Sinclair’s arm crashed down on my chest, interrupting my musings. He moaned again, clearly in the midst of another nightmare.
‘Alex?’ I threw his arm off and shook his shoulder.
His eyes snapped open – wide and staring. He looked straight at me but didn’t see me. He breathed in fast pants, as if he’d been running.
‘Alex?’
I touched his jaw with my free hand, feeling the rasp of his stubble under my fingertips. His hand grabbed mine as his gaze locked on to me. His hazel eyes sharpened and then went dark, reading something in my face that I wasn’t aware of. Before then.
His fingers moved to my cheek and then the back of my head, gently pulling me forward. My heart pounded as Alex guided my lips to his. He tasted of red wine and desperation. The planes of his chest were hard, and I braced myself against him until his arms came around me, pulling me over the blanket that separated us. He held me tight, his body pressing mine into the old mattress. When his hands found my breast, my breath caught in my throat.
‘Nathalie,’ he murmured, pulling the cotton shirt from my shoulders.
In the two years since Philip’s ship sank, I had never been tempted to take a lover. Alex was a stranger; I knew little about his background, his aspirations, or his desires. He hadn’t mentioned a wife but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one waiting for him at home. But he was a good man, I was sure of that, and equally sure that in that moment, I wanted him as much as he wanted me. In that loft, with half of the local Resistance resting downstairs, it was me he turned to and, when the time came, my name he called out, the sound muffled against my neck.
Once his breathing eased, he rolled on to his back, pulling me with him. Brushed a lock from my forehead and pressed my head to his shoulder.
‘I should apologise for that, but I canna bring myself to.’
‘Nothing to apologise for,’ I murmured.
My contentment was more than physical until the realisation hit me that, not only had I fallen into bed with him after only knowing him for two days, I had unwittingly turned myself into the wireless girl, Mireille’s rival. And in this situation, where neighbour informed on neighbour for less, she now had the advantage.
Chapter Seven
I slept well, for the first time for weeks feeling almost safe. By the time I woke, Alex was gone, likely into the hub of activity in the room below. I took my time getting ready before joining them. Michel sat at the table, a steaming mug of ersatz coffee untouched at his elbow. His freshly shaven face was half-hidden behind a copy of Le Figaro, while Alex leant against a wall as the animated little wireless operator smiled up at him. His response was polite but it wasn’t until his eyes met mine that a slow smile spread across his face.
‘Good morning,’ he said, already moving towards me.
‘Good morning. There’s been news?’
Michel set aside his newspaper. ‘London has confirmed your story. It would seem your exploits are rather infamous in certain circles, madame.’ His voice was calm, but his eyes were amused. ‘I am almost disappointed to see you leave. However, Armand spent the night forging travel documents, and I would not wish to disappoint him.’
‘Certainly not,’ I murmured, under no illusions.
He might have wanted another wireless operator in his cell; he might have even wanted another SOE agent. What he didn’t want, however, was someone who would draw too much attention to his activities.
‘You, Monsieur, will remain Heinrich Weber. He’s fixed the work Madame did to those papers. The photograph of Herr Weber will have to do. Your colouring is the same, and your features similar enough that differences can be explained away with weight loss, age, and experience. I’m sorry. There just isn’t time to have a new photograph taken.’
‘Thank you,’ Alex murmured, pocketing his papers.
Michel gestured to the wireless girl, who had so far been following our conversation from a safe distance, her eyes never leaving Alex.
‘Mireille and Claude will go on ahead to arrange your passage, or at least the first leg of it.’
‘You’re sending a pianist? That seems a strange choice.’
‘She has other duties here, and knows the contact. Claude knows the roads better than she does, he can protect her.’
His voice, while directed at us, left no room for debate. Mireille, shoulders dropped, followed a wiry man out of the barn.
‘They won’t be back until nightfall. Stay close to the barn today. You’ll leave at first light tomorrow.’
We nodded, and stepped outside into the sunlight. Meandered along the perimeter of the barn, and then took a seat on a low stone wall under an apple tree, and far enough away from the others to give an illusion of privacy.
‘Why first light? Why no’ during the night?’ Alex asked.
‘That eager to get away from me?’ I teased. ‘I’m sure Mireille wouldn’t be too upset if you decided to stay.’
He pretended to consider that for a moment.
‘Aye. She’s sweet, and bonny.’ Unable to maintain a straight face, he grinned. ‘But I’m no’ daft enough to throw over a woman who can handle herself like you do, for a wee thing like her.’
‘If that’s what you want –’
Still smiling, he kissed the top of my head.
‘I don’t. I am, however, keen to hear more about these “exploits” of yours.’
‘Michel, and probably your bonny wee lass, made more of it than there is.’
‘I dinnae believe you.’
I shrugged. ‘The Official Secrets Act trumps your curiosity.’
He seemed to
