“I would think, given the circumstances, you would be the last man to question anyone’s judgment.”
Alastair straightened. This conversation was becoming far too heated. “That’s why I question you. I know how attachment can cloud a man’s sense.”
Luke scowled at him. “Claire and I worked together, and occasionally we slept together. It was not an attachment.”
“What exactly was it, then?” came a crisp voice from the door. “And why does it matter now?”
Alastair closed his eyes. He did not want to be part of this. Arden, Luke’s wife, was his friend as well, but this was none of his business.
He set his glass on a small table beside the sofa. “I’ll give the two of you some privacy.”
“Stay.” Arden had come into the study and now stood on the richly patterned carpet. Her pale cheeks sported high splotches of red, and her whiskey brown eyes glittered in the lamplight. In her hand she held what appeared to be a compass, but Alastair knew it was nothing so mundane. It was her sentimentometer, and she was going to use it to ascertain her husband’s—and likely his—emotions. All she had to do was point the bloody thing at either of them. “What’s going on, Luke?”
Luke, to his credit, didn’t look the least bit guilty. He faced his auburn-haired wife with a regretful but sincere expression. “The W.O.R. captured a Company spy—Claire Brooks, also known as the Dove. We often worked together when I was under the Company’s control.”
His wife obviously wasn’t familiar with the name, or she didn’t care that one of the Company’s most dangerous and successful operatives was now in custody. “You slept with her.”
Luke nodded. “I didn’t know about you then, Arden. I didn’t know I had a wife; otherwise it never would have happened.”
“I know.” Arden didn’t even consult the gadget in her palm, a fact that did not escape Alastair’s notice. He would have looked. He would have had to look. She had that much faith in her husband that she had no doubt of his sincerity.
Alastair frowned. What must it be like to trust so completely? He hadn’t really loved Sascha. He’d never loved anyone that much. The realization was like a kick to the chest. Had he been Arden, he wouldn’t have taken Luke at his word any more than he would the word of that damn American. There was nothing wrong with being cautious. Better safe than sorry.
He’d already had enough sorry to last a lifetime.
His friends stared at each other. Both radiated regret, but there was tension as well—tension that would remain as long as he stood there, a reluctant bystander.
“I really must go,” he announced, already walking toward the door. “The two of you need to discuss this, and I do not wish to bear witness.”
“Alastair.” It was Arden who stopped him.
He turned slightly. He really just wanted to be gone. “Yes?”
Her face was pale, but there was nothing waifish in her expression. If there was one woman who could handle this sort of situation with grace, it was Arden. She rarely listened to her heart without consulting her brain first. Though at times that was just as frustrating as an emotional response.
“This woman. Is she pretty?”
She was the most incredible-looking woman he’d ever seen—even pale and bruised. A man would go a long way for such seductive green eyes and a thoroughly kissable pout. “Passably,” he lied.
Arden’s shrewd gaze narrowed. “And is she a skilled agent?”
She was the bloody Dove—and like the bird Noah sent out from the ark, she did not return until her job was done, and she always returned victorious. Despite being dangerouhaning dansly feminine, she was hard as iron, and she fought her way out of trouble as often as she used her charms. She’d outmaneuvered several W.O.R. agents over the years and had made them look as capable as children. “Not skilled enough to avoid capture.” They never would have caught her had she not been wounded and unconscious. She’d escaped capture several times in the past.
“Damn and blast.” Arden’s hands went to her hips. “The next time you speak to her, I will be present. I’m obviously the only one who will see past her reputation and looks.” Her gaze moved to her husband. “Do you trust her?”
Luke nodded, his expression both resolute and wary. “I do. If she says she’s no longer with the Company, I believe it.”
“And you want the man who took control of your mind,” Alastair reminded him. He regretted the words as soon as Luke looked at him. If it were possible to stare daggers at someone, he’d have been on the floor bleeding from several lethal wounds.
Astonishment lit Arden’s features. “The Doctor? She knows where to find him?”
The man called the Doctor, who invented the procedure and mechanisms with which the Company was able to overtake Luke’s mind, had escaped after Luke started to get his memories back. The Wardens hadn’t been able to find him, despite extensive searching. All they had was a bag of his implements that Luke had managed to steal during their last encounter. The man was as twisted as they came.
“She says she knows where he is,” Luke informed his wife. “She’s even offered to lead us to a high-ranking Company operative here in Britain.”
“What does she want in exchange?”
“To avenge her brother. Her freedom.”
“Of course she wants her freedom,” Arden said with an unladylike snort. “They all want that. You know Dhanya won’t give it to her.”
Dhanya Withering was the director of the W.O.R. She wasn’t exactly known for acquiescing to enemy demands. In fact, when Luke had returned, she had made it clear to Arden that if he was determined to be a liability, she would have her husband executed. Ashford was acting in her stead while Dhanya was on personal leave, but she would be back in charge of things in a few days.
Luke’s brow pinched. “I know.”
Alastair had to admire the bastard. He shook his head as Arden’s expression softened into sympathy. With those two words, declaring his loyalty to her and the W.O.R., Luke had diffused a situation that very easily could have become worthy of a Shakespearean tragedy.
“She wants me to be her liaison with the Wardens.”
And then he ruined it. Alastair swallowed a curse and reached for the doorknob. He most assuredly did not want to be present for this.
“No.” Arden’s voice was quiet, but it was as effective as a slamming door.
Luke sighed. “I know this is difficult, but it will only be for a little while, until she feels she can trust them.”
“She can’t trust them,” Alastair reminded him. Why wTod him. as he still there? More important, why was he jumping in on the side of a woman he’d like to see rot in a cell for all she’d done? There was Warden blood on her long, slender hands. He had known two agents who died in pursuit of her, and she had ruined at least two operations, one of which resulted in the freedom of Victor Erlich. Lucas was taken and sent home by Erlich’s brother to kill Arden, his wife, to avenge Victor’s death at Arden’s hands.
Both Arden and Luke ignored him. “We promised each other no more intrigue.” Arden folded her arms over her chest. “We promised we would only do jobs for the W.O.R. that we could do together or from home. If the Company finds out we have her, they’ll send someone to kill her, and you will be right in the middle of it.”
“I have to do this,” her husband insisted. “It’s the only way they can find out what she knows. Arden, this is my chance to alleviate any misgivings the W.O.R. has about me.”
“I said no.” Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright.
“You’re being irrational.”
Luke said something else, but Alastair was trying very hard not to listen. He turned the knob and slowly nudged the heavy oak open. He could just sneak out. . . .