The Caged Countess Read online

  ‘Alain?’

  The shadows stirred and a man moved into her line of vision. Claudine’s heart leapt towards her throat. It was certainly not Alain. For a start he was a head taller than the person she had come to meet and the lithe, powerful figure bore not the least resemblance to the stocky frame she had been expecting to see. As he turned she drew in a sharp breath. The face with its almost sculptural lines must once have been handsome. However, two jagged scars marred the left side of his brow. Below it the eye and the cheek were concealed by a patch of dark leather. He seemed to emanate a dangerous virile power whose effect was both striking and unnerving.

  With an effort she gathered her wits. ‘Forgive me, monsieur. I must have mistaken the room.’

  * * *

  Her expression and the indrawn breath had come as no surprise to the man opposite. He was accustomed now to the way others regarded him; in fairness his appearance was hardly calculated to reassure.

  ‘I think not, madame.’

  He moved further into the room so that he could see her properly. The result gave him a visceral jolt. In the first place she was much younger than he had expected; twenty or a little more perhaps. In the second she was stunning. The soft light fell on glossy brown curls whose colour reminded him of newly hulled chestnuts. They framed a lovely face dominated by huge dark eyes and the most seductive mouth he had ever seen. She was just above the average height for a woman and her figure slender. The details were hidden beneath her cloak. For a second or two he indulged the fantasy of removing it. Any man would want to do the same, he thought. Genet was clearly growing more subtle in his recruitment. In keeping with French tradition he employed women as well as men for intelligence work, but the women in question didn’t usually look like this one. Nor was her manner that of a courtesan. No doubt he utilised her beauty and apparent innocence in higher spheres. After all, government ministers and foreign ambassadors were no more immune to female charm than any other man. Several of them patronised Madame Renaud’s establishment. The connection was all too evident. He took another pace towards her.

  ‘You came here to meet Alain Poiret.’

  * * *

  Claudine’s heart thumped. She used to think she was tall but this man towered over her. In the confined space he was altogether an intimidating presence. However, she couldn’t afford to let him see that. Lifting her chin she met his gaze squarely. ‘What do you know of Alain? Who are you?’

  ‘My name is Antoine Duval.’

  She guessed it was assumed: real names tended to get people killed.

  ‘You must be Claudine,’ he continued.

  ‘Perhaps. Where is Alain?’

  ‘Fouché’s men arrested him last night.’

  Claudine paled. The name of Napoleon’s Chief of Police was well known and with good reason. The ramifications filled her with silent horror. ‘Arrested?’

  ‘Alain suspected that he was being watched,’ her companion continued, ‘but he managed to get a message to me before they took him.’

  ‘Why you?’

  ‘Because I work for the same organisation as you do, and with the same aim in mind; to gather information for the British government.’

  ‘Alain never mentioned you.’

  ‘He never mentioned you either, until he feared that your safety had been compromised. I am come in his stead to warn you.’

  Unnerved by the news as much as by the man before her, Claudine had to make herself think. The story seemed genuine. It was very much in keeping with Alain’s character that he would seek to warn her somehow. If he had chosen Duval to do so it was because he trusted him. It went against the grain to be beholden to anyone, but she had perforce to acknowledge herself obligated.

  ‘I am grateful, monsieur. You took a risk.’ Then the rest of what he had said filtered through the chaos of her thoughts. If Alain was being watched did Fouché’s agents know who his other contacts were? Did they know about her? Were they just waiting for the right moment to spring the trap?

  As if he had read her thoughts Duval went on, ‘It is a matter of conjecture as to how much Fouché’s men have already discovered. What is certain is that Alain will eventually be made to talk. It is too dangerous for you to remain here.’

  ‘I can’t just leave him to his fate.’

  ‘There’s nothing you can do to help him now, except to make his effort count. You must heed the warning and get away while you still can.’

  That went against the grain too, but she knew he was right. ‘I must return to my apartment. There are things I...’

  ‘You can’t go back there. It’s the first place they’ll look. We must leave at once—tonight.’

  Claudine’s chin lifted. ‘We?’

  ‘I gave Alain my word I’d get you to safety. There’s a carriage waiting at the end of the street.’

  Having no intention of putting herself in the power of this stranger, she shook her head. ‘I can take care of myself.’

  ‘A woman alone? I think not.’

  ‘How do you think I got here in the first place?’

  ‘It’s easy enough to fall into a trap,’ he replied, ‘but a lot harder to get out.’

  ‘I have my own contingency plans for leaving France. The matter need not concern you.’

  ‘It does concern me, in every way.’

  ‘I can manage. You have done your part, monsieur.’

  ‘My part is just beginning.’ His hand closed on her arm and drew her towards the door. Feeling her resist he frowned. ‘We don’t have time to argue.’

  ‘I said I wasn’t going.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool.’

  The cutting tone and accompanying look raised her hackles at once. She stopped, swinging round to face him. ‘How do I know that this isn’t a trap?’

  ‘If it were you’d be under arrest already.’

  In spite of her protests, Duval threw open the door and drew her with him along the passage towards the staircase. Madame Renaud was waiting on the landing. She started to speak but the words were drowned out by heavy fists pounding on the door below. Then a man’s voice called out.

  ‘Police! Open up!’

  Before anyone could say more they heard the unmistakeable order echoed from the rear of the premises. Claudine’s stomach lurched. Duval swore softly. Then he looked at Madame Renaud.

  ‘Is there another way out of here?’

  Madame shook her head. The banging on the door intensified. She leaned over the balustrade and called softly to the flunky below.

  ‘Wait another minute and then open it, Raoul.’ Then she turned back to her companions. ‘Come with me. Quickly.’

  They needed no urging and moments later found themselves back in the room they had so recently vacated. Claudine looked round in bewilderment. The only way out was the window but they were on the first floor. Even if they weren’t seen by those outside, such a leap meant a broken leg at the very least. It was crazy. She saw Madame look at Duval and knew that some silent message had been passed and understood.

  ‘What?’ she demanded.

  ‘Take your clothes off and get into bed,’ he replied.

  Madame nodded. ‘I’ll delay them as long as I can.’

  With that she was gone.

  Chapter Two

  Claudine stared after her in stunned disbelief. Then she turned to speak to her companion but the words died on her lips for he had already thrown aside his cloak and was shrugging himself out of his coat.

  She regarded him coldly. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’

  ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘Come on. We haven’t much time.’

  ‘If you imagine I’m going to...’

  He paused, fixing her with
a fierce glare. ‘You have a better plan?’

  ‘Well no, but...’

  ‘Then do it or, by heaven, I will! This tardiness is like to get us killed.’

  She knew he was right but that didn’t make things any easier. She had never undressed in front of a man in her life. Reluctantly she unfastened her cloak and let it fall.

  Seeing her comply, Duval continued undressing; coat and cravat joined his cloak and he sat down on the bed and began to tug off his boots. From below came the sound of raised voices. The police were in the hallway. Claudine fumbled with the fastenings of her gown. Her companion tossed his boots aside and dragged off his shirt. She had a swift impression of a hard-muscled torso and savage scars down the left arm and shoulder, and then looked hurriedly away resuming her struggle with the buttons.

  Duval sighed. In two strides he was across the room. Strong hands turned her round and lifted her hair aside. In seconds the buttons were undone. Warm fingers brushed her skin as he slid the gown off her shoulders and, while she struggled out of the sleeves, unfastened the petticoat and stays beneath. It was accomplished with the smooth ease of one completely familiar with women’s clothing. Moments later she was standing in chemise and stockings and his fingers were unfastening the pins that held her hair. Glossy curls tumbled in disarray about her shoulders.

  Booted feet sounded on the stairs and she could hear Madame Renaud’s angry protests. Then a man’s voice barked orders.

  ‘Search every room! The woman’s here somewhere.’

  Claudine’s heart thumped painfully hard. It was her they meant. Alain must have talked. The poor man would have had no choice. She could only imagine what methods had been employed to break him. If they caught her she could expect the same. For a moment cold terror replaced rational thought. Her companion crossed to the bed and pulled back the coverlets.

  ‘Get in.’

  Dumbly she obeyed, sliding across the chilly sheets to the far side. As she pulled the covers over herself Duval saw the soft gleam of metal on her hand and, for the first time, noticed her wedding band. He frowned.

  ‘Take off the ring.’

  She struggled for a moment or two and then shook her head. ‘It’s too tight.’

  ‘Then keep your hand out of sight.’

  Swiftly he drew the bed curtains closed and then came to join her. Outside, the booted feet came closer, punctuated at intervals by feminine screams and male oaths. Claudine shivered. He felt it.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he murmured. ‘Just play your part and say as little as possible.’

  Inwardly he wondered how long her nerve would hold. Alain had said she was a skilled operative but, just then, Duval was far from convinced.

  The darkness inside the curtained bed made it impossible for him to see her face, a circumstance for which Claudine was devoutly thankful. His words, though kindly meant, demonstrated clearly what he thought her to be. It was all of a piece with his casual assumption that she would have no objection to their physical intimacy. Then all reflection was driven from her mind by the hands gathering up the fabric of her shift. Instinctively she reached to stop him.

  ‘No.’

  He gritted his teeth. ‘If this is to be credible you must take it off.’

  Another door crashed open, nearer this time, to be followed by more angry voices.

  Claudine took a deep breath. ‘All right, damn it.’

  Hurriedly she struggled out of the chemise. He grabbed it and flung it aside. The immediacy of the cool linen sheet against her skin raised goose bumps along her arms and intensified the feeling of vulnerability. Never in her life had she been so glad of the darkness which hid her face. Then the mattress shifted under his weight and a lean hard body pressed the length of hers. Strong arms drew her closer, sharing his warmth. The musky scent of his skin sent a tremor through her that was nothing to do with their present peril. She could feel his breath against her neck and then the soft pressure of his lips. The skin seemed to burn where they touched.

  ‘Kiss me.’

  Claudine tensed. ‘What!’

  ‘Kiss me.’ This time the tone was a quiet command.

  ‘But I...’

  His mouth slanted over hers cutting off protest, gentle at first, then gradually becoming more insistent, ignoring resistance. Slowly, gently, his hands began their own exploration, their touch sending a wave of flaring warmth down the length of her. Gradually, of its own volition, her body relaxed a little and her mouth opened beneath his. His tongue teased hers. She knew it was wrong to be doing this and it should have been repellent; instead it shocked and excited.

  As he felt her yield to the kiss Duval felt a familiar tightening sensation in his gut. Her body was exquisite, made for a man’s touch and his own responded to it with a swiftness that astonished him. He didn’t have to pretend. He’d wanted her from the moment he saw her. She filled his senses. The din from the next room faded to background noise. Suddenly, in the dark cocoon of the bed anything was possible. His lips travelled down her neck and throat to her breast, gently sucking and teasing until the nipple grew erect. He heard her gasp, felt her body quiver again. An answering heat flared in his groin. Then his mouth was over hers again, hot, ardent, seeking her response while his hands continued what they had begun.

  The touch sent another flush of treacherous warmth the length of her body and triggered sensations she had never dreamed existed. An equally treacherous inner voice whispered thoughts of surrender, of submitting completely to his will, of pursuing this to its conclusion. And if she did she might become pregnant. It only needed one occasion. Horrified by her lustful response, she tried to protest but the sound was trapped in her throat. What emerged was a groan. Immediately the kiss grew deeper and more demanding. A hand caressed the length of her waist to her hip and moved thence to the secret place between her thighs, stroking gently. The touch sent liquid fire to her loins. Claudine gasped. The stroking continued. Her body quivered in response. She felt him unfasten his breeches and, moments later, his arousal hard against her leg...And then the door was flung open and booted feet tramped across the room. Ruthless hands dragged the curtains apart to reveal three uniformed officers. Duval turned and swore. That too had the merit of being genuine. Beside him, Claudine stifled a scream, dragging the sheet over her bosom, her eyes wide with shock.

  Duval mentally prayed as his hand closed over her wrist in silent warning. If she lost her nerve now it was all over. Could she be relied on to play her part? Then Madame Renaud pushed past the intruders to address him.

  ‘I’m so sorry, monsieur. It’s all a misunderstanding.’

  ‘It had damned well better be,’ he replied. ‘What the devil’s going on?’

  ‘We’re looking for a woman,’ replied the officer in charge.

  ‘You’ve come to the right establishment then,’ said Duval, ‘only this one’s spoken for.’

  The officer ignored him and looked at Claudine. ‘Who is this?’

  With pounding heart she forced herself to return his stare, assuming what she hoped was a sufficiently brazen manner. Then she opened her mouth to speak, but Madame Renaud was before her and bristling with indignation.

  ‘This is Fifi. She’s one of my girls.’

  ‘How long has she been in your employ?’

  ‘About six months now.’

  ‘Indeed.’ The officer’s gaze appraised Claudine silently, his gaze stripping the sheet away. ‘Pretty girl.’

  She wanted to slap the leering expression off his face. Instead she returned a provocative smile and fluttered her eyelashes.

  ‘There are many pretty girls here,’ replied Madame Renaud. ‘And they can cater for all tastes.’

  Sickened to the depths of her soul by the speculative looks directed her way, Claudine forced herself to sustain the role. Duval glared at the intruders. />
  ‘The only taste she has to cater for right now is mine.’ He looked meaningfully at Madame Renaud. ‘I paid you in good faith for the whole night with Fifi, and I mean to have my money’s worth.’

  The men standing behind their officer raised their eyebrows and exchanged knowing grins. Madame nodded.

  ‘Of course you do, monsieur,’ she soothed. ‘I can only apologise for the interruption. I hope she pleases you.’

  ‘Fifi pleases me very much.’ The inflection was impossible to miss.

  ‘Monsieur Fouché says the same,’ replied Madame.

  The officer’s head jerked round and his face paled a little. ‘Monsieur Fouché? He is a patron here?’

  ‘That’s right. He values discretion, you see, and I run a discreet establishment. I don’t suppose he’ll be too happy when he learns about all this uproar. Nevertheless, learn of it he will because I shall certainly lodge a complaint.’

  The man seemed much taken aback. ‘I was merely doing my duty by acting on information received. However, it seems our information may have been wrong after all.’

  Madame gave him a pitying look. ‘I think someone’s having a joke at your expense.’

  That possibility was dawning on him too. Spots of angry colour appeared in his cheeks. ‘We will withdraw.’ He inclined his head towards the two in the bed. ‘I beg your pardon, monsieur, mademoiselle.’

  Duval eyed him coldly. ‘Close the door when you leave.’ Then, apparently considering the matter at an end, he turned his back on them and laid a hand over Claudine’s breast. ‘Now, chérie, where were we?’

  For a moment the officer seemed rooted to the spot, not knowing quite how to respond. His men grinned broadly. Then Madame stepped in and chivvied them out into the corridor. Seeing the door finally close behind them Claudine let out the breath she had been holding and collapsed on to the pillows, trembling with relief. Duval smiled.

  ‘Well done.’

  ‘It is Madame who deserves our thanks,’ she replied.