Kylie Brant - Undercover Bride

She indulged herself with a fleeting vision of a high back kick striking his arrogant square chin. Her voice was expressionless. “I understand.”

He didn’t appear to hear her. “It will take a truly remarkable woman to prove worthy of Caleb Carpenter, worthy of the honor to be his wife. More than mere beauty will be necessary. Dedication to our cause, and loyalty to the death must be the standard by which each candidate is judged.”

“I believe my background speaks for itself.”

Her quietly measured words seemed to bring him up short. For the first time he looked a bit disconcerted. “Yes.” His fingers splayed over the desktop. “Hans Grunwald was a great man. You must be very proud of your father. He was truly a leader who lived his beliefs.”

“And died for them.”

“Your father was martyred for a just cause. None of us can ask for greater glory in our deaths than that.” His eyes met hers again across the polished walnut desktop. “You have far to go, indeed, to live up to your father’s legacy.”

Farther still, Rachel thought, with an age-old weariness, to live it down.

“Of course, time will tell if you are worthy to continue your father’s crusade.” Sutherland pursed his lips and steepled his fingers. “And whether this is the avenue in which you will do so. At any rate—” he nodded toward the folder he had given her “—you’ll find everything else you need to know in there. That information also outlines standards of conduct befitting someone in your situation.”

Rachel slowly lifted her gaze from the folder in her hand. She knew she hadn’t imagined the insolence that had crept into his tone. “Meaning?”

He made a dismissive gesture. “The last candidate was sent away for moral turpitude. The soldier found in her bedroom was dismissed as well.”

“I see.” One fingernail tapped slowly on the folder. “So I can safely assume that these lofty standards you refer to will provide protection for me, as well.”

“Your protection is understood.” Sutherland’s face flushed at the intimation. “The Brotherhood respects a woman’s sanctity outside of marriage. It is completely disrespectful of you to imply otherwise.”

Voice even, Rachel replied, “No more disrespectful, Colonel Sutherland, than your earlier insinuation to me.”

His jaw tight, Sutherland rose, indicating that she was dismissed. “The soldier outside the door will take you to your room.”

As she exited the office, Rachel had the distinct impression that he wished he could dismiss her from the compound as easily.

The large richly furnished room she was shown to looked out over the front lawn. Her luggage was already there, stacked in a neat pile. She thanked the young soldier who’d accompanied her upstairs, and waited for the door to close behind him. The smile abruptly faded from her lips as she turned back toward her luggage. The first order of business was to check the security in her bedroom. It wouldn’t be the first time a genial host had provided her with a room complete with hidden cameras or bugs.

She went to the largest of her suitcases and lifted it on her bed. Opening it, she removed a small CD player, set it on the bedside table, and turned it on. Unhooking the small remote attached, she tossed it, with seeming nonchalance, next to the suitcase. Then she went about unpacking, keeping a close eye on the small piece of equipment. The fake remote, in fact, housed delicate sensors that would detect any recording equipment in the nearby vicinity. By the time she’d finished her unpacking, there was no discreet telltale light winking from the remote. The room was free of security devices.

She quickly finished the unpacking. Checking her watch, she decided there was time to explore the upstairs before changing for dinner. She wanted to get a thorough map of the compound fixed in her head, and she’d begin with the house.

Palming the phony remote, she opened the bedroom door, then stopped short. The young soldier who’d escorted her upstairs was standing outside her room, leaning against the wall. He quickly straightened when he saw her.

Rachel smiled, a quick mask for her disappointment. “May I help you?”

Her words, or perhaps her sudden reappearance, seemed to have taken the young man by surprise. “No, ma’am.” Standing at attention, he fixed his gaze squarely over her left shoulder. “Colonel Sutherland requested that I stay here in case you need anything.”

She hid her dismay behind a regal nod. “How thoughtful of him. And of you. Perhaps you can tell me when dinner will be served.”

“Dinner?” The soldier’s face went blank. “The men eat at six in the mess hall.”

“And does General Carpenter join you there?”

“No, ma’am. Not usually.” Silence stretched, until comprehension dawned. “You’ll be eating with the general, ma’am. In the dining room downstairs.”

“And what time would that be?”

He finally looked straight at her, his expression confused. “I couldn’t say, ma’am.”

The smile she bestowed on him was dazzling. “Would you please find out for me? I don’t think either one of us want to be responsible for keeping the general from his dinner this evening.”

He looked torn for a moment, but her final sentence appeared to decide him. “I’ll do that and be right back.”

“Thank you.” Rachel waited until the sounds of his retreat receded before opening the door wider and walking into the hall. She’d have to make her search quick.

She was not surprised to find that the door closest to her own was locked. She’d already discovered that her bathroom adjoined to what she could only surmise was another bedroom. The adjoining door had been locked, as well. It would be logical to assume that Carpenter had the suite next to hers. The knowledge had her nerves prickling. There was no doubt that their proximity would grant her easy access to search his quarters. It was the access the proximity granted him that lent to her unease.

Continuing down the hallway, she swiftly inspected the rest of the space upstairs. There appeared to be eight bedrooms in all, and none of the rest were occupied. Other than the locks in Carpenter’s room, no other security devices were evident. Apparently the man was confident that the security at his front gate was sufficient to keep out unwanted guests.

She mentally took note of the number of windows and their distance to the ground. She would be most comfortable if she could plan at least three different escape routes from various regions in the house. But she’d need closer observation to measure exact drops and distances.

Returning to her room, Rachel entered the bathroom and picked up the hairbrush she’d set on the counter. Grasping it in both hands, she gave it a twist, and the brush separated at a barely visible seam. She reached inside the hollow handle and withdrew a slender wire. Without hesitation she went to the adjoining door and fell to her knees, wielding the flexible wire on the lock. Within seconds she had the door open and started on the one which would open to Carpenter’s room. She gave a mental tsk of disapproval when it opened just as easily. A man in Carpenter’s position should really be more careful.

She swung the door open and surveyed the rich furnishings, the desk strewn with paperwork. When her remote signaled the room was clean, she did a quick walk through. Another doorway in the room proved to be a large walk-in closet, and a third would lead to the hallway.

She strode to the middle of the room, turning slowly, her gaze sweeping the area. Something nagged at the edge of her consciousness. Her brow furrowed for a moment, then she mentally estimated the square footage of the area. It was a good size. But the next door down the hallway from this one had seemed farther away than this space would warrant.