His Spanish Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

can’t deny it would be the role of a lifetime.”
    His gaze flickered over her face, though it still gave nothing away. “And the child?” Again his voice was so stripped of inflection she could hear the tension that underlay it.
    Her hand curved over her abdomen. “I’m not going to go off to France as you suggested and be shunted out of the fray. You can’t ask me to turn my back on my cause and comrades. You of all people should know what that would mean.”
    “I didn’t ask it of you. I merely said it was an option. But you have to consider the child’s welfare. This would at least ensure you’d both be safe.”
    She swallowed, tasting fear and anticipation. “So you’re saying you want me to do it?”
    “No. There are risks on both sides. But the child has to be part of the equation.”
    She looked into his eyes. They could dance round it, they could choose their words with the care of those walking round mines. But they couldn’t deny that this child, this accident, this error of judgment, this twist of fate, was both of theirs. Spies weren’t supposed to have children. Raoul, a spymaster with an estranged wife in Ireland, was even less suited to fatherhood than Malcolm Rannoch.
    “We can’t—” she said.
    “No,” Raoul agreed. Because of course he wasn’t going to turn his back on his cause and comrades, either. The single word sounded unexpectedly rough, like a knife scraped over rock. “I’ve known Malcolm Rannoch since he was a boy,” he continued after a moment.
    Raoul had known Malcolm’s parents and grandfather in Ireland. Friendships cut oddly in this world. But it was unlike Raoul to let that interfere. “Are you saying you want me to leave him alone?”
    “I’m saying I know he’d be a good father.”
    Malcolm Rannoch’s gray eyes, at once concerned and cool, danced in her memory. “He’ll be gone much of the time.”
    “Make no mistake, querida .” Raoul’s quiet voice turned hard as granite. “You won’t be able to do this and remain emotionally detached.”
    “Perhaps not. But I’m good at keeping my life in separate boxes. You trained me well.”
    “You’ve crossed paths with British soldiers and diplomats you might encounter if this continues. Frederick Radley for one.”
    “I can handle Radley.”
    “What have I said to you about overconfidence?”
    “It’s worth the risk.”
    He started to speak and bit back whatever he had been going to say. He watched her a moment longer, then inclined his head.
    “There’s more,” she said quickly. “I mean in addition to Malcolm’s proposal. I have some information that may be of use.” She hesitated a moment, Isabella Flores’s voice echoing in her ears, then pushed forward. She couldn’t afford to grow soft. Not now of all times. “I found the Marquesa de Flores crying in the ladies’ retiring room at the embassy three nights ago.”
    “The general’s wife?”
    “The general’s young, pretty, restless wife, who is cooped up in Lisbon. It seems she found comfort with a British officer.”
    “Interesting.” Raoul shifted his shoulders against the back of the bench. “You learned his name?”
    “Can you doubt me?”
    “Purely rhetorical.”
    Isabella Flores’s anxious voice echoed again in her memory. Again she suppressed it. “It’s Edward Linford.”
    “Oh, good God. The damned fool.”
    “Quite, as Malcolm would say, though Linford doesn’t impress me as particularly clever. Isabella wrote Linford an indiscreet letter that’s gone astray. If it falls into her husband’s hands, he’s likely to challenge Linford to a duel. Apparently Sir Charles Stuart has tasked Malcolm with recovering the letter.”
    “Interesting.” Raoul stretched his legs out in front of him. “I imagine Malcolm will be able to recover it.”
    “And you want me to make sure he doesn’t?” Pitting her wits against Malcolm would be a challenge. And she should get used to the bite of guilt.
    “No.” Raoul crossed one