‘I can’t get this dress off.’
‘Let me.’
He made short work of the buttons and eased the sleeve over my cast.
I should have been embarrassed standing in the half-light in my brassiere and knickers, yards of linen protecting my ribs, but I threw my head back and let him look. Revelled in the expression on his face. Wanted to see him, feel him.
Have him.
‘Angel?’
I took a deep breath and closed the space between us, wondering why something that should be wrong should feel so right. As if everything I’d done for the past year, the past twenty-eight years had led me to this point, lying with this man above the cliffs named after the Mouth of Hell.
He unfastened my bra, his trousers. The discarded clothes made for a comfortable mattress. The sky, a canopy of pinks and blues, until Eduard made me blind to everything but the look on his face, the feel of his lips, his hands, and his body.
Until he made me his.
*
‘A redhead,’ he murmured.
‘What?’
I followed his eyes lower down my body, and grabbed for his shirt to cover my modesty. What little was left of it.
‘Why did you dye your hair?’
‘It seemed the thing to do.’ I couldn’t let him distract me. ‘Why now, Eduard?’
‘What? This?’ He nuzzled my neck. ‘You smell good.’
‘Thank you.’
There it was again. The scratching of the memory. Smell.
I stopped when I smelled you, princess.
That night at the castle ruins, the person near the steps. I’d thought it was a man, but anyone could wear a disguise, and I’d fallen into the age-old trap: I’d seen what I expected to see. But on some level, I registered more; a perfume with a mix of musk and night flowers, as unique as the woman who wore it. I knew who she was. Pictured her with the gaslights bringing out the red in her chestnut hair. She didn’t have a reason to want me dead, but then, this was the city of spies, and no one was who they pretended to be.
Why was she meeting Allen-Smythe? Was it for money? Her husband’s losses at the casino were well known. She wasn’t German, but spent far more time with them than even I did. Was it ideology? She didn’t strike me as either a fascist or a communist. Was it the thrill of the chase?
I leant back in Eduard’s arms and sighed. I’d have a devil of a time neutralising her.
His teasing voice became serious. ‘Angel, at least twice in the past week I came close to losing you. Maybe more. I cannot lose you, and if the only way I can keep you safe, is to keep you by my side, then I will do that.’
I smiled, unwilling to correct him. He couldn’t keep me safe from an assassin. Only I could do that, and only if I was able to stop her first.
Chapter Thirty-four
It would have been easier if it was Köhler. One assassin, one threat. This complicated things. While easier to find on any given day (half of Estoril knew where she lived), I couldn’t just knock on her front door, point the PPK at her forehead and pull the trigger.
To make matters worse, they were watching me. It was more intense than the usual bufos. I felt it the last few days. Couldn’t see them, but could sense their presence; a sort of malevolence that was directed at me. Was it my would-be assassin? Or one of her henchmen?
I stared out towards the sea, the glass of brandy untouched at my elbow. The evening was cool, stars glowing in the sky, and the sea a fair bit calmer than the tempest raging inside my mind. Whoever she really was, she had done a jolly good job of hiding in plain sight. And I had underestimated her – almost paying for that error with my life. Twice.
What could I safely assume?
She had both a revolver and a rifle, although displayed rather poor skill with both.
She was aiming at me on the night of Bendixen’s soirée. And having shot at me clad as both Veronica and Solange, she knew I was more than I seemed, although she might not realise which side I worked for.
She may or may not have told her masters about me, depending on the level of threat she felt I posed. Although her attempt to kill me gave a fair steer on that. Anger more than fear made my hand shake as I lifted the glass to my lips.
She was most likely working for the Germans. The communists had their hands full on the Eastern Front and were, at least nominally, our allies.
She would have a safe house where she could leave her disguises and any equipment without worry that her husband would find it. Equipment. Perhaps she was a wireless operator; there were the three baubles outside Bendixen’s villa, but that didn’t seem right either. Bendixen would have staff to do that; there was no reason to be covert, especially with the Portuguese government turning a blind eye.
With Eduard asleep in the bedroom, I couldn’t begin the surveillance until the next day. She had hunted me for the better part of a month. Tomorrow would be soon enough for me to return that favour.
*
With both aliases potentially compromised, I opted for a simple knitted cap, a bulky shirt, and trousers. If no one looked too closely, I could pass as a man, with the added bonus of not further constricting my still sore ribs and hiding the brace on my arm.
Her social schedule was busy enough and, as I soon learnt, predictable. Luncheon with friends, shopping, dining out and often
