by Diana Quincy
Disappointment throbbed in her chest. He’d truly never known her at all. Obviously, he’d never found any reason to bother to try. To him, she’d always been Cosmo’s cosseted little sister, someone to humor, to tolerate, to occasionally lust after, and nothing more.
She stalked back to face him across the short length of table. “Would you care to know why I did Duret’s bidding?” She leaned into the table, her palms flat on its battered surface. “He threatened to sell my five-year-old child to the highest bidder.”
He blanched, the pallor emphasizing the smattering of freckles across his sculpted cheekbones. “That blasted blackguard. I assure you I had no idea―”
“No. You preferred to assume I’d forgotten my child.” She straightened, suppressing the deep ache in her heart. “That I sent her away so I could dabble in Paris society and take numerous lovers.”
“How could I have known the truth?” He sat heavily in his chair, apparently no longer mindful of gentlemanly etiquette. “You’ve conducted yourself with complete jollity every time we’ve had occasion to meet.”
“Perhaps you harbored hopes my coterie of lovers would include you,” she said bitterly. “The loverly skills you demonstrated during that seduction in the garden were quite impressive. Perhaps you decided to keep my daughter’s whereabouts a secret in hopes I’d bed you—a continuation of the affair begun on my eighteenth birthday.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Let us be clear before you impugn my honor beyond all salvation.” The words vibrated with muted fury. “I am not so much of a scoundrel as that—to obscure the truth of your daughter’s fate in order to bed you.”
“How would I know that to be true? I have no idea who you are anymore.” Contempt coated her words. “The Will I thought I knew would never drug me and abduct me and hold me against my will. You’re a complete stranger to me now.”
“I suppose there is something to be said for that.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is good that you no longer regard me through the idealized eyes of a young girl. I, too, see you more clearly than ever.”
He rose, stiff-spined and without sparing her another glance, left the chamber, closing the door hard behind him. A few seconds later she heard the click of the lock and knew she was a prisoner again.
—
She couldn’t be sure how much time had passed when he returned again a few hours later with meat pies and ale.
She sat at the table and ate in silence. He sat across from her, as he had before, his manner detached. “How long do you plan to keep me here?” she asked, washing her last bite down with the cool ale.
“That depends on you.”
She sat back in her chair. “Are you going to enlighten me as to what you mean by that?”
“I’m referring to the packet you took from Duret’s domicile.”
She tensed. “What about it?”
“Did you lie about taking the dispatches?”
She reached for her ale again. “No.”
“Then where are they?”
She sipped her drink. “As I’ve already told you,” she temporized, “they are in my possession.”
“We didn’t find them under your skirt.”
Her cheeks burned. “You went looking under my skirt?”
A hint of red flushed his cheeks. “You lied.”
“I have them. But they are not under my skirts, as you now well know. I’ve learned to trust no one but myself.”
“Now that you are reassured of the safety of your child, I ask that you give them to me.”
She experienced a strong desire to provoke him out of his controlled complacency. “What need would a simple clerk have of dispatches sent from the highest levels of Napoléon’s government?”
He ignored the question. “I could force you to return them.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “How would you manage that?”
“I could have stripped you while you were unconscious,” he said in a matter-of-fact manner, as though he routinely did such things. “I’ve spared you the indignity thus far.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears. “You are wrong to assume I have them on my person.”
“Did you give them to your maid for safekeeping?” He canted his head to the side. “Is that why you gave the girl all of those coins? As payment?”
“Only a fool would give important dispatches to that careless girl.”
“So you didn’t give them to anyone and you don’t have them on your person.”
“Exactly.”
“Regretfully, I cannot take your word for it.” He regarded her expectantly, as if waiting for her to grasp his meaning. “The stakes are far too high.”
They took each other’s measure in silence. Then her eyes rounded. “You cannot possibly expect me to—”
“Unfortunately, yes.” He shifted his gaze away from her. “It cannot be helped.”
She shot to her feet. “You want me to disrobe while you watch.”
He grimaced. “No. I’ve sent for a woman who can be trusted in matters such as these.”
“What matters are those precisely?” She wanted him to admit he worked for Le Rasoir.
He ignored the query. She realized he made a habit of doing so whenever she asked questions he didn’t care to answer. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Ketchum has been detained on another matter. She should be here in a day or so. You will remove your clothes in front of her, and she will search you and your things.”
Elle’s heart pounded. She could not allow this Mrs. Ketchum to search her. The dispatches were her only guarantee of reuniting with her daughter. Once Will and Le Rasoir had them, who knew what would happen to her. “And what is to occur after you’ve had me stripped like a strumpet?”
“For devil’s sake, Elle.” Removing his spectacles, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “None of this would be necessary if you’d just tell me where the papers are.”
She remained silent, her mind busily working through her options.
He let out a heavy sigh at her stubbornness. “After we have the packet, you are free to go about your business.”
“You’ll allow me to leave?” A sudden image of Susanna playing on the beach near Langtry provoked a painful yearning in her chest. “I can go home to England?”
He put his spectacles back on, carefully setting the ends around each ear. “Once I have the packet, I’ll have no reason to keep you.”
She didn’t trust him. The papers were her only leverage, and she still intended to trade them in exchange for reuniting with her child. Only now, instead of making a deal with Duret, she would forge an agreement with Will. In order to do that, she had to make certain he didn’t find the dispatches before she was ready to relinquish them.
“As I’ve told you,” she lied, “I no longer have them on my person.”
“I find that difficult to believe,” he said. “You would not have left them at Duret’s home, and you haven’t had the opportunity to tuck them away elsewhere.”
“We were in the arcade. There are many places to hide them there.”
“Although I considered that possibility to be highly unlikely, I had my factors search the arcade, to no avail.” His keen gaze settled on her. “No, I am convinced you’ve kept the dispatches close.”
She turned her limited options over in her mind. If his Mrs. Ketchum was an expert in this sort of thing, she’d be sure to discover where Elle had hidden the packet. She eyed Will speculatively, noting his tense position and his obvious intimate awareness of her―a remnant from their past together. He might not love her, but he wasn’t physically indifferent to her charms. He was a man, after all.
She made up her mind in an instant. Distracting him with the sight of her body was her only option. She came to her feet. “Let’s do it now.”
He tipped his head back, his eyes widening. “I beg your pardon?”
“My child has been on this earth almost six years and I’ve n
ever laid eyes on her.” She fisted her hands on her hips so that he wouldn’t notice how badly they were shaking. “I’m not going to allow modesty to delay my reunion with her.”
He pushed slowly to his feet. “You’d prefer to disrobe here and now…err…before me, rather than wait a day or so for Mrs. Ketchum’s arrival?”
“Unless there is someone else here who’d like to watch my performance.” She reached for her ale, hoping it would give her the courage to do what she must. “As Duret’s whore, disrobing before another man shouldn’t discommode me in the least.”
He grimaced. “It’s only a day or two, Elle.”
She needed to be far away from here before this Mrs. Ketchum appeared. It was a ramshackle plan, but her only hope was to keep Will sufficiently distracted in order to hinder his discovery efforts.
“One more unnecessary hour away from my child is too much.” Tilting her head back, she poured the bittersweet ale down her throat until nothing remained. Setting the empty cup on the table with a decisive thud, she spoke with a bravado she did not feel.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter 10
Will had not foreseen this development.
He waged an internal struggle to remain calm. Masking all outward signs of his inner agitation, he spoke in mild tones. “As you wish.”
“Then we are agreed,” she said, the words firm. “Once you confirm for yourself that I don’t have the packet, I can leave for England.”
“We.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“We will go to England together. I don’t intend to let you out of my sight until I have what I seek.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Although I don’t foresee this farce coming to that. I expect to divest you of the papers here and now.”
She set her jaw. “You will be disappointed.”
His immediate thought was that nothing about seeing Elle naked could prove disappointing. Dismayed at the direction of his thinking, he mentally steeled himself, calling upon years of training and the clinical detachment that had always served him well on critical missions. He’d searched opponents in this manner numerous times―there was no telling what deadly weapon an enemy might have hidden on his person―and this wasn’t any different.
Except that it was completely different. This was Elle, the only woman he’d ever cared for, and she was about to divest herself of her clothes. And he was expected to do nothing but watch.
She remained, unmoving, across the table and it occurred to him she might be waiting for a cue. He waved a careless hand in her direction. “Proceed.”
She exhaled a long, shuddering breath and stepped back from the table, giving him a full view all the way down to her peach half boots. “Will this position suit?”
“Admirably.”
She bit her lower lip, betraying her nerves. Relief sprinkled through him. She was bluffing, she had to be. She was betting he wouldn’t force a lady to disrobe.
In a bland voice, he said, “Whenever you are ready.”
She sat and untied her half boots then pulled them off in quick, confident motions. “Do you need to check these?”
He shook his head. “They’ve already been looked at.” He’d removed her boots and examined them thoroughly when she’d been under the effects of the ether.
She stood and turned to face him, smoothing both hands over the skirt of her peach silk gown. “You will have to help me with the buttons.” The words were matter of fact, betraying none of the nervousness one might expect from a lady asking a man to remove her clothes.
“Of course.” He resisted the urge to shake out his shoulders to relieve the tension building there. He rose and moved to stand behind her, where the scent of her skin mingled with violets rolled over him. And never failed to stir him.
She wore an outer gown of peach netting over her dress. He touched the first button, the cool silk at odds with the heat emanating from her body. Her breathing suddenly seemed more pronounced and yet also more shallow, and he wasn’t certain whether it was his own heightened sensitivity to her, given their physical proximity, that made it seem so. He meant to make quick work of both gowns, unbuttoning the outer layer followed by the silk gown, but his fingers seemed thicker and more clumsy than usual. He was grateful that her back was to him, so that she couldn’t see the way he fumbled through the task. Finally done, he quietly exhaled his relief and immediately backed away, distancing himself from her warm heat and the accompanying tantalizingly feminine scents.
She did not appear to be struggling as much as he. Her face a mask of indifference, she shrugged out of the net over-dress and draped it on the back of her chair. He didn’t bother to examine the piece. Given its transparency, there’d be no place to hide a packet of papers. Next, she moved to the silk under-dress, pulling it off one shoulder and then the other, before allowing it to drop, pooling around her ankles. She stood before him in her stays, chemise, petticoat, and stockings.
His throat went dry. The stays lifted her breasts like some divine offering. An acute, almost aggressive, energy began to stir deep inside him. He uttered a silent prayer of thanks for the chemise underneath that kept her breasts mostly hidden from his gaze. But that wouldn’t be the case for long.
Elle in a state of complete undress before him―yet being unable to touch her―was going to test the outer limits of his control. He’d barely managed to restrain himself during the ceremony of the toilette, and on that occasion she’d kept some clothes on.
She stooped to pick up her gown and tossed it in his direction with both hands. The cool silk rustled as he caught it. He ran his fingers over each inch of the fabric, checking for hidden pockets or panels.
“I’ll need you to unlace my stays.” Her voice, now a bit tremulous, had lost some of its bravado, and slashes of color arced over her high cheekbones.
Blood began to pool in his nether regions, where it had no business being. He cleared his throat and assumed his most aloof manner. “Very well.”
He deliberately walked behind her with calm self-assurance, exhibiting no signs of his increasing discomfort. Her tantalizing scent drifted over him, and he could hear her quiet inhalations. The nape of her neck was pale and smooth where it met the downy wisps of her hairline. He batted back an impulse to touch his lips to that lovely patch of skin.
He unlaced her stays, painfully aware that when she removed the contraption, her lovely breasts would be unencumbered, loose and free beneath the thin linen of her chemise. When he was done, he stepped back a little too quickly as she turned to face him. Keeping her serious silver gaze even with his, she drew off the stays and handed them to him. The garment still carried her body heat, as well as her lingering scent.
He broke their shared gaze and forced himself to examine the corset. It was made of boned white cotton, with a stiff, ivory busk in a long, narrow pocket that ran down the front, all the way from the belly button to the breasts. He checked the top of the pocket to assure himself of its ivory contents. Something clinked and clattered to the floor, distracting him from the inspection.
Elle immediately dropped down to retrieve the item, which quickly disappeared into her closed palm.
“What is that, if I may ask?”
She flushed and averted her gaze. “You may not. It has nothing to do with anything.”
His interest piqued. “All the same, I wish to see it.”
“Why? It is a private matter.” She looked up, but her gray eyes were shuttered. She was hiding something. “A small coin is obviously not a packet of papers.”
He stilled. “A coin?” He reached down to help her rise. She took his proffered hand, and he noted with regret how icy cold her soft hand was. She nimbly came to her feet and immediately pulled away from him.
“May I see it?” he asked. “Please.”
She exhaled long and heavy through her nostrils and extended her arm, dropping the medallion into his open palm. He stared down at the Cleopatra coin he’d gi
ven her six years ago on the occasion of her eighteenth birthday.
His chest contracted. “You did keep it.”
“Yes.”
“Why is it on your person?” He looked up at her. “You said you didn’t know where it was.”
She kept her face averted. “I may have dissembled a bit.”
His brows lifted. “A bit?”
“All right, more than a bit.” Her head snapped up so that their eyes met, and the fire he saw there heated his blood. “I’ve kept the blasted coin as a talisman of sorts.”
“A talisman?” His eyes widened. “You believe it brings you good fortune?”
She looked heavenward, her embarrassment apparent. “It’s silly and means nothing. You are welcome to keep it if you’d like.”
Something joyous loosened in his chest. She’d kept his gift close all these years. Perhaps the woman Elle had become wasn’t so different from the girl after all. “No,” he responded in the gentlest of tones. “I gave it to you. It is yours to keep.”
She shrugged as if it were of no matter to her, the movement causing a gentle sway of her unfettered breasts. Averting his gaze, he turned and resumed his position, standing across the table from her, putting a much-needed barrier between them. Speaking in an abrasive manner, he said, “Continue, if you please.”
She shot him a defiant glare before turning her attention to divesting herself of her petticoat. The white lace skirt had two arm straps extending from the waistband. She shrugged out of them and then reached back behind her waist to loosen the ribbon. He gave thanks she didn’t need his assistance with it. The fewer clothes she wore, the more distance he needed to keep from her.
When she dropped the petticoat, all blood rushed from his brain, leaving him lightheaded. She wore the shortest chemise he’d ever seen—and he’d seen a few in his time—which stopped several inches above her knees, baring the lacy white garters that held up her fine silk stockings.
“Good Lord,” he uttered reflexively. “What sort of chemise is that?”
“It is in the French style.” The short chemise explained why he’d been able to see through her scant French gowns to her flesh-colored pantaloons.
