Cat Carlisle Book 2. Terry Thomas Lynn

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      ‘Of course.’ Cat’s voice rang through the dark hallway. She appeared out of the dim gloom of the hallway, with Annie at her feet. His heart squeezed at the sight of her. ‘Lydia, let the poor man in.’

      She came towards him, hands outstretched, a smile on her face. ‘Thomas—’ She took one look at his shoulder and stopped in her tracks. ‘What’s happened?’

      Lydia said, ‘We’re going. We’ll be back later. It’s too hot to eat dinner, so don’t bother with it.’ Lydia ushered Annie out the door, shoving the canvas and easel into her arms.

      ‘Be careful,’ Cat said.

      ‘We will. Don’t worry,’ Annie said. She held up her gas mask, smiled at Thomas, and trotted after Lydia.

      Cat and Thomas watched as they walked down the sidewalk.

      ‘Come in. Let’s go down to the kitchen. It’s cooler down there.’

      He followed her, noticing how the waist of the linen dress she wore was loose around her thin frame. Her hair was longer now. She wore it tied back with a scarf. A stray curl, a perfect curlicue, rested against the white of her neck. Thomas bit back the relentless yearning and followed her down the stairs.

      Cat pulled a chair out for Thomas. While he sat down, she poured him a glass of lemonade from a crystal jug on the counter. She placed the glass in front of him and sat down across the table.

      ‘Enjoy that. I’m told lemons will be in short supply before too long. We’ve actually planted vegetables to eat in Pete’s back yard, if you can believe that. He and Lydia tilled up the grass, and we’ve got rows and rows of things growing. I don’t know a thing about gardening …’

      She rambled about new friends and the projects they were undertaking, Annie’s hard work under Lydia’s tutelage, and the child’s worry about things to come. The words kept coming, a feeble attempt to fill the empty space between them. Finally, she stopped speaking mid-sentence and stared at him, her eyes as green and clear as an emerald pool. He surrendered, met her eyes, unafraid to get lost in them.

      ‘What happened, Thomas? Where did you go? How did you hurt yourself?’

      He didn’t want to talk about where he had been. He wanted to talk about where they were going. ‘Norway. I got orders to leave immediately the day after – I’m sorry I couldn’t let you know I was leaving. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to hear from me.’ Thomas ran a hand over his face. He was hot and tired. His shoulder throbbed.

      Cat nodded. ‘I read the account in the papers. At least he didn’t abdicate.’

      ‘He refused. He felt horrible about leaving his people. He’s a good chap, really, unassuming and fair minded. Good qualities in a king. He’s going to do his part from here.’

      ‘We were worried about you,’ Cat said. She picked at her cuticle on her ring finger, caught herself doing so, and tucked her hands under the table, out of sight.

      ‘The wound got infected. I stayed in hospital until it was resolved.’

      She wrapped her hands around her untouched glass of lemonade. ‘Better now?’

      ‘Much, actually. It still aches at night, but I am officially on the mend.’

      ‘Reginald must be pleased.’ Cat got up and busied herself with the tea things on the counter. Without thinking, Thomas got up and went to her, stopping himself before he got too close.

      ‘I am sorry things didn’t work out with you and Reginald,’ Thomas said.

      ‘There’s no need to explain.’ She busied herself with the stack of cups in the sink.

      ‘I think it was rather rotten of him,’ Thomas said. ‘This is a brutal business, Cat. Consider it a blessing you are no longer involved in it.’

      ‘Admittedly, I feel a bit used,’ Cat said. She didn’t meet Thomas’s eyes. ‘He expected me to do things without proper training, promised me a job. It’s not about the money. I wanted to do something useful, something I was good at. I don’t understand what happened.’

      ‘Me neither,’ Thomas lied. He knew full well that Cat had made a mess of things. Undercover operatives – at least those who report to Sir Reginald Wright – never end up in the newspapers.

      ‘I’ve found other ways to be useful. And I don’t blame you, Thomas. Honestly.’ She tossed the tea towel on the counter and refilled Thomas’s lemonade. They sat back down at the table.

      ‘What’ve you been up to?’ He glanced at the two stacks of papers, which sat next to Cat’s leather notebook and a fancy fountain pen with a gold nib. An inkwell rested on a small plate, small drops of blue ink spattered here and there. He smiled as he thought of all the times Cat had filled her pen and spilled ink everywhere. It had become a joke between them.

      ‘I’m on some committees, trying to get people with no soil around their house access to garden space to grow vegetables. We’re hoping to plant a garden in the square. I’m also working on a fundraiser for three new fire trucks. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve nearly got enough money for one of them.’ She flipped through the stack of papers, set them down, and folded her hands on top of them, as though in repose. Thomas’s heart beat faster. He waited. She looked up at him with soft eyes and a trusting look which made Thomas lose his reason. God, he loved her. When she spoke her voice was soft and full of worry.

      ‘We never talked about what happened before I left.’

      He nearly groaned. The near kiss. The hint of a promise. The one thing that had kept Thomas going during his convalescence. He continued. ‘We don’t have to talk about it. It’s in the past. If it makes you uncomfortable, and you don’t want to work with me anymore—’

      ‘Of course I want to work with you! Why would you think otherwise?’ She put her hand on Thomas’s arm. ‘I owe you an explanation. I am afraid I was sending mixed signals.’

      ‘You owe me nothing. Really. I came here with a plan to get you and Annie – and Lydia, if we can convince her – out of the city.’

      She cocked her head. ‘Out of the city?’

      ‘It’s not safe here. The bombs will come. I’m sure of it. And I would rest much easier if you weren’t here when they did.’ Thomas met her eyes, careful not to show his feelings. He knew Cat had yet to recover from the brutality of her marriage to Benton Carlisle. He understood her reluctance to open her heart. This small show of affection would have to do. For now.

      She didn’t look away. Instead, she took a deep breath, as if savouring the heat between them. They sat like that for a few moments, neither of them speaking. A small frisson of hope bloomed in Thomas’s chest. Cat smiled as she leaned back in her chair and shook her head. ‘I hadn’t thought of actually leaving. It seems as though we’re running away.’

      Thomas shook his head. ‘We’re at war. London will come under fire. Why stay when there’s no reason for you to? And I’ve got a commission, if you’re still wanting to work with me.’

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