Page 84

She laughed. “Not you, Ian. I would have let someone else do it, out of respect for our camaraderie these several years.”

“’Tis more than my own mother would do,” he assured her. “But less than he would, I think.”

“Yes,” she simply said in agreement. Much less.

By now one of the boats was heading toward them, a one-eyed beast slinking through the fog. She could make out the shape of a man, his arms swooping wide and then pulling in as he rowed. With a scrape, the boat ran ashore. The rower tucked the oars inside, then jumped out and pulled his craft onto the narrow, rocky beach. The lamplight gleamed on his face while the rest of him was muffled in darkness. Then he turned toward where they stood and raised his head in an attitude of waiting.

Angelique stepped off the edge of the quay and walked toward him. His teeth flashed white in the darkness, and her heart leapt. Part of her had wondered—feared—if he wouldn’t be here, if something would go awry and disrupt their plan, if he wouldn’t have second thoughts and be far across the ocean by now. But perhaps he’d wondered the same about her. Perhaps his heart leaped with the same joy and relief that hers did, when he saw her.

Or perhaps her heart would always do that when he grinned at her like this.

She paused in front of him. He wore a thick woolen coat, with an equally nondescript cap on his head; no more tailored coats and polished boots, for now anyway. But when she looked into his lean, angular face, she couldn’t stop the smile that broke across her lips. He opened his arms and she rushed into them, clinging to him almost as tightly as he clung to her.

“I thought you’d never arrive,” he whispered, and the familiar sound of his voice made her heart feel lighter.

She lifted her head and smiled. “It takes a long time to travel slowly and unremarkably from London to Leith.”

Nate chuckled. “Darling, after my last glimpse of you, an hour seemed an eternity, let alone three weeks. And that reminds me: I owe your friend Mr. Phipps a good knock on the head, for the way he shoved me out of that office.”

She touched his cheek. “I will make it up to you.”

“Oh!” Nate brightened. “That’s much better.” And she laughed, until Nate’s mouth met hers in a kiss ripe with longing and relief. And love—more love than she had ever imagined two people could share.

Footsteps crunched behind her on the narrow beach. “I see you’re in a rush to be off, Avery,” said Ian. “But you’ll be needing a bigger boat. You knew it was a pair of women you’d be fetching, aye? They’ve three hefty trunks.”

Nate kept her at his side, his arm curled securely around her beneath her long cloak. “Prince was right behind me. The lazy fellow’s just taking his time.” Another larger boat was nudging closer to the water’s edge as he spoke, and a moment later Prince jumped out to pull it up.

“Lazy?” Prince said indignantly. “I just hadn’t your motivation.” Still breathing hard, he swept off his cap and bowed to her. “Madame, a pleasure to see you again.”

Angelique bobbed in reply, hampered by Nate’s grip on her waist. “I am glad to see you are well, Prince.”

He laughed quietly. “Well enough for having lived with a caged bear for three weeks! We would have thrown him overboard soon if you did not come to calm him.”

“Lying wretch,” Nate said without heat. He pressed a kiss to Angelique’s temple. “Where are your things?”

Ian helped them carry the trunks down to the water’s edge. Without her spy’s wardrobe and wigs, Angelique traveled surprisingly lightly. She had told Lisette to pack only her favorite things, nothing at all of Stafford’s. That had all been sent to the ragman when Lisette cleared out her house after her supposed death. None of her spy’s life was coming with her to her new life.

Except Lisette, of course. Not wanting to presume, Angelique had told her of the generous sum named in her will, enough for the maid to live in comfort for the rest of her days, but Lisette didn’t want to stay behind. “I’ve seen enough of England,” she’d said with a sniff, and told Ian to send her own trunk on with Angelique’s.

The only regret Angelique had was Mélanie. When her solicitor notified Mélanie that Angelique Martand had met her end in a tragic accident, Mélanie would believe her truly dead. Mr. Dexter would execute her will, selling her house and possessions and forwarding the money to Mélanie. She wasn’t sorry about that; It was blood money anyway. Let Mellie put it to good use, helping people in need.

But Angelique knew that in that quiet graveyard behind the rectory, Mélanie would grieve for her as a mother for her child, and feel responsible for her death. It tore her heart in two, but she had to let things play out, on the chance someone might have connected them. When they reached America, she would find a way to let Mélanie know the truth. And perhaps, in a few years, she would be able to see Mélanie again.

As Nate settled one trunk in his boat and helped Prince secure another in the other boat, Angelique turned to Ian. He was one of her few friends, the only person associated with Stafford she would truly miss. She had contemplated marrying him at one time, and he had risked his life to help her escape with the man she loved. “Good-bye, Ian,” she said softly.

He was staring over the water again, squinting into the encroaching fog. “It was a noble thing you did. Stafford went too far.”

She laughed. “Noble? That goes too far as well.” Her smile faded and she raised her hands in surrender. “But it had to be done, and who better? I am ready to be done with him. I was ready a while ago. I have no regrets.”

Ian shot her a wry glance. “And look how miserable your last job was.”

“It worked out well in the end,” she said serenely, then ruined it by catching sight of Nate and smiling again.

Ian snorted with laughter. “Aye, bloody well. Your face, when you look at him…” He hesitated. “I wish you much joy, Angelique.”

“Thank you. I wish you the same.”

“I expect I’ll come out well enough,” he said. “We Scots are used to making do.”