TITLE: The Spy Who Loved Me
GENRE: Historical Romance
For a man presumed dead, he was feeling quite chilly.
In the corner of a graveyard, Alexander Gamage huddled in a gorse thicket surrounded by crumbling tombstones and weathered stone crosses, packed as tightly together as the crowds on a London city street. The wind kicked up, bringing the first fallen leaves tumbling across the dry grass and rushing clouds over the moon. He turned his collar up against the chill, tugged his cloak tighter, and hunkered closer to the ground.
As he kept guard, Alex ventured a glance at his friend, stretched out next to him. He whispered sharply, “James, you asleep?”
A soft, muted snore emanated from where James rested face down on his arms, long and skinny as the poplar sapling that grew outside Alex’s rooming house window. Alex sighed. It was difficult to stay vigilant, especially near midnight when the wait was long and unproductive.
Lucky bastard. Alex himself craved sleep. Yet it evaded him night after night.
He longed for the days when there had been nothing else on his mind but his youth and his glorious future and one beautiful girl. Not that he was old—five and twenty to be precise—but he felt a hundred.
An image danced inside his mind, of a girl in a white gown, running through a field of wildflowers, her long brown hair flashing sparks of copper in the bright sunlight. Her laughter fell on his ears like the tinkling of the stream nearby. She beckoned, and he reached for her.