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T he hands on the clock crawled by as Lizzie and Jack waited for the pickup that night.

Lizzie was always uptight when she had a rendezvous with a British plane, whether to take her home at the end of a mission or drop in equipment.

There was so much that could go wrong and the implications of being caught were terrifying for all involved.

The responsibility of knowing their actions affected Luc and all the residents of the chateau and perhaps even the village, weighed heavily on her conscience.

Lizzie’s nerves were on edge as they waited for news of Marguerite’s contact. There would not be time to go into the city to meet them if they didn’t receive a note soon.

Jack had been to the cellars and checked on the airmen. He returned an hour later, and Lizzie could see by his expression that the situation had not improved.

‘He’s hanging on by a thread,’ Jack told Lizzie when he found her sitting on the sofa, reading a book from Luc’s extensive library, with all the windows wide open.

‘It’s a miracle he’s made it this long.’

‘Any word from Marguerite?’ he asked.

‘Nothing yet,’ she said. ‘I feel so impotent, waiting around like this when so much is at stake.’

‘By dawn, this should all be over. The airman will be on his way to hospital, the doctor and his family on their way to St. Girons, and we can make plans to escalate operations. I’ve been thinking we only need a couple more weeks to get Lev up to speed, and we can go home.’

‘That makes me happy and sad simultaneously,’ Lizzie said. ‘I love it here. I love living with you as my husband, but I also miss my family. Hopefully, they received a postcard by now to let them know I’m well.’

Jack stroked Lizzie’s cheek. ‘They will have done. Val takes keeping agents’ families updated very seriously.’

‘What am I supposed to be doing again?’ Lizzie pulled a comical face. ‘Oh yes, I remember. I’m working in Oxford.’

‘My darling wife. I dread living apart from you. I’ve grown so used to being with you almost every minute of the day, and us falling asleep and waking up together.’

‘Me too,’ Lizzie said, moving to sit on his knee and running her fingers through his hair. ‘Being demoted to plain old Lizzie Beaumont instead of your wife, Isabelle Dubois, won’t suit me at all.’

‘There’s nothing plain about you, whatever name you use. Did you notice how infatuated that bloody Nazi was with you? I thought he was going to claim you as the property of the Reich!’

Lizzie rolled her eyes. ‘He did seem rather smitten, which is odd when I did everything I could to discourage him.’

‘That probably only added to the attraction.’ Jack trailed his fingers along the sensitive skin of her arm, and her body responded instantly to his touch.

Their lips touched and the heat between them ignited into a blaze as their kiss deepened and they were lost in each other.

Their urgent need chased away all worries of airmen, Jewish escapees, and Resistance operations.

There was a light tap at the door. Lizzie jumped guiltily out of habit from their stolen moments in London. ‘Who can that be?’

‘I’ll find out.’ Jack slid Lizzie gently back onto the sofa and crossed the room. After a few muttered words Lizzie couldn’t decipher, he returned and handed her an envelope. ‘From Marguerite?’

Lizzie tore the envelope open and extracted the folded note. She read aloud in a hushed tone:

My dearest Isabelle,

My good friend wishes to have the pleasure of meeting you. I shall bring him for drinks tonight.

Sincerely,

Marguerite

‘Sounds like they mean to bring the contact to meet us at the pickup,’ Jack said.

Lizzie sighed. ‘I suppose that’s the end of our leisurely afternoon. We’d better think through our plans for later.’

Jack smiled wryly. ‘I did warn you being involved with another agent was off-limits for this very reason …’

‘You did. I’m not involved with another agent, though. I’m involved with you! And, Captain King, let me assure you, I have no regrets.’

‘That’s good to hear, Seagrove. I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

‘I admit, when you told me we’d undertake this mission together and stay in a chateau in the South of France, I harboured a romantic vision of us wandering through the vineyards hand in hand and making love on a blanket every afternoon, sipping the latest chateau vintage.’

Jack’s laugh rumbled across the large room. ‘Well, we managed a few romantic picnics before things started kicking off. Since then, it’s been impossible to grab a quiet moment, what with the head of police and the Gestapo in the house and fugitives in the cellars.’

Lizzie reached on tiptoe to kiss him. ‘You’re right, though. Things should quieten down after tonight and we will have some time alone in between training our recruits and getting the network running smoothly.’

‘I hope so. By the way, there was something odd about the turret room yesterday,’ said Jack.

‘What?’

‘There was a smell, like someone had been up there.’

Lizzie whispered, ‘You don’t think they found our equipment?’

‘The radio was untouched. I always leave a thread across the top when I put it away. It hadn’t fallen, but the rug had changed position slightly.’

‘Why didn’t you say something?’

‘I didn’t see any point in worrying you last night.

I thought a housemaid probably moved the rug, and the fragrance was theirs, or perhaps the scent of lavender wafted in the window.

But this morning I swear it was the same scent on Von Schneider’s driver.

His cologne smelled just like it. You know that angry looking little man with the limp? ’

‘Yes, but why would he have been in the turret room?’ Lizzie asked.

‘My guess is he was poking around for his Gestapo paymaster.’

‘Makes sense. He might have had orders to take advantage of the opportunity. Von Schneider is from the secret police. But if the driver had found anything, surely, we wouldn’t have had such an amiable farewell and would have been marched off for questioning.’

‘My thoughts exactly. We’re safe, darling, for now. But if that little snitch comes over again, let’s make sure we have eyes on him.’

‘I saw him looking at you. It was weird. I can’t put my finger on why.’

They agreed to watch out for him and then launched into fine-tuning plans for the pickup. It had a lot of moving parts, and one wrong decision could be fatal.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Luc, Jack and Lizzie were pleased to be alone again. They discussed the night’s plans in coded language and muted tones on the terrace, and in an unexpected sentimental moment, Luc hugged each of them tightly when it was time to retire to their rooms.

‘Good luck,’ he said, his eyes glistening. ‘Both of you are a credit to the family, and to France. When I see my sister again, I shall tell her so.’

‘We will see you at breakfast, Luc,’ Lizzie said, patting his hand, emotion swelling in her chest. He was such a dear man and had welcomed her into the family from the moment they arrived. She would miss him when it came time to leave.

They only ever talked about after the war, as if winning was a foregone conclusion. Jack had taught her that in the early days. He said there was no room for doubt. They must hold the vision of winning in their minds at all times, or they may as well give up now.

It was clear Luc understood the great danger they would be in that night, taking the airmen to the British aircraft. If they were caught, they would be shot as traitors, probably in the Place du Capitole, but only after they were interrogated and tortured to extract their secrets.

Luc had volunteered repeatedly to come along and assist them, but Jack told him he would be the most useful staying in the chateau.

If things went wrong, he should deny all knowledge of their activities.

That way, there was a chance the residents of the chateau wouldn’t be accused of being complicit.

If Luc were caught red-handed with them, it would be the end of the Saint-Clair family legacy.