Ashleigh sat huddled in the corner of the Mercedes, pressed up as close against the window. It was as far away as she could get from her companion. She was silent and beginning to wish she had never followed Alec into the car. The streets rushed by, the lights began to fade as they left the outskirts of the city.

The blacked out windows of the Mercedes raised no comment from those it passed, they were still a common sight after the communism of recent years. A screen divided the rear from the driver, it was as if Ashleigh was alone, alone with Alec.

Alone. The thought repeated itself as the engine purred. Alone with Alec. In the past forty-eight hours how many times had this man flickered into her consciousness? Once? Twice? More than that? She had definitely enjoyed herself in his bed, despite the horrible guilt she had suffered since, but as one of her friends advised her, good sex didn't equal love. Just because you were compatible in the bedroom, didn't mean that you had to fall in love straight away.

She had to stop thinking like that immediately. This was business. She glanced up at the piercingly bright stars, and prayed that James and Dmitrov were alright.

Quickly she risked a glance in his direction. He had a strong profile, the dim light of the moon making hair as bright as silver, his expression was grim as he stared ahead, refusing to look at her or acknowledge her. The tension burned between them. His scars were not visible from here, instead she saw the grooves beginning to dent his skin at the corner of his eyes, the side of his mouth, it was as if he had been carved from stone. His hair was shorter than the pictures she had seen of him at MI6, and it helped to make him look younger. She was still attracted to him, and again the confusion swam around her, making her dizzy, desire combined with hate. Hadn't someone once said there was a fine line between the two? She couldn't remember whom.

The silence was suffocating her.

'I don't know why I got in this car. I can't trust you,' she was trying not to panic.

It was as if he had only just noticed she was there. Leaning over he fingered the heavy silver pendant around her neck. 'I'm not asking you to trust me.'

She thought she saw a flicker in his eyes that could have been desire as his fingers brushed the soft skin of her throat. Her baser urges wanted to slide across the seat into his arms, instead she moved away from his touch and stared out of the window.

'Why didn't you try to stop me? Why did you let me come with you?' She hated her pathetic self for having to ask.

'I'm not in the habit of leaving unarmed young women to face their deaths.'

'My death?'

'Either at the hands of Deronda's men, or from the cold. Delightful as that dress is, its not suitable for the cold of the Russian night.'

Oh he could be smooth when he wanted to be, like James could, turning on the charm effortlessly, and now she felt his eyes scan over her, or at least she thought she did. Colouring, she pulled the small pistol from her bag. 'Hardly unarmed.'

He took it from her, examining it, testing the weight in his hands, the eye line along the barrel. 'Oh yes, this,' he scoffed, 'You'd have died before you had even managed to get the safety off. Whoever was in there knew what they were doing.'

'You could have left me there.'

'I could have.' He seemed to be thinking her words over, 'But I didn't.'

'This isn't right,' she murmured.

He shrugged and resumed staring out of the window.

'James wasn't best pleased to discover that you were alive. He would far rather you were still dead. I should want you dead. Surely my first duty to my country should be to kill you...' she was thinking aloud, her thoughts rambling softly.

'Are those your orders?' he asked sharply, and then said when she shook her head, 'Then put that thought out of your head. I'm not the important one here.'

Ashleigh was silent, lines of worry crossing her brow. Alec was surprised to find himself concerned. 'James?'

'Yes'. It was barely a whisper.

'He'll survive. He always does.' His words were harsher than he had meant. 'He means much to you?'

'He's my godfather, apart from my grandmother, the only family I have. And by getting into this car I'm betraying him. By being with you I'm betraying him, when I think of you, when we...' she paused, the words hanging unspoken but understood in the air. She shook her head imperceptibly. 'Every time.'

The bitterness that welled within him threatened to overflow. 'James is no stranger to betrayal.'

He saw the anger flare, she knew what he was referring to.

'James thought you were dead! He saw you shot at point blank range. Executed! He didn't know it was all an elaborate plot, that you were alive and cosily tucked up with your new best friends. He returned to MI6 a haunted man, spoke at your memorial of how he failed you. He was devastated.'

'He did fail me.'

'Not how you think!' When he found you were alive three years ago the hardest thing he ever had to do was to kill you. Because when he did, he killed a part of himself.' Her hands were clenched so tightly he could see her nails cutting into her soft palms.

'It was always duty with James.'

'Why not?' she span round to face him, anger no longer disguised or held back. 'What else did he have, Alec? His mission was his world, as it was yours when you weren't plotting your revenge!'

'And what about you?' she thought she saw jealousy flicker across his granite like face. 'He had you...'

Shock coursed through her, and for a moment she wondered if she had misread what he was implying... but the way he sat so still waiting for her answer made her doubt it.

'James and I?' She couldn't keep an incredulous laugh from creeping in. 'No. Never. Unlike you.' She didn't mean for that jibe to slip in, but it was there, 'But James does understand what it is like to lose your parents at a young age. As do you I suppose. James was my parents' best friend, my glamourous jet setting godfather, someone to talk to when I lost my mother, some one to comfort me when my father was killed.'

It seemed that talk of her parents was unsettling him, and it was no wonder for Alec Trevelyan, along with James Bond, had been one of her father's closest friends and colleagues.

'Your father was a brave man.'

Sadly she said, 'So I've heard. He spoke highly of you, I remember that. He admired your determination. As I do.'

Alec was staring at her with an unreadable expression. Once more she felt a tremor of desire for him.

Silence fell in the car again.

The last time Ashleigh had been here she had had no opportunity to see the outside. Now as they drove along a moonlit drive she could see a large dark gothic house, very Wuthering Heights she decided, set within the wilds of a forest. To the right she could see the dark outline of a lake. She shivered, it was an eerie and oppressive building.

Once more she found herself in Alec's private chambers. With its heavily shaded lighting and dark leather sofas it suited Alec, and he seemed most comfortable here. Unnerved by the bed, wondering why Alec had brought her here, she couldn't relax, instead she prowled around jumping at every single noise.

Alec on the other hand was calm and collected and had produced a bottle of vodka and two small glasses. She watched the condensation run down the frosted sides of the bottle, Alec obviously subscribed to the Russian philosophy that vodka should be drunk as cold as possible. He poured two glasses, handing one silently to her before sitting back on one of the sofas. One leg was idly resting on his other knee, his jacket removed, tie discarded, shirt collar loosened. One arm was thrown along the back of the sofa, his face half in shadow and he was watching her.

Nervously she leant back against the windowsill, surrounded by the darkness, and sipped her drink, letting the fire of the vodka burn her throat and turn her stomach to ice. With a sharp clink she fumbled the glass as she set it down, trying to get her nerves back under control.

'I thought you wanted answers.'

It was as if the Devil was tempting her in the desert. Trying to be nonchalant, she shrugged.

'Deronda and Elliot. Am I right? Is there a connection?'

His grey eyes glittered. 'Almost certainly. Lucinda's more than likely financing him. She's a power hungry bitch, desperate for money and sex. The two things that make the world go round'

Ignoring the little aside she asked, 'Lucinda is his lover?'

'Deronda is one of her many lovers,' subtly he pointed out the difference.

'What's Deronda to you?'

He was careful in his answer. 'A rival. He has already tried to frame me for Hermes.'

'So you want Deronda removed? And you were going to do it yourself at the Mariinsky tonight?'

He smiled.

She stumbled over her next words trying to keep up with them as they formed in her mind.

'MI6 wants Deronda gone, and the threat of Hermes neutralised as quickly as possible. It would be easier if all parties involved considered cooperating until...'

'Whatever are you suggesting?' he interrupted, knowing full well what she meant.

She paused, her fingers gripping the edge of the sill. 'I suppose what I'm offering is a truce.'

'A truce?' She felt a jab of annoyance at his deliberate repetition of her words.

'If you want Deronda removed, then work with us. We're all ultimately seeking a common purpose, surely it would be quicker and easier if we all helped each other.'

'And,' his tone was light, but Ashleigh noticed the undercurrent of danger, just waiting to snap at her. 'What exactly will I get from this little arrangement? I'm not exactly eager to work along side MI6 and 007 again.'

'You'll get what you want,' she retorted sharply. 'Caleb Deronda six feet under.'

Alec sighed as if explaining something to a particularly stubborn child. 'That is not enough. Is that all I can expect?'

Ashleigh hesitated. She tried to read what he was saying, but it was like gazing at the blank page of a book. 'What else do you want?' she asked cautiously.

In an exaggerated manner that she couldn't fail to understand he ran his eyes over her face, and body, lingering at the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips beneath the satin dress. She blushed, and her breathing deepened. So she was to be a part of this bargain. Fine. It wasn't as if she didn't want him, she tried to rationalise to herself, deal or no deal. And it would be no hardship to sleep with him again she grudgingly admitted to herself.

The tip of her tongue dampened her lips. 'Me,' she said firmly before she could back out. 'You can have me if you want...'

Alec said nothing. Again Ashleigh felt the air in the room was choking her.

He laughed, shattering the silence. 'And what if I don't want you?'

She frowned, hiding her embarrassment, 'I think you do.' She tried to sound confident, but doubt had crept in, poisoning her mind.

His voice was filled with languid cruelty. 'You thought wrongly.'

Alec watched as her face flushed with abject humiliation. He was teasing her, seeing how far she would go before she snapped. When he had first seen her that evening he had been jolted by how pleasurable the sight of her again had been. He had anticipated not seeing her again, and then she had stood before him. She had been taunting him in his dreams, and quite often in his waking hours as well, the thought of her lips on his, her slim body moving with his, her face buried in his shoulder to stifle her moans. His reputation and power alone had brought some of the most beautiful women in Russia to his bed, but once there they tried to disguise their distaste to his scars, and closed their eyes against them. But not this woman, she had barely noticed them, running her fingers over their texture, or kissing them because they were a part of him. He had been shaken by her willingness, and passion for him, and now she stood before him once more, this time shaking with rage as he mocked her.

He wanted to push her further, to see how far he could, and now she was offering herself to him on a plate and he was tempted. She was torn between duty and lust, her confusion plain upon her strange features.

'You shouldn't be so willing to offer yourself up, Ashleigh, nor so quickly. There is truth in the myth that you can get far on your back in the world of international espionage, but what would James think of his goddaughter making deals behind his back, offering herself to the enemy?'

'Screw James.' Her tone was dull, she refused to meet his eyes, and he saw that he had gone far enough. With a flick of her wrist she threw the rest of her drink down her throat.

'You don't want me?' she mocked him, as she moved towards him, amber eyes ablaze. 'You did the other night, you can't deny it, as much as I wanted you. I still want you now. So throw me out, because its the only way you're going to stop me...'

She was very close now, reckless, defiant of him, the satin of her dress rippling as she breathed, he could smell the warmth of her scent, perhaps he had underestimated her, she was as much as a tease as he was, a risk taker that got results.

She knelt onto his lap, a finger tracing the line of his jaw. 'Tell me to go, Alec,' her lips were coming closer to his with every word, 'And I will...'

She was almost touching him, waiting for his answer. When none came, she kissed him, hard, her tongue sliding into his mouth to meet his, her fingers entwined in his hair.

His hands grabbed her arms, and she thought that he was pushing her away, but instead he pulled her down onto the soft leather, and covered her body with his. His kiss was as demanding as hers, his touch even more so, and she could feel her desire rising, pressing herself firmly against the centre of him, telling him what she wanted. And he obeyed.