector?”

  She nodded.

  “So in your note when you wrote you were being monitored and needed help immediately, it referred to Prestwood.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. Said in that tone, it did sound bad. She glanced at Bennett as the inexplicable urge to defend herself overwhelmed her. A lump had formed on his chin where Nathan’s punch had landed. She grimaced, wishing she could soothe it. “The note said more than that.”