Oh, she could have fun with the dour lieutenant after all. She grinned. “That’s obvious. Lieutenant Mackenzie will become my lover.”
“What?” The word spluttered from his mouth. “Lov—absolutely not.”
“All very chaste.” A solution to another problem wheeled into her mind. “I’ll say we met at church. Which reminds me, Commander—would you please ask the Wrens to invite me to attend church with them? They refuse to take me anywhere, and I haven’t left Dunnet Head since we arrived. You wouldn’t want to keep me from church, would you?” She turned a little pout up to him.
Yardley’s mouth contracted as if he’d tasted something sour. “I’ll speak to them, remind them of their duties.”
“Thank you.” To see humanity again, Cilla would gladly endure a dozen sermons.
Mackenzie cleared his throat, and his brown eyes smoldered. “She’s changing the subject. I refuse to be associated with her in such a manner, chaste or not.”
Cilla pressed her hand to her chest and released the most despondent sigh she could muster. “Don’t you find me the least bit attractive? I’ve been told I’m no great beauty but that my engaging personality more than compensates.”
Amusement frolicked on Yardley’s lips. “You never have to lay a hand on her, Mackenzie.”
She repeated her sigh. “Will my disappointment never end?”
“The romance would be fictional,” Yardley said. “So her stories ring true and so Kraus believes she could actually have heard that information.”
“As if I were Samson to her Delilah?” Deep red stained Mackenzie’s cheeks. “As if I’d spill naval secrets all for a bonny face? I’d never.”
“Oh!” Cilla clapped her hands together. “You think I’m bonny. Hope remains.”
Yardley held up one hand to silence her. “We wouldn’t use your name or even your position. We’d use a code name.”
“Samson.” Cilla struggled to strain the laughter from her voice.
“Excellent.” But Yardley patted the air in front of her in his vain attempt to shut her mouth. “This fictional naval officer, code-named Samson, is not like you at all, Mackenzie. He does know everything in your reports. But unlike you, he’s indiscreet and besotted.”
“I hope you do become besotted one day.” Cilla batted her eyelashes at the Scotsman. “Because the moment I first beheld you, I fell madly in love.”
He met her gaze, and the red faded away. One lazy blink, and he lifted his gaze to Yardley. “As I said, she’s an accomplished liar.”
Cilla suppressed a squeal of delight. Perhaps a human being lay inside that rigid exterior after all.
“Your heart has no cause for concern, Mackenzie,” Yardley said. “As I’m certain you know, a romantic involvement with an enemy agent would violate all regulations.”
“Not even tempting,” Mackenzie said with a growl in his voice. “I remind you, Commander, I’m performing my duties as ordered but under protest.”
“And I remind you, Mackenzie”—Yardley jabbed one finger at the lieutenant—“you were issued a revolver. If you ever have good reason to believe she’s betraying Britain, you are authorized to use it.”
A cold wave crashed over Cilla and doused all delight.
14
Dunnet, Scotland
Sunday, June 15, 1941
After the tumult of the past few weeks, Lachlan craved peace. Sitting with his parents in the familiar pews of Dunnet Parish Church usually stilled the waters of his mind.
But those waters tumbled and tossed.
On Friday, RAF Coastal Command aircraft had detected the German heavy cruiserLützowleaving the Baltic for the Atlantic, where she could have ravaged British shipping. Beaufort fighter planes had damaged the ship enough to send her back to Germany. But she and her kin would return.
On Saturday, he’d been coerced into meeting with the very spy he’d captured.
And now on the Sabbath, the minister preached a parable that heaved boulders of conviction into those frothing waters.
