Seducing the Spy by Sandra Madden Read Free Book Online

move her hand up ... to where a new and powerful throbbing vied with the ache of his wound.
    Nay! In an effort both to conceal his condition and deny the devil, Cameron moved swiftly, yanking the thin blanket up and over him, forcing Meggie to draw her hands away.
    “Ye cannot see what’s inside of me,” he said. “ ‘Twould be best for my wound to heal in the open air.”
    She tilted her head, regarding him as she might a stubborn child. “ ‘Twould not be best. I’ll wrap a new bandage.”
    If she touched him again, Cameron could not guarantee her safety.
    “Later. I would not keep ye from your guests.” Please be, all the saints in heaven.
    Cameron struggled for strength to quell the aching within him, to subdue the fierce need for her that Meggie had stirred.
    The Irish vixen folded her hands in her lap and leveled a wistful gaze. “I had hoped ye would entertain Barra and his men ... and me, with your poetry this eve.”
    “My regrets,” he said, feeling only vast relief in mind if not in body.
    “It would please me greatly if ye composed a poem about Dochas while ye heal. Will ye, sir?”
    His throat closed. “I, ah...” Cameron made much of clearing his throat while creating an acceptable excuse. “I... I do not believe there are words to describe—”
    “But ye will find them,” she said, offering a confident smile.
    He had failed to produce a swift, sensible explanation. Though he was a spy, subterfuge did not come naturally to him. “I... I shall.”
    Cameron knew only three poems and each written for his use by an English author. He could recite with feeling an ode to the mistress of the castle - or cottage - another poem he had memorized boasted of the glory of Ireland, and the third praised the season. He had only to substitute spring, winter, or fall.
    If his life depended upon him creating a sonnet or verse outside of these three verses, Cameron would face the hang man.
    “Perhaps you will feel well enough to regale us another day.” Unaware of his problem, Meggie chatted as if to pass the time of day. Her nearness consumed him.
    “Perhaps,” he allowed.
    She rose from beside him, but lingered still. Her lavender scent had settled in the blanket covering him. He inhaled deeply, taking solace in its sweetness.
    “’Tis well I did not tell Barra ye were here,” she said, looking down upon him. The hint of a frown played between her brows. Obviously, she was puzzled by Cameron’s setback.
    “Aye, ‘tis very well.”
    “I did not wish to disappoint him if ye were not feeling well enough.”
    “Wise of ye.” Cameron had not the time to remain in bed on pretense while the Irish rebels took their respite. “How long will your guests stay?”
    “They have not said.”
    “Do ye like havin’ them here?”
    Meggie shrugged and gave him a doleful smile. “I must do my duty.”
    “Aye.”
    “And most certainly ye will feel better on the morrow. Good eve.”
    Cameron should have felt a swell of relief as she walked away. The heat of desire had cooled, but he could not rid himself of the wolfish craving. His body, coiled with tension moments ago, collapsed into a withering mass of blood, flesh, and bone.
    He wanted Meggie Fitzgerald. But he could never have her. Never.
    * * * *
    After several days in hiding, Cameron could no longer allow the Irish rebels to hold him back. According to Gerald Fitzgerald, Barra and his men drank until late at night and slept until the mid-day sun was high overhead. With this in mind, Cameron left his chamber early in the morning. He set a goal of walking from his chamber to the bailey and back. When he reached the bailey, his leg throbbed. Breath-sucking sparks shot from his thigh to his knee and back. The muscles from knee to ankle ached and trembled beneath his weight. Hopes of leaving Dochas by week’s end were dashed like a keg on the cliffs of Dover. The opportunity to distinguish himself in enemy territory appeared doomed. At the moment, the rank