Seduced by a Spy by Andrea Pickens Page B

let out a gasp of disbelief. “You don’t mean to say that he intends to murder the children?”
    “
Attack what they love first
—it is one of Sun-Tzu’s precepts for defeating an adversary,” said Lynsley softly. “War is, by its very nature, ugly and immoral, Shannon. Our enemy will strike where he believes it will hurt the most. Angus McAllister would be devastated if his wards came to harm. And who could blame him if he held us as responsible as the French for his loss?”
    She paled but Orlov saw her eyes turn the color of windswept granite. A hard, unyielding shade of green-gray.
    “We believe that D’Etienne will first seek to take the children as hostages,” explained the marquess. “In some ways, they are more valuable to the French alive than dead. But if the opportunity does not present itself, he will not hesitate to kill them.”
    “What is your plan?” It was clear that she had surrendered any reluctance to the mission.
    “To dispatch you and Mr. Orlov to Dornoch. It will seem natural enough that McAllister would engage a governess and tutor for the children during his absence. Such an arrangement works to our advantage. You will be in a perfect position not only to guard the McKenzie children, but also to ensure that this mission is D’Etienne’s last.”
    “You English have a saying, I believe,” offered the prince. “One that refers to killing two birds with one stone.”
    “Or, in this case, killing one bird with two stones,” said Orlov dryly. “A strategy designed to be doubly effective.”
    Shannon ignored his quip. “When do you wish for us to leave?”
    “We have a cutter ready to sail from Margate,” replied Lynsley.
    Orlov gave an inward wince.
Not another damn ship
.
    “A few more briefings on the particulars, an interlude to assemble the necessary equipment, a surgeon to examine Mr. Orlov’s wound…”
    “I am touched by your concern for my well-being, my lord.” He exaggerated a bow to the marquess.
    “We will aim to have the ship sail on tomorrow morning’s tide.”
    “Yes, sir.” Shannon snapped off a salute.
    “Alexandr?” asked the prince.
    His lovely counterpart was not the only one who had been maneuvered into a corner. Masculine pride—and perhaps some other, even more primitive emotion—prevented him from ducking the challenge and slinking away with his tail between his legs. “Bloody hell, I suppose I might as well finish the job.” Orlov sighed as he regarded the prince with a baleful grimace. “The English have another saying—in for a penny, in for a pound.”
    “If you have any lingering reservations, I would prefer that you voice them now.” Lynsley was nearly indistinguishable from the corridor shadows, his somber tailoring blending in perfectly with the shifting shades of light and dark. “Before it is too late.”
    Light and dark.
Their world was defined in black and white, thought Shannon. Though in reality, the boundaries often blurred to a muddle of grays.
    “I—I regret my initial outburst. I have no doubts, sir,” she replied quickly. “I won’t let you down.”
    “You have nothing to prove, Shannon.”
    His voice was, as always, kindly as he stepped into her bedchamber.
Fatherly
. Or so she imagined in the rare moments that she let herself indulge in sentiment. Thoughts about fathers or family had no place in her world. The Academy was home, her comrades were her sisters, her sword was…
    Shannon tightened her grip on its hilt as she ran an oiled rag over the blade. “No?” The word echoed softly, half question, half statement, before she hurriedly added, “I understand the urgency and the import of what needs to be done. There will be no mistakes, no miscalculations. You may count on me to see it through to the end, sir.”
    “Yet you hesitated at first. Why?” The marquess, for all his affable air, was relentless when it came to business.
    She let out her breath as she carefully sheathed her sword and set it inside