Page 5 of After the Spy Seduces

She turned her face away before Carlisle could see the tears swelling in her eyes, before one slipped free in self-recrimination and grief. To break down in front of him, a Carlisle no less— She couldn’t have borne it.

“Miss Morgan.”

The formality of that struck her as absurd, given the way he lay on top of her, his body pressed along the length of hers.

But an anger simmered inside him as well, and not just because she’d accidentally started a fight from which he’d felt compelled to save her. It went much deeper than that. An anger she knew involved Garrett.

“Where are the papers now?”

“Didn’t you feel them when you were running your hands over me?” she asked caustically, letting her own anger push away her mounting worry.

In reply, he took her chin and turned her head back until she had no choice but to look at him. He shot her a warning glare so stern that she knew not to try his patience further.

“In my left jacket pocket,” she snapped out.

Not trusting her even then, he took both of her wrists into one large hand and delved into her pocket with the other. He pulled the papers free, then slipped them inside his own jacket.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. She needed those pages to free Garrett.

“Taking these.” He muttered, “After all, you might decide to give them to the Americans next.”

She glowered at him, her hands drawing once more into fists. “I amnot—”

“Where is your brother?”

The unintended irony of his question pierced her like a blade of ice. “I wish I knew.”

His eyes flashed. That wasn’t at all what he’d wanted to hear, apparently.

“I was told that Morgan was meeting with that Frenchman here tonight.” From the tone of his voice, he was furious to find her in her brother’s place.

“A Morgan did meet with him,” she confirmed. “Me. Butnotfor the reason you think.”

“Tell me,” he ordered, easing his hold on her wrists but not enough to let her go.

She bit her lip. How much could she trust a Carlisle? And this Carlisle, in particular? “I received a message a few days ago.”

“From the man you met with tonight?”

She nodded warily. “A ransom note, telling me that Garrett had been kidnapped.” She sucked in a deep breath to gather herself. “The man said he had Garret and would let him go in exchange for those pages, pages he wanted me to deliver tonight. Alone. If I told anyone, he—” She choked, then found the strength to force out in a whisper, “He threatened to kill Garret.”

“That’s why you’re here?” He spoke slowly, as if hoping she would contradict him. “Because you believe your brother was kidnapped for these pages?”

“I know so.”

“And that was all you received—just the note?”

She blinked. “Isn’t that enough?”

“No. Ransom notes usually come with proof that the victim has been taken—a scrap of handwriting, a lock of hair, an ear or finger.”

The blood drained from her face. Dear God, she was going to be sick!

“No.” She swallowed to keep down her accounts. Hard. “Nothing like that.”

“But you acted upon it.”

“Yes. I brought the papers, just as I was told to do. But the man didn’t want them.”