An hour into their walk west, an old gray brick building on top of a small hill, its steeple topped off with a looming cross, came into view. A smaller chapel house connected to its left, an empty wagon hitch near its side door, no one in sight.
They closed the distance to the church’s tall weather-beaten door, Slade all the while glancing at his wife. His body hardened even as a devilish smile tugged the corners of his mouth as he recollected their earlier lovemaking and wished they were still in each other’s arms in the cave instead of out here.
When they reached the church, Slade pulled on the door handle, a cold metal ring. The door creaked on its hinges as it opened. It was quiet and musty inside. A single lit candle up ahead gave no aid to the gray interior, little light coming in fromthe ten lofty stained-glass windows, five on either side of the building.
Halfway down the nave, a pair of distant footfalls joined their own.
A tall, gray efficient-looking man in dark clothing stepped in from the side door connecting Saint Mary’s to the chapel house.
His thin face with its angular features held a polite expression. “Good morning, welcome to Saint Mary’s. I am Minister Emmanuel. How may I be of service?”
Slade stepped forward, extending his arm in a cordial greeting. “Good morning, minister,” Slade said. He was still working out what to say next when Fifi came to stand beside him.
A practiced smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Good morning, minister, we are ardent bird watchers. We were told there are particularly spectacular bullfinches to be seen on this part of the isle.”
The minister blinked at Fifi, looking startled. But then his eyes narrowed at her, and he shot Slade a suspicious glance. “Who told you there were bullfinches in this part of the isle?”
Fifi exhaled, sounding a tad impatient. “Our research in the library, of course. We were ardent falcon watchers, but you know how blood thirsty they are. One nearly pecked my head off two years ago. We decided bullfinches were safer.”
The minister’s entire countenance relaxed as he laughed. “I’ll be sure and tell her you said that. Wait here.”
Slade ventured a guess that Falcon, whom he’d never met, but knew of by reputation, was Fifi’s spymaster.
Minutes later, Donald Lochiel, the Movement’s north region spymaster, code name Bullfinch, joined them.
Bullfinch looked the same as he did in 1745 at Fontenoy where Slade had first met the man, and again, a few months ago. Bullfinch had a tall frame, and his thin, distinguished facewas lined with wrinkles. But his eyes always struck Slade as all-seeing. His most endearing qualities, however, were his rumpled gray hair and his cocksure smile. The Movement trained their spies to be unassuming, but lethal. However, Bullfinch was in a different category all together, his manner of deception was legendary. Only one or two agents knew Bullfinch like Slade knew him, which was to say, barely scratching the surface of the man’s true character. But even with that, Slade understood he must stay on his guard and expect the unexpected. Despite all the cloak and dagger, Slade had always liked the man, given Bullfinch had made Slade a fortune in arms deals.
What Slade wanted to know now, as he clenched his jaws together, was what dangerous missions Bullfinch would orchestrate for Fifi.
Lochiel threw both Slade and Fifi a quizzical look. “Yes? Did someone inquire about bullfinches?”
Slade’s eyes narrowed at Bullfinch’s smiling ones, daring the other man to call him out. But it appeared Bullfinch wasn’t in a daring mood because he showed no signs of recognition when his eyes landed on Slade. And why would there be, the Movement’s rules on secrecy were strict, even among its own spies.
“I’ll await you by the door,” Slade said to Fifi.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He slowly and soundlessly headed for the door, while straining to hear the conversation.
It was unusually quiet in the church—Slade could hear his own breathing—but Fifi’s whispers were frustratingly low. He couldn’t make out a single word.
Bullfinch’s response, on the other hand, carried, and Slade knew it was on purpose.
“He’s your husband, you say? How utterly delightful.” Bullfinch threw back his head and gave a hearty laugh. His laugh made Slade want to throttle the man.
Slade stole a backward glance. Bullfinch’s eyes were on Slade before returning to Fifi as she continued whispering.
Slade groaned. But then Fifi threw Slade a curious glance, before snapping her head back to face Bullfinch.
A minute later, Bullfinch’s voice again carried. “For the Hawley mission, I’ll partner you up with one of my agents, codename Eagle.” Bullfinch’s voice was nauseatingly merry. “The Eagle will contact you when the time is right. I am confident you two will get along quite well.”
Slade’s own breath caught in his throat, but the painful grip his jaws were in relaxed. He was grateful as he walked with Fifi back to Master Ames and his boat on the beach. Bullfinch’s dictate not only meant that Slade was now officially reenlisted back in the Movement but it allowed him to keep an eye on Fifi while Ross roamed the Highlands. Although he suspected Bullfinch’s reasons were more crafty than pairing a husband to watch over his wife. Bullfinch no doubt got twisted pleasure out of creating ripples in Slade and Fifi’s marriage.
CHAPTER 61
The next day Slade eyed the swordplay of a group of young guards in the yard at Garraidh, when he noticed Lachlan and Chisolm approaching the yard. The rain had subsided, but the air was brisk, and the sky thick with rolling stone-gray clouds. As the new MacLean warlord, one of his duties was to lead training sessions. But today he was distracted.
Making love to Fifi consumed his body, mind, and soul when he was with her and overwhelmed his thoughts when she wasn’t near. She was his redemption. A chance to add light to the darkness in his soul. To balance the scale. And keeping her safe was his priority. When he was with her, he was more than capable of protecting her, but what about when he wasn’t with her? She could encounter Ross. Or what if she was injured on a mission? His muscles quivered and ice stabbed his heart at the thought.
