and then a soft rustling followed, alerting Sebastian to Catherine’s midnight escape. He tracked her progress about the room, with nothing more than his sense of hearing. She pulled out a drawer on his writing desk, and he detected the distinct slide of paper against paper. The drawer closed, and she moved away. Into the sitting room.
He maneuvered his naked body out of bed, drawing his banyan over his shoulders. At the entrance to the sitting room, he drew in a steadying breath. From this point forward, their association would change, likely for the worse. Regret sliced through his heart. With Catherine, he had caught a glimpse of what life outside the Nexus could be. And he’d liked it.
Bracing his hand against the door frame, he hesitated far longer than a seasoned intelligence agent should. He didn’t want to give her up, but the spy in him clawed at his restraints. No matter her reasons, she was here on behalf of his enemy. Her actions had placed his country—a country he had fought years to protect—at risk.
This he could not allow.
No matter the personal sacrifice.
Fortifying his mind, he swallowed back his deep yearning and leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms. Fully dressed, she bent over something he couldn’t see. Then he saw her dip the nib of her pen into an inkwell.
“Writing me a farewell letter?” he asked.
A short, high-pitched scream burst from her throat, and she shot to her feet. With her back to her makeshift writing table, she faced him. “Pardon?”
He pushed away, moving toward her with predatory intent. “Farewell letter,” he repeated. “The last few evenings you’ve abandoned my bed without so much as a kiss farewell. I thought tonight you might be tarrying long enough to say good-bye.” When he saw her eyes widen at his close proximity, he pivoted to stalk around the table, trying to catch a glimpse of what she had been writing. “Of course, I would have preferred a kiss to a missive.”
Her color was high, and he could hear the painful rasping of her breathing. Sympathy for what he was about to do tugged at his heart.
“Yes, of course.” She snatched up the pages on the table. “How silly of me. I will keep your preference in mind next time.”
Afraid she would rip the sheets to shreds, he grabbed her wrist. “No need to waste good paper, madam. Allow me to read what you’ve written so far.”
With surprising strength, she wrenched free of his hold. “Um, no.” Her movements became jerky and her gaze slashed across the room, reminding him of a caged animal. “I prefer your method of good-bye to mine.”
Dropping all pretense, he asked, “Who sent you, Catherine?”
She sucked in a startled breath. “I have no idea of what you mean, sir.”
“I think you do.” He nodded toward the papers behind her back. “Give them to me.”
Backing away, she shook her head. “It’s nothing, really.”
“You’re not leaving this house until I see what you’re hiding.” He infused as much menace into his tone as possible. “Unless you would like for me to call the constable.”
“Whatever for?”
“To report a theft, of course.”
Looking more trapped than ever, she clutched the papers to her chest. “Please don’t.”
He gentled his voice. “You’re giving me little choice.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then educate me,” he said. “Explain to me why a widow with an impeccable reputation would risk an affaire. Tell me why you would betray my trust.”
“I c-can’t.”
“Why? Why can’t you? Who are you protecting?”
“Please, Sebastian.” Tears filled her eyes. “I beg you. Pretend you never saw this. If you do this for me, I swear I’ll not grace your doorstep again.”
Sebastian’s chest heaved with his building anger. On one level, he stood before this beautiful woman, who had somehow woven a spell around his heart, angry and hurt, and on another level, he observed the scene from a great distance. Disconnected and uncaring.
Betrayal, lies, and death were nothing new to him. He had come to expect them all with every new mission. That didn’t stop him from struggling with the knowledge that Catherine acted out of desperation and the unfortunate side effect was deceiving him. Although he didn’t know the source, he understood her motivation and respected her for having the courage to do what needed doing. But still, Catherine’s decision not to confide in him split open a wound that not even stitches could mend.
“Tempting, my dear. But, like you, I cannot.” He flicked his fingers toward the papers. “I won’t ask for