Yardley stood, circled the desk, and leaned back against it. “This requires closer coordination of our double agents through the Twenty Committee. The committee will approve a general strategy. You will serve as a liaison between the Admiralty member of the committee and case officers involved in naval matters—like me. You’ll help translate the general vision into details, combined with information gleaned by our double agents.”
Lachlan’s chest stirred. This would be far more rewarding than pushing papers. “This sounds very interesting, sir.”
“I thought you’d enjoy it.” Yardley crossed the room and stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Come with me. I’d like to introduce you to another member of our team—a member who will be working on a more personal level with my new double agent. A rather temperamental agent, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Lachlan followed Yardley into the hall and down to another office.
Cilla might have challenged Yardley in many ways, but she could never have been called temperamental.
Headstrong, aye. And witty and gracious and delightful ...
And ... sitting in the office before him.
It couldn’t be, and he blinked hard.
A blond woman in a suit the same bonny blue green as Cilla’s eyes sat at a table, gaping at him. She stumbled to standing. “La-Lachlan?”
He forced his feet in her direction, forced words over his dry throat. “Cilla? I—I thought I’d never see you again.”
Her face turned red and crumpled.
Lachlan gathered her hand in his, small and warm and gripping his as if her life depended on it.
In the doorway, Yardley cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Mackenzie, may I introduce you to Cecilia Klaasen?”
Lachlan couldn’t rip his gaze from hers. “Your new identity.”
“Yes.” Her voice warbled, and she swayed closer to him.
“Cecilia Klaasen is officially classified as a refugee with a history in the Dutch resistance. She is employed as a secretary with the War Office.” Satisfaction colored Yardley’s voice. “Miss Klaasen has no record of ever having served as an enemy agent or a double agent, and she’s never drawn the slightest suspicion from MI5.”
“Like God’s forgiveness.” Cilla’s eyes glistened like the seas off Dunnet Head, and her bonny lips puckered. “My old record erased. My new record clean.”
Speechless, Lachlan caressed her slim fingers and memorized each angle on her face.
Yardley chuckled. “Mackenzie, in case you haven’t recognized the personal significance of her new identity, let me state it clearly. You are free to fraternize with Miss Klaasen.”
Lachlan’s gaze snapped to the commander. “I—I am?”
“In fact, fraternization is encouraged.” Yardley crossed his arms. “Individually, each of you is talented, but in partnership you’re exceptional. It is in the best interest of MI5 to remove all barriers between you. We have done so.”
“Oh, Lachlan.” Cilla’s weight pressed against his arm.
She was more than alive and safe and free—she was alive and safe and free beside him. And he was free to fraternize with her. To love her.
Lachlan cleared his throat. “With all respect, Commander, one barrier remains. A lack of privacy.”
Yardley laughed and opened the door. “I’ll see myself out. You are both relieved from your duties for the rest of the day. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
All Lachlan could see was Cilla’s face.
With each breath, her smile edged wider. With each blink, her eyes grew more luminous. “You’re here. You’re really here.”
With her hand still entwined with his, he circled his arm behind her back. “The last time I saw you, I was in a wee bit of pain. You might have thought me delirious. But when I told you I loved you, I meant it. I love you very much.”
“And I—I meant it too. I love you so much, and I missed you.” Her voice broke.
“Och, lass. No tears.” He could think of only one way to stop the flow.
