eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520 Macon GA 31201 To Capture a Spy Copyright © 2008 by Silvia Violet ISBN: 1-60504-061-4 Edited by Lindsey McGurk Cover by Angela Waters All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: July 2008 www.samhainpublishing.com
To Capture a Spy Silvia Violet
Dedication To my parents, who have always supported my writing endeavors.
To Capture a Spy
Chapter One Le Havre, France August 1814 Meg slammed her knee into the guard’s groin. When he doubled over, she brought her clasped hands down on the back of his head. He crashed to the floor, and his forehead collided with the stone wall. She jumped over him and ran through the open door of her cell. No one stood watch in the corridor, but surely someone had heard the commotion. How much time did she have? When she reached the stairs, she heard gruff voices and the creak of a cell door. Her blood froze. “Mon Dieu! La chienne!” “Gerald’s all but dead. Get to the stairs.” Meg pulled open the door to the outside and ran, but the back lawn stretched forever. Faster, faster, faster. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the guards gaining on her. Still, she had a good lead. Just a little farther, and she would have the cover she needed. Reaching the woods, she clutched her cramping side and pushed away the low branches until she was deep enough to be out of sight. Her heart racing, she leaned against a tree to catch her breath. An arm locked around her waist, and a man yanked her against his hard body. She kicked and tried to maneuver her head to bite him but failed. His arm held her like an iron bar. She couldn’t see the man, but he loomed over her, and she felt his solid chest against her back. He pressed something cold to her side, and she smelled the sharp tang of gunpowder. “Hold still, or I’ll use this. Comprenez-vous?” her captor whispered against her ear. His voice was low and flat. A shiver ran through her as she answered affirmatively.
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She tried to swallow her terror and think, but she was near her breaking point. Over the hammering of her heart and the pounding of blood in her ears, her mind screamed. Escape! Beads of sweat ran down her back and between her breasts. She prayed for a plan to emerge. No matter what, she wouldn’t go back. She’d rather die than let Le Lézard touch her again. Suddenly, a gun exploded, and a bullet lodged itself in a nearby tree. Her captor whistled, and an enormous stallion appeared as if conjured from the air. “Get on.” He pushed her toward the horse. Meg hesitated. He pushed her again. “Do you want to stay here and be killed?” She mounted. He swung up behind her, settling himself on the animal’s hindquarters and reaching around her to grab the reins. Tree limbs slapped her with alarming force as they began a reckless ride through the woods. One scratched her face, and she leaned in close to the animal’s neck, wrapping her fingers in his mane. The other men continued to shoot, but the bullets fell short. Her captor’s horse quickly outdistanced them. They rode on and on, following the twisting path through the dense brush. The heavy smell of well-used leather filled her nose. Her ribcage was pinned against the pommel, preventing her from getting a good breath. She grew lightheaded from the lack of air, and the muscles in her arms knotted painfully. Oh God, let him stop soon. One last limb slapped against her thigh, and her captor reined in the horse and swung down, pulling her with him. They stood in a clearing. Meg could see nothing but the outline of a small structure. Wary of his intentions, she took a few steps back. “Stay put,” the man commanded. Moonlight glistened off the pistol he’d drawn once again. Her legs shook but more from exhaustion than fear. It took supreme effort to remain standing while the man removed the saddle and spoke softly to the horse. The small part of her mind that still worked told her she should be desperately afraid, but she couldn’t
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summon the strength to be frightened or to piece together a coherent theory about who this man could be. He sent the horse into the woods and ordered her to enter the small cottage. Once inside, she groped her way across the room, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. She heard the whoosh of the door as it closed, followed by the scratch of a flint lighter. Light shone on the man’s face as, pistol still in hand, he bent over a lantern. Soft light filled the room, and Meg got her first glimpse of the new surroundings. The rough woodsman’s cot had only one room with a dirt floor and a tiny window. A rickety bedstead, a chest and a small table holding the remains of someone’s supper were the only furnishings. By far the most interesting thing in the cabin was her captor. She studied him closely as her eyes adjusted, and he came more sharply into view. His black clothes were covered in leaves and dust, but she could tell they fit him perfectly, as if they’d been cut for a gentleman. The light fell on his hair, showing off honey-colored highlights in the otherwise dark curls. He was tall, several inches over six feet and thickly muscled. Standing by the single small light, he looked like a lord of the darkness. He was not a man one would forget. “Who are you?” she asked, continuing to stare. “You’re not in a position to ask questions. The man you work for arranged the ambush of my regiment. I intend to find him.” He took a step closer. He hadn’t touched her since they’d stopped, but the menace on his face and the coolness in his gray eyes gave her pause. She gave in to her urge to move away from him, but after two steps, she bumped against the far wall. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’d clearly mistaken her identity. “Couldn’t you find a more original excuse?” “Truly, I don’t understand. I’m not working for anyone, and I don’t know anything that would be of interest to you.” That wasn’t quite true. If he was interested in the man who’d kept her prisoner, she could tell him several things. But she intended to keep quiet until she could assess her new situation.
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The man raised his brow and leaned forward, bracing himself against the wall and caging her with his arms. “Who would be interested in your secrets?” Meg found his tone uncomfortably intimate. “No one, except perhaps my family.” A hint of confusion touched his features, but he covered it quickly. “We’ll see about that.” He studied her for a few moments. “Are you English?” Meg wasn’t sure what answer would do her the most good, but she decided to be truthful. “Yes.” “Yet you’re working with Napoleon’s agents. That makes you a traitor and a spy.” The venom is his voice unnerved her, but at the same time, his insult infuriated her. “I’m not working for anybody.” “Then tell me your name.” His French was excellent, but based on his mention of a regiment and his military bearing, she could only assume he was a British officer. If she was right, and she told him who she was, he would insist she return to her family. That was the last thing she wanted. She needed to stay in France. That was the only way she could seek her revenge. If she could make this man believe she was loyal to England, then perhaps he would let her work with him—assuming he was trustworthy. He stood very near, and she caught the scent of leather and horses. But his underlying smell was something more primitive. She could only describe it as frighteningly masculine. A jagged scar ran across his temple, adding to his air of danger. He was intimidating, but he didn’t make her shudder like the man she had run from, and he had done nothing to hurt her. “I won’t wait all night for an answer. Give me your hands.” He picked up a length of rope from the cabin floor, and nausea curled in her stomach. She remembered being tied up by another striking man, one she had thought to use for her own purposes. She was willing to stay with her captor, but she didn’t know if she could stand to be restrained.
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“You don’t need to tie me up. I give you my word. I won’t leave.” She tried to stay calm, battling her fear of the rope. “If you expect me to trust you, then you must tell me who you are.” “I cannot reveal my name, but I’m not working for any Frenchman. I was a prisoner. I had just escaped when you found me.” He sighed and tilted his head to the side, staring at her for an uncomfortably long time. “You’re either telling the truth or you’re quite an actress. I find myself wanting to believe you.” “I wish you would.” “Unless you’re willing to give me your name so I can verify your story, I will be forced to hold you here.” He holstered his gun and toyed with the rope, stretching it between his hands, pulling it taut and letting it go. “The longer you make me wait for the information I need, the harder I will try to get it.” Meg forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly. Maybe if she gave him a little more information, he would relent. “I don’t know what you’re after, or who you think I am, but the man who captured me intended to kill me. I had just escaped when you captured me.” “If you’re not working for Le Lézard, what did he want from you?” Meg flinched when she heard the name. The man smiled. “At least you can’t pretend not to know him.” Meg tried to push Le Lézard’s image from her mind. He was a madman, and he truly resembled the reptile whose name he’d taken. When he’d forced her to endure his kiss, his lips had been cold and dry. She didn’t know exactly what he’d intended to do with her, only that it would ultimately end in her death. While she was a prisoner, she had been careful to observe all she could, but she didn’t want to give away any of her knowledge yet. It might be her only bargaining tool. She needed more time to figure out exactly who her new captor was and to construct a believable story about her own identity. “He took me prisoner, but I don’t know why.” Her captor’s eyes darkened to blue gray smoke. He stood so close that if she raised her hand, she would be touching his chest.
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“Give me your hands,” he growled. She didn’t move. He clenched his teeth. “I won’t ask again.” Meg knew she would have to submit to buy herself time, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. When she still did not obey, the man grabbed her arms, easily encircling her wrists in one large hand. He wrapped the rope around them, and she squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself for the pain. After spending several days struggling against the ropes in her cell, her wrists were cracked and raw. Her captor froze. She opened her eyes when she felt him unwrapping the rope. He was studying the marks on her wrists, tracing them carefully with a finger, a dark look on his face. He bent down and ripped a strip of cloth from the hem of her dress. Gasping, she pulled away, but he grabbed her upper arm. “Hold still.” He wrapped the cloth around her wrists then tied the rope over it, protecting her, at least somewhat, from the discomfort. Bringing his hands up to her shoulders, he began to run them slowly down her sides, over her waist and hips. Meg stiffened, barely suppressing the urge to kick him. Surely she hadn’t escaped being used by one man only to be taken by another. “I’m only checking for weapons. I will make you talk to me, but I don’t need to force myself on you to do it.” He finished his sweep of her body and stepped back. “I am not without honor.” “Forgive me for questioning your honor, but you’ve threatened to shoot me and are even now in the process of restraining me.” He pushed her back, forcing her to sit on the bed. She inhaled sharply. Why had she provoked him? Her temper was going to get her killed sooner or later. She could see the tension in his jaw as he brought his face close to hers. “I don’t mistreat prisoners. I like my women willing and enthusiastic.” Meg could well imagine that a man who looked like him had no trouble finding willing partners.
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He secured the ends of the rope around one of the rungs in the headboard. “For now, you have a soft bed, and you’re not gagged. Don’t make me regret this decision.” Meg turned and faced the wall without replying. “We’ll have a long ride tomorrow. Try to get some sleep.” He left the cabin but returned a few minutes later. From the movements she heard, Meg imagined he was making a pallet on the floor. She shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable. As Le Lézard’s captive, she’d gotten used to sleeping with her hands tied, but the jolting horse ride had left her quite bruised. She was only now becoming aware of the aches and pains in her body. No matter how she shifted, she couldn’t find a comfortable position. Unable to sleep, she contemplated what she would say to her captor the next day. If only she knew whether he could be trusted. He was far too controlled to be insane like Le Lézard, but sane or not, she couldn’t be certain he was as honorable as he claimed. Still he hadn’t hurt her and had even given her the bed when he could easily have made her sleep on the floor. Vivid memories of the beatings she’d received at Le Lézard’s hands flashed through her mind. The bruises on her face must still be visible. Whoever this Englishman was, she was certainly better off with him than in her former prison. Even if she could escape, she could hardly strike out on her own, since she didn’t know where she was. She wondered what people in London were saying about her disappearance. Would her aunt even care enough to search for her considering the scandal she’d stir up? She almost laughed. Of course her aunt would want her found. If Meg disappeared for good then her cousin Opal would inherit the family fortune, and Aunt Jane disliked Opal even more than Meg. For now, she would go along with her captor’s wishes and look for an opportunity to propose a partnership. She wanted more from life than an endless round of balls and a loveless marriage, but she’d certainly never imagined herself working with a British officer. She had to admit the prospect excited her. Helping this man learn more about Le
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Lézard would be far more exciting than the London Season and if she succeeded, she’d be able to prove Gaffney’s duplicity. Having made her decision, she let her thoughts drift. Sleep tried to capture her mind. As she floated, half awake, images of her captor plagued her. She pictured his full lips. He was probably a much better kisser than Lord Gaffney. The mere thought of the man made her blood boil. He would be punished for what he’d done. She would see to it. She was even more foolish than her aunt had imagined. Her taste in men was deplorable. First, to please her aunt, she flirted with a man she thought no more than an insipid fop. She’d failed to see that he was in truth without any morals at all. Now she was attracted to a man who had tied her to a bed in a cottage in the middle of nowhere. What was wrong with her? She fought to banish all thoughts of her captor, but as exhaustion overwhelmed her, his image swam behind her eyes. Her last coherent thought was of how his lips would feel pressed against hers.
Lucien Archer shifted position for what seemed like the thousandth time. The dirty blanket and lumpy sack that made up his bed weren’t the problem. He’d slept in much worse conditions as an officer in Wellington’s army, and he was used to staying in filthy cottages when he was out gathering information. In fact, he was lucky a safe house for British agents stood so close to where he’d found the woman. At least he had food and other necessary supplies. The unfortunate source of his restlessness was the woman who lay across the room. He didn’t know her real name. His contacts had told him that she’d introduced herself most recently as Annette Dubois, but she’d been known by many names in the last few years. She’d nearly convinced him of her innocence, but he’d been warned that she was good at what she did.
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What had happened to make her run tonight? Had she quarreled with Le Lézard, refused to do his bidding? The rope burns on her arms, and the hint of bruises on her face, showed that someone had tried to subdue her. He tried to calm his mind enough to allow the light, watchful sleep of a man on guard, but he kept thinking about how the woman had looked facing him across the cabin. She was stunning despite her hair twisting out from her braid in wild wisps, her skin ghostly pale from her ordeal, and her face bearing the faint traces of a beating. His contacts had been right. She was beautiful enough to make a man turn traitor. He could easily imagine a weaker man spilling his darkest secrets for a chance to be with her. She was nothing like the woman he’d envisioned. He’d expected a cold, hardened beauty, but this woman was fresh, vibrant. Based on her history, she had to be at least thirty, but she looked ten years younger. Her body was full and curvaceous, yet she had an air of innocence and skin like fine china. Her hands were unbelievably soft and smooth. His senses had revolted at the red marks he’d seen there. He’d never used violence against women to extract information from female contacts, and he never would. With a soft growl, he ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. What the hell was wrong with him? The information this woman had passed resulted in the deaths of hundreds of British soldiers, including most of his own regiment. Men like Geordie, who bought his commission one week before he’d died at age nineteen, and Lloyd, one of his friends from Eton, who’d been stabbed in his sleep. He shouldn’t care whether her skin stayed lovely. He should want her to pay. Could he bring himself to extract information from her by any means necessary? He prayed she would give in to his demands before his ethics came into question. How could she look so innocent and still have power over him? He’d expected her to attempt seduction, but he’d been unprepared for her subtlety. She made him want to hold her and kiss away the fear in her eyes. He was definitely going to have to keep his distance. Across the room, the bed creaked. He jerked upright. “No! Don’t touch me!” the woman yelled as she kicked the wall. “I won’t do it!”
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Lucien rushed to the lantern and lit it as she screamed again. She jerked at the ropes, struggling to free her hands, but her eyes were closed. She was dreaming. “I won’t let you touch me!” she cried. What had that monster done to her? In that moment, Lucien didn’t care who she was. No one deserved to be tormented like that. He moved to her side and saw blood seeping through the cloth around her wrist. What should he do? How could he wake her without scaring her more? She screamed again—a high-pitched sound he felt all the way to his bones. Placing his hand lightly on her leg, he called, “Annette, wake up. Wake up. You’re dreaming.” When she didn’t wake, he pressed harder, shaking her gently. “Annette! Wake up!” Her eyes fluttered open. She pulled back when she saw him. “I won’t hurt you.” Her hair was damp with sweat and her deep, brown eyes were unfocused. He wasn’t sure she’d heard him. She glanced down, and the last bit of color drained from her face. His eyes followed hers, seeing her bloody wrists. “Do you remember where you are?” She nodded. “Don’t move. I’ll get a knife and cut you free.” Reluctant to leave her side, Lucien backed away slowly. He pulled a knife and his medical supplies from his saddlebag. Annette watched him warily but didn’t speak. As he approached the bed, she whimpered and tried to scoot away. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I need to loosen these ropes so I can bandage your wrists.” “My name isn’t Annette.” “Then what should I call you?” She stared at him for a few seconds before responding. “Meg.” “I’m Lucien.” He immediately cursed himself for giving her his real name. He’d been in intelligence for years, and he was acting like a green recruit. Still it felt good to simply be himself. It had been too long since he’d shared that intimacy with anyone. “Hold your hands apart, so I can cut the ropes.”
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She obeyed, not letting out so much as a whimper while he cut her free. He doubted he could loosen the cloth as easily. “This will probably hurt.” He began to pull the fabric from her wrists. It stuck to the wounds in several places, but she didn’t make a sound. He finished and stepped back. Her teeth were sunk into her lower lip, and she was trembling. He feared she might faint at any moment. “Lie down. I’m going outside to get some water to clean your wounds. Will you give me your word that you will stay here?” A simple nod was all the answer he got, but he decided to risk it. In her weakened state, she wouldn’t get far if she tried to escape. When he returned, she was lying down with her eyes closed. They opened at the noise of his approach, and he saw a flash of fear before recognition set in. “I can bandage myself. I don’t need your help.” She reached for the bowl he’d filled with water. He held it firmly. “I’ll do it. Your arms are shaking. When was your last meal?” “I don’t know, but I can take care of myself.” “No you can’t. You’re too damn weak. I’ve always treated prisoners better than the French apparently treat their spies.” “Why are you concerned about me if you believe I’m working for Le Lézard?” He was wondering the same damn thing. Hardly aware of his actions, he reached out and traced the faint remainder of a bruise on her face. “I don’t like to see women brutalized. If you tell me what I need to know, I’ll see that you aren’t hurt anymore.” She relinquished her hold on the bowl. He wet a rag and washed her wrists, working as gently as he could, but when he reached one of the deeper gashes, she sucked in her breath. He looked up. That was a mistake. As she’d struggled in the throes of her nightmare, her dress had worked its way down, and her full breasts threatened to spill out. He forced himself to look at her face, but he couldn’t stop the response of his cock. The blush on her cheeks told him she knew what he’d been looking at, but she didn’t say anything as he finished his ministrations, applying some salve to soothe the wounds
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and wrapping her wrists with bandages. Her color had yet to return. He ordered her to lie down before she passed out. He walked to the window and stood, pondering his predicament. He couldn’t bring himself to tie her wrists again, but he couldn’t trust her not to run if he left her unrestrained. He found himself wanting to believe her, wanting her to be anyone but the woman he sought. Damn, she was good. Every bit as good as he’d been told. No woman had ever affected him like this. Not an hour ago, he’d told himself to stay away from her, and now he’d come devastatingly close to kissing her. Dawn was approaching. Only a person often awake at this hour would notice, but to the east, the barest tinge of purple showed along the horizon. He decided that the easiest way to avoid tying her was to get a head start on the day’s travel. He walked toward the bed. “Can you stand?” “Yes.” He doubted the truth of her response, but he rummaged in his pack until he found a few pieces of stale flatbread, an extra pair of breeches, and a piece of thin rope. “Eat this,” he said, handing her the bread. He laid the breeches and the rope on the bed. “These will be far too large, but if you wear them under your dress, they will make riding astride more comfortable. You can roll the waist down and hold them up with the rope. I’m going to step outside and saddle Dragon. When you’ve finished dressing, I expect you to join me. Don’t even think about running.” “I…um…need to relieve myself.” Her cheeks and even the tip of her pert nose were bright pink. At least she was no longer ghostly pale. Other than when he’d recovered from his recent injury, he hadn’t spent more than a few weeks in civilized society in almost ten years. He’d forgotten that everyone didn’t relieve themselves on trees or bushes. “There’s a chamber pot under the bed. You can
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empty it when you come out. And there’s a brush and comb on the dresser if you need them.” Lucien grabbed his saddle and walked out. Dragon answered his whistle immediately. As he brushed the shiny black stallion, Lucien’s thoughts drifted to the familiar fantasy of owning his own breeding farm some day. A screech from the cabin broke his reverie. He pulled his gun from its holster and ran. As he crossed the threshold, he saw Meg standing on a chair, holding a hairbrush like a weapon. The breeches were gone from the bed, and her tattered dress covered her once again. She’d taken down her braid and had obviously been using his brush to straighten out her tangles. Her hair glowed orange in the soft light. “Can I assist you?” he asked, holstering his gun. She made a little squeak and whirled around, causing her hair to stand out even further. “No, I—” “Let me guess. A little rodent paid you a visit.” “Yes, he startled me, but I intend to squash him if he comes back.” Standing there, wielding the brush, she looked like an enraged fairy queen. The poor mouse didn’t stand a chance. How could such an amusing woman have turned traitor? “As much as I’d enjoy watching you best this creature, we need to get on the road quickly.” “Where are we going?” “Paris.” Angry that he’d revealed his plans so easily, he continued in a menacing tone, “I suggest you reconsider your decision not to talk to me. When we reach our destination, I’ll be turning you over to one of my associates. He won’t be as easy on you as I’ve been.” Meg ignored his threat. “I’ve nothing to tell you.” Her defiant words pricked his anger. He needed to get away before he did something rash. “Come down off that chair. Put the brush up, and bring my bag outside.”
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A few moments later, he heard the cottage door open. He turned from brushing Dragon. Even in the faint morning light, he could tell she’d left her hair down. “You can’t ride with your hair like that. Neither of us will be able to see.” “You ordered me to put the brush down and come outside. I did what you said.” He took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to provoke him this easily. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her to stand between him and the horse. “What are you doing?” “Braiding your hair.” Quickly and efficiently, Lucien tamed the thick mass into a single braid. As he tied the end of her long hair with a piece of string from the saddlebag, his gaze dropped to her firm buttocks. The sight made him harden painfully. It had been too long since he’d bedded a woman. That was the best explanation he had for his strong reaction. As soon as they reached a town where they could safely stop, he’d take care of his unruly cock. “That will do. Now get on the horse,” he ordered, not wanting to waste any more time. Meg reached around and felt her hair. “How did you learn to braid so well?” she asked, putting her foot in the stirrup. “I have two little sisters. My father was very strict about their appearance so I helped them.” He suppressed a shudder as he remembered just how far his father would go to extract obedience. Meg swung into the saddle with notable skill and ran her hand through Dragon’s mane. “He’s a remarkable animal.” “Thank you.” Her affection for Dragon awoke another annoying wave of tenderness. His sisters had warned him he wasn’t ready to go back to work, that he was pushing himself too hard. Maybe he’d finally lost the last shards of his sanity. As he mounted behind Meg and pointed Dragon down a narrow path, he calculated the fastest possible route to Paris. The sooner he got away from this woman, the better.
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Chapter Two They’d been riding in silence for hours, having stopped once to give Dragon some rest. Then suddenly, Lucien’s arm tightened around Meg, and his mouth moved to her ear. “We’re being followed. Do as I say.” He pushed her head down, drew his gun, and fired at their pursuers in a single fluid motion. Meg glanced back, one of the two men fell from his horse, but the other kept coming. His horse was nearly neck in neck with Dragon. He pulled another pistol before Lucien could reload. “If you lose your gun and get off the horse, I might let the woman live,” he called out. Meg recognized him as one of Le Lézard’s guards. Lucien did as the man ordered, but as he helped her down, he whispered to her. “I’m going to distract him. Move into woods and hide. If you run, I will find you.” Meg considered her options. Lucien was presently her best hope for survival, but she intended to go as deep into the woods as she could. If Lucien was captured, she would need a good head start to elude the guards. Lucien walked slowly toward the guard, seemingly unafraid of the pistol trained at his heart. Meg took advantage of the guard’s preoccupation and edged toward the trees at the side of the road. She watched the guard, praying he wouldn’t notice her movement. The guard ordered Lucien to turn around. Lucien moved as if to comply then his arm flew out and struck the man’s jaw. The guard stumbled back, his pistol flying from his hand. Lunging for him, Lucien overbalanced him and forced him to the ground. Meg moved behind a tree and watched the men grabble. She needed to take better cover, but she couldn’t make herself move. The guard freed himself from Lucien long enough to draw a knife. When he thrust, Lucien avoided the blade and landed a firm punch in the man’s abdomen. www.samhainpublishing.com
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The guard recovered and attacked again. This time Lucien was not so lucky. The blade struck near his lower ribs. He twisted away, but Meg saw a red patch appear where the knife had sliced him. He stumbled, falling to his knees. The guard stood over him, ready to make a killing blow. Meg sank her teeth into her lip, fighting back tears. She wanted to save Lucien, but she couldn’t overpower the guard without a weapon. “Stop! We’re not supposed to kill him.” Meg glanced down the road and saw the other guard. He had a bloody stain near his shoulder where Lucien’s bullet had penetrated. The first guard held his position. The sun glinted off the edge of the knife he held against Lucien’s throat. “If you kill him the boss while have our hides. Just hold him while I get him tied.” The first guard grumbled something but did as instructed. Meg watched the second man tie Lucien’s hands. The first guard sheathed his knife, but he gave Lucien a hard kick in his injured side, eliciting a strangled groan. The second man, obviously the leader of the pair, glanced at Dragon then looked in every direction. “Where the hell is the woman?” The other guard looked around, confused. “I don’t know. She was right here.” “You idiot! I can’t believe you let her get away.” The leader grabbed Lucien by the hair and pulled his head back. “Where is she?” Blood soaked the left side of Lucien’s shirt. His eyes were closed, and he didn’t move. The first guard delivered another kick, and Lucien’s eyes opened. He looked around, scanning the trees. Meg doubted he could see clearly, and she didn’t think he would give her away, but she stepped back to hide herself better. “Let’s see if I can convince you to talk.” The first guard pulled Lucien to his feet, and punched him in the face. Once. Twice. Three times. Lucien fell to the ground. The guard bent to pull Lucien up again, but the other man stopped him. “Enough. He needs to be in tolerable shape when we deliver him.”
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Lucien struggled to his knees. Blood ran from his mouth and nose. Seeing him suffer made Meg’s stomach churn. She gripped the rough bark of the tree and fought to keep her breakfast down. “Where did the woman go?” the leader demanded again. Lucien looked up but said nothing. The man kicked him again. “Get up!” Lucien tried three times before he got to his feet. When he finally succeeded, Meg was sure he would fall over immediately. The first guard had recovered his pistol, and he shoved it against Lucien’s back. “Start walking! We’ll find her. Then we’ll show her what our master thinks of her escape.” Thankfully, they headed in the wrong direction. When they were far enough away for her to risk moving, Meg sat down and put her head between her knees. She’d never been squeamish, but thinking about what Le Lézard would do to Lucien made her lightheaded. She took a few deep breaths and tried to pull herself together. She could make her way back to Le Havre and try to bargain for passage home. A sensible girl would return to her family and try to salvage what was left of her reputation, but as her aunt had told her plenty of times, she lacked the sensibility expected in the daughters of Society families. She imagined herself in London again. She’d found the Season insipid before, but now, despite the fact that she’d escaped Le Lézard with her virtue intact, everyone in Society would assume she’d been ruined. She’d be stared at, outcast, and only the most desperate of men would offer for her hand. She wanted a life of freedom, not further ridicule. She couldn’t leave Lucien to the mercy of these villains, and she wouldn’t put herself at the mercy of the ton. She was going to rescue Lucien, and convince him she had the skills to become a spy. Her plan was reckless and dangerous. It was possible she was mad, as her aunt had sometimes feared, but she’d survived imprisonment and kept her wits about her after
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being captured a second time by Lucien. She was no mealy-mouthed debutante, she had strength and sense and she was going to do something more exciting with her life than attend balls and make calls. She was risking her life, but going home would sentence herself to a slow, agonizing death from misery and loneliness. At least this way she had a chance at a future. Thanks to her father’s liberality, she’d learned to hunt and to move in the woods without so much as rustling a leaf. She was going to need all the skills her father had taught her to succeed in tracking the men who were tracking her, but she knew it could be done. As the guards searched the immediate area, she managed to keep them in sight. When they started down the road, she followed, staying far behind and retreating into the trees whenever she thought they might turn around. Curiously enough, they weren’t heading back toward the house where Le Lézard had imprisoned her. They continued in the direction she and Lucien had been traveling. She assumed that meant they were heading upriver toward Paris. They moved slowly. At first, the guards tortured Lucien by forcing him to walk while they led Dragon. Eventually, he fell to the ground and no amount of kicking or prodding could get him on his feet again. The men picked him up, slung him across Dragon, and tied him to the saddle. Meg prayed he would regain consciousness before she tried to free him. She couldn’t possibly move a man of his size. After several miles, the woods began to thin. Meg could see open pasture ahead. Chimney smoke rising from the next valley indicated they were not far from a village. She hoped the guards intended to stop there. She couldn’t possibly follow them on an open road, and a young, unescorted woman with bright red hair would be noticed immediately in a village during daylight hours. Her legs were aching, and her feet were covered with blisters. She knew she couldn’t walk much further, so she found a nice, flat rock tucked behind a tree and sat down to wait the few hours until sunset. She prayed the men were as tired as she and would need to stop for the night in the village. Otherwise she might lose them altogether.
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After several minutes of waiting, she convinced herself to do the practical thing. Assuming she could pull off the rescue, Lucien might still deny her wish to stay with him and help with his work. Would he trust her just because she’d saved him, or would he still question her motives? If she told him who she was, he would send her straight home with the assumption that a young woman from a nice family could not be a good intelligence officer. Perhaps she could imply that she was indeed a spy but one whose loyalties lay with England. Convinced she was doing the best thing she could under the circumstances, she rested her head on her knees. The birds’ songs had nearly lulled her to sleep when a rustling noise made her jerk upright, certain the guards had come back for her. Looking around, she saw nothing but squirrels chasing each other in a nearby tree. When her racing heart had slowed a bit, she noticed the sun had reached the horizon. The sky had turned an orangey pink, and it was time to venture forth from her hiding place. At the edge of the village, she noticed some clothing hung out to dry behind a cottage. Watching the door, hoping the family was already preparing for bed, she crept into the yard and stole a dress and a mob cap. She took what cover she could behind a bush, changed into the dress, and wound her hair up under the cap, hoping it would not fall out. She left her tattered dress where the other clothes had been, the same dress she’d worn to Lady Bonford’s party almost a week ago. A torn party dress would be useless to a family of villagers. She wished she had money to leave, but she eased her conscious by reminding herself that the clothing she’d taken might help her save a man’s life. Hoping she’d succeeded in looking like a peasant girl, and thankful for the cover of darkness, she set out to find the village inn. A bit of snooping at the inn’s stable revealed that Dragon was indeed there. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the doorway and entered the common room. Trying hard not to be noticed, she sat down at a corner table and studied the room’s occupants. It didn’t take long to find the guards. They’d had far too much to drink and were toying with one of the serving girls. One of them grabbed her arm. The girl looked
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frightened and repulsed. One guard held her in front of him while the second man fondled her breasts. She struggled against them, and they pushed her into a neighboring table. They said something Meg couldn’t hear, but their words elicited laughter from the men sitting around them. The girl came over to Meg’s table to take her order, and Meg decided to take a risk. “I couldn’t help but notice you having trouble with the men over there.” She pointed discreetly in the guards’ direction. “They can be very cruel.” “You know them?” “Not well, but I know they’re dangerous.” Meg drew a shaky breath. “Actually, I was hoping you could assist me. They have something of mine, and I need to get it back. Could you tell me if they’ve taken rooms here?” “I really shouldn’t say, mademoiselle. If Henri—he’s the innkeeper. If he finds out, I’ll be out on my backside. He’ll already be angry with me for refusing them. He likes us girls to take all the extra work we can get—if you know what I mean.” Meg was afraid for the girl, but she had to keep pushing. “Please. This is very important.” The girl fidgeted for a few moments, then pointed toward the back of the room. “Take those stairs, and you’ll find their room. It’s the first one on the right. Be careful, though. Another man was with them earlier, passed out drunk, he was. But that’s been hours, he might’ve woken up by now, and he’ll be feeling none too good.” Meg prayed this other man was Lucien. “I’ll be careful.” The girl moved away, but Meg grabbed her arm and added, “Avoid them if you can. They enjoy giving pain.” The girl fished in her apron and pulled out a key. She looked over her shoulder then pressed the key in Meg’s hand. You may need this. Leave it on the ground by the back step when you’re done.” “Thank you.” Meg kept her head down, making her way to the stairs. She wanted to run, but she forced herself to take one step at a time. Reaching the room, she found the door locked,
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so she took a candle from a wall sconce, and held it near the doorknob. Her hands shook so badly she dropped the key on the first try. When she finally got the door open, it creaked loud enough to wake the dead, but she entered anyway. Lucien was on the floor, struggling against the ropes binding his wrists, thighs, and ankles. He stopped moving when he saw her, and his eyes widened. She bent down and removed his gag. After a few choked attempts at speech, he said, “Meg?” “It’s me.” “Why?” “I know what it’s like to be their prisoner, and you don’t deserve it.” She pulled a knife from her boot. Lucien’s eyes narrowed when he spotted the knife. “Where did you get that?” She began working on the ropes, freeing his hands first so he could work on getting the feeling back while she cut the ropes from his legs. “The knife is…well, it’s yours. I took it when you left me alone in the cabin. Just be glad I have it.” “I am.” These simple words moved her more than she liked, and she lifted her head to look at him. There was more emotion in his eyes than she’d yet seen. Confusion. Exhaustion. Appreciation. When she finished cutting the last rope, Meg asked if he could stand. “I’ll do whatever I must.” “Follow me then, we’ll go down the back stairs.” Lucien swayed as he came to his feet, but after holding the door frame for a few seconds, he felt ready to proceed. He worried about the blood he’d lost, but he thought he could make it to the stable. “I think they brought my saddle bag to the room. Would you look for it?” If it hadn’t been emptied, his bag would contain whiskey, bandages and a needle and thread for stitches.
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Meg recovered the bag, and they made it down the stairs and into the yard without incident. Lucien had to rest on the steps while Meg bent down to leave the key for the serving girl. Meg held his arm, helping to steady him, and they reached the stables. He resented his lack of control. It was humiliating to be led by his former prisoner, but at the same time, he was grateful for her help. “No time for a saddle,” he said when she led him to Dragon’s stall. Hurt as he was, he lifted her onto Dragon’s back, pulling himself up after her. The horse charged through the door, nearly flattening a stable boy. Lucien clung tightly to the stallion’s mane as spots swam before his eyes. He’d never been so thankful for Dragon’s ability to understand exactly what his rider needed. About half an hour later, his arms began to go numb. He knew he couldn’t hold on much longer. He glanced over his shoulder to check one more time for pursuers. When he saw none, he directed Dragon off the road in the direction of a barn he’d used before as a safe house. He hoped it would still be well supplied. When they arrived at their destination, he slid from the horse and reached out to help Meg. “I’ll see to Dragon,” she said as soon as her feet hit the ground. “Go on inside and lie down.” Lucien wanted to protest, but he didn’t have the strength. He told Meg where she would find a lantern, matches, and other provisions. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other until he reached an inviting pile of hay inside the barn and collapsed. He woke disoriented. Hot pain flashed across his side, but he couldn’t remember what was wrong or where he was. He opened his eyes to see Meg bent over him. When he realized she had pushed up his shirt, he remembered being stabbed. Then the entire hellish day came back to him. The expression of horror on Meg’s face told him his wound must look as bad as it felt. He tried to ignore the pain by focusing his mind on something else, so he studied Meg. The soft light from the lantern made her skin and hair glow and brightened her
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brown eyes. Despite his discomfort, her feathery touch on his chest caused his body to tighten. He wanted to pull her across him and kiss her, but he wasn’t even sure he could move. “Why did you come after me?” Meg lifted her head and met his gaze. “Oh! You’re awake.” “Tell me why.” “I’ll explain later. First something must be done about your wound. I didn’t save you so you could die of infection.” “Fine, but after I’ve cleaned it, we’re going to have a long talk.” She gave a reticent nod. He struggled to push himself up, using only his right arm. “Hand me my bag.” She did as he asked, but he had to pause for a moment, leaning heavily on his arm. Just that small movement had his heart racing. “Don’t risk taking the lantern outside. There’s a water pump about two feet from the door. Take a bucket and fill it.” He struggled to sit up further, so he could look for his medical supplies. By the time he had gathered what was needed, his breathing was labored, and sweat dripped down his chest. His mind told him to lie down, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. He took a few swallows from his flask of whiskey, hoping it would dull the pain a bit. Meg returned with the water, and he wet a cloth, but before he could bend to clean the wound, darkness closed in, and he swayed. Meg touched his arm. “Please lie down and let me help you. I can clean this as well as you can.” Lucien shook his head and attempted to steady himself, but when he leaned on his left arm, he stretched his injured side and his arm gave way. If Meg hadn’t caught his head, it would have slammed against the floor. He was at the mercy of a woman he had captured. A woman he should, by all rights, hate. Her hand felt warm against the back of his neck, and her breasts pressed against his shoulder. He turned his head, willing himself to ignore how desirable she was and forcing
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himself to concentrate on the task at hand. “You need to get any dirt or dried blood out with the cloth then clean it with the whiskey.” She eased her hand from under his head, brushing his hair back from his face. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.” “The most skilled physician couldn’t keep this from hurting. Do what needs to be done.” She took the damp cloth and rubbed tentatively at first. Eventually she grew brave enough to increase the pressure. It hurt like hell, but he closed his eyes and bit his lip, refusing to let her see his agony. “I am going to clean it with the whiskey now.” She hesitated, and he opened his eyes. “I’ve been in much worse pain than this. Just do it.” She began to pour, and he gasped. By the time she was finished, he had bitten his lip hard enough to make it bleed. He forced himself to continue his instructions, gasping for breath as he spoke. “You’ll have to stitch it. Then put some salve on it and bandage it.” Meg looked down at the wound. “I must warn you, I’m not the best seamstress. My samplers always come out crooked.” He smiled despite his agony. “All you have to do is seal it to stop the bleeding.” She reached out and ran a finger over the bloody spot on his lip. “You don’t have to hold back if it hurts. I wouldn’t tell anyone if you cried.” He shuddered involuntarily. “You concentrate on stitching, and don’t worry about me.” When Meg had finished, she sat back. Lucien leaned up as much as he was able and inspected her work. Despite her concerns, the stitches were neat and even—far better than he could have done himself. Her head was resting on her knees and she was shaking. She looked more frightened than she’d been when he captured her. “You did an excellent job.” Meg didn’t move. “What’s wrong?”
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She raised her head and pushed the loose strands of hair from her deep brown eyes. Her face was wet with tears. “I’m just tired. I’ll be all right.” The capable woman who had rescued him had all but disappeared, leaving in her place a frightened young lady, and the need to protect her surged through Lucien. He sat up, trying not to pull his stitches. Meg gasped. “Don’t move. You’re going to hurt yourself.” “Then come here. I want to hold you.” His words startled her. All her life, she’d refused to be the type of woman who needed to be coddled. She’d held strong through her first imprisonment, a second capture, and now an insane rescue, but she was exhausted. For the first time in many years, she truly wanted someone to hold her and let her cry. Lucien arranged himself so he could lean back against the wall, and she moved into his arms. She lay against him, tentatively at first, but the warmth of his embrace called to her, and she snuggled against his shoulder, careful not to put pressure on his side. He stroked her back while silent tears flowed down her cheeks. His touch was surprisingly soothing. Grief and fear subsided, and she became aware of the firmness of his chest. His inviting natural smell mixed with the mint from the salve she’d used on his side. His hand was warm against her back, and she was growing uncomfortably warm herself. She realized she’d better move away, but when she pulled back, their gazes met. The cold steel of his eyes had turned to smoky gray. The look he gave her mimicked the heat rising between them. Neither of them moved for several breaths. Then he lifted his hand to cup her chin. He was going to kiss her. Vaguely, she thought she should stop him, but she didn’t want to. She closed her eyes as he moved closer to her. When his lips met hers, shock waves ran through her. The reality of his kiss was even more overwhelming than what she’d imagined the night before.
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He moved his hand to the back of her head and pulled her against him. As he increased the pressure of the kiss, her body melted into him, asking for more. How could his lips be so soft and so fierce at the same time? She whimpered when his teeth tugged at her bottom lip. Instinctively, she opened her mouth to let him taste her more fully. Her tongue darted out to trace his lower lip. He moaned, and she tangled her hands in his hair, shivering with need. He released her mouth and let his lips slide down her neck as he cupped her breast. She dug her fingers into his scalp and arched against him. Suddenly, he stiffened and broke the kiss. She pulled away and they both struggled to catch their breath. Heat rushed into Meg’s face. She didn’t think she could look Lucien in the eye. What had come over her? He spoke first. “I’m sorry. I let myself get carried away. It won’t happen again.” His tone was impersonal, detached. She looked up, despite her embarrassment. All emotion was gone from his eyes. He was once again the cold, arrogant man who had captured her. Anger boiled inside her. “I’m hardly worried about you ravishing me in your condition.” She picked up the bucket and went outside. As she rinsed the bucket and filled it with fresh water, she couldn’t help but rehash what had happened with Lucien. What had she been thinking? She’d gone all soft and teary. Then she’d let him kiss her. She would never forget the feel of his lips on hers. She didn’t want to go back inside. Now that his wound was bandaged, he would insist on questioning her. She was too exhausted to be convincing at the moment. When she’d stalled as long as she could without worrying him, she headed back inside, hoping the right words would come to her. Fortunately, he’d fallen asleep. Very quietly, she made sure his stitches were holding and touched the back of her hand to his forehead to test for fever. Satisfied that he was all right, she sat down beside him and hoped she could stay awake to keep watch. He’d removed a pistol from his bag, and it lay beside him. At least she knew how to use it if Le Lézard’s guards found them.
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Chapter Three “I am going to ask you one more time. What made you decide to come after me?” “I told you. I want to help you catch Le Lézard. I can’t work with you if you’re dead.” Meg had been fielding Lucien’s questions since he’d awakened greatly refreshed and more determined than ever to find out who she really was. “If you want to work with me, tell me your real name?” “Who I am is unimportant. I want to help you, and I’ve proven myself by saving you.” “There are many reasons you might’ve chosen to save me. Not all of them are noble. You obviously have some connection to Le Lézard.” “I’m not the woman you set out to capture. I want revenge on Le Lézard as much as you do.” “Even if you aren’t Annette, that doesn’t make you trustworthy.” “I have information that will help with our mission. I won’t give it to you unless you let me help you.” “Right now, your only mission is to tell me who you are and what the hell that bastard wants from you.” Meg resisted the urge to scream. She was tired of trying to convince him of her loyalty, but she wasn’t ready to give up all her bargaining chips. If she told her whole story, he’d take her back to Le Havre. In less than a day, she’d be on a boat across the channel. She studied him, trying to decide her next tactic. His cold, gray eyes intimidated her, but every time she looked at him, she remembered how his lips had felt on hers. She reminded herself there was more to this man than his arrogant veneer revealed. “While you’re pondering your response, you could tell me how you managed to follow the guards without being detected. I would imagine they are quite skilled at www.samhainpublishing.com
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finding young women who have escaped from their master.” Lucien gave her a dismissive glance as if he were certain she could only have eluded the guards by magic. “My father took me hunting when I was little.” Lucien raised his brows. “My mother died when I was five, and my father let me do as I liked. He insisted that if I was going to hunt with him, I must learn to track silently. I was an apt pupil.” “I suppose you were.” “I truly want to help you. I wish I could tell you who I am, but I cannot. What I can do is promise you I’m not working for anyone but myself. I will not betray you.” “Assuming your promises mean a damn, have you considered that I may not want a partner, especially a young female one who will need protection?” Meg didn’t have a good response so she kept silent. He sighed. “I have no reason to believe you, but my instincts tell me to do so, and they’ve saved my life more than once. For now, I am going to take you at your word.” “I will not disappoint you.” “Speaking of trust, we still have the matter of my knife to discuss.” “I was frightened. You seemed honorable enough, but I couldn’t be sure what you intended. I needed a way to protect myself.” Lucien ran a hand through his tangled hair and took a deep breath. “I’m probably a fool for saying this, but I want you to keep it. If we are set upon again, you’ll need a weapon. But remember this, I’m faster and stronger than you, and I have a hell of a lot more experience.” “If I’d wanted to stab you, I could have done so while you slept.” He nodded. “True enough. Now, if you’re so dashed eager to help me, tell me everything you know about Le Lézard.” A chill ran over her as memories flashed in her mind, but she forced herself to suppress her fear. “He’s more than a revolutionary. He is also the leader of a secret society, and he claims to worship a dark master. I think he meant the devil himself. The first time I saw him, he ranted about rituals and blood sacrifices.”
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Lucien looked perplexed, but he didn’t say anything so she continued. “Before I was taken to my cell, I saw much of his house. It was extravagantly decorated—rich carpets, silver and gold everywhere, paintings and artifacts in every room. He must be quite wealthy. After viewing the public rooms, you would never guess the basement contained prison cells and a torture room. “He’s well-educated, most likely a gentleman, and some of the men who were there when I arrived were obviously members of the nobility. Some of them were French, but there were Englishmen as well.” That was as close as she could come to telling him about Gaffney, for now at least. “What does he offer that would make a man turn traitor?” “I don’t know. He and his followers didn’t talk much in front of me, but the organization does have a symbol we could use to identify it.” “Describe it.” “Each member of the society wore a pendant with a symbol, the head of a goat surrounded by two triangles. Four lizards were placed around the edge of the circle which encompassed the triangles. I would try to draw it, but my artistic talent is sadly lacking.” “I have a friend in Paris who’s an excellent artist. When we get there, you can describe it to her. Was there anything else that might identify him or his men?” “The hilt of his knife matched the pendant.” “I have a contact in Paris who owns a jewelry store. He should be able to help us once we have a drawing. Could you identify Le Lézard if you saw him again?” “I saw him twice and he wore a mask both times. All I can say for certain is that he has thick dark hair and gray eyes. In fact, his coloring is much like yours. I can’t promise I would recognize him, but his voice was distinctive. If I heard him speak, I would probably know it was him.” “Thank you. That’s more than I’ve been able to learn so far. Hair and eye color are a start, though he could have been wearing a wig.” Meg shook her head. “It wasn’t a wig. I pulled some of his hair out when I struggled to get away.”
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Lucien smiled. “Good for you. Why did he take you prisoner?” “That’s not important to our investigation.” She didn’t want to tell him about Gaffney and risk giving her identity away, nor did she want to relive the horror of her kidnapping. “If we’re going to work together, I need to know why he was after you.” A lump rose in her throat. She swallowed and took a deep breath, telling herself she could keep the memories from overwhelming her, but panic rose at the thought of what she had escaped. Lucien stepped closer and tilted her chin so their gazes met. “Tell me what he did to you.” His voice was low and soft. She could feel tension radiating from his body. “He was going to kill me. He wanted to use me as some sort of sacrifice. He was going to force himself on me and share me with his followers.” She ran her hands up and down her arms, trying to take away the chill brought on by the memory. “The first time I saw him, he told me he looked forward to…to taking me as my blood drained from my body. Then he held a knife to my throat and forced me to kiss him.” She turned her back on Lucien, not wanting him to see her tears. He took hold of her shoulders and turned her back to face him. “I will see that he is brought to justice. I promise you.” For a few moments, neither of them spoke. She forced herself to wall off her memories and concentrate on the present. “Can you remember anything else that might be useful?” She shook her head. “There's an extra saddle in the barn. I’m going to ready Dragon. We need to get on the road.” “What about your side? You need to be careful.” “I’ve taken more damage than this and survived. We need to get out of here before the guards find us.”
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Meg watched as he readied the stallion. She no longer had any doubts about his honor. He’d been truly appalled by what had happened to her. In fact, his tenderness had affected her far more than she liked.
Lucien was thankful to be flying over the road on Dragon’s back again. His side burned, but he savored the chance to think. He needed time to process what Meg had told him. Of course, he would have been able to think better if he had the horse to himself. Everywhere his body touched Meg’s, he felt a tingling awareness. Her detailed memory of her days with Le Lézard impressed him, and his instincts told him she was telling the truth. Her tears and her fear were genuine, but he still had no clue who she really was. If she was an English spy, he should’ve known about her mission. Had she been working for the French and now wanted to change sides? He didn’t think so. He prayed he was right about her honesty, because if she crossed him, he would have to bring her to justice. He didn’t want to see her pretty neck in the hangman’s noose. She’d given him a new angle on Le Lézard. Before she mentioned it, he’d seen no evidence to connect Le Lézard to a secret society. But it explained much of the evidence that hadn’t made sense before. His name had been connected with several bored, wealthy, less-than-intelligent men—unusual contacts for a field agent, but exactly the type of men who might join a secret society to break the monotony of their frivolous lives. Questions flew through his mind as he tried to sort out what he had learned. Was the Lizard insane or simply cruel? Did he truly believe he worked for some dark master or was he trying to get others to do his dirty work by playing with them? Then there was the question that had started his mission—why had this man sought him out? He was concerned that there had been no sign of Le Lézard’s guards. He didn’t relish the idea of another fight with his injury still plaguing him, but if these men had any skill at all, they should have caught up to him by now. Had they returned to the Lizard emptyhanded or were they still lurking somewhere on the road to Paris?
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When the sun was high in the sky, he looked for a place to stop and rest. A stream came into view. He steered Dragon off the road, looking for a secluded spot where they could eat the last of his meager supply of food. Meg was nearly asleep in the saddle. He moved her hands from his waist and turned to her. She pushed several strands of hair off her face and blinked her eyes. When she dismounted, her legs crumbled under her, and she had to grab his arm for support. “Can you find us a spot where we can rest and eat while I see to Dragon?” She rubbed her eyes. “Yes. I’m fine.” “Find some place to sit down. I’ll bring our food.” Watching her stiff, bow-legged walk, he realized what a grueling pace he’d set for them. She hadn’t really slept in days, and he had no idea whether she was used to riding for hours at a time. But he wanted to reach Paris in two days, and he couldn’t afford to slow down. He joined her under a tree, bringing the last of the food from his saddlebag. “Here’s some bread and cheese. I know it’s not much, but I’m hoping we’ll make it to Rouen in a few hours. We can get a proper meal there. When they’d finished eating, Meg lay back in the grass and looked up at the sky. Lucien watched her, marveling once again at her beauty. She must have felt his gaze, because she turned to him and asked, “What is it?” He shook his head. “Nothing.” She studied him for a moment. “Why are you after Le Lézard?” He stiffened. “That’s not something I can discuss. I agreed to let you work with me, but I still have no proof you aren’t feeding information to the French.” “Is that what you really think? That I’m going to use you and turn you over to Le Lézard’s men. If so, I can leave, but I’m the one who saw his pendant. I’m the one who might recognize him.” Lucien’s anger boiled over. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, barely resisting the urge to shake her. “The guards are out there somewhere. How long do you think you’d survive on your own? You refused to tell me who you are or how you ended
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up with Le Lézard, so don’t blame me for not trusting you. I won’t give away information to someone I don’t know.” “Is there anyone you trust completely?” Her words hit too close to home. “I don’t know.” “Try it. Take a risk.” “My whole life is about risks.” So why not take another one? This was insane. He’d never been this careless before. He’d be dead if he had. He couldn’t decide what to say to her, but his body had no doubt what it wanted. Her anger had made her breathing ragged, and his gaze was drawn to the swell of her breasts as they rose and fell. Before his mind registered what he was doing, he moved to kiss her. He stopped himself before their lips met and pulled away, releasing his hold on her arm. He shook his head and stood. “I can’t. I’m going to check for signs of pursuit. Stay here.”
“Can’t trust me or can’t kiss me again?” Meg whispered to herself as she watched him retreat. Though it shamed her, his pulling back from kissing her frustrated her more than his mistrust. She desired his trust, but she understood why he couldn’t give it. She considered telling him who she was. She’d proven she could be useful by rescuing him and stitching his wound, but she was still afraid he would send her packing if he knew she had no experience as a spy. A few moments later, he returned and joined her on the blanket they’d used for the picnic. “I never tell anyone, not even my fellow agents, everything about a mission.” “So you admit to being a government agent? You do realize I don’t know you any better than you know me.” Lucien looked puzzled. Had it never occurred to him that she might doubt his word? “I work for the British government, and Lucien is my real name.” She was touched that he’d told her his real name.
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“When we first learned of him, Le Lézard appeared to be a typical French agent.” Startled, Meg’s gaze flew to Lucien’s face. Was he going to answer her question after all? “The night before the battle began at Vittoria, my regiment was ambushed. French troops snuck into our camp while most of the men slept. All our sentries were killed. The French knew exactly where our guards had been posted. Someone had sold us out. Later I found out that a French agent, known only as Le Lézard, paid someone for the information, but the traitor has never been identified. “I can still hear the screams of men being stabbed to death in their tents. I grabbed my pistol and my sword and ran out into the night, but I only cut down two Frenchmen before I was shot. “When I regained consciousness, I was on a ship crossing the channel. The doctor who attended me didn’t expect me to make it. The bullet grazed my head, and they’d feared I would never awaken. I proved them wrong, but it took me over a year to fully recover.” “The scar on your temple—that’s where it came from.” He nodded. “So you came back to France to get revenge?” “I hadn’t planned to. I sold my commission, and I wanted to put my time in the army behind me. Then, right before Napoleon surrendered, one of the few survivors from my former regiment was found dead. A note was pinned to him saying Le Lézard was alive and well. The bastard challenged me to track him down.” “Why did he single you out?” Lucien shook his head. “I wish I knew. I assumed he was one of Boney’s agents. I thought perhaps I’d stolen some information from him or managed to escape a trap he’d set, but after hearing what you’ve told me, I’m even more confused.”
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The taproom of the Le Chat Noir was crowded and noisy, but Lucien hardly noticed as he stared into his pint of ale. They’d arrived in Rouen at dusk, and he hadn’t been able to get Meg settled fast enough. He’d explained that her dinner would be sent up to her room. Then he’d left, giving the excuse that she would want some privacy. But in truth, he was the one who needed to get away. Feeling her arms wrapped around his waist and her firm breasts pressed into his back during the long ride had tested the limits of his control. He’d taken his supper alone, all the while surveying the room, hoping to find a woman with whom he could spend a few hours. The serving girl who’d brought his food had certainly been willing enough. She’d leaned over the table, so he could view her ample cleavage. But instead of reaching for the quick fondle she offered, he’d thought of how Meg’s breasts felt in his palm. He compared every woman who caught his eye to Meg and none measured up. He had hoped to end his raging need for her by losing himself in a willing companion, but he’d finally forced himself to admit it wasn’t going to work. If he dallied with every barmaid in the inn, he would still see Meg’s face and want her. Even the numerous pints of ale he’d drunk hadn’t taken the edge off his desire. He swore and stood up. He’d sat there so long that only a few hours were left before they needed to get on the road. He had to at least try to sleep, not that there was much chance of that with Meg lying across the room. They were less likely to draw attention masquerading as husband and wife, so he’d gotten them a single room. But as he climbed the stairs, he began to think sharing a room had been a big mistake. He pushed the door open quietly, hoping to find Meg sound asleep. The first thing his mind registered was her round behind pointing toward the door as she bent over his satchel clad in nothing but her shift. His possessions were scattered over the floor, and she was frantically shoving them back in his bag. “What the hell are you doing?” Lucien rushed across the room, grabbed her arms, and pulled her away from the bag.
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Her eyes were wide, and her arms shook under his grip. “I was looking for soap. I wanted to wash.” He released her arms and paced the room, trying desperately to keep from resorting to violence. No matter how angry he was, he wasn’t going to hit her. “If all you wanted was an innocent bar of soap, why were you rushing to put things back?” “You asked me not to touch your bag, so I thought you’d be angry.” “Damned right I’m angry.” Needing to take out his rage on something, he picked up a chair and slammed it against the floor. She stared at him, stark fear on her face. “I’m sorry.” “I can’t work with you if I can’t trust you.” “I haven’t done anything wrong.” She kicked his bag toward him. “Look through it. See if anything’s been taken.” “I don’t care if you took anything or not. You disobeyed me.” The sight of her so scantily clad was affecting him more than he wanted to admit. Her cheeks were flushed, and her chest heaved with indignation. His gaze dropped to her full breasts, and his cock stiffened as the heat of his anger channeled in a new direction. She frowned at him. “How stupid do you think I am? I would never expect you to hide anything important in such an obvious place?” Most of her rich, red hair had come loose from her braid and it swirled around her, framing her face and her cleavage. She was too beautiful to be anything less than dangerous. He turned away from her before he did something he’d regret. “Get dressed and get out.” When she didn’t move, he faced her again, taking a step toward her in the hope she would be intimidated. She stood her ground. He continued to move toward her. She grabbed his knife from the table by the bed.
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Burning anger flashed before his eyes. He’d be damned if she’d hold his own knife on him. He stepped close enough to touch her. She held the knife between them, the point pressing into his breast bone. He grabbed her wrists and shoved her against the wall, easily pinning her hands above her head. He exerted pressure on her right wrist until her hand came open, and the knife clattered to the floor. He held her there, unable to decide what to do next. Let her go? Tie her hands? Kiss her? Every second his body pressed against hers, he became more aware of his need for her. He was about to make a huge mistake. He’d told himself not to get involved with this woman. His work in intelligence had primarily involved the passing of military secrets. He’d never needed to sleep with women to get his information, and he’d made a policy of never taking the women he worked with to bed. But perhaps there was only one way to get this woman out of his system. Then he would take her to Paris and arrange to never see her again. She looked up, and he knew she felt his hard shaft pressed into her belly. Later, he would swear to himself that if he’d seen anything but desire in her eyes, if she’d protested or pushed at him instead of gasping softly, he’d have backed away. But her actions were exactly what he suspected of a woman who lived outside the bounds of Society. His mouth took hers, and all his anger melted into hot desire. She kissed him back, and his tongue pushed into her mouth, probing, tasting. Desire raged in him, and he couldn’t be gentle. He held her hands above her head as he ground himself against her, forcing her to feel the whole length of his shaft. His teeth sank into her bottom lip, then nipped the tender flesh of her neck. No longer able to resist the compulsion to touch her breasts, he released her arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. He cupped her breasts and teased their peaks through the thin fabric of her shift, before unlacing the delicate ribbon that strained across her cleavage. She slid her hands down his back to allow him to push the garment from her shoulders. Her eagerness fueled the fire in him.
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When he freed her breasts, he took several seconds just to stare. He found them absolutely perfect, smooth and strikingly pale. The tips were deeply red like her lips, and the contrast was unbelievably erotic. He brushed a kiss across the upper swell of one breast, and Meg sighed. But when his mouth locked over the peak, she whimpered and pressed his head to her. He licked and suckled the tempting bud while she twisted from side to side, trying to press her lower body against his. He forced himself to tear his mouth from hers, wanting to get them to the bed before he took her on the hard floor. He scooped her into his arms and carried her across the room. She traced the line of his jaw and rubbed her finger over his lips. The look of wonder on her face sent a jolt of desire through him that caused his knees to buckle. He had to toss her on the bed or risk falling. Meg propped herself on her elbows and watched as Lucien unbuttoned his shirt. She shouldn’t be doing this. If she returned home now, most people would assume she’d been ruined in the midst of her ordeal, but her family might believe her and she would know the truth. If she let Lucien continue, she could never return to her old life. By letting him take her innocence, she would be committed to a completely new life, one that might or might not include him. Her heart pounded. She should tell him to stop. She had no doubt he would do as she asked, but she didn’t want to send him away. His exquisite touches made her body burn with need, but she still had the wits about her to realize that sensation alone wasn't reason enough to cut herself off from her former world. She’d been denied pleasure enough in her life to know she could bear it. What she couldn’t bear was returning to London and letting her aunt set her out on the marriage market again. She wanted freedom and part of that freedom was the right to chose pleasure for herself. She imagined her old life fading away and felt no regret, so she let herself fully focus on Lucien again. She bit her lip to hold in a moan as he let his shirt drop to the floor. The hard muscles of his chest were no less intriguing than they’d been when she’d stitched his wound, and
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now she could look her fill. For a fleeting moment, she worried their exertions might reopen his wound, but she quickly forgot her concern when his hands went to the waist of his pants. He slid the smooth buckskin down his hips and freed his thick shaft. Meg couldn’t stifle her gasp. She forced herself to move her gaze upward, but when she saw the look on his face, she blushed. He definitely knew the effect he was having on her. The heat in her cheeks grew stronger, but she refused to look away. He knelt on the bed, gripping the end of her shift and pushing it slowly up her thighs. Meg shivered as the rough skin of his hands moved over her tender flesh. When he reached her bottom, she lifted herself, and he slid the garment up her body and over her head, leaving her completely naked. Tossing the shift aside, Lucien sat back on his heels and parted her thighs. For a moment, she was embarrassed to be so exposed, but when his hand moved between her legs, rational thought ceased. He brushed his fingers across the part of her that had grown damp with need, and her hips pressed against his hand. His fingers moved lower, and he slipped a finger inside her, and she squirmed against him, closing her eyes and gripping the blanket with her hands. “Please,” she whimpered, not knowing exactly what she asked for. He lifted himself over her and tilted her hips up. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling his mouth down to hers. He began to enter her, and she braced herself for pain. He froze for a few seconds, and she grew desperate for him to move again. “Lucien, please. Now.” She arched into him, unable to say more. He drew back his hips and plunged deep. A sharp pain took her breath, but desire rushed back almost immediately. Lucien withdrew slowly, and she immediately wanted him back inside. “More. Give me more.” Her legs gripped his thighs and his heels dug into his buttocks.
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He gasped then gave her what she wanted. Again and again he filled her. Harder and harder. Meg felt impossibly stretched. She kept thinking it should hurt, but it felt delicious. Her body reached for something she couldn’t explain or define. Then suddenly, her world exploded. Lucien gave a fierce shout and pulled out of her as she succumbed to the riot of sensation.
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Chapter Four Lucien woke feeling a soft, warm body next to him. Remembering his mistake, he sat up and looked at Meg. How had he been so blind? He should have known she wasn’t a spy. But instead of recognizing her innocence, he’d taken a precious gift from her. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. There was no way to change what he’d done. Now he could see her for who she really was—a well-bred lady. Her flawless skin, the way she carried herself, her clear, educated voice all indicated she came from the upper echelons of society. He massaged his forehead, trying to hold back the ache his agonized thoughts had brought on. Meg was less fragile and more capable than any of the wealthy young misses he’d known in London, but while she rode well and showed great courage, she had none of the guile or hardness of one who’d spent years deceiving others. Her passion had been genuine, not the well-trained responses of the camp followers he’d frequented in the army or the mistresses he’d kept in London. Questions bombarded him. What was an innocent young woman doing in the captivity of Le Lézard? The London Season was winding down, but half of England had come to see Paris. Had she run away and stumbled onto trouble or had she been taken by one of the Lizard’s men? Why wasn’t she willing to share her identity with him? A respectable gentleman would offer her marriage. Of course, a truly respectable gentleman would have controlled himself around her. But he was far from respectable. What kind of life would she have with him? Even if he took a house in the country and settled down, he’d created so many facades he wasn’t sure who Lucien Archer was anymore. She deserved better. The best thing he could do was return her to her family and pretend this incident had never occurred.
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Lucien’s delightful love-making had released all Meg’s tension. Her muscles felt as if they were made of mush, but as she drifted back to reality, the enormity of what she’d done crashed down on her. She didn’t regret her actions, though. In fact, she wished she could experience such pleasure every day for the rest of her life. Her aunt taught her that respectable women didn’t derive pleasure from what men did to them in the bedroom. The duties of a wife were to be endured so one could produce an heir. But never once had what she’d experienced with Lucien felt like a duty. It had been more like a dream come true. She smiled to herself as she realized her reaction was further evidence of the wild streak that had embarrassed her aunt for years. A jolt of fear shot through her as she wondered for a moment if they could have made a child. She prayed she would not be so unlucky as to become pregnant when she’d just decided to become a fallen woman. She knew there were ways to prevent such a thing. Surely Lucien would know of them. She resolved to ask Lucien what she needed to do before they came together again. She remained motionless on the bed, not yet ready to break the spell that wrapped her like cocoon. What would she say to Lucien? She didn’t want him to think she was going to demand more of him than she’d already asked. If they could work together and also be lovers, then so be it. When their mission was complete, she would leave quietly. She heard footsteps. Then she felt the mattress sag as Lucien sat down. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes, knowing she couldn’t avoid him forever. When she saw him, she knew the passionate man she’d glimpsed earlier had fled. In his place was the detached spy. What would it take to send that arrogant facade away for good? “You’re awake.” “Yes.” She said no more, wanting a better sense of his mood before speaking. Lucien frowned. “If I’d had any idea you’d never been with a man before, I never would have let this happen.”
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She sat up, holding the sheet against herself, self-conscious about her nakedness now that he was dressed. “You didn’t let this happen; I did. You would’ve stopped if I’d asked.” “I should’ve stopped whether you asked or not. I should never have taken such liberties.” Lucien stood abruptly and paced the room, his expression pained as if straining to hold his emotions in check. “For God’s sake, why didn’t you stop me?” “I wanted a chance to experience passion with a man who didn’t want to either hurt me or marry me for my money.” He spun to face her, “Who are you?” “Our agreement hasn’t changed. I will not tell you who I am, but I will help you catch Le Lézard. I don’t expect anything different from you because of what happened between us.” “Our agreement most certainly has changed. You’re not a spy or a government agent. I must have been blind to believe you could be. I will escort you to Paris and arrange for your safe return to England.” Meg tried to hold back her panic. She had to remain composed. “Does being a virgin exclude a woman from being a spy?” “Virtuous young women do not get involved in this line of work.” “After being imprisoned for a week, no one would believe my virtue intact anyway.” Meg’s bitterness came through with every word. “I’m not going home. I’m going to help you catch Le Lézard.” “No. Pack your things. We’re leaving for Paris as soon as you’re dressed.” Meg sat up straighter, no longer concerned about her nakedness. She had to make him accept her help. “I will not go home.” “Why were you imprisoned?” “I have no wish to discuss it.” “Surely your family will be searching for you. Why did you leave them?”
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Meg’s heart pounded. How long did she have before Lucien or someone else discovered her identity? She was determined to make Le Lézard and Gaffney pay for what they had done. Maybe the best way to do that was to tell Lucien her story in exchange for a promise to let her remain with him. Lucien sat down on the bed again. “You’re pale. What’s wrong?” “Nothing. I’m fine.” “Why are you afraid to go back?” “I’m not afraid. There’s nothing for me in London. If I stay here, I have a chance for revenge.” Lucien shook his head. “You cannot stay here.” “Promise to uphold our agreement, and I will tell you who I am and why I can’t go home.” She hoped she could trust him. So far at least, he’d proven true to his word. Lucien’s expression softened, and he stroked her cheek, “I can’t put you in any more danger. Protecting you will slow my investigation. And if the rumors I’ve heard are true, I don’t have much time to stop Le Lézard from carrying out his latest plan.” “You weren’t worried about protecting me until you realized I wasn’t a spy. Besides, I saved you from Le Lézard’s men.” Lucien’s eyes darkened, and his hands tightened into fists. “I appreciate the risk you took for me, but I will not deliberately put you in harm’s way.” “You aren’t putting me there. I’m choosing to help you.” Lucien sighed. “You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.” “My aunt would agree with you.” Lucien tried to stifle a smile as he stood. He walked the length of the room three times before turning to face Meg. “I will take you to Paris, see that you have a safe place to stay, and allow you to help me gather information. I will not take you everywhere I go, nor will I allow you to be with me when I confront Le Lézard. That’s all I’m willing to offer.”
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It was enough. She could always change his mind on the finer points later. As long as he didn’t ship her back to England, she had a chance of finding out who Le Lézard was and proving that Lord Gaffney was involved with him. “My name is Margaret Wentworth.” Lucien’s eyes widened with recognition. “I assume you remember my name from the rumors that circulated about my father’s death and my sizable inheritance.” He nodded but said nothing. “For the record, I don’t believe my father committed suicide. He was a skilled rider, but even the best riders have accidents. He never fully recovered from my mother’s death, but he wouldn’t have abandoned me intentionally.” She hadn’t ruled out the possibility that her father had been murdered, but now wasn’t the time to share her theories on that subject. Lucien nodded. “I’m sure you’re correct.” He was humoring her, but there was no point in arguing with him. Her father had been gone for months. Nothing was going to bring him back. “Now that you know who I am, you understand why I do not wish to return. I’m now ruined in society’s eyes so the only men who will want me are those who are truly desperate.” Lucien studied her closely. “You haven’t told me how you ended up in Le Lézard’s prison.” Meg took a deep breath. She wanted to keep that information to herself for now, a final bargaining chip. “That was not part of our agreement.” Lucien’s eyes nodded. “True, but when we get to Paris, I will send my own contacts to investigate your disappearance. I will find out what happened in time.” “Perhaps, in time, I will tell you myself.” Lucien nodded. “I would like that. For now, we need to find you a horse and get back on the road.” “You will uphold your part of the bargain?” “I will do as I said.”
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She smiled. “Thank you.” “Get dressed.” Her cheeks heated. She had been sitting on the bed arguing with him as if it were quite natural to do so without any clothes on. “I know this sounds silly, but could you give me privacy to dress?” His lips curled up, but he turned toward the door. “It’s a little early yet to hope for a hot breakfast, but I’ll go downstairs and see what I can find.”
Lucien smiled to himself as he closed the door behind him. Meg had been arguing with him as if she were in a London drawing room, not naked on a bed at a country inn. Her nudity hadn’t bothered her in the least until she’d gotten him to agree to her demands. She might not be a spy, but she was certainly nothing like the young women he’d met in London. Once they got to Paris, he would contact his colleague, Fabienne. She owed him a favor, and she was the perfect person to keep Meg both safe and entertained. Fabienne was a damn good spy, but her work involved gathering information while attending salons and parties. While her work was not without danger, it was as safe as espionage could be. Meg could work with Fabienne while he went back into the field. He needed to put some distance between himself and Meg. Being close to her for long could do serious damage to his sanity. He didn’t know how he would keep himself from touching her again, but he knew he must, because he had nothing to offer her. She should be more than a man’s mistress. As unlikely as it sounded, he believed the story she’d told him. He wanted more information, but he doubted she’d be willing to tell him more than she already had. Once he got her settled, he intended to contact some friends in London and ask them to investigate her disappearance from London. One way or another he would find out how a young heiress of the ton ended up in Le Lézard’s prison.
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When Lucien reached the entrance to the taproom, he eased back into the shadow of the stairwell. The Lizard’s guards were sitting at a table in the far corner. Had they not yet discovered that he and Meg were at the inn, or were they waiting to make their move? He had a hard time believing Le Lézard had hired men as incompetent as these two seemed to be. Something wasn’t right about the situation, and he damn well intended to find out what it was. When a serving girl walked past him heading toward the back exit, he followed her. “Could I have a moment of your time?” She jumped then turned to face him. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I mean you no harm.” “I didn’t hear you come out, Monsieur. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. I must get the breakfast ready.” Lucien blocked her path. “I need some information, and I’m willing to make it worth your while.” He extracted several coins from his pocket and held them out to her. She glanced at the coins, her eyes wide, but she shook her head. “I really can’t help you, monsieur. They’ll miss me inside. Please, let me go.” Lucien pulled out two more coins. “I promise this will not take long.” She nodded. “I’ll try, but please hurry. I must get back inside.” “There are two men seated at the front corner table. One is tall and thin with a deep scar over his left eye. The other one is of medium height but thick and well-muscled. I need to know when they arrived.” “They came in about an hour ago. I told them as how we didn’t have any food ready yet, but they said they didn’t mind waiting.” “Have you heard anything they’ve said?” “They spoke to Armand, the innkeeper. They said they’d been in town for a day, looking for some friends. They described a man—” She studied him for a few moments. “Monsieur, I think they are looking for you.” “Did they mention any names?”
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“No, but one of them said he had to meet someone else. The other one agreed to stay here and keep watch.” “Any idea where this meeting will take place?” “He said he’d be riding toward Anselm.” Lucien pressed the coins into her palm. “Thank you. You’ve been quite helpful. I have one more thing to ask of you. My wife is upstairs in our room. I need you to give her a message. Do you think you can do that?” “Yes, Monsieur.” “She’s in the second room on the left. Tell her the Lizard’s men are here, and she must remain in the room until I get back.” The serving girl looked confused, but she made no comment. “Yes, Monsieur. I’ll tell her, Monsieur.” “Thank you. Go quickly now.” He shooed her away, certain she would tell Meg the message but less sure of Meg’s reaction. All he could do was hope Meg would trust him. He hated to leave her on her own, but he needed to discover where Le Lézard’s man was headed and who he intended to meet.
Meg jumped when she heard a knock on the door. She glanced at herself once more in the mirror. Lucien had already seen her at her worst, but after what had happened between them, she felt self-conscious about her appearance. Her stolen dress was much too large, and the breeches she wore underneath made her waist lumpy, but she’d tried her best. She hadn’t expected Lucien to knock, but she appreciated the gesture. “Come in,” she called as she made a final attempt to tame her wild curls. The door opened, and Meg saw, not Lucien, but a maid standing there. “Good morning, Madame. I have a message from your husband.” “My husband?”
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“Yes, Madame.” The young girl glanced toward the stairs and then back at Meg. “I do hope I have the right room. He’s a tall man with dark brown hair.” Meg suddenly remembered that Lucien had pretended they were married when he arranged for their room. “Yes, that’s him. What did he say?” The maid looked worried. “I do hope I can remember it all. He was quite insistent, but I’m afraid he got me quite flustered.” Meg smiled. “Yes, he’s quite good at that.” “He said someone’s men were here. Oh, dear…it was an animal name.” “Le Lézard?” Meg leaned against the edge of the door, her heart racing. The girl smiled. “Yes, that’s it. He said the Lizard’s men were here, and you must stay in the room while he goes on an important errand.” “Did he say what this errand was?” “No, Madame, but I think he meant to follow one of the men who was leaving. He asked about it anyway.” Meg picked up her stolen bonnet. “Which way did he go?” The young girl wrung her hands. “I don’t know as I should say, Madame. He was very specific about you staying in the room. I wouldn’t like him to get angry with me.” “I will tell him you tried to stop me.” The girl sighed. “I told him one of the men was headed toward Anselm.” “And where is that?” “To the south, Madame, but you would be much safer here.” “I appreciate your concern.” The girl looked on the verge of tears as Meg pushed past. She hated to have frightened her, but she’d be damned if she’d let Lucien ride off without her. When she reached the stables, she bullied the postboy into giving her a horse, asserting that she didn’t have time to speak to the innkeeper about it. As she rode through the narrow streets, she feared she wouldn’t catch up with Lucien. But she caught sight of Dragon near the edge of town. She was grateful Lucien rode such a large and recognizable stallion.
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Lucien pressed himself flat against the wall of the farmhouse where the guard had stopped. The window above him was open. If he concentrated carefully, he could make out snippets of the conversation between Le Lézard’s guard and the two men he’d come to meet. He knew Meg had followed him, and he hoped she had the sense to stay back by the road where he’d left Dragon. He’d known better than to think she would stay in the room. If she didn’t manage to get them killed, he was going to have a long talk with her about exactly what helping him entailed and what it did not. Hearing soft footsteps, he turned, pistol in hand, but the startled figure he saw before him was Meg. Apparently, she hadn’t any sense at all. Lowering his weapon, he motioned sharply for her to join him on the ground under the window. She settled herself beside him, and he raised a finger to his lips, willing her not to make a sound. She shot him a withering look as if to say she would hardly be so stupid as to speak with the men so close. From what Lucien could gather of the conversation, Le Lézard was planning a gathering of his cult one week hence. But Lucien couldn’t hear where the meeting was to take place. However, he had recognized the voice of one of the men, it was Lord Gaffney, the only other officer from his regiment to survive Vittoria. He’d finally found Le Lézard’s informant. If Meg hadn’t been there, he might have tried to bring the man down on the spot despite the three-to-one odds. The conversation died down, and he heard chairs scrape across the floor, he put his arm across Meg’s body pressing them both tightly against the wall. The men exited from the back of the farmhouse and headed toward the barn. Fortunately, the morning haze had yet to burn off, and the shadow of a tree covered the pair’s hiding place. The men would only see them if they looked carefully, but Lucien’s heart still pounded. On his own, he might get away, but he had no idea how fast Meg could run.
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Gaffney was the last of the men to exit, and when the tall, lanky blond came into sight, Meg gasped loudly. “What was that?” Gaffney asked. Lucien put his hand over Meg’s mouth and pushed her flat against the ground. “Be ready to run like hell,” he whispered against her ear. “What was what?” the Lizard’s guard asked. “Didn’t you hear it? I think someone’s out here.” “Probably one of the horses or maybe a cat.” “No, it sounded like a woman.” “You’re just wishing there was a woman out here,” the third man said, chuckling. “If someone followed us, we need to know about it,” Gaffney snapped. “What would a woman be doing up at this hour following us around?” asked the guard. “He’s right. There’s no one here but us. Let’s get moving,” said the third man. The men entered the barn and Lucien stood, motioning for Meg to follow. They eased around to the front of the house where they couldn’t be seen. Lucien concentrated on the sound of the men’s horses. Fortunately, they headed away from the road where they wouldn’t see Dragon or Meg’s horse. When the sound of retreating hooves died out, he turned to Meg. “How do you know Gaffney?” “He was one of my suitors.” Her voice was low and choked. “Stay here. I’m going to make sure they’re all gone.” Satisfied no one had been left behind to guard the house, Lucien returned to Meg. “To the barn. Now.” He grabbed her arm, pulled her to her feet, and marched her into the barn where he ordered her to sit on an upturned bucket. He dropped to his knees in front of her and grabbed her arms. “This is no parlor game. Lives are at stake here. Ours as well as others. You’re going to tell me everything you left out this morning. No more secrets, or I’m shipping you back to England.” Meg’s eyes widened, and he felt her body stiffen. “Please let go.”
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He released her immediately, angry with himself that he hadn’t shown better control. “I’m tired of secrets too. I want to work with you. I believe I can help you, and I’m not playing a game. I’m going to tell you everything, but I want you to remember that no matter how my story may sound, I’m not a mindless debutante.” “That is one thing I would never mistake you for.” They stared at each other silently for some time before she looked down at her lap and began her tale. “As you may imagine, a number of men have paid court to me over the last year, all eager to get their hands on my fortune. Several months ago, Lord Gaffney made me an offer of marriage in the most pompous manner imaginable. I turned him down without a second thought. “Then a few weeks ago, Gaffney, renewed his advances. I still didn’t care for him. He’s arrogant, lacking in wit, and more than a bit foppish. But he’s quite handsome, and I found myself more inclined to encourage his attentions.” Pinkness crept into her cheeks. “I’m not proud of this, but I intended to use him. I thought I’d enjoy a few weeks flirtation, maybe share a few kisses in the hedgerows, then once again decline his suit.” Words tumbled from her mouth faster and faster. Lucien dared not interrupt for fear she would stop. He wanted, needed to know what had happened to her. “One night he suggested we go for a walk in the gardens. I assumed if he got me alone he’d kiss me. I’d never been properly kissed, and the idea intrigued me immensely. We enjoyed a…passionate interlude.” Her cheeks flamed red. “I was a fool, but only men who needed my money showed any interest in me. The others ignored me, because I was willing to speak my mind and prove myself smarter than they. I longed for something to break the monotony of it all. At that moment, an illicit tryst seemed just the thing. “When Gaffney lured me out a second time, I went without a moment’s hesitation. The last thing I remember about our encounter was Gaffney hitting me over the head and tossing me into a carriage. I woke up on a boat in the midst of the channel crossing. He kept me tied up throughout the journey, then delivered me to Le Lézard.” Lucien felt ill. “Gaffney had you abducted?”
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“I know it sounds unlikely, considering his respectability, but he did, the bastard. How are you acquainted with him?” “Not unlikely at all. The bastard served in my regiment. I believe he’s the one who sold us out to the French.” “Dear God.” “He’s the only other officer who survived, and now he’s here. Do you have any idea what Gaffney’s motive was in abducting you?” “Like I told you before, Le Lézard was planning some sort of blood sacrifice, but as to why Gaffney would be in charge of finding a victim or why he chose me, I don’t know. Revenge for spurning him?” “Perhaps. Though it would be easier to obtain a victim from France and to choose a woman from the lower classes who would not be missed as you surely have been. Do you have any other connection with their family?” Meg shook her head. “None that I’m aware of. My aunt was angry that I turned Gaffney down, but she mentioned no particular reason why I should accept him other than that he came from a respectable family.” “Apparently not as respectable as they seem.” “Indeed not.” Meg was silent for a few moments, her eyes tired and bleak. Finally, she spoke again, her voice so soft Lucien barely heard her. “If I hadn’t escaped, I would have been used as a sacrifice. I’d likely be dead right now.” She shuddered and sagged against the wall as if all the spirit had drained from her. Rage flowed through Lucien. He would have killed Gaffney with his bare hands if the fool had chosen that moment to come back, but some of his anger was directed at himself. He’d been so careless last night. Meg was sure to realize he’d used her desire just like that damn bastard had. He vowed not to let it happen again. He couldn’t let her think all men were such monsters. She stood, swaying on her feet. The color drained from her face. “Lucien, I think I’m going to be sick.” She stumbled toward one of the empty stalls and bent double, gagging.
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He knew how she felt. Her body wanted to rid itself of the guilt and horror. Only it wouldn’t work. He hadn’t been able to do it when he’d seen his mother’s crumpled body lying at the foot of the stairs nor when he realized his regiment had been massacred, and she wouldn’t be able to do it now. Meg sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’ll be fine.” He didn’t know what to say. He doubted she’d accept his sympathy, nor was this the time to talk more about Gaffney. Perhaps a change of location was best. “Did you leave your horse with Dragon?” She nodded. “There’s a creek that runs behind the barn. Go clean up, and I’ll get our mounts.”
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Chapter Five Meg and Lucien had been riding at a grueling pace, and Meg was glad when Lucien slowed his horse to a trot. But she wasn’t ready to talk, and when he pulled up beside her, she knew that was what he wanted. Other than acknowledging his directions or giving a simple yes or no, she hadn’t spoken since they’d left the farmhouse. Lucien had seen her safely back to the inn, brought her breakfast, and arranged for the next stage of their journey. Her mind had been spinning, and she felt incapable of doing any but the most basic tasks. She was grateful he was there to take care of things, yet she was so embarrassed she couldn’t meet his eyes. Talking about what had happened with Gaffney made her feel more of a fool than ever. The story made her sound both wanton and disgustingly naive. She’d risked her safety and her reputation. She’d trusted Gaffney not to harm her. How could she have judged a person so wrongly? She’d known Gaffney cared little about anyone but himself. She’d thought she could use him as a diversion from the tedium of the Season then return to the country and forget he existed. How could she have accepted his interest in her so easily? Other men with money didn’t want her. Why should he? If her judgment had failed her so miserably with Gaffney, she could be dead wrong about Lucien. He’d given her no reason to doubt his honor, but if he’d really been a spy for years, he’d know how to trick her. He might have no intention of letting her work with him. He might not even be who he said he was. It wasn’t as if she could verify his connection to the British government. As Dragon trotted alongside her mare, Meg felt Lucien watching her, assessing her. She knew he wanted to say something, but she didn’t turn to face him. “You’re still terribly pale. Do you need to stop?” www.samhainpublishing.com
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“No.” “Meg?” “Please, I don’t want to talk.” “Gaffney and everyone he’s working with will pay for what they’ve done. I swear it.” His words were clipped, and Meg marveled at the strength of the anger that simmered beneath his usually calm exterior. “I want them all to die for what they’ve done, but that doesn’t change the fact that I behaved like a fool. I suppose you think me completely lacking in decency.” “No. I think you’re headstrong and willful. Everyone makes mistakes. I’ve made plenty in my life, and I know how hard it can be to trust yourself again. But if you’re going to be helpful, you must stop blaming yourself and concentrate on figuring out who the Lizard is and why he’s targeted us.” “You still intend to let me help you?” “I trust you now more than ever. You’ve been through hell, but you survived. Anyone who could live through what you did and have enough wits about her to plan an escape deserves my admiration.” He paused for a moment to brush some leaves from Dragon’s mane. Then he looked back at her. “I hope you understand why I couldn’t believe you at first.” She took a deep breath and met his gaze. His respect for her was reflected there along with something else she couldn’t name, something more tender. Suddenly, desire flared inside her, and she longed to reach out and touch him. “You had every reason not to believe me, yet you’ve treated me impeccably. I can’t hold your actions against you. In fact, I take it as a compliment that you thought I was a spy.” He smiled. “You would.” Then his eyes clouded and he looked away as if he were embarrassed. “I didn’t treat you well last night. I assumed—” “I already told you, I’m as responsible for what happened as you are. I wanted it to happen.” “That doesn’t matter. I preyed on your natural desires just like Gaffney.”
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“Is that what’s bothering you? You are nothing like him! When he touched me, he wanted to hurt me, to control me. You gave me pleasure.” Lucien looked up suddenly. His gaze locked with hers, frightening in its intensity, but she couldn’t look away. “What happened between you?” She shuddered at the memory. “During the crossing he would come into the cabin where I was restrained and fondle me, toy with me. He told me he would have his way with me later, but the Lizard had to have me first.” “I will kill him.” He said these words slowly and precisely, in a voice that made her realize how lethal he could be. Tension radiated from him, making her wary of his mood. She wanted to press the issue, to convince him he’d done nothing wrong in making love to her. She decided she’d best pursue her point later.
They rode in silence until they entered a village. “We’ll stop at the inn and get some lunch.” Lucien’s words startled Meg out of a reverie. She’d been wondering what sort of mistakes Lucien might have made that would cause him to doubt himself. He seemed so confident. It was nearly impossible to imagine him doing something as stupid as what she’d done with Gaffney. His words were clipped. She could tell by his rigid spine and the way he gripped the reins that he was still filled with righteous anger. When he lifted her down from the saddle, his hands lingered on her waist. Their warmth soothed her. She rested her hands on his biceps, enjoying the evidence of his strength. She breathed deeply, thinking he even smelled strong and confident. She looked up, and her breath caught. He was looking at her like she was something to be treasured, cherished. “A man would have to be an animal to want to hurt you.”
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His gaze held her in a trance. For a moment, she forgot where she was. Her hands slid up his arms and across his chest. She barely stopped herself from unbuttoning his soft linen shirt. Having to concentrate on every breath, she stepped back, breaking the spell. He let his hands drop and turned toward the inn door. Meg cleared her throat. “We’ll find the Lizard, and we’ll bring him down.” He turned and smiled. “Damn right we will.” Meg sighed. How was she going to convince him he’d done nothing wrong? Even when he thought she worked for the Lizard, he’d treated her with kindness. He wasn’t anything like Gaffney. Surely her judgment was sound enough to see that. He would never willingly hurt a woman. She was convinced he wanted her as much as she wanted him. When she’d touched him, his arms had trembled under her hands. He’d bitten his lip when her hands brushed across his chest. He wanted her, but he was a man who lived by rules. She suppressed a laugh as she imagined him sitting in his study, making a list of things he would not do. Carrying on a liaison with a young woman from a respectable family would be near the top. Now that he knew who she was, he’d forced himself to move her into the untouchable category, but she would have to convince him otherwise. She’d never been good at being respectable anyway, and she didn’t want to start now. She wanted to continue the exploration she’d begun with him. Lucien procured a private parlor. A serving girl came in carrying ham, cheese, bread, pear preserves, and a bottle of wine. Meg realized her stomach was empty as a pit. She’d picked at her breakfast, but something, perhaps Lucien’s concern, had given her back her appetite. He must have been starving too, because he tucked into his food without so much as a word to her. After they’d sated their hunger, she decided to find out more about what he’d learned that morning. “Why didn’t the guards attack us this morning? Surely they knew we were at the inn.” “I don’t think they intended to capture us. They only wanted to follow our trail.”
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“Then why did they attack us yesterday? They said Le Lézard wanted us back.” “That’s what they said, but I no longer believe it. They certainly weren’t taking me back toward Le Havre. We continued toward Paris, exactly as you and I would have if they’d never stopped us.” When she looked up after cutting a piece of cheese, Meg forgot what she meant to say as a different kind of hunger raced through her body. How did Lucien manage to make the simple act of buttering bread sensual? He looked at her quizzically. She took a deep breath and formulated a reply. “Maybe Le Lézard has another home near Paris.” “I would say it’s almost certain he has a base outside of Paris and rooms within the city, but I don’t think the men meant to take me or you there. I think they wanted us to escape.” “Why?” “I think the Lizard is playing with me. I think he wants to make it clear he has the upper hand. If they had wanted to, the guards could have caught up with us on the road to Rouen, or they could have attacked us last night. God knows we were distracted.” His words brought a warm blush to Meg’s cheeks. “I guess I didn’t really save you, after all. They let me take you.” She’d been proud of her rescue, and she didn’t want to think she’d played right into the guards hands. “What you did was brave. Whether or not they could have stopped you, I feel I owe you my life.” It made her curiously warm inside to hear him say she was brave. She knew he was not a man to say such words lightly. She studied him as he glanced down to tear a piece of bread. Several curls fell across his forehead. She wanted to reach across and brush them back then run her fingers along the line of his jaw. If this heat continued to flare every time she looked at him, working together was going to be difficult, especially if he kept insisting they shouldn’t be lovers. She took a swallow of wine and tried to compose herself. “Do you think they’ll continue to follow us?”
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“Yes, though I’m quite certain Le Lézard already knows where I’ve procured rooms in Paris and whom I will likely visit when I arrive. We’ll try to lose the guards when we enter the city. I intend for the Lizard to have to work hard to figure out where you’re staying.” “Won’t I be with you?” He shook his head. “You’ll stay with Fabienne. She is one of my contacts in Paris.” Anger tightened Meg’s chest. “You promised me we would continue to work together.” Brushing back the curls that had tempted her earlier, he said, “I don’t want you in any more danger than is absolutely necessary. We know the Lizard’s men are after me, but we don’t know how determined he is to get you back. He may be content to use another woman in your place. Besides, I don’t intend to stay in the city. I will use Paris as a base, but my investigation will require me to travel.” After several seconds of silence, during which Lucien closely inspected a piece of cheese, Meg grew impatient. “What is it? There’s something you’re not saying.” He looked up, and she was thrilled to see desire burning in his eyes. “I don’t think I can keep my hands off you if we’re under the same roof.” Meg started to protest, but what could she say? I want your hands on me. That sounded too lascivious even for her. “Fine, but I’m not going to let you hide me away while you do all the work. I’m going to help you.” “There are many ways for you to help without putting yourself in great danger. You and Fabienne will have plenty to do. Once I’ve talked to some of my contacts, we will discuss our strategy.” She didn’t like this development. She could already feel him shutting her out, and they hadn’t even separated yet. “Don’t you think I should go with you to these meetings? There’s no point in you having to repeat what you’ve already discussed.” “Meg, we are going to do this my way or not at all.”
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He was wearing his arrogant veneer again. He always got that commanding tone when he disagreed with her. She knew pushing him when he was in this mood would be ineffective, so she held her tongue. “Speaking of doing things my way, the next time I ask you to stay put, I expect you to do so.” She’d known this was coming. “If I hadn’t followed you, you wouldn’t know about Gaffney.” “True, but your indiscretion nearly got us killed.” “Maybe if you’d bothered to tell me your theory about the guards simply following us, I wouldn’t have been scared they’d come after me while I was alone at the inn.” “Only one guard was there. You had a gun and a knife—you could have handled him. And you can’t convince me that’s the reason you followed me.” “I—” “Let’s drop it. I need to know you’ll listen when I give you an order. It’s the only way I can allow you to work with me.” Meg sighed. He was right. No matter how competent he thought she might be with a weapon, she really couldn’t protect herself if it came down to a fight. “I’ve never been very good at following directions, but I’ll try.” Lucien assumed this was the best answer he would get. He hated having to bring up the next subject. “Meg, I need to ask you a few questions about Gaffney. Are you up to that now?” “Yes.” Her voice was like ice. Anger boiled in him when he thought how badly she’d been hurt. “I need to know exactly what Gaffney said to you about Le Lézard and whether any other Englishmen were involved in your abduction?” “There were a few other men on the boat. I don’t know their names, but they weren’t gentlemen. They might’ve all been crew members, but I’m not sure. All Gaffney revealed about the Lizard was that he intended to rape and torture me. Gaffney found the idea humorous.”
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Lucien clenched his fists, fighting a wave of anger so strong it clouded his vision. The serving girl chose that moment to check on them, and Lucien decided they’d best be on their way. His physical reaction to helping Meg onto her horse confirmed the soundness of having her stay elsewhere. Parisian society would hardly comment on his keeping a lover under his roof, but his sanity couldn’t handle it. Just the feel of her ankle against his hand as he held the stirrup was enough to harden his cock. As he watched her tight round bottom swing over the horse’s back he wanted to drag her to the ground, lift her skirts, and take her right there. He had to adjust his pants before he could mount Dragon. He hoped she hadn’t noticed. He feared the consequences of another night with her in an inn, but they couldn’t possibly reach Paris before nightfall. Thank God he’d be able to let her work with Fabienne while he pursued the Lizard on his own.
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Chapter Six The next morning’s ride was pleasant enough. In order to keep her mind off Lucien’s certainty that the guards were not far behind them, Meg engaged him in conversation. They discovered they had several things in common—a love of animals, a desire to spend their lives in the country, and an enjoyment of nurturing growing things, whether crops or flower gardens. In those few hours, Meg was able to see a softer side of Lucien, and she vowed to try to bring it out more often. But as they neared Paris, he grew less inclined to talk. By the time they reached Fabienne’s house shortly after noon, Meg was exhausted, hungry, and desperate for a bath. The mansion in Paris’s fashionable Faubourg St. Germain was set back from the road, hidden behind a wall. It spoke of luxuries Meg hadn’t experienced in over a week, and all she wanted to do was find a soft bed to lie on. In her bedraggled state, she was unprepared for the startlingly beautiful woman who met them at the door. When this woman, whom she assumed was Fabienne, fell into Lucien’s arms and kissed him on the mouth, Meg took an instant dislike to her. “Oh, Lucien, mon amour. It is so good to see you safe. I expected your return several days ago, non?” “Yes, I was delayed a bit.” He glanced in Meg’s direction. “Is this the lady spy you sought?” The woman turned toward Meg while keeping her hand on Lucien’s arm. Meg had a strong urge to ask her to step back. Why was she so jealous? Lucien hadn’t so much as kissed her since the night in Rouen. The previous night, he’d insisted on sleeping by the door of their room, giving the excuse that he needed to be on guard in case he was wrong about the intentions of Le Lézard’s men. She didn’t think he was telling the whole truth. He was tempted by her, and he wanted to stay across the room so he wouldn’t give in. She’d lain awake thinking of him, www.samhainpublishing.com
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hearing him breathe, hearing the covers shift across his body as he turned over. At least she had the satisfaction of knowing he hadn’t slept well either. He’d tossed and turned all night as though he couldn’t get comfortable. Now, after spending the night wanting him, she had to watch him with this woman who dripped sensuality and sophistication. He smiled at her in a way he’d never looked at Meg—easy, comfortable, like one would be with an old friend. It made Meg wonder if they’d been lovers and if he intended to renew the relationship. He’d be a fool not to want Fabienne. Her breasts were large and perfectly round, and the neckline of her rich green dress dipped so low her nipples nearly showed. The dress clung to her, showing off the line of her hips and thighs. Every strand of her sleek ebony hair was perfectly placed in a stylish coif which complemented her sharp, exotic features. “Meg?” The sound of Lucien’s voice made her realize she hadn’t been listening. “Meg, are you all right?” “Yes, I’m fine. Just tired.” “I was trying to introduce you to Fabienne.” “Nice to meet you,” Meg forced herself to say. “So you and I are going to be working together, non?” Apparently Meg had daydreamed through Lucien’s explanation of who she was. “Yes, I suppose so.” But how could she work with this gushing beauty? She’d never cared about being seductive or learning social poise, but at that moment, she longed for just an ounce of what Fabienne had. “You must be tired from your travels. Why don’t I have Clotilde show you to your room? You can change your dress and rest for a bit?” A young maid appeared, and Fabienne gestured for Meg to follow her. “Thank you, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything to change into.” “Of course, I wasn’t thinking,” Fabienne said. “Clotilde can find you something, and tomorrow we will go shopping.” “That’s very kind of you. Would it be too much trouble for me to have a bath?”
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“Certainly not, I will have hot water sent up for you.” Meg followed Clotilde to the door, but Lucien called to her. “Meg, there is someone I must see right away. I will call back for you late this afternoon. We will discuss our strategy then. You and Fabienne should take some time to get acquainted before I return.” The last thing Meg saw as she left was Fabienne holding Lucien’s arm as she showed him to the door. Who was this woman and exactly how well did she know Lucien? She was determined to find out.
Fabienne offered Lucien the use of her carriage, but he chose to walk, hoping the fresh air would wake him up and improve his disposition. He’d tossed and turned all night, unable to stop thinking about Meg lying across the room. It had taken all his will power to stop himself from getting up and going to her. He was used to being in control of both himself and those around him, but with Meg none of his usual tactics of intimidation worked. He could not rein her in, nor could he get a grip on his own need for her. His lack of self-discipline had put him in a foul mood. He was looking forward to seeing Andrew and Ian MacPherson again, and he didn’t want to be scowling when he arrived. The list of people he was willing to work with was quite short, but Ian and his grandfather, known by his friends as Old Andrew, were two of the people on it. If anyone could help him discover the identity of Le Lézard, it was Andrew. He was the head of an extensive spy network with contacts in every region of France. A Jacobite supporter, he’d come to France as a refugee from Scotland in the aftermath of the ’45 rising. Determined to succeed in his new home, he set himself up as a jeweler and grew quite wealthy. But during the Terror, his wealth and connections to the French court got him arrested. He would have died if Robespierre hadn’t gotten the guillotine himself before the executioners could get to Andrew. His daughter and her husband weren’t so lucky; they were killed by a peasant mob as they traveled back to Paris from Scotland, leaving only Andrew to care for his grandson,
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Ian. The death of his daughter set him solidly against the revolutionaries, and he dedicated himself to the Royalist cause by seeing that important information got to the British and their allies. He even managed to place one of his men in the higher levels of Napoleon’s secret police. Lucien had met Andrew during one of his first missions for Wellington. He was immediately impressed by the man’s cunning mind and his uncanny ability to produce every bit of information Lucien needed. On a later mission, Lucien worked closely with Ian, and the two men became friends. As Lucien prepared to come to France, he’d written to the MacPhersons, hoping they’d be able to learn something before he got to Paris. He’d sent them all the information he had about Le Lézard, using a coded letter and a trusted courier. Now he had Meg’s information as well, but he was uncertain how to explain her presence. Would Andrew and Ian understand why he’d agreed to let this young woman work with him? Until he could verify her disappearance from London, he couldn’t prove her identity. If Andrew or Ian questioned him, all he could do was say his instincts told him she was to be trusted. He didn’t doubt that the MacPhersons would ultimately accept his judgment, but for some reason, he felt uneasy and defensive. Perhaps it was because his own feelings for Meg disturbed him. Why had he told an inexperienced young woman she could assist him with an extremely dangerous mission? She deserved her revenge, and he intended to exact it for her, but he should never have agreed to let her help. It was a reckless decision, and he was a man of calculated actions. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he knew deep down why he’d agreed to her ridiculous proposition. For the last nine years, he’d walled himself off from everyone around him, preferring isolation to the pain of caring for those he could not protect. With the exception of a few select people who had earned his trust, all his relationships had been sterile, commander to troops, soldier to superior officer, never friend to friend. Even those few he considered real friends knew little about his past. He’d hoped to forget the man he’d been before he joined the army.
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Then Meg had come along and made a part of him—the hopeful young man he’d been years before—come alive again. She satisfied a need for companionship he hadn’t realized he had. It scared the hell out of him, but it thrilled him at the same time. Even though he had every intention of keeping his physical desires in check from now on, he wasn’t ready to let her go. He wondered what the MacPhersons would think of her, though something in him rebelled at the thought of her meeting Ian. At just this side of eighty-five, Andrew, while reputed to still entertain the ladies, didn’t pose a threat. Ian was thirty and between his rugged good looks and the brogue he affected—though he’d spent no more than a month of his life in Scotland—he never failed to make women swoon. The thought of Meg admiring him the way most women did made Lucien clench his fists. Lucien had to remind himself that he was not having an affair with her. In fact, he hoped that someday Meg would find a deserving husband. When he reached the door of the shop Old Andrew still operated, the older man was deep in conversation with a customer. Lucien feigned interest in the cases of jewelry hand-crafted with the finest diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. Though Lucien was a considerably wealthy man, he shuddered at the thought of what some of the jewels must cost. How on earth had a young man who owned nothing besides a kilt and a highland broadsword built up such a business? MacPherson must have come out of the womb with the quick-thinking of a spy and the smile of a swindler. “Lucien, is that really you? I heard you’d been dreadfully wounded, but you’re looking as good as ever.” The old man pulled Lucien into a bear hug before he could reply. Once he’d caught his breath, he said, “Yes, a lot of people didn’t think I’d make it. I’m sure some fervently hoped for my demise, but as you observed, I am fully recovered.” “I bet you’ll be even better after a glass of my whiskey.” “That I will. I’ve yet to taste any finer than yours.” “You shouldn’t expect to. Come to the back. We’ll have a drink and a wee talk.”
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MacPherson instructed his clerk to mind the store, and they adjourned to his office where he poured them some of his finest stock. “You got my letter?” Lucien inquired. “Yes, and I’ve got a bit of information for you, though not as much as I’d hoped.” “You mean you haven’t already captured the Lizard for me and locked him away?” Old Andrew’s body shook heavily as he laughed. “Not quite. I keep telling you I’m not a miracle worker.” “Damned close if you ask me.” Taking a long sip of whiskey, Andrew leaned back in his chair and grew serious. “One of my contacts drew up a list of all the agents who were working near Vittoria at the time your regiment was ambushed. If Le Lézard was working for the government his name should be on this list, so we can start there. Many of these men are in the city, so once we’ve prioritized the list, you can seek them out.” “We should find out if any of them have been asking about me or someone who fits my description.” “I’ve had my men listening for your name, but they haven’t heard anything yet. One thing we have noticed is that everyone who’s given any indication of having heard of Le Lézard is terrified of him. Getting information was more difficult than it should have been.” “I think I know why they’re so scared. Do you recall that my letter said I would be looking for a woman who was supposedly working for him?” “Aye, did you find her?” “No. I found another woman though. I brought her to Paris with me and left her at Fabienne’s. She… Well, it’s a long story. I’ll explain more later, but according to her, Le Lézard is the leader of a secret society. He claims to have magical powers and make sacrifices to the devil.” “Mmmm…that would certainly account for the fear people have of him. Not wanting to give information about a fellow spy is typical, but one who thinks he is a minion of the devil, well that’s another thing entirely.”
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“Yes, and this woman—her name is Meg—also described a pendant he was wearing. She thought it might be a symbol for his group. I’m going to have her describe it in more detail so Fabienne can make a sketch.” “If you get a good likeness, I’ll give you the names of a few shops where you can inquire. I might even recognize the craftsmanship myself if we get enough detail.” “Meg said she memorized it well.” “Excellent. I’ll start putting out feelers for anyone who might be interested in such a group and any former agents who’ve been connected to a secret society.” “Good. Based on what Meg described, I think we will primarily be looking for wealthy young men who are feeling rebellious. Ones who would think it a great joke to be involved in something like this. Englishmen as well as French.” “What makes you think there are English involved?” “On the way to Paris, we saw Lord Gaffney meeting with two of the guards from Le Lézard’s hideout.” “My God, he was in your regiment, wasn’t he?” “Yes, he’s also the man who kidnapped Meg, and delivered her to Le Lézard. I’ve no doubt he’s responsible for the ambush.” Lucien squeezed his fist until his nails cut into his palms. Scenes of dying men flashed before him. Old Andrew laid a hand on his arm. “Any idea how Le Lézard attracted him?” “No, but he’s weak and stupid and loyal to no one but himself. I doubt it would have been difficult. I wish I could figure out the Lizard’s motives, though. Before he challenged me, I didn’t think he had targeted my men in particular.” “Before we speculate further, I want to know more about Meg.” “There’s nothing more to tell. She’s a well-bred English woman who offended Gaffney by refusing his suit. Le Lézard needed a woman to use as a sacrifice and Gaffney chose her.” “And you believed this tale without question and brought Meg to Paris with you?”
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Lucien realized how ludicrous the story sounded when put that way, but he had no intention of telling Andrew exactly how he’d discovered that Meg was an innocent young woman. “I trust her. That’s all you need to know.” Andrew glared at him for a few seconds then cleared his throat. “I will take you at your word. Your instincts have always been good.” Lucien got up to refill his glass. The sound of his boots hitting the floor echoed in the silence. If Andrew was already skeptical about Meg, what would he say when he found out she was going to be working with them? “Come on, boy, spit it out!” “What?” Lucien tried to make his face look puzzled. “You’ve got something to tell me, and you’re trying to figure out the right way to put it. Don’t analyze it; just say it.” Lucien laughed. He’d missed Andrew’s forthrightness. “Meg refuses to return to London, because she wants revenge on Gaffney and Le Lézard and she’s got the damned idea in her head that she needs to do something meaningful and exciting with her life.” Lucien sighed. “I’ve agreed to let her work with me.” Andrew chuckled. “Afraid I’d disapprove, eh?” “Yes, I wasn’t in the mood for a scolding from you.” Lucien smiled. “No scolding necessary. I think she could fit into our plans nicely.” Lucien nodded “She can work with Fabienne gathering information at parties and salons. This will satisfy her desire to assist us but keep her out of serious trouble.” “Actually, I think it would be best if you and the girl pretend to be lovers.” Lucien coughed. “What?” “Think about it. She has seen Le Lézard.” “He was masked. She isn’t sure she can identify him.” “If there is even a small chance she would know him, it is worth taking, and she will certainly recognize his symbol.” “If she sees the symbol or anyone she recognizes, she will report it to us immediately.”
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“As your lover, she will be able to go to places she could not go alone. Many of the men you seek will not be at the type of parties Fabienne attends.” “Even if I were willing to put Meg in that kind of danger, it wouldn’t work. I don’t intend to stay in Paris. I’m going back to Le Havre to find out more about Le Lézard’s base there.” “Ian will be headed in that direction in a few days. He can look into matters for you.” “Damn it, MacPherson. I would never have taken this assignment if Le Lézard hadn’t asked for me personally. I’m a field agent. I don’t slink around at parties dragging information out of people while pretending to befriend them. It goes against my sense of honor.” “You know damned well if it weren’t for men who slunk around at parties, we might not have pushed Napoleon out of Paris. What my agents do is not disreputable; it’s damned necessary.” Lucien tried another tactic. “I refuse to drag Meg into the seedier parts of the city or to force her to play the part of a harlot.” “Pretending to be your mistress is hardly the same thing as being a harlot. What’s really the matter, Luce? Is she not up to your standard for a lover?” “No! She’s an amazingly beautiful woman, but she’s too innocent for this.” He stood up and began to pace. He was damned angry—but more at himself than MacPherson. He should’ve refused Meg’s demands and booked her passage to England. Her reputation might be in shambles already, but her life wouldn’t be in danger. “How innocent can she be, Lucien? Think about what she’s been through.” “What she has been through may have toughened her, but it hasn’t taken her naiveté. She’s bold, determined, stubborn—stubborn enough to make a man crazy—but she doesn’t understand the danger she faces.” “That is exactly why she needs you by her side. She and Fabienne can’t handle this on their own. Fabienne’s good, but she’s not you.” “No, it won’t work. She came out this year. There’s too great a chance she will be recognized.”
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“Fabienne can see to altering her appearance. Besides, you know as well as I do that people see what they expect to see.” “It simply won’t work.” “You’re repeating yourself boy. It sounds to me like you two are perfect for each other. Bold. Stubborn. Unwilling to stand down in the face of danger. That describes you perfectly.” Lucien gave a tight smirk. Andrew chuckled as he refilled his whiskey glass. “Is that the problem Lucien? You can’t stand to be with a woman as stubborn as you?” “For me, stubbornness is a survival skill. Meg was apparently born believing she’s invincible.” “You’ve learned quite a lot about this woman in a few days.” “As you should know well enough, you get to know people quickly when your life is on the line.” “Yes, you do. But whatever your reason for refusing to work with her, put it aside and admit that she should be part of the investigation.” “Fine. I will stay in Paris. Meg will work with me, and Ian will go to Le Havre.” He couldn’t quite make himself say he and Meg would pretend to be lovers. It was too close to the truth for comfort. He didn’t think his control could withstand being that close to her for days on end. “She can pretend to be a widow, a friend of Fabienne’s visiting from London. The Carringtons are having a party tomorrow night. One of the men on our list of agents will surely be there. I took the liberty of securing you an invitation.” Lucien didn’t even try to suppress a groan. He’d known Lord and Lady Carrington in London, and they were two of the silliest people he’d ever met. An evening in their home would be certain torture. Andrew smiled at the younger man. “I think a strong fearless officer can manage to tackle one wee party.” He ignored Lucien’s snort and continued. “Ian’s been doing some
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scouting for me near Versailles, and I told him to look out for news of your man too. He should be back tonight or early tomorrow, so if you don’t object, he can accompany you.” “Why not? The sooner we get started, the better. Once we find Le Lézard I can send Meg back to England where she will be safe.” Andrew grinned. “Eager to get rid of the lass, are you?” “She deserves a better life than this.” “Of course. Now let’s see if we can narrow our list of suspects.”
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Chapter Seven The dress Clotilde brought Meg had a lower neckline and a tighter bodice than she was used to, but it was still in the realm of good taste. Once she was clean and decently dressed, Meg joined Fabienne for lunch. As they talked, she had to admit she rather enjoyed Fabienne’s easy, open manner. The woman was certainly going out of her way to make Meg comfortable. Fabienne sat across from her chattering about the dressmaker they would visit the next day and the people she wanted Meg to meet. Apparently Lucien had asked his friend to introduce her into Parisian society on the pretense that she was an English cousin who had come to stay for a few months. “So exactly how familiar are you with London society?” Fabienne asked. Meg wished she didn’t have to answer questions about herself. “What has Lucien told you about me?” Fabienne waited for Clotilde to clear their plates and bring in the teapot. Then she dismissed the maid and continued, “He explained that he mistook you for the spy he sought, but that you were in fact an English prisoner who will be working with him on his current mission. He said you rescued him and proved yourself quite useful.” Fabienne studied Meg intently as she poured their tea. “I am only asking, because over the next few days, we will have to develop a new persona for you in case you run into anyone who knew you in England. I need to know something about you, so I can remake you as Lucien has asked.” “This was my first Season, and I must say I disliked it immensely.” Fabienne smiled. “Society can be cruel, but at least you’ll know what to expect when we begin attending assemblies and balls. However, I’m sure you’ve heard there are far fewer restrictions on behavior in Paris. Many of the English who’ve come since the abdication have found us rather disarming. 78
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“Of course, in good English fashion, when faced with an unfamiliar culture, they brought all their customs with them. London has been remade in Paris, and we will likely attend parties where, once you’re inside, you’ll think you’ve been whisked away to an English ballroom.” Fabienne laughed and Meg couldn’t resist joining her. She could see the mothers and guardians of eligible young women bringing their daughters to Pairs, only to shelter them from all the new experiences awaiting them by taking them to parties they could easily have attended in London. “Do you really think I can change so much that no one would recognize me?” “Unless you see a family member or a close friend, yes. Disguise is much easier than you may think. People see what they expect to see. They may think you look familiar, but with a change in wardrobe and attitude, if they do not expect to see you here, then they will not.” “I suppose you’re right. People have always looked at me and seen exactly what they expected. Now, I will have to make them see something else. What should we work on first?” “I’m afraid there’s not much we can do until Lucien returns. We need to know more about how we will fit into his plans. Why don’t you try to get a few hours rest? I will show you to the library. You can pick out something to read and take it to your room. Lucien should return in a few hours.” Meg was anxious to find out exactly what role she would play here, but she also relished the thought of a few hours alone, so she agreed to Fabienne’s suggestion. When Fabienne opened the door to the library, Meg was stunned. She wouldn’t have thought Fabienne a book lover, but the floor-to-ceiling shelves were filled with leather-bound volumes of all varieties. Meg’s father had been a great reader, and she thought never to see a private collection as fine as his, but Fabienne’s could certainly rival it. Fabienne must have noticed her look of surprise. The beautiful woman gave a low laugh. “Remember, not everyone is what they seem.” “I—”
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Fabienne held up a hand. “There is no need to speak of such matters now. Please, explore as you like.” The room was decorated in deep gold and burgundy, but instead of being imposing, it felt cozy. Meg could imagine spending an entire day there, curled up on the settee with one of her favorite books. “What a wonderful room,” she said and then nearly jumped when something brushed her leg. Looking down, she saw a large, fluffy white cat twining around her ankles. “Oh, that’s Isis. She enjoys the library almost as much as I do. I spend almost every morning here. I much prefer it to any of the sitting rooms.” “I can see why.” Meg bent to stroke the cat who accepted her offering and exuded loud purrs. Fabienne laughed. “She isn’t usually so friendly, but she seems to approve of you. Stay and enjoy the room as long as you like. I will send Clotilde to find you when Lucien arrives.” Just as Fabienne reached the door, Meg summoned the courage to ask the question that had plagued her since she’d arrived. “How well do you know Lucien?” The beautiful woman turned and studied her for a moment. “We are not lovers.” “Oh, no! I didn’t—” Fabienne held her hand up to silence Meg. “You did, but I’m not offended. He is a handsome man, n’est pas? I adore him, but we are no more than friends. He saved me from a terrible situation. My former husband was… Let’s just say I wouldn’t wish such a man on any woman. I’m eternally grateful to Lucien, but I’m not his lover.” Why hadn’t Meg realized how transparent her question was? At least her hostess was forthright enough to answer directly, and Meg didn’t think to doubt her words for a moment. “So you trust him?” “Oui, he is one of the best men I have ever known. Perhaps you asked because you like him a bit yourself?” Meg’s cheeks grew hot. “I’d rather not discuss my relationship with him.” “Don’t be shy. He certainly feels something for you.”
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Meg’s heart pounded. “What do you mean?” “I could tell by the way he looked at you. In the five years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him look at a woman in quite that way—like he wanted to protect you and ravish you all at the same time.” “I’m sure you must be mistaken.” “I do not think I am, but I will leave you to choose a book now. We can talk more tonight.”
Later that afternoon, Clotilde woke Meg from a sound sleep. Meg’s book lay across her chest. She’d only made it to page three before she had succumbed to exhaustion. She shook her head and tried to reorient herself. “What time is it?” “It’s nearly half past five, mademoiselle. Monsieur Archer is here to see you.” “Who?” “Monsieur Lucien Archer.” Meg sat up. “Tell him I will be down in a few minutes.” “Oui, Mademoiselle. Madame Fabienne sent some things for you to wear this evening. I believe the color will suit your red hair beautifully.” Clotilde laid the clothes on the bed. “Shall I help you dress?” “No, thank you. I can manage on my own.” Meg wanted time alone to compose herself before seeing Lucien again. “Are you certain, Mademoiselle?” “Yes, I will be down shortly.” Clotilde curtseyed. “If that is all then, you will find Madame and Monsieur in the library whenever you are ready.” Still not fully awake, Meg rubbed her eyes and splashed water on her face from the basin. Mr. Archer. She wondered if the name was real or an alias. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her hands shook as she reached for a towel. Why did the thought of seeing Lucien again make her so jittery? They had spent three
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whole days together on the road, and they had been…as close as two people could be, but somehow everything was different now. She was much less sure of herself since she had entered his world. When she looked in the glass and saw that her hair was as big a fright as she’d feared, she regretted sending Clotilde away. Resigned to managing on her own, she wrestled with her thick tangle of curls until she managed to tame it into some semblance of decorum. The abrasions on her wrists were mostly healed, so she left the bandages off for the first time. With a little powder, she was able to conceal the worst of the redness. Examining the white sarcenet gown, she was dismayed by the thinness of the fabric. But after donning the single light petticoat and struggling with the gown’s buttons, she had to admit it looked elegant, and the sage green ribbon trim did complement her hair. Besides, almost any dress would be an improvement over what she had worn on the road. When she reached the library, the door was ajar so she peeked inside. Lucien and Fabienne were seated together on the settee. She had no reason to doubt Fabienne’s word about their relationship, but she was struck by how beautiful they looked together. Fabienne’s rich green dress was the height of fashion. She sat exactly as a lady should, straight back, dress tucked neatly around her, hands lying in her lap. Meg wished she knew how to give off such poise. Fabienne was like a work of art, but the sight of Lucien nearly took Meg’s breath away. Covered in dirt from the road, he’d been undeniably handsome. Clean, refreshed, and dressed in evening clothes, he was stunning. His crisp, white cravat set off his tanned skin and made his hair look nearly black. His hair was still damp from his bath, and it curled about his face, softening his usually severe appearance. The urge to touch one of those curls was so strong she balled her fists at her side. At that moment, Fabienne looked her way. “Ah, it’s our Meg. Chérie, you look magnifique.” “Thank you. I appreciate the loan of the dress.” Meg stepped into the room and hoped Fabienne hadn’t realized she’d been watching them.
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“But of course, my dear.” Lucien was studying her intently. “You do indeed look lovely. Come join us.” She moved toward an arm chair, but Fabienne stood and offered her the seat next to Lucien. “I hope you’ll excuse me. Lucien has already filled me in on his plans. There is a letter I simply must answer tonight. I’m sure you two will enjoy the time alone. You have a lot to discuss.” Fabienne’s smile reminded Meg of her aunt’s cat when he was up to something. As she exited, Fabienne gave Meg a conspiratorial wink. What was going on? “Sometimes Fabienne is a bit much, but she’s a dear friend.” Lucien looked apologetic. “Oh, I’m starting to get used to her. We had quite a nice talk over lunch.” They were interrupted by Isis who jumped onto the settee, gave Lucien a dismissive look, and curled up next to Meg. She stroked the cat and was rewarded with purring. “I see you’ve made friends with Isis.” Lucien reached out a hand toward the cat’s ears. The purring ceased, and she hissed viciously. “Unfortunately, she hasn’t improved her opinion of me since the last time I saw her.” Meg laughed. “I’ve always had a way with dogs and horses, but cats have never seemed to like me. I can’t explain it.” Lucien smiled. “Isis is not something that can be explained.” Then, his smiled turned devious. “Fabienne told me you asked if we were lovers.” Meg jumped, nearly sliding off her chair. “Oh, I wish she hadn’t mentioned that. And I didn’t really ask that. I only wanted to know how well you knew each other.” “Do you really think I would ask you to stay in her house while I carried on a liaison with her?” Meg kept her gaze on her lap. “I don’t know.” “I would never be so thoughtless.” “But Fabienne is so beautiful and sophisticated. I don’t know how a man could resist her.” Lucien stiffened. “I do occasionally manage to show some self-control.”
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“I didn’t mean to insult you. Any man would want her—she hardly seems real.” Her words must have relieved his conscience, because his shoulders relaxed and a teasing light came into his eyes. “You’re fairly unbelievable yourself, you know.” “You don’t have to compliment me. I’m no match for a woman like her.” Meg exhaled sharply and pushed back the strands of hair that had escaped from their moorings. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me?” “No. I’m trying to put off telling you something you may not like.” “Well, you’ve succeeded in vexing me greatly so you might as well say whatever it is.” Her cool tone belied the knot in her stomach. Was he going to send her home after all? “This afternoon, I spoke with a close friend. He’s a Royalist who for some years has run an information-gathering network. I’ve worked closely with him on several missions, and I trust him with my life. He and his grandson are going to help us find Le Lézard.” “You’re stalling. What do you need to say that I will not like?” He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “As my friend and I discussed how to go about this investigation, he convinced me it would be best if you and I pretend to be lovers.” Meg breathed a sigh of relief. He still intended to let her work with him, and now she would have the opportunity to convince him she was not opposed to continuing their relationship. “Pretend?” A pained expression crossed Lucien’s face. “I will not take advantage of you again.” “As I’ve told you before, I do not regret what happened. I chose not to stop you, and I enjoyed what we did.” She flushed with embarrassment at her confession. “You don’t regret it now, but you might feel differently after we’ve parted.” Meg clenched her fists and fought the urge to scream. “Fine. Tell me what you’ve learned and what you would like me to do. I will pretend to be your lover, and we will see how long you can ignore the heat between us.” Exasperated and unwilling to continue the argument, Lucien did as she asked. “My friend has compiled a list of French agents who were in Spain in June of 1813. We’ve
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narrowed the list to three suspects, one of whom we will try to meet tomorrow night. We’ll be attending a party at the Carringtons’. Did you ever meet them in London?” “No.” “How fortunate for you. Conversing with them is about as enjoyable as hacking off one’s own arm. However, one of the men on the list, Gerard Fontaine, has been sniffing around their daughter, so he’s certain to be there. I will pick you up for dinner tomorrow evening, and we’ll talk more about what you can expect during the evening. “Before then, Fabienne will help you develop a new persona. You will be an English widow who has come to stay with her friend in Paris. Fabienne will put together a proper wardrobe for you. You’ll need a dress for the Carringtons’ party, more dresses for dinner parties, and card evenings, and something to wear to a royal ball that will take place in a week.” “Excellent.” Meg was all smiles. He’d expected some amount of protest on her part. He was asking a lot, but she didn’t seem bothered by the idea of remaking herself in less than a day. He rose from his chair, needing to leave before he did something foolish like kiss her. The damnable dress she was wearing had him nearly out of his mind. “I will see you tomorrow.” Her smiled turned sensual. “I look forward to it.”
Shortly after Lucien left, Fabienne joined Meg in the library. Without preamble, Meg said what was on her mind. “Lucien is the most stubborn man I have ever met.” Fabienne laughed, a throaty, sultry sound. “Lucien is well known for his obstinacy, though I think perhaps you are a woman who is used to getting her way.” Meg wasn’t sure how to take Fabienne’s statement. She wanted to be offended, but she knew the woman was right, in part at least. “Are you saying I’m spoiled?”
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Fabienne remained silent. She seemed to be waiting for Meg to evaluate her own statement. “I suppose you could say I am. My mother died when I was five, and my father let me do as I pleased. Lucien should be glad though. If Father hadn’t let me hunt with him or ride astride, Lucien and I might both be in Le Lézard’s hands right now.” Fabienne smiled. “That would never do. I only meant to suggest that I cannot imagine a man less pigheaded than Lucien saying no to anything you asked. You are stunning, and you have a certain quality about you that says you would make a most passionate lover.” Meg blushed. She’d never considered herself beautiful. “Most of the men I met in London wanted nothing to do with me.” “Why do you think they reacted that way, chérie?” “My aunt told me I threatened them. She said that a man wouldn’t marry a woman more intelligent or bolder than he. She encouraged me to mask who I am, to pretend to be awed by the men who approached me, but I refused. I developed a reputation for being rather full of myself.” Fabienne laid a slender finger along her cheek. “Hmmm. In that case, we shall not have trouble devising your new identity. I will teach you to be silly, flirtatious and bold. Once we have the perfect wardrobe picked out, I believe the rest will be easy.” “Fabienne?” For the first time since she’d made her decision to follow Lucien to Paris, she was having doubts about how much help she could be. Hiding in cottages and old farmhouses and spending nights in strange inns had been an adventure, but she didn’t know the first thing about how to get information out of people. “What is it, chérie?” “When we were on the road, I believed I could make a good spy, because I can do things most women can’t or won’t do. Now that we are in Paris, I’m not so sure. I’ve never been comfortable at parties. I don’t dance well. I can’t flirt and I’m wretched at making inane conversation.”
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“Those are things I can easily teach you. A quick wit, the ability to think on your feet, the courage to approach danger; those things you must be born with. Fortunately, you possess such skills. You will do well.” “I will try, but I would rather hide out in the woods, waiting for Le Lézard than prance around looking for him at parties.” Fabienne laughed. “I can imagine Lucien saying exactly the same thing. He much prefers field work.” Meg took a deep breath. At least it helped to know Lucien would be uncomfortable too. “Can you truly teach me to flirt? I’m afraid I never paid attention to such lessons in the past.” Fabienne smiled. “Indeed I can, but before we begin reworking you, I want to draw the pendant you saw on Le Lézard. Lucien is going to give us a list of shops where we can inquire about the symbol.” Meg described every aspect of Le Lézard’s pendant, and Fabienne produced a likeness that stunned Meg in its accuracy. After such a success, Fabienne insisted on sketching Le Lézard himself from Meg’s description. When Fabienne completed her second sketch, Meg couldn’t believe her eyes. It was Le Lézard as she imagined him right down to the loose curls that had come across his forehead to touch the top of his mask and the evil glint in his eyes. Lucien had told Meg that Fabienne was a good artist but he’d understated her talent. She was magnificent. Meg only wished she’d seen the Lizard’s face. Fabienne could have created a perfect portrait. After taking a light supper together, Fabienne coached Meg in the art of flirting and persuasion, showing her how best to react to specific scenarios. The last lesson of the evening was the hardest for Meg to swallow. “Never contradict a man from whom you are trying to extract information. Simply let him speak, guiding him with the occasional question. Sooner or later, he is likely to reveal what you need to know.” “So if he says something completely stupid, I just smile and nod.”
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“Exactement.” “This is going to be harder than I thought.” Fabienne laughed. “It is late. We must get some rest. We will continue in the morning after we shop for your new wardrobe. Then we will work on dancing. I will send a note to Lucien, asking him to come by in the afternoon and stand in as your partner.” Meg frowned. “I’m certain he would find that a waste of time.” “Nonsense. You will need a partner, and he needs you ready for the party. He will come.” While Meg changed into the nightdress Fabienne had lent her, she pondered the irony of her situation. A few days earlier, she had thought it would be far more exciting to be a spy than to endure the events of the Season. Now her work entailed doing exactly what she’d always hated, moving in society. And this time, she wouldn’t only have to endure conversation with lots of vapid young women, she’d have to be one herself.
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Chapter Eight Before Lucien had finished his breakfast, Gregson, one of Andrew’s men who’d been sent to act as Lucien’s valet, brought in a note from Fabienne. Lucien groaned aloud when he read it. Help Meg improve her dancing? For God’s sake, he was supposed to be searching for a man who wanted him dead, not serving as a dancing instructor. He should never have let MacPherson talk him into staying in Paris. After a fruitless night, making the rounds of gaming hells, cafés, and concert halls popular with former French soldiers, he was thoroughly disgusted with this mission. The more he learned about the Lizard, the more he wanted to destroy him. But a part of Lucien still cried out in protest against his fate. He knew he couldn’t have ignored Le Lézard’s challenge, yet he wanted to be home. Nine years of constant danger, first on the battle field and then as one of Wellington’s chosen field agents, had worn him down. He craved the quiet of the country. He prayed he would discover Le Lézard’s identity quickly and eliminate his threat. Then Meg would be safe and he would be free of what he sincerely hoped was his last mission. Talking to informants in the villages of Spain, working his way through the woods to find the location of French companies, these things he’d enjoyed, and he’d been good at what he did. But any time he’d needed to work in society circles, he’d hated it. The thought of spending weeks in Paris attending parties, listening to gossip, and gambling with dishonorable men was abhorrent. He exhaled and read the note again. Fabienne had only asked for a reply if he would be unable to comply with her request. His first instinct was to get to his writing desk as fast as possible and let her know his time was too valuable to spend on dancing lessons, but he knew how important it was for Meg to be confident in her role. She could be of help to him if she were convincing. Men were unlikely to be suspicious of questions asked by his mistress. They would dismiss her as unimportant. www.samhainpublishing.com
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He wished he could dismiss her as easily, but he’d thought about her constantly since leaving Fabienne’s. Even his dreams had been plagued by her. He longed to solve the puzzle of how such a bold woman could be so delightfully fresh and innocent. He wondered what it would have been like to meet Meg in London. None of the women he’d met had been anything like her. They all lacked her independence, her unique spirit. The women who’d shown an interest in him were tiresomely conformant, exact copies of what society expected a woman to be. It was all for the best that he hadn’t met a woman he wanted to marry. What if he had the same capacity for rage as his father. He’d used violence for good in the army, but if he married— No, he couldn’t risk unleashing his temper on his family.
Wearing only her chemise, Meg stood in a fitting room waiting for Fabienne and her dressmaker, Therese, to return with another creation guaranteed to make her into a sensuous woman ready to explore all Paris had to offer. After trying on dress after dress and looking at hundreds of fabric samples, Meg’s head was swimming. Not knowing how long it would be until the two women returned, Meg sank into one of the tapestry covered chairs opposite the tall looking glass. She’d been forced to model dresses until she was ready to choose the next thing she saw and run away screaming. They’d only been shopping for a few hours, but she was exhausted. How could buying dresses be more tiring than riding all day? She couldn’t understand most women’s love of shopping. She’d rather do field work with Lucien any day than be subjected to the horrors of putting together a new wardrobe. Having no belongings of her own, she needed shoes, gloves, stockings, hats, handkerchiefs, jewelry, wraps and reticules along with morning and evening dresses. It was like shopping for her first Season all over again. At least this time she wouldn’t have to choose the hideous, overdone dresses her aunt liked. Therese clearly recognized that simple lines suited her best.
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When Fabienne had first described the clothing she would need, she wondered how she would pay for it all. Fabienne had assured her Lucien would take care of everything. Meg had recoiled at the thought, but she knew Fabienne was right. She couldn’t play her part without a stylish wardrobe. As long as Lucien understood that she would pay him once she had access to her funds again, she could accept the situation. At least some of the belongings could be sold later. She wasn’t likely to need evening clothes or jewelry after their mission was completed. Therese swept in suddenly, carrying a mass of pale green and white sarcenet. “Let’s put this on you, Mademoiselle, I believe I have found something that will be perfect for the royal ball, and it needs only a few finishing touches.” The modiste helped Meg put on the single petticoat, dress, and bodice. Then, Therese circled her, clucking her tongue and periodically reaching out to pin something. Finally, she turned Meg toward the mirror and bade her look. Meg opened her eyes, uncertain about this latest creation. It seemed much too transparent to be decent, but when she caught a glimpse, she was impressed. The gauzy white skirt stopped at the base of her calf, revealing a pale green petticoat that matched the flowers embroidered on the bodice. Three small ruffles circled the bottom of the skirt and a wide golden braid topped the ruffles. A thinner version of the same braid wound around the high waist and the base of the very short puff sleeves. The green and gold set off her hair and eyes, and Meg decided she agreed with Therese. Simple as it was compared to the adornments many women would wear in the company of royalty, this gown would be perfect for the ball. Though the fact that she was instructed to wear it without either stays or a chemise made her slightly nervous. “C’est magnifique, non?” Therese prodded, tapping her fingers against her cheek. “Oui, I love it!” Meg responded, glad she could finally be enthusiastic about something the modiste showed her. “Bon! Finally, I have found something to please the petite mademoiselle.” “Oh, Therese. The other dresses have pleased me; I am simply distracted.”
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“Oui, chérie. I have met Monsieur Archer, and if I were to be touring Paris in his company, I would be distracted too.” Meg smiled, not trusting herself to say more. “Yes, he is a distracting man,” Fabienne said, smiling knowingly at Meg. “Come along, chérie, I think we’ve found enough things to get you started. Let’s have our packages brought to the carriage.” Hugging the pretty modiste, she added, “Thank you, Therese.” “Yes, thank you,” Meg added. “I do appreciate your agreeing to work so quickly.” “It is my pleasure. I will have the blue gown finished in a few hours. You will be exquisite this evening.” Therese’s knowing smile told Meg the woman was convinced she and Lucien were lovers. While this meant she was playing her part well, she had to fight hard not to blush.
Later that afternoon, Meg was in Fabienne’s drawing room, already dressed for the evening in a gown her aunt would never have let her purchase. Therese had fixed it immediately and sent it along with a dress for her to wear the following evening. Underneath, she was wearing a short corset and a thin petticoat, but she still felt quite naked. The low, square neckline and tight bodice were far more revealing than anything she’d ever worn. Clotilde had arranged her hair a la Greque and tied a blue ribbon around her head. When she’d looked in the mirror, she’d hardly recognized herself. She was beginning to believe she could indeed become someone else. Fabienne had been watching as Meg practiced walking and sitting in her dress in such a way as to draw a man’s attention. Meg decided it was easier to pretend when she was dressed for the part. They’d taken a break to sit and chat when Clotilde showed Lucien in. “Good afternoon,” he said and then froze. He stared intently at Meg then shook his head as if waking himself up.
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“Lucien?” Fabienne inquired. “Forgive me. I am simply stunned.” Meg stood and approached Lucien, trying to move exactly as Fabienne had taught her. “I am so pleased to meet you, Mr. Archer,” she purred, offering her hand to be kissed. He took her hand and brushed his lips across it, lingering longer than he should. For a few seconds, they stood, looking into each other’s eyes. Then Meg stepped back, breaking the spell, pleased to see she had such an effect on him. Smiling, he looked at Fabienne. “Are you certain this is the same woman I brought here yesterday?” “Yes, but the change is amazing, non? She even convinced Therese that she is your current mistress.” Meg reverted to her normal self. “Fabienne is a wonderful tutor. She is teaching me all the things I ignored in London and making me into the woman I never wanted to be.” “You play the part of this woman well.” “Come along.” Fabienne linked arms with Meg, and bid Lucien follow. They walked to the center of the room, where Fabienne positioned them to begin a waltz. Lucien looked uncomfortable. “I’m no dancing instructor, so you will have to tell me what you expect.” “Meg explained to me that dancing was never important to her, so she never perfected the skill.” “I know all the steps, but I never manage to perform them with the grace of other women. I don’t understand it. I can direct a horse with only the pressure of my knees, and I can tiptoe through the brush tracking a rabbit, but when it comes to the subtleties of dancing, I’m lost.” Fabienne smiled. “Perhaps you’ve never had the correct partner. Lucien is a master of the waltz.” Meg thought she heard a faint sound from Lucien, somewhat like a groan. Fabienne continued, looking at her. “Don’t think too much about the steps. Let Lucien lead, and your body will follow. Let your mind dwell on that feminine power we
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discussed. Use your body to attract Lucien as he spins you in the dance.” This time, Meg was certain she heard Lucien groan. Fabienne crossed to the piano and sat down to play a waltz. On her first try, Meg failed to relax and follow Lucien’s lead. Used to being in charge herself, she wanted to set her own pace and quickly ended up trodding on Lucien’s boots and stopping to apologize. Lucien looked thoroughly exasperated. “You’re holding on to me like you’re drowning, and I’m the only thing keeping you afloat. Relax. You don’t have to control this. Let go and let your body turn. Follow the music.” “Step closer to him Meg,” Fabienne added. “You’re an adventurous young woman, not a matron at a country dance. The closer you press together, the easier it is to follow his lead.” She was more physically aware of Lucien than she wanted to be, but she took a step closer and concentrated on relaxing her posture. She could feel the heat coming from his body. Her nipples hardened as her breasts brushed against his chest. Fabienne began to play once more. Meg focused on Lucien, trying to forget what her feet were doing and let him sweep her along. He was so strong he could have held her aloft through the whole dance. As she fell into the rhythm of it, she felt as if she were twirling above the ground. For the first time, she was really enjoying a dance, but her close proximity to Lucien made it feel far more erotic than was proper. She began to understand her aunt’s objection to the waltz. The tempo sped up, and she panicked. Once again she tried to control her steps and lost the proper rhythm. Lucien stopped. “This is not a fight. It’s a dance. You don’t have to control it. Quit trying so damned hard.” “How can I get it right if I don’t try?” She felt Lucien’s tension where her hand rested on his shoulder. It was like holding on to a rock. “For the last time, relax!” How could she relax with him filling her senses so thoroughly? Every time she breathed, she smelled his potent, musky scent.
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Fabienne rose from the piano. “Lucien dear, as it turns out, you’re quite an excellent instructor. A few more tries and Meg should be ready to dazzle and amaze her partners tonight. I’m afraid I am going to have to leave you now. I have an engagement tonight myself, and I must get ready.” With that she breezed through the door. Lucien muttered something vile about her under his breath. “Do you think you can get it right this time?” “I don’t know why you have to be so nasty about this,” Meg replied. “You’re the one who gave me a single day to completely remake myself.” “One day is all we can afford. I don’t have time to give dancing lessons when our lives are in danger.” “I can think of numerous things I’d rather be doing. The very fact that I’m not an accomplished dancer should tell you how much I dislike the activity.” “You’re the one who wanted to work with me. I can leave now and do this on my own.” “And you’ll lose the one person who could identify Le Lézard for you.” “I know the value of that possibility, or you would not be here. We’re going to try this blasted dance again. This time, I am not going to give you any choice but to move as I do.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her against his body. Holding her aloft, he began to waltz. He held her as if she weighed nothing, the muscles of his arm rigid against her back. She had no fear he would drop her, but her heartbeat accelerated as he spun. She didn’t think about the movements or about learning to dance. All she thought about was him. When he stopped, she slid down the length of his body and felt the hard ridge of his shaft. Apparently, he’d also been affected by their closeness. “Do you understand how to let me lead now?” he asked with a calmness that seemed forced. “Yes,” she answered breathlessly.
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Neither of them moved. She met his gaze and tried to discern his thoughts. Passion was the only thing that showed in his eyes. He released her hand and gripped the back of her neck, pulling her up to meet his lips. The warmth of his mouth felt delicious. She lifted her arms and combed his hair with her fingers, luxuriating in its thickness and moving deeper to massage his scalp. This kiss wasn’t fierce like the ones he’d given her at the inn. Instead, he explored her mouth slowly, pressing gently to encourage her to open to him. Warmth gathered slowly at the core of her body, but when he ran his tongue across the roof of her mouth, she felt a stab of desire so strong she tugged on his hair and made him gasp. He pressed harder against her lips, and she answered the pressure. She sucked on his tongue pulling it into her mouth, trying to get as close to him as she could. Thinking she’d like to stay locked with him forever. Lucien fought with himself. He knew he should stop, but he wanted Meg as desperately as she apparently wanted him. When her greedy mouth released him, he couldn’t resist the smooth column of her neck. Licking and nipping, he made his way to the upper swell of her breast. He’d begun to run the tip of his tongue under her neckline, when he felt Isis wrapping herself around his legs, trying to push her head between them. Meg pulled back to keep the cat from climbing her delicate dress, and Lucien struggled to calm his breathing. His shaft throbbed, begging him to continue, and he had to force himself not to grab her and pull her back to him. If Isis hadn’t intervened, he didn’t think Meg would have stopped him. He would’ve taken her right there on the floor despite his vow that he would not take advantage of her natural passion. He glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. “We should leave soon. We will be escorting my friend to the Carringtons’ so we must stop by his rooms on our way. Perhaps you should go upstairs and refresh yourself. I will wait for you in the library.” Meg looked angry and frustrated, but he left without saying another word. His behavior was unforgivably rude, but he didn’t trust himself to remain alone with her one moment longer. How was he going to survive pretending to be her lover?
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Chapter Nine As Meg and Lucien rode to the MacPhersons’, Meg took advantage of Lucien’s silence to think about the evening’s events. His abrupt departure after their kiss had angered her at first. Later she’d begun to hope he’d left because he felt as flustered as she did. Lucien explained that she would be introduced as Margaret Covington, the name of one of her young cousins and thus not too difficult to remember. She would endeavor to be Margaret and never Meg. Just thinking about the party made her nervous, but failure was not an option. She’d chosen a new life for herself and she was determined to succeed in her plan. She would not allow her inexperience to endanger Lucien and Fabienne. Lucien told her to refer to him as Mr. Archer. When she asked if that was his real name, he evaded her question, saying only that it was real enough. She was none too pleased that he expected her to answer all his questions while he remained mysterious. At least pretending to be his mistress would be easy. Her attraction to him was all too real. Why couldn’t he see she wanted him as much as he wanted her? She understood that it wouldn’t be forever. Or did she? A persistent and irritating voice kept telling her she was fooling herself. If she spent another night with him, she wouldn’t be able to walk away easily. She’d finally met a man she could fall in love with. She pushed this disturbing thought from her mind and looked out the window at the sights of Paris. They crossed the Seine on the Pont du Louis Seize, and she saw the Tuileries and the Louvre on her right as they turned onto the newly constructed Rue de Rivoli. She longed to explore all the palaces and museums, but she didn’t think Lucien would be taking her on a sight-seeing tour. A few months ago, she would never have imagined that at the end of the Season she’d be in Paris participating in a secret mission rather than arguing with her aunt about her paltry efforts to find a husband. The carriage slowed, and her heart rate accelerated www.samhainpublishing.com
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She was rather nervous about meeting Lucien’s friends. It was obvious Lucien had the utmost respect for these men. She imagined he didn’t take advice from many people, yet he’d been willing to follow Mr. MacPherson’s suggestions even when they contradicted his wishes. Andrew MacPherson must be a force indeed if he could exact Lucien’s obedience. She knew Lucien had told him something about her, but she wished she knew exactly what. All Lucien would say was that he was certain the MacPhersons would take to her immediately. Throughout the ride, Lucien stared out the opposite window with a concerned expression on his face. She wondered what had him so preoccupied. Was he still brooding over their kiss? When the carriage stopped, Lucien stepped down and helped Meg descend. He met her gaze for the first time since leaving Fabienne’s. “Meg, I—” Whatever he intended to say was interrupted when a blond man who was as tall as Lucien and almost as shockingly handsome flung open the MacPhersons’ door and beckoned to them. They entered the house, and the man pulled Lucien into a tight embrace. “God, it’s good to see you again. I got word you’d been fatally injured. I’m damn glad you survived.” “Pardon my language, Mademoiselle.” He looked in Meg’s direction. “And forgive me for not speaking to you first. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen Lucien.” “Ian, this is Miss Wentworth, but from now on, she will be Mrs. Covington. Meg, this is Ian MacPherson.” Ian bent to kiss her hand. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” Meg smiled at him. “Lucien’s had nothing but good things to say about you, sir.” “That would be a first.” He chuckled, and Meg found herself laughing with him. Ian’s joviality was infectious. But he gave off an air of quiet authority, and his hazel eyes seemed to know too much for a man his age. He was pretending to be a soldier on
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leave from one of the Highland regiments, so he was decked out in a dress kilt, and his blond hair was a bit longer than was strictly fashionable. Meg noticed Lucien eyeing her critically. Had he noticed her taking in Ian’s appearance? The thought that he might be jealous made her smile. It meant he was not as indifferent as he’d like her to believe. Without a doubt Ian and Lucien were two of the most handsome men she’d ever met. The pair must be devastating when they moved through the crush at a ball. Their imposing personalities would cower weaker men, and women would tell them anything just for the privilege of a dance. Ian gestured toward an older man who’d appeared behind him. “This is my grandfather, Andrew MacPherson.” The older man kissed Meg’s hand too. As she looked at him, she knew she was seeing a picture of Ian in forty or fifty years. “You are every bit the beauty Lucien said you were.” “Thank you, sir.” Meg raised her brow at Lucien, but he only gave a slight bow. When she turned back to the MacPhersons, they were exchanging a knowing look. What exactly had Lucien told them about her? Lucien chose that moment to cut in. “Are you ready to go, Ian?” “Well, I—” Andrew interrupted him. “There’s no need to hurry. Most of the Carringtons’ guests won’t arrive for another half hour. We still need to discuss the issue of your identity.” “I told you before, I will introduce myself as Lucien Archer, a landed gentleman who has crossed the channel to take in the excitement of Paris. I’ve never worked in Parisian society, and it’s been years since I spent time in London, I doubt anyone will recognize me or my family name.” “I think we need to make a slight alteration,” Andrew said. “What type of alteration?” Lucien’s tone was skeptical. “Le Lézard already knows who you are and that you are in Paris. In order to draw him out, you should use your true identity. Besides, it will make entrée into Parisian social circles easier for you.”
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Meg couldn’t resist joining the conversation. “You said Lucien Archer was close enough to your real name. Who are you really?” Lucien grimaced. “Lucien Archer is my real name.” “Then what does Mr. MacPherson mean?” Lucien’s brows drew together, and he stared at Andrew. “You might as well tell her, since you are so eager to reveal my secret.” Old Andrew smiled. “You have the honor of the presence of Lucien Archer, Viscount Rainsby, heir to the Marquess of Weldon.” “Viscount Rainsby? There was a rumor in London that you were dead.” “I am, in fact, very much alive.” “You behaved as if you belonged only on the periphery of society. Why didn’t you tell me?” “It made no difference to our relationship, and revealing the details of my personal life was never part of our bargain.” “You were most insistent about finding out who I really am.” “Yes, but I have respected your privacy. With the contacts I have I could easily find out anything I want to know about you or your family. All I’ve done is confirm the story of your disappearance.” “How dare you make inquiries about me!” “If you think I survived the last nine years by taking people at their word, you’re sadly mistaken. If you don’t like our arrangement, I will be happy to send you home.” “You arrogant bastard.” “Listen—” Andrew chose this moment to interfere. “Lucien, when a woman makes it clear that you are behaving like an ass, leave off.” When Andrew spoke, Meg felt as if a spell were broken. It was as if she’d been transported some place where only she and Lucien existed, and suddenly she was back in the MacPhersons’ home.
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Heat rushed to her cheeks. She looked away from Lucien and accidentally met Ian’s gaze which was filled with curiosity and a hint of amusement. How could she have argued with Lucien in front of complete strangers? Mortification nearly overwhelmed her. “Please, forgive me. I’ve had a long day, and I forgot myself. Lucien and I will discuss this later.” “Think nothing of it,” Ian said. “Dear Lucien brings out the worst in everyone.” He grinned at his friend, but the look in Lucien’s eyes indicated that Ian’s humor was not appreciated. “It’s time we were leaving.” Lucien voice was filled with ice. Old Andrew grinned. “Yes, yes. Run along all of you. I’ll shall be thinking of you as you suffocate in the Carringtons’ crowded drawing room while I enjoy my whiskey and a good book.” That comment earned him one of Lucien’s fiercest glares, but he only smiled in return.
By the time they reached the Carringtons’ townhouse, Meg’s temper was sizzling. She knew Lucien was right. He had no obligation to tell her who he was, but she couldn’t forgive his insufferable arrogance. She was annoyed with Lucien, but she was angry with herself. Once again she’d been taken in by a man who wasn’t what he seemed. Gaffney had turned out to be a murderous bastard rather than a harmless fop. Now her alluring spy was really just another member of the ton. What must he think of her behavior? She was humiliated by her ignorance and by the fact that she still wanted him so fiercely she could hardly think. As they’d argued, his steely eyes darkened to deep smoke, the same color they were when he vibrated with desire, and his already tanned skin deepened yet another shade. She’d been afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from touching him.
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But, attractive or not, right or not, she had no intention of apologizing to him. When the carriage stopped and Lucien exited and held out his hand to help her down, she gave him a cold look and released his hand as soon as she had both feet on the ground. Lucien gripped her arm tightly. “I won’t have you jeopardizing our mission because you are in a snit.” “I will play my part.” “If we’re pretending to be lovers, then you’ll have to do better than this.” “As soon as we’re inside, I’ll fawn over you as much as is required, but I don’t have to do it out here.” She thought she heard Ian chuckle. But when she looked at him, he turned his head and coughed softly. “Let’s go inside then.” Lucien took Meg’s hand and wrapped it around his arm. She took a deep, steadying breath and used her other hand to smooth her dress. No more pouting. She could do better, and she would. Now that she was in Paris, surrounded by people Lucien had worked with for years, she felt foolish for believing she could enter the world of international espionage. Nevertheless, she was determined to make herself useful. The night air was cool and refreshing, but when a servant opened the door to admit them, a wave of heat rolled out. As Andrew had warned, the rooms were packed with bodies. Women in richly colored gowns floated among the elegantly dressed men. How could she have thought herself worldly enough to be a spy? Despite her fashionable dress, she felt out of place, like a country girl at the royal ball. All the anxiety she had felt in London came flooding back along with the memory of her last party there—the night Gaffney had abducted her. Swept up in the memory, she tripped on the steps. Lucien caught her arm. “Are you all right?” “I’m fine. For a moment, it was as if I were in London again.” He brushed a tendril of hair from her face. “We’ll find Gaffney. He’ll never hurt you again.” “Thank you.” Lucien’s compassion had once again changed frustration to confusion.
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And now, she was going to have to suffer through a party. After her introduction to the Carringtons and a few acquaintances of Ian’s, Lucien and Ian headed toward the smoking room in search of Gerard Fontaine, the man from Andrew’s list. Meg was left to her own devices since Lucien did not want her near Monsieur Fontaine until he’d talked to him first. He suggested she talk to the women Ian introduced her to, but as she made her way through the crowded salon, she spotted a blond-haired young woman seated by herself in one of the chairs lining the wall. The woman was so small the chair almost swallowed her. Meg wouldn’t have noticed her at all if a large man hadn’t shifted and cleared her line of sight. The young woman couldn’t be much older than seventeen. She looked lonely and uncomfortable— the way Meg had always felt in the drawing rooms of London. Feeling an immediate kinship with this stranger, Meg approached the row of chairs and settled herself into the seat beside the young woman. Meg was having a hard time remembering that she was supposed to be someone else, someone who would not likely offer comfort to a wayward soul like this. But there was no reason why an adventurous widow couldn’t be polite. “Are you all right, Mademoiselle?” she asked. The young woman looked up, and Meg noticed that her eyelashes glistened with tears. “I’m fine. Thank you.” But after reaching into her reticule for a handkerchief and blotting her eyes, the girl changed her answer. “Actually, no, I’m not. Oh, how embarrassing. I must look a complete fool.” “Certainly not, my dear. Do you need me to summon someone to assist?” “No, truly, I will be fine.” “You don’t look at all well. What happened?” More tears blossomed in the young woman’s eyes, ready to spill over at any minute. “Oh, I…that is…I overheard some ladies talking about a man, a man I thought myself in love with. I thought he might care about me too, but these women made it quite obvious that he’d bedded them both.”
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Meg laid her hand on the young woman’s arm. “I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to feel betrayed.” The woman’s eyes widened. “Who would betray someone as beautiful as you?” Meg couldn’t keep the surprise from her face. The young woman blushed. “There I go again. I’m always saying things I shouldn’t.” The stranger twisted her hands in her lap, bunching up her delicate, rosecolored dress. Meg smiled to reassure her. “That’s quite all right. I appreciate the compliment. Saying too much is a fault I often succumb to myself.” “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Katherine Wexham, but I’ve been much too forward already, so you might as well call me Katie.” “I’m Margaret Covington.” Meg started to tell Katie to call her Meg then remembered she wasn’t supposed to use the diminutive. “Have you come to Paris with your family?” “I traveled with my sister and her husband. I wanted to follow the man I told you about. I hoped he would propose to me while we were here. Obviously, I was a fool. I should have stayed in London.” “You never know who else you might meet here. I came here hoping to meet someone myself, and I have.” “Oh, are you engaged?” Katie’s cheeks quickly grew redder. “There I go again, I shouldn’t have asked that.” Meg smiled. “I don’t mind. But no, we’re not engaged. My husband died two years ago, and I’m not sure I want to marry again.” Meg hated lying to her new acquaintance, but she had little choice. “Is it so terrible to be married?” “Not really, it’s just—” A woman approached them who looked very much like Katie but with more angular features. “Katie, dear. I’m feeling a bit faint. Reginald is taking us home. Do come along.”
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The woman turned and walked away without another word, and Katie stood to follow. “My sister,” she said by way of explanation. “I would love for you to call tomorrow.” She dug into her reticule again and produced a card with her sister’s address. “I will if I am at leisure.” Meg smiled, thinking Katie certainly needed friendly company if her sister was always that brusque. When Katie left, Meg made her way across the drawing room to join a small group that included two of the women Ian had introduced. They in turn introduced her to the men they were conversing with, and she ended up promising the next two dances to her new acquaintances. The first dance was a waltz, and she handled herself beautifully. She wished Lucien had been watching. The second dance had thankfully simple choreography, and she managed to impress her partner with her improved skill. There was still no sign of Lucien or Ian when her partner escorted her off the dance floor. She strolled about searching for them, glad their height made them easy to locate in a crowd. Eventually, she spotted Lucien near the entrance to the drawing room. He was talking to a man who resembled a rat. As if he sensed her gaze, Lucien turned in her direction. No matter how many times she saw him, she never stopped being struck by his sheer physical beauty. His thick curls were tousled as usual. They seemed to be the one thing in his life he didn’t seek to control, and their wildness added a softness to his imposing air. His black coat fit snugly across his shoulders. His breeches looked as though they’d been painted on. He might claim to be more comfortable with field assignments, but he played the part of a bored rake with perfection. She was breathless by the time she reached his side. He took her arm. “Madame Covington, I would like to introduce Monsieur Fontaine.” He gestured toward the man beside him. Meg held her hand out for the man to kiss. She studied Monsieur Fontaine carefully. When he kissed her hand, he held it far longer than was necessary. She had to force herself not to pull it back. He looked at her as though he were certain she would fall into his arms if only he asked, but there was a
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coldness about his desire. It spoke of possession and dominance, not the warm concern that often blazed in Lucien’s eyes. “I must say that dress is quite stunning.” Fontaine stared openly at her breasts. Fighting her disgust, Meg plastered a smile on her face. “Why thank you, Monsieur.” Fontaine finally turned back to Lucien. “I’ll be taking my leave now, Rainsby. But I do hope to see you later this evening.” “Have every assurance you will.” Lucien took Meg’s hand and led her through a door into a courtyard where a stone fountain gurgled, and a cool breeze lifted the leaves on the trees. He found them a bench in a secluded spot. “Did you recognize Fontaine?” He kept his voice low and spoke near her ear. The heat of his breath sent spirals of desire through her and she had to force herself to concentrate. “No. He was repulsive but completely unfamiliar.” “I wanted to call him out for the way he looked at you.” “I suppose his open lust means I’m playing my part well.” “Indeed you are, but if you don’t cover a bit more of yourself, I will have to call out one of the guests before the night is over.” Meg glanced down and saw that her dress had slipped so low the tips of her breasts threatened to swell over the top. “Fabienne selected this dress herself. I thought you wanted me to pretend to be a fast woman.” He brushed the swell of her breasts with the back of his hand. “Not that fast.” If she was going to keep from kissing him, Meg needed to change the subject. “Lucien, why didn’t you tell who you really were?” Lucien sighed. He’d hoped she wouldn't bring the issue up again, but he’d known better. “It wasn’t necessary.” And I wanted you to see more than a title. “Did you know my father?” “Not really. I met him a few times in London when I was younger, but we were not truly acquainted.”
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“I remember Gaffney mentioning your name. I could have shared that with you sooner if I’d known who you were.” “What did he say?” “We were at a party. You had supposedly returned from the continent, but no one had seen you. It was rumored you had died of your wounds, but your death was being kept a secret. It made for quite a mystery.” “I’m glad I could be a source of entertainment,” Lucien said with a tight smile. “Gaffney got a strange look on his face when your name was mentioned. Later that night, I asked him if he knew you. He said he did and that you were alive, but he doubted you would be for long.” Lucien nodded. “I see.” “Did you circulate rumors of your death on purpose?” Lucien shook his head. “I had no desire to re-enter society, nor did I want anyone visiting me while I convalesced, so I kept my whereabouts secret to all but a few. My father doesn’t go up to town anymore, and my sisters are not yet out, so there was no one to deny the rumors of my death. I was content to remain in obscurity.” The click of a boot on the cobblestones brought an end to Lucien’s explanation. When he realized a man was coming their way, he grabbed Meg, pulling her into a kiss. It was the easiest way to keep her silent and make them appear to be a pair of lovers who’d come outside for some privacy. But as soon as his lips touched hers, he was caught up in a storm of emotion. He ran his hands over her bare arms, reveling in the silky texture of her skin. His tongue foraged in the recesses of her mouth, wanting to taste her very soul. His body burned, begged him to pull her to the ground, rip her dress from her shoulders and feast on her lush breasts while he filled her with his cock. A gentle cough brought him back to reality. “That was a very convincing kiss. Your thespian powers are quite amazing,” Ian spoke from the recesses behind their bench. Lucien pulled away from Meg. She stared at him, her dark eyes wide with shock. Her cheeks were flushed, and her chest rose and fell at an alarming rate.
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Ian walked around the bench and stood in front of them. Lucien took a deep breath, trying to recover his powers of speech. “Was that you by the door? I heard someone step out.” “I saw someone watching you when I came out of the house, but they turned abruptly and headed for the alley when they noticed me. I might recognize the man if I saw him again. Do you think he heard anything vital?” “No, we were speaking softly. He couldn’t have heard from that distance.” “Hopefully you fooled him. I was certainly convinced you were lovers in truth,” Ian said, a wicked grin on his face. “Enough, Ian.” Ian’s grin widened. “If you want to switch roles, I would be more than happy to escort our darling Meg.” Ian’s flirtatious nature had never been anything but humorous to Lucien, but upon seeing his friend look at Meg with smug male approval, Lucien was consumed with jealousy. He’d planned for Ian to escort her home. Now he didn’t want his friend to be alone with her in a carriage. If Ian so much as tried to touch her, Lucien would see he regretted it. “I promised Meg I would protect her while we are here, and if necessary, I will protect her from you as well.” Meg laid a hand on his arm. “Lucien, he was only teasing.” Ian broke in, “Come on, Luce. You know I love to provoke a reaction from you.” Lucien ignored his friend. “Meg, Ian will escort you home. I’m going to spend some more time with Fontaine. I don’t think he’s our man, but he might lead me to someone else.” Meg frowned. “Be careful.” “Don’t worry about me. Fabienne will work with you in the morning, and I will call for you in the afternoon.”
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He forced himself to walk away slowly, but he wanted to run. The effect Meg had on him was devastating. He’d been close to taking her home with him and spending the rest of the evening in bed. He was engaged to meet Fontaine at the Palais Royale. The women in that bed of vice would not resemble Meg at all. Perhaps he could find one to ease the ache between his legs, but he knew he was kidding himself. Even if he slaked his lust, it would come back as soon as he saw Meg again. All the more reason for him to work quickly to find Le Lézard. The faster he could find him, the faster he could help Meg return to England or start a new life here in France. He would see to it that she had a chance at the life she deserved, a home filled with warmth, love, children. A part of him wished he could provide that home for her, but the idea of marriage and fatherhood terrified him. His own father was a monster. His greatest fear was siring a child and not doing any better by him.
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Chapter Ten Meg and Ian stared after Lucien’s retreating form until Ian broke the silence. “He’s rather single-minded when he’s on a mission, and he insufferably overprotective, but he has reason to be.” “What reason?” Meg asked, eager to know more about Lucien’s past. “He has two little sisters. His father was…harsh. Lucien took it upon himself to protect them. He had to be a father to them while he was still a child himself. He rarely talks about his family, but maybe he will tell you about them eventually.” “He mentioned his sisters once.” “He did? What did he say?” “He braided my hair for me. I was in pretty bad shape when he found me.” She paused, unsure what Ian knew about Lucien’s capture of her. Ian noticed her distress and smiled. “Lucien explained how you met.” Meg breathed a sigh of relief. She’d much rather have all the facts in the open with Ian. “I asked Lucien where he learned how to braid, and he said he’d often helped his younger sisters.” “He said that? When he’d just met you?” “Yes. Is that so unusual?” “It means he trusts you.” “I don’t think he trusted me then. He still thought I worked for Le Lézard.” “His instincts must have told him differently, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Lucien doesn’t reveal anything of himself to people unless he trusts them.” “Sometimes I’m not sure he trusts me even now.” Ian smiled. “He does.” Meg blushed, remembering what Ian had seen. “Maybe. Perhaps he’s just that good at deception.” 110
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“No.” Ian looked like a little boy confiding an important secret. “No one is that good.” Meg didn’t know what to say. Ian and Fabienne were both convinced Lucien felt something for her. She knew he desired her physically, but was there more than that? Ian offered his arm. “Come on. I’ll escort you home, and I promise I will be a perfect gentleman.” Meg smiled. “I never doubted that for a moment. If Lucien trusts you, then so do I.”
Meg and Ian needed the carriage, so Lucien hired a hack for himself. Once her arrived at the Palais Royale, he headed straight for Café Montansier, a popular hangout for off-duty military men looking for big winnings and loose women. Entering the café, he spotted Fontaine immediately and took a spot beside him at the blackjack table. “Rainsby, excellent to see you again. For an English soldier you manage to be rather interesting. You don’t seem as damned uptight as most I’ve met.” Fontaine slapped him on the back. “I’m trying to find a way to take that as a compliment,” Lucien answered. “Of course it’s a compliment, you ass.” Fontaine turned to a passing waiter, took two glasses of whisky from his tray, and handed one of them to Lucien. “You’d better drink that quickly, I’m already two ahead of you.” “I can hold my own,” he returned, but he nearly choked on his first sip. It was possibly the worst excuse for whisky he’d ever tasted. Considering some of the places he’d been, that was saying a lot. Forcing himself not to grimace, he downed the rest of the glass. “There. Now I’m only down by one.” Nothing like letting your opponent think you were going to get stinking drunk to encourage them to let their guard down. “Rather impressive. And speaking of impressive, Madame Covington is quite a choice piece of flesh. Where ever did you find her?”
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Fury boiled in Lucien’s gut, and he fought the urge to strangle Fontaine. His ferocious reaction disturbed him. He’d never had such trouble keeping his cover before. He had to get a handle on his feelings for Meg, or he was going to wreck this investigation. Ignoring his raging emotions, he smiled at Fontaine. “She’s something else, isn’t she? I met her here in Paris. One of the many widows who’ve come looking for relief from the boredom of London.” “I imagine bedding her could put an end to boredom of any kind. Let me know if you tire of her. I would love to show her how diverting Paris can be.” Lucien saw red. How dare this scum even think a woman like Meg would look twice at him? “I’ll let you know, but it won’t be soon. She’s quite a handful.” That at least was true. Lucien tried to change the subject as the dealer laid out another hand. “What are you planning to do with yourself now that the war is over?” “This.” He gestured toward the table. “What else is there—cards, drink, a new woman every night. I can’t imagine a better life than one centered on my pleasure.” After several hands of vingt-et-un and a comical attempt at whist with partners so drunk they could hardly sit up, Lucien determined that Fontaine was either too selfish and stupid to be Le Lézard or far more cunning at deception than anyone would give him credit for. His instincts and Meg’s impression made him lean heavily toward the former. He assumed Fontaine’s family connections had won him his position in the secret police. The man had surely not been rewarded for his wit. As he listened to conversations around him, Lucien picked up the name of a man who had put together a secret pleasure society. The group sounded fairly innocuous. He doubted they had any connection to Le Lézard’s group, but he wanted to see if he could find their leader. He bid a nearly unconscious Fontaine good night and began a tour through several cafés and hells. He failed to find the man he was looking for or any of his associates, though he was assured they dined at Café des Milles Colones almost every night.
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With his head aching from the piss-poor liquor he’d consumed, Lucien headed home to get a little sleep before visiting the MacPhersons in the morning. Only a few hours remained until dawn. As he exited a gambling hell, a woman stopped him and inquired whether he’d like to go upstairs with her. He considered it. The two kisses he’d shared with Meg earlier in the day had left him frustrated as hell. As prostitutes went, he could do much worse than this woman. She was still young and had not yet taken on the hardened look her profession would eventually give her. Her enormous breasts spilled over the top of a sheer white dress which clung to her ample hips. She looked soft and inviting and— He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image of Meg’s pale, unsullied body. He knew nothing else would satisfy him. “No, thank you.” She trailed her hand along his arm. “For one as handsome as you, I would be willing to give a special price.” He smiled at her, hating the fact that she needed to sell her body. “I’ve had much too much to drink, and I’m far too tired. Maybe another night.” Pulling some coins from his pocket, he said, “Here. Take this and buy yourself something to eat instead.” She stood there, coins in her open palm, looking confused. “But, sir—” He closed her fingers tightly around the coins. “Please, just take it.” “Thank you.” She kissed his cheek and headed for the door of a café. He turned toward the front of the square, hoping to find an available hack, but as he passed an alley, someone called his name. He removed the top of his walking stick, exposing the knife beneath, before he entered the passage. His legs caught a wire that had been stretched across the entryway, and he fell to the ground. Getting his knees under him, he tried to stand, but a man’s arm came around his neck squeezing viciously, cutting off his air supply. His hands dug into the man’s arm, pulling with all his might. But the man hung on. Lucien began to grow dizzy, and the edges of his vision darkened.
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Getting to his feet, Lucien stumbled back against the wall, smashing the man into the bricks. The shock of the impact broke his opponent’s hold. Lucien wrenched the arm from his neck, turning to face his assailant. Two more men grabbed him from behind, pulling him against the opposite wall. He recognized them as the guards who’d pursued him from Le Havre. The scrape of a knife leaving its sheath made Lucien increase his struggles, but the men kept him pinned to the wall, each pulling an arm wide, nearly ripping his limbs from their sockets. The first attacker approached, holding the knife. Lucien’s mind whirled. He couldn’t die here and leave Meg to the mercy of Le Lézard. Cold steel pressed against his cheek. He flinched as the man drug the knife across his skin, deep enough to make him bleed but not to do lasting harm. What was happening? Were they going to kill him cut by cut? “Consider this a warning. You’re being watched. For now, Le Lézard is enjoying your struggle to find him.” The man withdrew the knife, and the others pulled Lucien away from the wall so they could tie his hands behind his back. They made the ropes just tight enough to delay him. Within minutes he’d freed himself, but there was no point in pursuing his assailants. The Lizard’s men could be in any of the cafés or gambling hells, or they could have fled the square all together. He took out his handkerchief to wipe away the blood on his cheek. Rage burned through him. How could he have been such an idiot? He’d known he was being watched. Why had he let his guard down? He prayed Meg was safe. He’d already engaged a few of MacPherson’s men to watch Fabienne’s house, but he was going to add more, including a day guard. Whatever he had to do, he would not let that bastard touch her.
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When Meg settled into her room for the night, Isis was curled up on her bed, so she sat down to give the queenly cat her expected attentions. As she rubbed the cat’s soft belly, she replayed her conversation with Ian. Was Ian right? Did Lucien trust her as he did only his closest friends? She’d told herself over and over that she could not fall in love with Lucien, but the battle was getting harder to fight. She could no longer imagine leaving France and returning to her former life. Lucien had made it quite clear that he was not interested in marriage. She might be able to break through his control and make him take her to bed again, but dare she hope she could tear down the barrier he’d built around his heart? What a dangerous thought. She was going to end up hurt if she sought more than physical pleasure from him. But whenever she thought about her future, she saw him there. She’d envision herself taking a quiet cottage in the country. Then he would walk through the door. She’d see herself in a stable, brushing down her horse, and he would come upon her, carrying their son on his shoulders. A tear slid from her eye and landed on the soft pillow. Despite all her good intentions, her heart was already lost.
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Chapter Eleven Andrew MacPherson shut the door of his office with a firm click. Lucien winced. “For God’s sake, could you be a little quieter?” Andrew chuckled. “Too much drink last night, my dear boy?” “The damned stuff Café Montansier passed off as whisky wouldn’t make good piss.” MacPherson smiled. “Let me get you a wee glass of my own. It will get your blood flowing again.” “It’s your damned fault I was drinking in the first place. You’re the ass who made me stay in Paris, running around chasing wastrels instead of going back to Le Havre.” “So you’d rather be shot at, maybe killed in the field. All great fun and games I’m sure.” Andrew handed him a heavy glass filled with amber liquid. “I was damned near killed last night.” “I was just about to ask what happened to your face. You didn’t have to fight off the women did you?” MacPherson leaned more closely to inspect the cut on his cheek. Despite his anger, Lucien had to smile at the older man’s teasing. “It came close with a few, but I managed without coming to blows.” “That’s always best.” Andrew straightened and settled himself behind his large, mahogany desk. “Do tell me what happened to you.” “I was an absolute fool. A man called my name from an alley, and I got caught in a trap.” His stomach roiled as he described the incident for his friend. He had to pause to slow his breath and take another careful sip of whiskey. “It’s my own damned fault. I let my guard down. I would have died if their intention hadn’t been to toy with me.” He dropped his throbbing head into his hands and concentrated on keeping his nausea at bay. In the light of day, his brush with death seemed ever more real. Stark fear combined with a raging hangover caused his stomach to do somersaults. 116
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“Och! I suppose I’m lucky to be seeing you here this morning rather than being summoned to collect your body.” Andrew made a grumbling noise and continued, “This mission is more personal than anything you’ve done before, and your concern for Miss Wentworth is making it difficult for you to think rationally.” Lucien forced himself to lift his head. For a moment, he was afraid he would topple off the chair. He was sure his face had taken on an unmanly pallor, but Andrew kindly said nothing about it. “Of course I’m concerned for her. I’m the fool who allowed her to come to Paris instead of sending her home. She’s supposed to be under my protection.” “That’s not the type of concern I mean, and you know it. You care for this woman Lucien, more than I’ve seen you care for a woman before.” “I simply wish to protect her.” He looked down again so Andrew wouldn’t see his eyes. He was afraid of the emotion reflected there. “If you want to delude yourself, that’s your business, but I think you’d be more aware of your weaknesses if you admitted your feelings for her.” “I know what my weaknesses are,” Lucien snapped. “I was an easy target last night, but it won’t happen again. I’ll see that more guards are put on Fabienne’s house.” “Lucien, you’re not a soldier anymore. You’re not fighting a national enemy. This is personal. There are no rules of engagement here, none of your officer courtesy. Le Lézard means to taunt you, lure you to where he wants you, and take pleasure in killing you. I imagine he also intends to recapture Meg, if for no other reason than because you care about her.” “God damn it!” Lucien stood, forcing himself to ignore the weakness of his body. After pacing the room several times, he stopped by a window, and looked out at passersby. “I was sloppy. I can’t seem to hold up the façade anymore. I want to bring Le Lézard down, but I don’t want to have to do it with deception. I’ve never had this much trouble controlling my emotions, I—” “Perhaps for the first time in years, you’ve met someone who makes you want to be who you truly are. Someone who makes you incapable of being nothing more than a hardened intelligence officer.”
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“I have to get myself under control. I can’t let Meg down.” “Lucien, have you admitted to yourself that you’re in love with her?” Lucien leaned against the window, physically assaulted by such a dangerous question. “I—” Before he could say anything else, Andrew’s assistant showed Ian into the room. With a glance, Lucien willed Andrew to end this line of conversation. The last thing he needed was Ian teasing him about Meg. Ian’s eyes widened when he saw Lucien. “What the hell happened to your face, and why do you look as green as a newly-commissioned sailor?” “I was attacked by Le Lézard’s men. As for my color, I had to go drinking with Fontaine. Your grandfather can fill you in on the details.” Ian raised a brow but did not question him further. “I was about to explain what I managed to learn last night.” Lucien stared at Andrew, daring the older man to contradict him. He explained his theory about Fontaine, and the rumors he’d overheard about the pleasure society. Then, Ian filled them in on his conversation with another of the suspects, Georges LeBlanc. “If LeBlanc wanted you dead, he’d face you down and run you through with his sword or put a bullet in your heart. No games. No nonsense. He’s got a terrible temper and a heart cold enough for unprovoked violence. But he does everything according to plan. Nothing about him indicates that he’s insane.” “Let’s find a way for Meg to meet him. If she doesn’t recognize him, we can eliminate him entirely,” Lucien said. Ian nodded. “The subject of the royal ball came up. LeBlanc indicated that he would attend. I cannot imagine he will stay long though. It isn’t the sort of evening he would find diverting.” “He should be there long enough for Meg to get a look at him. I’d like you to introduce them, let her talk to him. I want her to hear his voice and have a chance to imagine him masked. If you’re right though, we’ve eliminated two of our suspects. Only Renault is left. I heard much of him when I was in Spain. He was well-respected. Even
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his enemies thought highly of him. Apparently he lunches regularly at Café d’Eglantine. I will look for him there today.” Lucien turned to Andrew and continued. “I want Fabienne and Meg well guarded. Would you mind if I asked Thurston to drive them today?” “That’s a sound idea. Stop by his rooms, and tell him not to let them out of his sight. Suggest that he take Stevens along to act as a footman.” Lucien nodded. “I will return if I learn anything about Renault.” “I do intend to finish our earlier conversation,” Andrew said. Lucien suppressed a groan when he saw the look of hard determination in Andrew’s eyes. Why did the man have to insist on delving into his personal life? To survive this mission, he needed to shut out personal feelings. Letting his emotions guide him had never worked, not with his father, not on the peninsula, and not last night. Ian looked from his grandfather to Lucien and back again, obviously longing to know what they’d been discussing. Lucien ignored his curiosity and exited the shop. He hoped that once his head was clear, he’d be able to steer Andrew off the subject of Meg and get him talking about potential leads since their search was currently going nowhere.
Lucien’s message arrived while Meg was telling Fabienne about the Carringtons’ party over a late breakfast. Lucien suggested four shops they should investigate, explaining that all of them took special orders for intricate silver craft. The last one on the list, Les Choses de Madeleine, was run by a woman rumored to be a witch. She’d helped Andrew with other missions, and he thought she might know something about Le Lézard’s secret society even if she didn’t recognize the pendant. Andrew had met her several times, and he could not imagine her willingly helping Le Lézard. Lucien also said he would come to Fabienne’s in the late afternoon to discuss further plans with them. He urged them not to go anywhere other than the shops Andrew recommended, and he explained that two men who worked for the MacPhersons would
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be serving as their driver and footman today. He conveniently failed to explain why he felt the need for this extra precaution. Thurston and Stevens arrived soon after the note, and within an hour, Meg and Fabienne were ready to go. Meg was nervous about her first real attempt at investigation, but their inquiries at the first three shops proved disappointing. None of the proprietors had seen anything like Le Lézard’s pendant, and Meg began to doubt they would learn anything of note. She hoped Lucien was right and the proprietress of the last shop would be able to help. The windows of Les Choses de Madeleine were filled with jewelry and interesting knick-knacks. If she had not been informed otherwise, Meg would have thought it a gift shop like any other. Knowing what she did of the owner’s reputation, she was slightly apprehensive. But when they entered the store, the woman she saw behind the counter put her at ease. A simple white dress covered her plump figure and wild tendrils of brown hair curled down from the lopsided pile of curls on top of her head. She did not look threatening in the least. “Can I help you, Mademoiselle?” she asked as Meg approached the counter. Before Meg could reply, the woman froze and looked squarely into her eyes. The woman’s eyes glazed over as if she were in a trance. Meg felt like the woman’s piercing blue eyes could see right through her. After a few moments, the woman blinked and shook her head. When she had composed herself, she spoke. “Please forgive me for taking such a liberty. Sometimes the Sight overpowers me. I sense you are troubled, mademoiselle. There is something you seek that you should not and something you run from that you should embrace.” “Le Lézard. Lucien,” Meg said, not realizing she’d spoken the words out loud until the woman responded. “I never sense details, only impressions. But if my words make sense to you, you must heed them. I saw violence, fear, powers of destruction.”
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Meg knew she should be disturbed by what had happened, but she wasn’t. Whether or not this woman truly had second sight, she wasn’t evil. Meg trusted her instinctively, just as she’d trusted Lucien when she was his prisoner. Meg reached into her reticule to retrieve Fabienne’s drawing. “I need to figure out how to keep myself and someone I care about from harm. I was hoping you could help me.” “I cannot use my power to stop persons from their actions, even if those actions might cause harm. I may not interfere with anyone’s free will.” Meg nodded. “I understand. I didn’t come here to ask you for magic. I was hoping you could identify a pendant.” The woman smiled. “Of course, Old Andrew told me to expect a young woman with a picture of a pendant. You are Mrs. Covington, aren’t you?” Meg nodded her assent. “And you must be Fabienne.” “Oui,” Fabienne replied. “I am pleased to meet you. Monsieur MacPherson speaks very highly of you.” “Thank you.” The woman focused her attention back on Meg. “I am Madeleine, and I am pleased you have come here today.” Not wanting to stray from the subject, Meg spoke again, “Are you certain you’ve never heard the name Le Lézard?” “That name is not familiar, but let me see the picture you’ve brought.” Meg unrolled the drawing and laid it on the counter. “The man I seek is the leader of a cult. He claims to worship the devil. He and his followers all wear pendants with this symbol on them, and he has the same design on the hilt of his knife.” An ashen color suffused Madeleine’s face. “The black goat.” “Is that what it’s called?” Meg asked. “Yes, it is an ancient symbol for Satan. A man came here about four months ago. He wanted me to make a pendant like this. He believed I could endow it with great power,
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and he offered a large sum of money, but I refused. You must understand; I could never sell an object like this. It would go against my principles.” Meg nodded. “The man became angry. He threatened me, but finally, he left. Evil rolled off him in waves. I did not touch him, but the corruption of his mind made me ill. I hoped he would not find anyone who would make this pendant for him, but obviously, he did.” “He did, indeed. I was his prisoner for several days. He planned to use me as a sacrifice.” Meg’s fingers brushed Madeleine’s arm as she took the drawing to roll it back up. Madeleine gripped the counter, swaying as though she might faint. “Madame, are you all right?” Fabienne asked. Madeleine nodded her head. “My powers are stronger when I touch someone.” She looked at Meg. “If you continue your search, you will face great danger. You may not survive. I saw what this man has planned for you and the other you spoke of, Lucien.” Madeleine didn’t need to describe what she had seen. This time, Meg had seen the visions too. Lucien was on his knees before Le Lézard. An assistant held his head back so his neck was clearly displayed. Le Lézard slit his throat cleanly with one stroke of the knife. He held a black bowl to catch Lucien’s blood as it poured out. Meg knew she had to be strong. She would not let Lucien die. “I know what is at risk, but Le Lézard must be stopped. He already knows Lucien and I are in Paris. We must find him before we run out of time. Can you describe this man who came to your shop?” Madeleine was still pale, but she did as Meg asked. “He was tall and muscular with thick, curly brown hair and piercing gray eyes. I’m sure it must be the man you seek. The lizards surrounding the goat are a special addition to the symbol.” Meg’s heart raced. “Was his hair dark or light brown?” “Dark, almost black.” Meg pulled out Fabienne’s second sketch. “I have only seen him masked, but could this be the man you saw?”
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“Oui.” Madeleine picked up the sketch to examine it more closely. “I can’t be sure without a full picture, but the hair and the jaw line are right.” “His voice. Can you describe it?” “He had no pronounced accent. I assumed he was French, but I could not be certain. His voice held power. When he spoke, it gave me chills, and—” “You felt compelled to do as he asked, as if he were reaching out with his voice and touching you, bending you to his will.” “Yes, exactly. You must be describing the same man. Please, you must reconsider your plan to find him. If you felt his evil too, then it is very potent. I fear for you.” “He already knows I am here. His men followed Lucien and me. Please understand that I have no choice but to continue my search. Thank you for talking to us.” Meg rolled up the sketches. She and Fabienne turned to go, but Madeleine called out to her. “Wait here for a moment.” Madeleine came back holding a small satin bag. “Take this. Keep it with you at all times.” “What is it?” “A charm for protection. I doubt it is strong enough to defeat the evil you confront, but it may help.” Meg took the bag, unsure what to say. Despite the visions she’d seen, she was too practical to easily believe magical powers. It couldn’t harm her to take it though. “Thank you.” Fabienne was already at the door, looking shaken. Meg hurried to join her. “Please be careful,” Madeleine called as Meg pulled the shop door open, causing the little bell above it to jingle. Neither Meg nor Fabienne spoke while they settled themselves in the carriage. Meg wasn’t sure what to say. Finally, Fabienne broke the silence. “Did you believe Madeleine’s words?” Meg nodded. “I saw the vision too.”
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Fabienne paled. She laid her hand on Meg’s arm. “Are you certain you wish to continue with this?” Meg nodded. “I have no choice.” Needing to change the subject, she said, “I know you have guests coming for tea, but I wish to call on Miss Wexham, a young woman I met at the Carringtons’ last night. Would you mind if I used the carriage?” “You must promise to go nowhere other than her house. Thurston will wait for you, but Lucien will be most upset if he finds out you disobeyed his directive.” “I don’t think visiting Miss Wexham will present any great danger. Lucien will have to learn that he can’t order me about without even giving me a reason for his heightened concern.” Fabienne smiled. “I think he has finally met his match.”
After Fabienne exited the carriage, she took the charm bag from her reticule and examined it more closely. She wanted to know what was inside it, but it was sewn shut, and she was a bit wary of opening it. Would opening it ruin its effectiveness? Of course, she didn’t actually believe it could protect her, but just in case she was wrong, she decided to leave it shut. The bag was about the size of a large coin, and it fit neatly in her palm. She squeezed it and felt a hard lump, like a pebble. The bag crackled when she touched it as though it contained leaves. Bringing it to her nose, she discovered that it smelled faintly of both mint and anise. At least it didn’t appear to contain anything too scary. Just some herbs and a rock. Feeling embarrassingly superstitious, she stuffed it back into her reticule. She replayed her meeting with Madeleine in her mind. While she was in the store, it had been easy to accept the woman’s words. But why? She’d never believed in psychic powers, yet Madeleine seemed sincere, and the man she described fit Meg’s picture of Le Lézard perfectly. It bothered her that she had known instantly how Madeleine’s strange words applied to her life.
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When she arrived at Katie’s sister’s house, a maid showed her into a sunny sitting room where Katie sat reading in the window seat. Seeing her new friend eased Meg’s unsettled mind and brought her back to reality. “Margaret, I’m so glad you came.” Katie rose and motioned for Meg to join her on a sofa. “Would you like me to ring for tea?” “Tea would be lovely.” She almost said her afternoon had been exhausting but thought better of it, since she would have to fabricate a story of some innocent pastime. After she rang for tea, Meg asked Katie if she were feeling better. “Not better exactly, but I’m beginning to see how foolish I was to think I could draw the attention of a man who has women falling at his feet.” “You’re not foolish at all. You simply chose the wrong man,” Meg said as images flashed into her head—Gaffney smiling while they danced, followed by Lucien gently cleaning the wounds on her wrists. “I would like to marry for love, but my mother insists I find a husband soon. I have two younger sisters who want their own chance at a Season in London, but my mother will not allow them to come out until I’m married. Mother encouraged me to come to Paris, since so many of this year’s eligible men have left London.” Meg gave a sympathetic smile. “I hope you meet the love of your life while you are here.” A dreamy look came across Katie’s face. “Maybe I will meet someone at the royal ball next week. Are you going?” “I am. I promise to look for you there.” “Thank you. I am terribly frightened of appearing before royalty, but Rachel, my sister, swore to see that I stick to mother’s directive, so I don’t have a choice. I must attend every function where I might meet a suitable husband.” Meg imagined that Katie was, like herself, shy in a crowd and uncomfortable at parties but frightfully outspoken with her acquaintances. Meg had never been one to deceive or to hide her real opinions, and she fervently wished she could tell Katie how
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well she understood her predicament. But all she could do was hope the younger woman’s frankness didn’t frighten away potential suitors. Her own certainly had. The two women conferred about their ball gowns and expressed their curiosity about the newly established king for the first time. For a few moments, Meg almost forgot she wasn’t a carefree girl anymore. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d reveled in idle conversation. Then, Katie’s sister arrived, jarring her back into her role. “Collins told me we had a caller. Is this the young woman you met last night?” Rachel asked. She wore a dark brown walking dress, and her hair was pulled tightly back from her head, giving her the appearance of a dour matron twice her age. Katie replied. “Yes, this is Mrs. Covington, but she has given me permission to call her Margaret.” Her sister’s expression showed that she didn’t approve of such familiarities. “Margaret, this is my sister, Lady Whitbourne.” “I’m pleased to meet you, Lady Whitbourne.” Meg put on her best smile for Katie’s sister. Rachel gave her a disapproving stare. “Katie told me she’d met you at the Carringtons’. She mentioned you were recently widowed.” Meg faltered, unsure what to say. She and Lucien hadn’t discussed how long ago her “husband” had died, but from the way Rachel was looking her up and down, it was obvious the woman believed she should still be in mourning. The lilac dress Meg wore was brighter and bolder than anything she would have chosen in London. She certainly looked like a young woman who had embraced the wild air of Paris. Drawing in her breath, she decided to make something up and remember to tell Lucien later. “Not so very recently. My husband passed away two years ago. I’ve always wanted to travel, so I took the opportunity to come to Paris.” There. That should satisfy her. “Pray, tell me you did not come to Paris alone?” Lady Whitbourne continued to look scandalized. “Widowed or not, I wouldn’t want to hear of a young woman coming to this city without a chaperone. I have seen such scandalous behavior since I arrived. The commonest of women come to the theatre and sit next to women of title and breeding.
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Even in good society, one must be careful. One can hardly help but become tainted by such licentiousness. If mother hadn’t insisted Katherine stay, I would send her home immediately.” Well, Lady Whitbourne certainly felt free to speak her mind. Meg wanted to ask her why she chose to stay in Paris if it was so abhorrent, but she held her tongue. “I’m staying with my cousin who is French.” Meg was beginning to truly feel sorry for Katie. Her sister was obviously quite a stickler for good British social convention. What would Lady Whitbourne say if she saw Meg with Lucien tomorrow? She might never get to visit Katie again. She wished her choice to free herself from the restrictions of English society wouldn’t put an end to her new friendship. That was a consequence of becoming a spy that she’d not considered. Sensing that it would be best for her to make an exit before Katie’s sister could think of more criticisms, Meg stood and wished both women a good afternoon. As she rode back to Fabienne’s, Meg wondered what she and Lucien would be doing that evening. She was surprised to realize how much she’d missed him during the day. She took the small satin bag from her reticule and ran her fingers over it. Madeleine’s words came back to her: something you run from that you should embrace. How had this woman known about her feelings for Lucien? Must she embrace them? If she did, how would she ever recover when their mission ended?
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Chapter Twelve As Lucien dressed for the evening, he considered his earlier conversation with Andrew. His friend was right. He cared too much for Meg, and his feelings were distracting him from his work. He told himself he didn’t need to see her that evening. He could send her a note, explaining that he’d seen Le Lézard’s henchmen and ask her to stay in for the evening. Thurston could drive her to the MacPhersons’ in the morning, where they could all discuss what she had discovered in the shops. He didn’t have to go to her, but he couldn’t stop himself. He had worried about her all day, and he felt compelled to see her whole and safe with his own eyes. He ran his fingertips over the cut on his face, a stark reminder of the very real danger he and Meg faced. Why had he allowed her to come to Paris? He tried to convince himself that he hadn’t had a choice. She would have followed him no matter what. He hadn’t experienced such a lack of control since he’d left home. In the army, he’d earned the respect of his men, and they had obeyed him without question. He intimidated others easily, and in the military he had been able to use that fear to his advantage. But Meg refused to back down or listen to his commands. What was he supposed to do? Drag her back to England? Leave her to make her own way? Neither of those options were acceptable. The best thing he could do was work as hard and fast as possible to find Le Lézard and put an end to this mission. He stayed alert to all possible dangers as he walked to Fabienne’s house. He’d decided not to draw attention to himself by wearing his sword, but he carried his walking stick, hoping the knife implanted in it would do him more good than it had the night before. He’d also placed another knife in his boot. The streets were filled with crowds of tourists taking in the sites before heading to one of the copious cafés for dinner. Everyone he passed gave him a wide berth, the women looking at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Their wariness told him his 128
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attempt to effect the air of a nonchalant rake had done nothing to hide the lethal anger running through his veins. The fresh slash on his cheek only added to the problem. When he arrived at Fabienne’s home, he used the servants’ entrance. Thurston was in the kitchen, partaking of a hearty dinner. The cook, Isabelle, seemed quite taken with the newest addition to the staff. Thurston related the events of the afternoon. Lucien was annoyed when he learned Meg had visited a young woman she’d met the previous evening. What could he do to make her obey his warnings? Clotilde entered the kitchen as Lucien was finishing his discussion. “Good evening, sir. Did you wish to see the Miss Fabienne or Mrs. Covington?” “Please inform Mrs. Covington I’m here.” Clotilde bobbed a curtsey. “I’ll see that she comes right down.” “There’s no need for her to hurry her toilette. I’ll wait in the library.” As Lucien headed to the library, he was more convinced than ever he shouldn’t have come. He was actually nervous about seeing Meg again like some young pup just up from school. He hoped Meg wouldn’t come down too quickly. He could use a few moments to pull himself together.
More evening gowns had arrived from Therese. After careful examination, Meg chose one that resembled a two shoulder toga. It was constructed from thin white muslin, and pale blue bows held the bodice together at the shoulder. Against the starkly white fabric, Meg’s hair appeared to be an even deeper red than it was and her pale skin looked translucent. As instructed by Fabienne, she left off both chemise and corset and wore only a single thin petticoat. Her nipples were nearly visible through the fabric, and she smiled as she thought how the ensemble would tempt Lucien. The more she thought about Madeleine’s words, the more convinced she was that she should embrace her feelings for Lucien. If he ultimately rejected her, she would be no
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worse off than she had been before they met. At least she would have a chance to experience pleasure while they were together. Her near-nakedness both unnerved and thrilled her. She felt wickedly seductive, and her heart pounded in anticipation of Lucien’s reaction to her dress. She turned to leave the room but stopped on the threshold. She had left Madeleine’s charm bag on her dresser, but she felt a strong compulsion not to leave the room without it. She selected a light blue reticule to match her dress, and feeling terribly silly, slipped the charm inside it. She descended the stairs and entered the library. Lucien looked up from the book he’d been reading. The first thing Meg noticed was the dark red gash marring the perfect line of his cheek bone. Her mouth fell open, and she forgot all about her lack of a corset. “What happened?” He lifted a hand to his cheek. “I got into a bit of a scrap last night. It’s nothing.” The stiffness of his spine alone told her he was hiding something. “It doesn't look like nothing.” “I ran into some trouble at the hell where I met Fontaine.” He was avoiding her, looking everywhere but in her eyes. “If it was a black eye, I might believe you, but I doubt someone could cut you with such precision in a random brawl. Tell me the truth, Lucien.” He stared out the window and did not answer, but Meg refused to give up. “How can I help you if you won’t tell me what’s going on?” “I can’t guarantee your safety. I want you to stay in tonight. And you’re not to leave this house without Thurston and Stevens. I am not at all pleased to hear you defied me by paying calls today.” “I met a young English woman at the Carringtons’. I hardly think going to visit her escorted by two guards put me in more danger than I am here. If Le Lézard wants me bad enough, he’s going to find me. I won’t cower here in fear. Either you let me help, or I’m going to investigate on my own.”
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Lucien’s eyes darkened. “No, you’re not. You’re going to stay right here. I vowed to protect you, and that is what I am going to do.” “You’re not my protector. I chose this course, and you can’t keep me from it. I’d rather die than let this man go free to harm another woman.” “He won’t go free. I will see to that, but I won’t have you putting yourself in more danger. I was a fool to let you come here in the first place.” “You didn’t let me. I chose to come. Are you listening to me?” “That is immaterial. You are under my protection, and you will do as I say.” “No, I will not. No matter what you do, you cannot guarantee my safety. I would rather be hurt trying to find Le Lézard than sitting here. If he is playing a game with us, then I intend to play too. Now are you going to tell me what happened last night, or I will I have to find the answers for myself?” Lucien snarled. “You wouldn’t dare go out on your own.” Unwilling to let him win, Meg picked up her reticule, and moved toward the door. She hadn’t made it halfway before his hand closed around her arm. She knew she couldn’t break his hold so she turned to face him. His eyes were hard and determined but not cold. He radiated power, and Meg knew he was struggling to restrain his anger and his desire. The heat from his fingers felt like a brand on her arm. For a moment, she forgot about the mission and wanted nothing more than to act on the desire he raised in her. The tension in his body subsided suddenly. She hoped he was going to kiss her, but he released her instead. In a tight, clipped voice, he asked her to sit. Reluctantly, she did as he asked. Lucien didn’t join Meg on the settee. He paced in front of the window, trying to calm the raging need he’d unleashed when he touched her. The feel of her soft skin and the sight of her breasts heaving with her fast, angry breaths had him painfully aroused. He’d wanted nothing more than to crush her to him and ravage her dark red lips. The dress she wore devastated him. Fabienne had certainly taught her well. She wore nothing under her bodice, and he almost believed he could see the pink of her nipples
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through the soft white muslin. If he simply untied the little bows at her shoulders, he could feast on them. How could he possibly let her out of the house in such an outfit? MacPherson was right. He had to separate emotions from duty. He’d come here to warn Meg, not to ravish her. Unfortunately his body wouldn’t listen to such rational thoughts. “Lucien?” Meg’s voice startled him. He realized he’d been pacing for several minutes. “Are you going to stand there all night or can we talk?” “I’m sorry.” What else could he say? He wasn’t going to explain that he was talking himself down from fucking her right here in the library. Lucien sat in a chair across from Meg, not trusting himself to join her on the settee. He felt like a fool for his inability to control either her actions or his hunger. “I must return to the Palais Royale tonight. After I describe what transpired last night, you may decide if you wish to accompany me. If you do, all I can do is promise to guard you with my life.” Meg read the concern in his eyes. As much as his controlling nature infuriated her, she knew he was truly afraid she would be hurt or even killed. After meeting Madeleine, she was frightened too, but she could not back down. “I appreciate your concern.” Their gazes met, and they both forgot to breathe. Finally, Lucien spoke. “I couldn’t bear it if you came to further harm because of me.” Meg leaned forward and brushed his cheek with her fingertips, tracing the thin red line of his wound. “Please tell me what happened.” The hot imprint of her touch lingered on his cheek. He started to speak, but he couldn’t get the words past the lump in his throat. How had he come to care for her so quickly? And what had he done to deserve the return of that affection? Since he’d left home, he hadn’t let anyone get close to him. He’d been with women when he needed to, and he’d made certain they received pleasure from the encounter, but he’d kept his heart firmly sealed. He wasn’t sure he could tear down the walls he’d built. Would Meg still care about him if she knew the man he really was?
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If he let her in would he be able to work at all? MacPherson was right—his concern for her went far beyond responsibility. The more he let himself care, the harder it was to be objective. “I want you to promise to reconsider your offer of help after you’ve heard my story.” “I don’t believe I will change my mind, but I promise to consider what you say,” she replied. He nodded. That would have to do. “I was ambushed by three of Le Lézard’s men. They could have killed me. I was stupid and unprepared, and I failed to see I was stepping into a trap. They gave me this cut as a warning, saying my time to find their boss was running out.” The color drained from Meg’s face, and she reached her hands out to brace herself on the edge of the settee. “Meg?” “I’ll be all right. It’s just—” Her voice sounded painfully strangled. “Don’t try to talk right now. Let me get you some wine.” After she’d taken a few sips of wine, Meg looked better. “Thank you,” she said, indicating the glass of wine. “What you said triggered a memory from this afternoon. Fabienne and I met Madeleine, the witch Andrew told you about. When she touched my hand, she saw something.” Meg paused, looking uncomfortable. “Saw something as in had a vision?” Meg nodded. “So she says. I don’t really know what happened, but she knew I was in danger, and she knew about you. She didn’t know your name, but she knew someone that I…cared for was also in danger. She insisted I stop hunting Le Lézard.” Lucien frowned. “Perhaps you should listen to her advice.” Meg ignored him. “Later, she touched my arm by mistake and got an even stronger sense of danger. She didn’t tell me exactly what she saw, but I got an image in my mind too. One of Le Lézard slashing your throat.” Lucien’s vision darkened. He imagined he looked as pale as Meg had. He took her hands in his. “I want you to leave Paris.”
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Meg shook her head. “I don’t know how Madeleine knew what she did, but I'm not going to run.” “Le Lézard knows where we are. He intends to kill me. Thanks to my carelessness, I might have died last night. If I don’t find him before he decides to end this game, we have little hope of surviving.” She pulled her hands from his and cupped them around his face, forcing him to look at her. “Lucien, I understand the danger, but I will not leave. I have to see this through.” “You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.” He closed his eyes and took and deep breath before resigning himself. “Don’t you dare leave my side tonight unless I give my consent.” “Does this mean I’m allowed to accompany you?” “You’ve not given me much choice. At least if you’re with me, I can keep an eye on you. Do you still have the knife you took from me in Rouen?” She nodded. “Carry it tonight. You can retrieve it when you go up to change your dress.” Meg looked puzzled. “Fabienne said this was the perfect dress for a mistress to wear.” “The dress is perfect.” Lucien was unable to keep his eyes from sweeping over the thin material clinging to her breasts. “That is why you need to change. I don’t want to have to fend off every man we pass.” Meg sighed with exasperation. “I can’t play my role dressed like a conservative English girl. Fabienne and Therese assured me that while this dress is quite provocative, it is still tasteful by Parisian standards. It is perfectly acceptable for any function we will attend. You will simply have to demonstrate to any would-be suitors that you don’t intend to share me.” She flashed a wicked smile. He snarled. “The places we will go tonight are nothing like the places you’ve been in London. We’ll be surrounded by prostitutes and drunken men who often turn violent when Lady Luck doesn’t favor them.”
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“That’s exactly why I would stand out in more conservative clothing. I thought you wanted me to blend in with the crowd.” How did she manage to make him want to tear out his hair every time they had a conversation? “Fine, keep the dress, but go get the knife. You can tell me more about your conversation with Madeleine over dinner.” When Meg left the room, Lucien poured himself a glass of brandy, and sank into one of the cushioned chairs. So much for scaring her off. He still held out hope she would be shocked by the first hell they entered and change her mind. But he knew there was little chance of her admitting her fear even if she felt it. Her reckless courage scared the hell out of him. She was tough, and her experience with Le Lézard had made her even tougher. But she was still naïve about the level of danger they faced. She never doubted they would succeed, yet he was growing more and more skeptical every day. He didn’t know what to make of her experience with Madeleine. He’d never believed in visions or foretelling, but Meg had seen something too, and it had certainly unnerved her. Was it only her vivid imagination?
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Chapter Thirteen Meg returned shortly, carrying a thin shawl. She said she would need it if the night air was chilly. He prayed for a strong breeze. She pulled the knife from her reticule to show him she had it. He thought it unlikely that she would get to it in time if they were attacked. Nevertheless, he felt better knowing she had a weapon. He’d planned to walk, but with Meg accompanying him, he felt safer borrowing Fabienne’s closed carriage. Stevens could stay with the conveyance, and Thurston could follow them at a discreet distance, ready to get Meg to safety if trouble arose. Several times during the ride, he repeated the guidelines he’d set for their excursion. “Do not leave my side. Do not start conversations with strangers, and do not assume anyone is a friend.” “I already promised to follow your rules.” Meg leaned across the carriage, placed her hand on his knee, and held his gaze. “I will do as you say.” She sounded quite sincere, but she was far too impulsive. A submissive woman wouldn’t have survived what she had though. Her impetuousness was both her greatest gift and her greatest liability. Meg’s eyes widened as they entered the square. There was no place in London where so many people from all different levels of society mingled together for entertainments of every variety. In some restaurants and cafés, plays were performed that suited all but the most delicate of tastes, but if one ventured up from the street level, one found gambling hells for the most desperate of creatures and rooms where one could buy any pleasure imaginable. Meg struggled to take in all the sights. The buildings of the Orleans Palace formed an enclosed square, and covered walkways ran along three of its sides. The open,
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graveled space in the center was lined with small trees. Benches were scattered under the trees, many of them occupied by couples or groups deep in conversation. As she and Lucien walked down one side of the square, she stared into the windows of shops selling books, toys, and ornaments of all types. A clock in the window of one shop arrested her particular attention. The case featured a woman, dressed in a gauzy robe which rotated to hide all of the hours save the current one. Lucien coughed. “It is amazing what people will buy.” They passed stall after stall of booksellers, prompting Meg to ask if all Parisians were great readers like Fabienne. “I believe most are,” Lucien replied. “Even the poor seem to read whenever they have a free moment.” Lucien guided her to an elegant café. Most of the patrons appeared to be wealthy Englishmen. The room had an overabundance of columns, and statues of nymphs and cherubs stood on pedestals in every nook and corner. Gold molding lined the wall as if the owners hoped to give the room the appearance of a royal hall ten times its size. The atmosphere was not unpleasant, though. The noise and the press of bodies normally made Meg feel confined, but the café was unlike a party. Everyone chattered, but there was no need to circulate. Meg and Lucien were shown to a corner table where they could tune out the noise and focus on their own conversation. Dinner consisted of roast beef—a dish the café served to cater to the explosion of English customers—fish, several vegetables, and all the bread they could eat. After they began their first course, Lucien asked Meg what else she had learned during the afternoon. “Le Lézard came to Madeleine’s shop to ask her to make his pendant. Madeleine refused, because the symbol he’d chosen represents the devil and would be used for evil. She said the very air around him felt ominous.” “Are you certain it was the same man?” “Yes, he fit my description, and she said the man in Fabienne’s drawing could be him. His voice was even the same.”
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Lucien ate silently for a few moments, seeming to need time to process what she had told him. “Did you learn anything at the other shops?” “None of the proprietors recognized the pendant, and Madeleine doesn’t know who ultimately made it for him.” Lucien explained what he’d learned prior to being attacked, including his confirmation that Fontaine was not the man they sought. Then, he outlined their plan for the evening. “We’re looking for a man named Levaux. He was a cavalry officer who fought in Spain. He has no known connections to intelligence work, but it is rumored he heads a secret society whose purpose is to provide the members with access to loose women.” Meg shuddered at the memory of the things Le Lézard had promised his followers they could do to her. “I believe Le Lézard provides such services for his followers, but if this society were the same, I would imagine there would be rumors of dark magic.” “I don’t think Levaux is the Lizard, but he may have connections to the man we seek, or some members of his society may. I’m hoping to find out more about his group and secure an invitation to their next gathering.” Meg raised an eyebrow. “I have no desire to share women with a group of base pleasure seekers, but we must seek out any connections that arise.” “I know. I was just imagining this wouldn’t be a difficult assignment for you,” Meg said with a smirk. Lucien’s face darkened. “You are wrong. Groups like these don’t treat women well. I want no part of degrading young peasant girls who’ve fallen prey to men like Levaux.” Meg realized she’d truly offended him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—” Lucien shook his head. “I know what you meant. There is no need to discuss this further.” He steered the conversation back to their plans for the evening, explaining that they would seek out Levaux in a few of his usual haunts. As Meg listened to Lucien explain more about the leads he’d gotten from MacPherson’s men, she finished everything on her plate along with several pieces of the
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delicious baguette. She hadn’t felt her hunger until the food arrived, but once she’d seen the delicious repast, she couldn’t seem to slow down. Unfortunately, she also drank several glasses of the smooth, light wine and realized too late that she was feeling a bit tipsy. She’d have to slow down or she’d end up embarrassing Lucien. At least the wine had calmed her nerves. Despite the bravado she’d put on for Lucien, she was terrified of meeting the Lizard’s guards again. Simply thinking about the possibility made her food turn to rocks in her stomach. Suddenly, the heat and stale air overwhelmed her. “Lucien, I need some air.” He signaled to the waiter and explained that they would be back in a moment to settle the bill; then he helped Meg to her feet and practically carried her outside. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?” His brow creased with worry. She shook her head. “No, I drank too much too quickly, and it was so hot in there; I thought about you, about what happened to you last night.” “Meg, let me take you home.” “No. If Levaux is connected to Le Lézard, I may have seen him while I was a prisoner. I want a chance to meet him.” The evening air restored her, and she was as determined as ever to stay and help. Lucien signaled to Thurston who was watching from a few doorways down. He stood with Meg while Lucien went back into the café. When Lucien returned, they gave Thurston time to distance himself again. Then they headed to the gambling hell on the opposite side of the square where Lucien hoped to find Levaux. In the entryway, a woman sat behind a counter reading, proving once again the Parisian love of books. She seemed reluctant to set her book down, but she offered to take Meg’s shawl and Lucien’s hat and walking stick. Then, she explained the house rules and showed them into the gaming room. They stepped through a curtain and crossed a foyer where several couples sat, some kissing, others simply talking. The next room was where gaming took place. Meg tried to
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school her face when they entered. She didn’t want Lucien to see her shock, especially since she’d already lost credibility by nearly fainting over dinner. But she was simply astounded by the variety of people and their scandalous behavior. The wide array of brightly-colored ensembles worn by the patrons made the room look like a garish flower garden. In England, women from decent families would never be allowed to enter such an establishment, yet here women who looked prim and proper enough to marry the village rector sat at gaming tables, their arms draped over men’s shoulders. Other women pranced around nearly naked, but Meg was uncertain if they were women of the night or simply part of the bolder element of society. After all, her own dress was far from sedate. Lucien took her hand and led her to a roulette table. The woman standing beside her leaned casually against the table’s edge. Her magenta gauze dress clung to every curve. Her breasts were so large Meg didn’t see how the thin fabric could restrain them. There was no doubt she was without corset or chemise. A man who wore the coat of a French cavalry officer stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. When her number won the round being played, she squealed and turned to her companion, kissing him boldly on the lips, not caring who watched. Meg drew in her breath sharply, and Lucien squeezed her hand. Meg wished she had the same boldness as she wondered what Lucien would do if she kissed him so openly. As he placed his bet for the next game, he pulled her against him, leaning down to whisper in her ear. The intimacy brought an intense heat to her body, and she almost missed what he said. “I believe this is Levaux. Listen closely and try to catch his name.” “He doesn’t look familiar, but I’m listening.” Her lips brushed his hair as she spoke. The tickle of the strands against her skin sent tingles through her body. How was she to concentrate with him so near? Lucien pulled her into the circle of his arms so she stood directly in front of him. When he placed his next bet, he had to lean into her to move his chip. Such intimacy would never have been allowed in a London ballroom, and it made her feel reckless. She
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turned her head and smiled provocatively, shifting her weight ever so slightly, so she pressed against his loins. The heat in his glance fueled her desire. Oh yes, she was playing her part very well. He leaned over to whisper again. “If you don’t stop I won’t be able to concentrate. I could lose my fortune.” She smiled and spoke in a low, seductive voice. “I hardly imagine you’d be so reckless. You’re not a man who bets more than he can afford to lose.” I wasn’t until I met you. Lucien wanted to forget that they weren’t really lovers, shouldn’t be, couldn’t be. It would be so easy to let the wildness of the atmosphere take over. Meg was playing her part to the fullest, giving herself the freedom to act in ways she never would otherwise. He hoped he had enough self-control to leave her at Fabienne’s at the end of the evening. Every time he saw her, it became more and more difficult to think of anything besides how much he wanted her. The officer withdrew from the game, and they caught his name as the dealer handed him a voucher for his winnings. He was, in fact, Monsieur Levaux. Lucien’s instincts told him he’d been right. This man’s society was likely nothing more than an excuse to gather for orgies. From what Old Andrew had uncovered, the members were not known to have any particular political allegiance, and any ceremony involved in their meetings appeared to be part of the sexual games they played. Still, some members of his club might be attracted to the type of group Le Lézard had formed. “Keep an eye on him,” Lucien whispered. “I don’t want to be too obvious, but we need to know where he goes, so we can follow after playing a few more rounds.” After two more rounds of roulette, Lucien took Meg’s hand and led her toward the bar. “Did you see where they went?” “Yes, they made their way to the back of the room and disappeared into one of those curtained alcoves. Are those for what I think they’re for?”
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Lucien smiled as he handed her a glass of champagne and took one for himself. “Indeed, they are. We’ll position ourselves at one of the back tables and wait for them to reappear.” “I’m not sure I should have any more to drink.” “You don’t have to drink it, but you’ll blend better if you carry it around.” As for himself, he was intending to drink every sip, but he’d need more than champagne to fortify himself against his hunger for Meg. When the couple emerged, Lucien and Meg wove through the crowd to take a seat at a table next to them. Lucien introduced himself and asked if they could talk over drinks when they finished the game. Levaux consented. After a few rounds of vingt-et-un they walked to a neighboring café and ordered a bottle of wine. “Monsieur Levaux. I have something of a rather delicate nature to discuss with you.” Levaux gave a slow smile. “Indeed. Shall we leave the ladies and retire to a one of the rooms in the back?” Lucien hesitated. He’d hoped to arrange a time to meet Levaux later, after he’d taken Meg home, but he didn’t want to lose the opportunity to question Levaux. “Let’s do just that.” Lucien turned to Meg. “I expect you to be here when I return.” Heart pounding, he gave her a look that said she would be sorry if she left the table, then followed Levaux to the back.
Shortly after Lucien had left, a blond man of medium height and overly muscular build approached Meg and Daphne, Levaux's escort. He wobbled as he walked, and liquor fumes wafted off him. Meg tensed. What kind of woman would he think she was, sitting there unprotected with Daphne? She found herself wishing she hadn’t pretended to be so brave. Lucien would never have left her if she hadn’t been so vocal about taking care of herself. Daphne smiled seductively—was she a prostitute? “How are you this evening?” she asked, reaching out to touch the man’s arm as he pulled up a chair.
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“I’ve had a fabulous night. And I’m looking for a way to enjoy my success.” He reached out and touched Meg’s cheek. She pulled back. What should she do? “Oh, a shy one.” The man laughed, but he dropped his hand. Meg’s mind raced. Should she get up and leave, hoping Thurston would see her emerge from the café alone and come to help her? Should she try to seek out Lucien? The drunken man might follow her if she headed toward the back rooms. Her only other prospect was to stay where she was and hope the man would leave on his own or that Lucien would return. Perhaps that was best unless the man became a serious threat. When she turned back to the conversation, Daphne was declining the man’s offer to spend the evening together. “Maybe later, sir. I’m with someone else now. He just stepped out for a few moments. I would be glad to meet you later though. I could give you an address.” Apparently Daphne was a prostitute, and she was willing to go straight from Levaux to this man. Meg shuddered at the thought. The man turned to Meg and took her arm. “How about you then, little one?” “That’s not possible, sir,” Meg said, trying to free her arm from his grip and finding he’d locked on to her solidly. “I am also here with someone. I think perhaps you misunderstand my position.” “Oh, I assure you, I understand exactly what you are. You’re leaving with me.” He jerked Meg to her feet. Within the blink of an eye, he had a knife pressed against her throat. “Do as I say, and I won’t have to hurt you…much.” He laughed drunkenly as he said it. Meg’s heart hammered, and icy prickles of fear raced down her spine. Daphne pretended not to see anything amiss. Meg knew she’d get no help from that quarter. It was probably bad for Daphne’s business to involve herself in other people’s problems. Meg prayed for Lucien to appear from the back. The man’s shoulders were twice as wide as she was, and his arms bulged with muscles. She couldn’t possibly best him physically. She walked to the door slowly, trying to devise a way to get at the knife in her reticule and giving Lucien every opportunity to
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come back and save her. She thought about screaming for him, but there was little chance he would hear her over the noise, and she didn’t want to risk the man using his knife. “Move faster,” the man ordered. He now had the knife pressed against her spine. She felt it prick her through her dress. Sweat dripped down her neck and into her dress. When they exited the establishment, she looked in every direction, hoping to see Thurston lurking on a bench or in a nearby doorway. She needed to stall. “Where are you taking me?” “Somewhere we can be alone,” he whispered, stroking her hair. She tried to tell herself that Lucien or Thurston would come for her any minute. This man would not really get a chance to hurt her. They moved further and further from the door of the hell, and she considered trying to fight him. Instead, she chose to continue questioning him to buy herself time. “Why are you doing this?” “You’re beautiful, and I want to touch you, to mark you. Then, unfortunately, I will have to kill you.” He gripped her arm cruelly as he spoke. Meg’s stomach churned, and her throat constricted. This man wasn’t Le Lézard. He was the wrong size and shape, yet he was just as sick. The man pulled Meg into an alley, and forced her up a set of stairs and into a small room, containing nothing but a bed made up with dirty sheets. Up to that point, Meg had continued to tell herself that Thurston or Lucien would rescue her. Now panic rose inside her as the likelihood of a rescue diminished. She had to fight. She would not submit to this man, even if it meant she would die. She fumbled in her reticule, searching for the knife. She found it and thrust it under her opposite arm, hoping to stab the man in the gut. He crushed her wrist, easily divesting her of the weapon. Then he threw her toward the wall. She stumbled, twisting her ankle painfully. When she fell against the wall, the impact knocked the breath from her.
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Before she could gather her wits, he took hold of her and dragged her toward the bed. She tried to kick him, but her twisted ankle throbbed, and her blows were ineffective. He forced her down on the bed and held her arms above her head with one hand. She almost landed a kick between his legs, but he moved to the side just in time to avoid her. He slapped her hard, and she faded out of consciousness for a moment. When she came back to reality, her wrists had been tied together, and the rope attached to the bed. The man was holding her legs down, so he could restrain her ankles. He grabbed her injured ankle, and she shrieked. He squeezed it harder and laughed. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she feared she would be sick. Disbelief and fear overwhelmed her. She was completely at this man’s mercy. When both ankles were secure, he grabbed the top of her dress and ripped it, exposing her breasts. “Now, we are going to have some fun.” He laughed hysterically, and Meg struggled in her bonds. “Lie still, bitch.” He slapped her, making her cry out. She shut her eyes to block him out, but she couldn’t shut out his grunting as he ground himself against her leg. Without warning, his hand was gone. She opened her eyes. Lucien was there. Her assailant had grabbed the knife he’d laid on the bedside table. Lucien held his own weapon. Meg held her breath as she watched them. Her assailant raised his knife and brought his arm down. Lucien caught him by the wrist and lunged. The man grunted as Lucien’s knife struck him in the chest. Her assailant made a choking sound, fell to his knees and then slumped to the floor. Lucien left him there, lying in a pool of blood. “Is he dead?” “If he’s not yet, he will be.” Lucien voice sounded far off and strangely low. He kneeled by the foot of the bed and untied her ankles. When he touched the injured one, she gasped. He bent to kiss it and continued his work with gentle hands. Without saying a word, he pulled up her torn dress and freed her wrists. Then he pulled her into his arms, holding her for just a moment. “We’ve got to go. I don’t think anyone followed me here, but we can’t take a chance.”
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Meg swung her legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand, but pain shot up her leg, and she crumbled to the floor. Lucien scooped her up as though she weighed nothing. “I can walk, the pain just shocked me, that’s all,” she protested. Lucien ignored her. She fought the tears that threatened to spill and buried her head against Lucien’s chest. If she began to cry, she was afraid she would never stop. Her fear had been building since the drunken man had appeared at her table, and it threatened to all come rushing out. When they reached their carriage, she saw Thurston pacing beside it. He looked up at them. “Oh, miss, you’re safe. I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to you. Lucien found me out cold in an alley. The bastard snuck up behind me and knocked me on the head.” Meg smiled at him, hoping he wouldn’t blame himself, but she didn’t trust herself to speak. The two men helped her into the carriage. Lucien joined her and pulled her legs up across his lap. “You should keep your ankle elevated.” Lucien was being as kind and gentle as anyone could be, yet it seemed like a wall had grown up between them. She felt tension in his body. He was barely keeping his temper in check. Was he was angry with her for not taking better precautions, or was he angry with himself for not getting to her sooner? She desperately wanted to make things right between them. “Lucien, what’s wrong?” “Nothing. I want you to rest. We’ll talk about this later.” “I want to talk now. I’m sorry for causing trouble. I tried to get away, but the man had a knife. I know this is exactly what you feared, but—” Lucien caressed her face. “You did nothing wrong. I wanted information too badly. I took a risk I shouldn’t have. I would never have forgiven myself if that man had succeeded in his plan.” “I was so afraid you wouldn’t come. I didn’t know if you could find me in time, and he—” The tears she’d been holding back finally broke free. She began to cry softly and then to sob.
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Lucien held her tightly, stroking her hair over and over trying to soothe her. But despite the physical comfort he gave her, he remained emotionally distant. Meg desperately wanted to know what had changed.
Once Meg was settled in her bed, Fabienne rang for Clotilde. Lucien asked the young maid if she could find lavender and calendula in the kitchen. She answered in the affirmative, and he sent her to have a cold compress made from these herbs. “I know this will hurt, but I need you to flex your foot. Can you do that?” She succeeded, but the pain made her dizzy. “Now try to circle your foot, but go slowly.” Meg bit her lip to keep from crying out as she did what Lucien asked. She refused to let him know how much it hurt her. “I don’t think it’s broken. Clotilde is making something to reduce the swelling and hopefully relieve some of the pain, but even if it feels better, I don’t want you walking on it for several days.” “Did you learn to treat injuries in the army?” He nodded. “I met a woman who was an exceptional healer in one of the Spanish villages where my regiment was quartered. Since our medical facilities were all but nonexistent, I took the time to learn what I could from her.” Clotilde returned with the poultice, and Lucien insisted on caring for Meg himself. After Clotilde left the room, he asked Meg if the man who attacked her could have been Le Lézard himself? “No. He wasn’t tall enough, and his hair was blond, not brown. His voice wasn’t right either, except that it had the same crazed tone.” “Daphne said she’d seen him there before. I’m going back tonight to question her again. I intend to discover whether he is connected to Le Lézard.” Meg watched Lucien wrap the poultice around her ankle. His touch was sure and gentle but his manner was still distant. “Do you think it’s wise to return there?”
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“Don’t worry about me. I’ve taken many worse risks.” Meg sighed. There was no use in trying to convince him not to rush back into danger. He was at least as stubborn as she was. “What will happen when the police find the body we left behind?” “If any trouble arises, I’ll take care of it.” His words were icy and clipped. Meg grew more frustrated every moment. “I would simply like to know whether to look for you in prison if you fail to visit me tomorrow.” “The death of that bastard is the least of our worries; I assure you.” An uncomfortable silence stretched between them until finally, Lucien spoke. “You should remain in bed for several days. Under no circumstances are you to leave this house. Clotilde and Fabienne will see to anything you need.” Meg frowned. “Will I be recovered in time for the royal ball?” “Recovered or not, you won’t be going. You were nearly killed tonight. I will not be that careless with your life again.” Meg had no intention of staying home from the ball, but she could sense that now was not the time to win an argument with Lucien. She’d seen the fear on his face when he’d found her. He would not easily relent on his decree to keep her hidden away. She decided to make one further effort to get him to talk. “Lucien, have I angered you?” He leaned over and brushed her hair off her cheek. “I told you before, you did nothing wrong. I am angry at myself for failing you.” He stood abruptly and walked to the door. “Lucien?” When he turned back to face her, the profound sadness in his eyes made her breath catch. “You didn’t fail. You saved me.” He gave her a weak smile before leaving the room. She hoped he would at least visit her the next day so she could work on breaking down the invisible barrier he’d erected between them.
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Fabienne came to her a few moments later. Meg told her of Lucien’s decree that she not attend the royal ball. “Is there any chance I can convince him to relent?” Fabienne smiled. “I don’t know, chérie. But if he does not, perhaps we can contrive a plan of our own. Rarely do men give us enough credit for our strength. It is true that some women would take weeks to recover from the ordeal you experienced tonight, but I’m sure you will soon be ready to venture out again in a matter of days despite the danger to yourself.” Meg shuddered. “I was scared to death. I truly thought the man would kill me before Lucien discovered I was gone. But instead of making me regret my decision to stay in France, my close call only made me more determined to find the Lizard and make him pay for what he’s done.” Fabienne sat on the edge of the bed and drew Meg into a close hug. “Chérie, I promise you that once your ankle has healed, if Lucien will not change his mind, I’ll help you continue your search. I know what it’s like to be in your position. Lucien and his associates respect my work but they have always sheltered me more than need be. We’ll find a way to help Lucien overcome his fear of letting you out in society again.”
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Chapter Fourteen Lucien burst into Andrew’s office and threw a letter down on his desk. Andrew looked up curiously, then opened the letter and read aloud: “Your search for me has not gone well. Truly, this saddens me. I hoped you would prove a greater adversary. I haven’t much patience left. Soon, I will send my men for you and your woman. She was lovely last night, wasn’t she? Her dress showed off every curve. I don’t know how you have kept your hands off her for so long. Rest assured, when she is mine, I will not show such restraint. Do keep up the search. Your pitiful efforts amuse me.” “The sealing wax was stamped with a lizard crest—as if we had any doubt who it’s from,” Lucien said. “Who delivered it?” “A messenger boy.” “You questioned him, I assume.” Lucien nodded. “He said a liveried servant gave him the note. I asked him if he’d recognize the man if he saw him again. For the right price I think he would. I know where to find him if we need him.” Lucien pushed his hair back from his face. He hadn’t bothered to complete his toilette before rushing out in search of the boy. He must look positively wild. But MacPherson said nothing about his irregular appearance. The older man was mulling over the letter’s contents, weighing all the options before speaking. Lucien took a deep breath, trying to suppress the urge to smash something. The thought of that bastard watching Meg made him see red. Finally, Andrew looked up from the note. “What happened last night?”
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The words tumbled out, every sickening, stupid detail—meeting Levaux, leaving Meg unattended, realizing she was gone, seeing that disgusting man touching her. “I failed her, and I failed myself.” Blood pounded in Lucien’s ears. Pent up rage had him wanting to tear MacPherson’s office apart. He hung on to control by an unraveling thread. Why didn’t Andrew say something? Lucien knew leaving Meg alone was unforgivable. He should have locked her in her room at Fabienne’s rather than let her go with him. He couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Damn it, Andrew. I’d rather you yell at me than sit there in silent judgment. I sat up all night watching Fabienne’s house. During the single hour of sleep I got before this damned letter arrived, I dreamt over and over that I entered that room and found Meg’s lifeless body tied to the bed. I will not let her leave Fabienne’s house again until Le Lézard has been found.” Andrew gave him a mirthless smile. “You’ve berated yourself enough. I have no need to give further abuse. I was hard on you the other day. I told you to take more precautions, and you did. When I met Meg, I knew immediately she was the type of woman who could not be repressed. If she wants to help you, she will do so. Keeping her a prisoner at Fabienne’s will do nothing but anger her.” “What choice do I have? You read the letter.” “If Le Lézard is following you closely then he likely knows Meg is at Fabienne’s. She may well have been safer out with you than home alone.” “The house is well guarded.” “Yes, but guards are not a guarantee. Nothing is. You’re letting your emotions distract you. Treat Meg as you would any other associate.” “But she’s not trained as a spy. She’s only here because she refuses to return to her family.” “You are taking precautions, and warning her of the risks. No matter what you think, you didn’t fail her in the end. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
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Lucien’s grief threatened to overwhelm him. He worried he was on the brink of a breakdown. “I swore I would never let rage control me. I don’t want to become the violent beast my father was. But when I saw that man on top of Meg, he was as good as dead.” “He attacked you. He would have killed you if you hadn’t killed him first.” “I might have wounded him instead if I’d tried. But I didn’t. I wanted him to die.” Andrew laid a hand on Lucien’s shoulder. “Don’t think for a moment that another agent would have let that man live. You’re not your father. You only hurt those who deserve it, not innocent women and children.” Lucien felt as if the room were closing in on him. He couldn’t breathe. He had to escape so he could think on his own. “I do not wish to discuss this anymore.” Andrew wisely changed the subject. “Did you learn anything from your conversation with Levaux?” “Yes, at least I can console myself that I didn’t risk Meg for nothing. I’ve an invitation for Ian and myself to attend the next meeting of his organization. It will take place the night after the royal ball.” MacPherson nodded. “Excellent. Ian has gone to Le Havre, but he will be back by then. Call on me tomorrow. One of my agents who’s been stationed in Rouen is scheduled to meet with me this afternoon. I will tell you if he knows anything about Le Lézard.” “I will be here in the morning then. Good day.” Lucien held his frustration in check until he exited. But as he descended the front steps of MacPherson’s shop, he slammed his walking stick on the pavement with such force that he frightened two older ladies and set their toy dogs to barking frenziedly.
All that day, Meg did nothing but lie in bed with her ankle propped up on several pillows. The compress Lucien ordered had brought down the swelling, but anything more than the slightest movement sent pain shooting up her leg.
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She tried to read, but she couldn’t concentrate on her book. All she could think of was how much she wanted to get out of bed and continue the search for Le Lézard. Fabienne sat and talked to her for several hours, but Meg hated to infringe on her hostess’s time. And she knew that, cranky as she was, she made terrible company. The next day was better. Meg got out of bed and tried walking around her room, wanting to keep her legs from getting stiff. After lunch, she sent a note to Katie, explaining her situation. Katie came to visit almost immediately. Talking with her cheered Meg considerably. Meg saw Lucien only once in the days leading up to the royal ball. He wanted to check on her ankle and tell her the identity of her attacker. “His name was Martine d’Anjou. He was a student who’d racked up large gambling debts. Apparently he got into fights and fought duels regularly and had been arrested several times. I couldn’t find anything to connect him to Le Lézard, but I am certain he was sent to frighten you. Perhaps he would have killed you against orders, but I believe Le Lézard was sending another warning about how easily he could best us.” Meg wished she could relieve the grief and exhaustion evident in Lucien’s eyes. “Have you found any other clues?” “No, damn it. I know nothing more about Le Lézard than I did when we arrived.” Meg hated to see Lucien so defeated. He clearly blamed himself for their lack of progress, but he was as distant as he’d been several days ago, so she continued as if she hadn’t noticed. “You never told me if you succeeded with Levaux. Did you receive entrée into his group?” “I secured entrée for Ian and myself. His society is having a business meeting after the royal ball.” Meg started to ask another question but Lucien interrupted her. “I have several leads to follow this afternoon. I’m afraid I must make my leave.” He was behaving as if they were mere acquaintances. Meg desperately wanted to know why. But she wasn’t going to let him leave without mentioning the ball. It would take place in three days.
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She took the strategy of pretending he hadn’t forbidden her to go. “Will you pick me up for the royal ball or should I go in Fabienne’s carriage?” His eyes darkened. “Under no circumstances will you attend the ball. It’s too dangerous.” Meg wasn’t backing down. “I can travel with Fabienne. Stevens and Thurston will attend us, and you and Ian will both be present at the ball. We’ll be in a royal residence, not a gambling hell.” “It’s out of the question.” Lucien spoke in his most arrogant tone, the one she imagined he’d used to intimidate insubordinate soldiers. She was not going to be treated like some wayward boy who thought the army a good lark. “I will not stay locked up in this house now that I can walk. I’m not your prisoner anymore.” Lucien stood. “This discussion is over. You will do as I say.” Anger burned in Meg’s chest. “No, I will not. Quit blaming yourself for what happened to me and start using your head about how best to conduct this investigation.” Lucien’s eyes had darkened to near black. He looked so angry Meg wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke curling out of his ears. He knelt before her and took hold of her arms. She was suddenly frightened of him in a way she hadn’t been since the night he’d captured her. His grip didn’t hurt, but he held her firmly, and she could feel heat pouring from his body. The pulse in his neck throbbed visibly. “If you defy me, I will send you back to England no matter how much you protest.” If she hadn’t known his words were motivated by pain and fear, she would have been tempted to hit him. She had been unprepared for the attack in the Palais Royale, but she had learned from her mistake. Le Lézard would continue to toy with them until they bested him or he tired of the game and killed them. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain by finding him first. She stared at Lucien, not knowing what to say. Anger and sympathy warred within her, but she knew he didn’t want to see either. She wanted to shake him and kiss him all
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at once. Instead she locked her gaze with his, hoping he saw the same depth of feeling in her eyes that she did in his. “I will not leave.” Slowly, silently, he stood and turned toward the door. She hoped he’d look back and say something else, but he didn’t. She sat perfectly still as she listened to his boots slap across the floor of the entryway. She had every intention of going to the ball. Lucien wanted her protected every second, but he could not guarantee her safety. What if Le Lézard’s men got past the guards on Fabienne’s house? She didn’t think she was as safe there as Lucien wanted her to believe. A few moments after Lucien left, Fabienne came to check on her. “Do you need help getting back to your room?” “No, I can manage.” Meg’s ankle throbbed with a dull pain when she put weight on it, but she refused to accept any assistance. She was determined to go to the ball so she had to get used to walking again, pain or no. It was time to enlist Fabienne’s help since she’d gotten nowhere with Lucien. “Were you serious when you offered to help me defy Lucien?” Fabienne smiled. “Oui. I take it your conversation did not go well.” Meg sighed. “It couldn’t have gone much worse.” “You can simply accompany me to the ball.” “Are you certain? I don’t want to ruin your friendship with Lucien. He will be beyond angry.” “I’ll handle him. He needs the occasional reminder that he’s not in charge of the world. And I would also much rather you go with me than on your own. We will take Thurston and Stevens with us. All we have to do is get you to the palace and keep Lucien from dragging you home the second he lays eyes on you.” Meg smiled. “Would he really cause such a scene?” Fabienne shrugged. “Who can say? Our Lucien has quite a temper.” “That he does.”
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The host of lights surrounding the Tuileries Palace gave it an air of enchantment. As Meg admired the lanterns lining the garden paths, she almost forgot to be frightened, but when she and Fabienne approached the entrance, her unease crept back. Although royal guards lined the steps and flanked the doorways, she looked over her shoulder expecting to see an assassin poised to attack. As they waited in line to greet the newly restored monarch, Meg could see that the palace was packed with people. There was such a crush that she wondered whether she would see Lucien at all or whether she might, in fact, pass the whole evening without him knowing she was there. A few days ago, thinking of the look that would cross his face when he saw her there made her giggle. Now she felt more than a little nervous. She’d not heard from him in several days. He’d not so much as sent a note since he’d walked out on her. Would he dare to cause a scene if he discovered her presence? She had a horrible vision of him scooping her up and carrying her out the door while all of Parisian society looked on. Perhaps he would simply ignore her. As annoying as that might be, it was preferable to being manhandled. Of course if she and Lucien were supposed to be lovers, they needed to be seen together. Perhaps he could put aside his anger when he saw her, but she could hardly rely on such a far-fetched possibility. She at least hoped his anger would cool enough for him to appreciate her ensemble. She was as pleased with the green and white satin as she had been on the day Therese showed it to her. Clotilde had rolled her hair tightly on rags the night before. After styling it a la Greque, she’d tied a length of green ribbon around her head to complement the green in her dress. Meg was quite pleased with the way the curls fell artfully over the ribbon. She looked more like a woman who could gain Lucien’s favor than she ever had. When her turn came to greet the king, she concentrated on the lessons Fabienne had given her and managed to execute a graceful curtsy. A few months ago, she would have been terribly nervous in the presence of royalty, but she was far too concerned about her
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own safety and the scolding she would receive from Lucien to remember to be frightened of the king. She made the required pleasantries then moved on through the rest of the receiving line. She managed to greet the other members of the royal family without tripping on her gown or otherwise embarrassing herself, and she and Fabienne entered one of a series of drawing rooms. Meg went in search of Katie, leaving Fabienne to converse with some of her acquaintances. She’d told her new friend as much of the truth as she could, explaining that Lucien did not think she’d recovered enough to leave the house but that she planned to surprise him. As she searched the crowd for her friend, she began to despair of finding her. When she entered the second in a series of drawing rooms, her heart beat accelerated. She’d not found Katie but rather Lucien. He was conversing with a group of men. She tried to sneak past him, but he turned slowly toward her as though pulled by an unseen force. His eyebrows rose, and deep creases formed on his forehead. He looked like a wolf who’d cornered some particularly tasty prey. He turned back to his companions. She thought for a moment that he would ignore her. But he must have been excusing himself, because he walked away from the other men and approached the spot where she stood rooted to the floor. His acquaintances looked to see who had attracted his attention. A few of them stared at her openly, and heat crept into her cheeks. Lucien took her arm and led her to a less crowded spot along the wall. “What do you think you’re doing?” “Accompanying Fabienne on a diverting outing.” She affected the tone of the quintessential British snob. “Don’t play games with me. I will escort you back to Fabienne’s house now.” Meg shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere.” “I will not permit you to remain here.” He captured her arm in a firm grip.
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The tone in his voice should have unsettled Meg, but, angry as she was, she felt no fear. “Kindly unhand me. I wish to find my friend, Miss Wexham.” “Don’t you understand that your life is in danger? Have you forgotten what it was like to be tied down, to be moments from violation and death?” He’d gone too far. How dare he remind her of the attack? She kicked his shin with her pointed slipper. A look of shock flashed over his face, and he released her arm. She stepped back. “Don’t come near me again.” She turned and made her way through the crowd, tears stinging her eyes. She needed to find somewhere private where she could let them overflow. She went in search of the ladies retiring room but quickly realized she’d strayed too far from the populated areas. Frightened that she was alone and vulnerable, she quickly headed back in the direction she’d come from. As she turned to enter the ballroom, someone grabbed her from behind. She shrieked, but when she turned around, she saw that it was only Ian. “Lucien sent me to find you. He doubted you would accept his company, but he is determined you not be alone.” She forced herself to smile. “Thank you. I knew Lucien would be cross with me, but I hoped he would realize I have a right to be here.” Ian frowned. “He is fiercely protective of the people he cares about. If you understood more about his past, you might not find him quite as overbearing. Ask him to tell you about his family.” “I’m not sure he’ll ever speak to me again.” Ian smiled. “How could he resist? You look stunning tonight. You could tempt a saint in that dress, and were I not Lucien’s good friend, I would be tempted to woo you myself.” His teasing made Meg smile. He was quite the accomplished flirt. Were it not for Lucien, she might have fallen for him, but from the moment they’d met, Lucien had captured her heart as surely as he’d infuriated her.
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Ian drew her attention to a large man who stood alone with his back to a wall. No one could mistake his military background. He held himself straight, kept his expression somber, and surveyed the room like an officer looking over his troops. The man turned toward them and inclined his head to Ian in greeting. As they approached him, Ian spoke to her in a low whisper. “That is Captain Georges LeBlanc. He served Napoleon in Spain. I had planned to introduce you tonight. Since you are here after all, I might as well follow through. I don’t think he’s our man, but squeeze my hand if you recognize anything about him or even suspect that you do, and I will get you away quickly.” “Thank you,” was all she could manage to say before they were too close to LeBlanc to speak freely. “Good evening Captain. I should like to introduce Madame Covington.” Ian turned to Meg. “This is Captain LeBlanc, I made his acquaintance several evenings ago.” Meg curtseyed. LeBlanc took her hand and kissed it, but unlike the impertinent kiss she’d received from Fontaine, his was formal and entirely chaste. She could hardly imagine the lecherous Lizard restraining himself so. LeBlanc was not a talkative man so after a few moments of exchanging pleasantries, they excused themselves. Meg confirmed Ian’s suspicion that LeBlanc could not be Le Lézard. As they entered a smaller drawing room, she spied Katie flanked by two young men who looked ready to drool on her at any second. Meg thought her friend might need rescuing so she asked Ian if she might introduce him. Ian’s eyes twinkled. “I’d be delighted to meet your lovely friend.” Katie spotted them as they approached and waved them over. “Meg, you look lovely. Your dress is even more wonderful than I imagined.” “Thank you. You look wonderful too,” Katie’s pale blue silk accentuated her creamy skin and light blond hair, and it made her look older than the other clothing she owned. As they embraced, Meg whispered, “No one would guess it is your first Season, your dress is quite sophisticated.”
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After releasing her friend, Meg turned toward Ian. “Miss Wexham, this is Mr. MacPherson.” Ian stepped forward to take her hand as she curtseyed. When he did, the other men stepped back, obviously cowed by his towering presence. Meg had seen Katie casting quick glances at Ian, and her friend’s eyes widened when she focused on him fully. His highland dress was arresting. He looked rather dangerous, but his intimidating air did not detract from his handsomeness. Meg wondered again why he did not have a wife or, seemingly, a mistress. Did work keep him from such a commitment? Did he fear for the safety of any woman attached to him like Lucien did? Meg knew Katie was anxious to meet Lucien, and she didn’t know how to explain why she could not in front of strangers. Luckily, Katie didn’t mention him. She seemed quite preoccupied flirting with Ian. As the first dance was announced, Katie introduced the men who stood by her. One of them, Baron Daupresse, asked Meg to dance. Catching a swift nod from Ian, she accepted, praying her ankle would remain strong. Ian asked Katie to be his partner, and the two couples joined the same set. The first dance was a complex country dance. Meg spent the first few moments concentrating on her steps, but when her partner pulled her into his arms to twirl down the length of the set, Meg gasped. She had to cover this indiscretion with a cough, explaining that she had gotten some dust caught in her throat. Dust indeed, more like her heart threatened to stop. The silver medallion that lay pinned to his cravat was an exact replica of Le Lézard’s pendant. Meg wanted to scream for Ian, but she couldn’t stop dancing without drawing suspicion. She took comfort from the fact that he and Katie were right beside them, and she tried to summon the courage to ask Daupresse about the pin. The intricate steps afforded them little opportunity for conversation though, and the dance ended before she had a chance to broach the subject. She’d promised the next dance to the other young man, whom Katie had introduced as le compte d’Outon. She wondered if he would be wearing a pin as well.
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Sure enough as her second partner took his place for a waltz, she saw the same pin on his cravat. She glanced around, looking for Ian. Seeing that he stood watching her from the edge of the dance floor, she gathered her nerve. “Are you enjoying your stay in Paris?” d’Outon asked as they settled into the rhythm of the dance. “Yes, I’m finding the city most exhilarating,” she said. “I adore your cravat pin. Wherever did you find such an unusual design?” “It’s from a club I’ve just joined, but I can’t tell you a thing more. I’m sworn to secrecy.” He smiled wickedly. They continued to converse while they danced. The more Meg studied her partner, the more her instincts said this young man was a rake in the making. He was wicked in the way of young men who’ve been allowed to gamble their fortunes away while dallying with any woman they chose, but he was not evil. It was hard to imagine him consenting to the murder of innocent young women—seduction yes, but cold-blooded killing did not fit his personality. Was he aware exactly what sort of society he’d joined?
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Chapter Fifteen Lucien circled the dance floor looking for Ian and Meg. When he noticed his friend standing on the sidelines, he followed Ian’s line of sight and saw Meg in the arms of a young pup who looked as though he were contemplating the fastest way to get her out of that damnably alluring gown. Lucien’s blood boiled. He had to suppress the urge to take the man by the collar and yank him away from her. Instead, he continued to circle the room until he came to stand behind Ian. “Why did you let her dance with such a scoundrel?” Ian smirked. “Do you believe I have powers to control her that you do not?” Lucien snarled, but Ian only laughed and said, “I have no intention of letting her out of my sight. Why did you agree to let Meg play the role of a fast woman if you cannot watch her dance with someone else? She can’t be flirtatious if you don’t let her look at other men.” Lucien ignored Ian’s attempt to provoke him. “I told her to stay at home. I have no intention of letting her continue this farce. She is far too naïve to handle an evening like this.” “She didn’t strike me as naïve when we talked to Captain LeBlanc.” Lucien grabbed Ian’s arm, fury on his face. “You introduced them? First Fabienne brings her here. Now you put her in further danger. Am I the only one who understands what is at risk?” “Perhaps, you are the only one who fails to see that Meg is in danger no matter where she is. Her uncanny ability to read people makes her a valuable asset to this investigation. She certainly reads you precisely.” Lucien scowled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
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Ian ignored his question. “This dance will end soon. Go out there and claim her. Then take her somewhere and talk to her. But this time, try to actually listen to what she has to say. You may even want to apologize for being so high-handed.” “I have no intention of letting her convince me she should participate in this mission.” Ian laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Why don’t you admit that you love her? Once you acknowledge your feelings, you might be able to see through them and be objective.” Lucien jerked away. “You are out of line.” He walked onto the dance floor, weaving through the dancing couples. He wanted to strangle Ian, but he did intend to heed his friend’s advice. He needed to smooth things over with Meg. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to walk around in a huff, and like it or not, Meg was not going to follow his directives. They would have to come to a compromise. He had no intention of mentioning his regard for her, though. Whether what he felt for her was love or not—and he was no longer sure himself—she did not deserve the burden of his feelings. He wanted her free to leave Paris once Le Lézard was dead. He tapped the shoulder of the young man who danced with Meg. “May I?” When the man hesitated, Lucien simply stared until he backed away. Lucien pulled Meg into his arms, and they twirled silently for a few moments, each enjoying the feel of the other and the exhilaration of the dance. Meg was the first to break the spell. “Bullying my dance partners does not impress me, nor does it make me want to listen to you. I still have no intention of leaving.” Lucien couldn’t help but smile. Meg’s spirit frustrated the hell out of him, but he loved it none-the-less. “I’ve accepted that you’re here to stay. As to my rudeness, I grew tired of watching the young man peer down your dress.” “We were having an important conversation, and I hardly need rescuing from impertinent glances. One Season in London accustomed me to them.”
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“What were you conversing about?” “I think you may be quite surprised.” Her devious smile had Lucien more than a little worried. “Before I danced with le compte d’Outon, the man you just frightened away, I danced with his friend, Baron Daupresse. I noticed that his cravat pin was exactly like the pendant Le Lézard wore. D’Outon had an identical pin, so I inquired about it.” Lucien’s stomach flip-flopped. “You should have gotten away from them immediately.” “Ian was watching me the entire time.” The music stopped before Meg could finish her story. “Shall we step out onto the balcony?” She nodded her consent. As they passed by Ian, Lucien gave a whispered explanation about the pin and asked him to keep his eye on Daupresse and d’Outon. As they stepped outside, Lucien scanned the area for a secluded bench. Once they were seated, Meg continued her story “D’Outon told me he’d gotten the pin when he joined a new club. But he said he couldn’t tell me anything else, because he was sworn to secrecy. He seemed proud of his wicked endeavor, but I got no sense of evil from him. Baseness, yes. A fondness for vice, certainly, but no desire to do real harm. “Do you think Le Lézard is soliciting new recruits, but not telling them what he’s really up to? I think d’Outon believes Le Lézard’s club is just like Levaux’s. He wants access to good liquor and easy women, not something as dark as what Le Lézard has planned.” “If d’Outon is as you describe, then your theory sounds quite plausible.” “But why would Le Lézard hide the society’s true purpose? Surely these new recruits will learn it soon enough.” Lucien pondered her question for a few moments. “Perhaps he needs money. He can get it from each recruit without revealing all his plans. Once they’ve joined, they’re unlikely to go to the authorities if they see something they can’t condone. Even the more
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benign actions of the society are technically illegal. We should investigate this angle further.” “Does this ‘we’ include me?” Lucien looked into her eyes for the first time since bringing her outside. As they’d conversed, he’d gazed out over the gardens, catching glimpses of her in his peripheral vision. He hadn’t trusted himself to look at her, because he was already too aware of her physical presence, the way her dress clung to her breasts, the way the ribbon at her waist lifted them. She wore no stays or chemise. He wanted to place her hands on the balcony railing, lift her skirts, and take her right there. He didn’t have an answer for her question. At least not one that would satisfy them both. So he didn’t say anything at all. He just soaked up her beauty and fought to calm the urgings of his body. She was willing. He knew he could seduce her again, take her back to his rooms and enjoy an evening of the highest pleasure. Why did he have such damned scruples? He no longer heard the buzz of conversation or the clink of glasses that poured from the ballroom. Meg was the only thing in his world at that moment. He should have been on alert for signs of an attack, but he could only breathe her in, smell the spicy hint of the perfume she wore. All he heard was the sound of her breathing, tight and ragged as she ran her tongue over her lips, moistening them, making them even redder than they already were. Did she want him to kiss her? Was she as enthralled as he? The now-familiar fire of need raged in Meg’s body. Lucien hadn’t answered her question, but she couldn’t break the spell to prompt him. He watched her like he was headed to the gallows and she was his last meal. She wished he’d give in to the animal instinct raging just beneath his gentlemanly exterior. He took a step toward her, and she was certain he would have kissed her if a raucous party of young men hadn’t chosen that moment to move onto the balcony. The men’s laughter startled Meg and Lucien and forced them to retreat further into the shadows.
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Meg noted that Daupresse and d’Outon were part of this group, and Ian followed close behind. She was about ask Lucien what might have lured them outside when Daupresse said, “There he is,” and pointed across the garden. “Not so loud you ass,” another young man said in a stage whisper. Meg followed the line of Daupresse’s arm out into the garden and froze. A man sat waiting by a fountain. She hadn’t a doubt of his identity. It was Gaffney. He looked up, searching the dark balcony for the group of men, and their eyes met. He jumped from his seat and tore down the path into the gardens. Before Meg could gather her wits, Lucien ran toward the closest set of steps, taking them several at a time. “Ian, look after her,” he called back. Then he headed after Gaffney at full speed. “What’s going on?” d’Outon asked, looking thoroughly perplexed. Meg hadn’t a clue how to answer him. She wasn’t even sure she could speak. Her heart hammered with terror for Lucien. What would happen if he caught up to Gaffney? Finally, Ian spoke. “Apparently, your friend and mine have an old score to settle. Why don’t you go on back inside and enjoy the party. I will seek you out if your friend returns in one piece.” D’Outon stood for a moment, staring out into the dark, but finally, he decided to take Ian’s advice and led their friends back inside. The men tried to persuade Meg to come with them, but Ian assured them he would take care of her. “We must go after Lucien,” Meg said as soon as the men had left. “He won’t think of his own safety. All he will think of is killing Gaffney.” Ian’s eyes widened. “So that was Lord Gaffney?” Meg shook her head. Of course Ian wouldn’t have recognized her kidnapper. She tugged on Ian’s coat trying to get him to follow her down the steps and into the garden. Ian grabbed her arm, stopping her before she could run away from him. “Meg, we can’t follow him. He asked me to take care of you, and that is what I will do.” “Please. We don’t know who else is out there waiting. It could be another trap.” Meg struggled to get loose, but Ian kept a firm grip on her.
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“We’ll have to pray that Gaffney was alone. I’ve no doubt Lucien can take care of him.” “I can’t just sit here while Lucien’s in danger. He rescued me, and I owe him my life.” She struggled harder, but Ian was obviously very serious about keeping her where she was. Finally giving in, she let Ian pull her into his arms. He held her as tears ran down her face. “I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to him.” “He’s going to be fine.” Ian led her to a bench and forced her to sit down. They waited in silence for several torturous minutes. “Damn!” Lucien exclaimed from right below them. Meg’s head jerked up. She stood and leaned out over the wall, trying to see him. Ian grabbed her, pulling her back. “You could tear your dress, not to mention the possibility of falling to your death. I heard him too. He’ll come to us.” A few seconds later, Meg heard footsteps on the stairs. Unable to sit still, she rushed over to see if Lucien was hurt. He was breathing hard from the run, but otherwise, he looked fine. She wanted to fall into his arms, but she kept her distance. “Are you all right? I thought there might be others there, that it might be a trap.” “Apparently it was just Gaffney, but I couldn’t catch the bastard. I’m sorry.” “I’m just glad you’re safe. I tried to go after you, but Ian kept me here. I couldn’t bear the thought of you out there, hurt or dying. I wanted to help you.” Lucien squeezed her hand. “Our duty is to protect you. If I had thought Ian would let you come charging after me, I never would have trusted him to care for you. I do hope you understand now why I thought this evening too dangerous for you. Please allow me to accompany you to Fabienne’s.” Meg had to admit she was quite shaken. Returning home didn’t sound like a bad idea now. She had accomplished quite a lot and proven her usefulness simply by meeting d’Outon and Daupresse. “You may take me home,” she said, taking the arm Lucien offered.
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When they entered the ballroom, Ian lifted her hand for a kiss. “Sleep well, my dear. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on our new friends.” “Would you see that Fabienne gets home safely?” Meg asked. “Of course, I—” Lucien interrupted. “I think Fabienne should come home now as well. I need to have a word with her anyway. We’ll take her carriage, Ian, so yours will be here if you need it.”
Once in the carriage, Lucien berated Fabienne for allowing Meg to leave her house while Fabienne informed him that he was an overprotective ass. She reminded him that he’d tried to control her when they’d first worked together, and she had never submitted either. Meg remained silent for the entire ride. She had no wish to draw Lucien’s ire toward her. She couldn’t take her eyes off Lucien though. He appeared cold and arrogant, but she could see the heat in his eyes and the tension in his hands as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Fabienne was as poised and elegant as ever, and once again Meg wished she had the same talent. The woman never backed down, yet she didn’t raise her voice or seem flustered. Meg wondered if Fabienne’s temper could snap the way Lucien’s did or if she always held on to her control. Did this cool veneer come after years of spying, or was it a trait bestowed on one at birth? When they reached the house, Fabienne headed for the stairs, saying she was tired of arguing, and she intended to retire for the night. Lucien escorted Meg to the library. Not wanting him to get the upper hand, Meg spoke first. “Lucien, I’m as tired of arguing with you as Fabienne is.” His agitation was visible. He ran his hand through his already disheveled hair before he spoke. “Please try to understand. This case is different from anything I’ve worked on. I can’t treat you like a partner whose been trained to do what I do. I can’t let you put
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yourself in danger.” He began to pace, distancing himself from her physically as well as emotionally. “I’d sworn I wouldn’t do this anymore—plot and deceive and risk my life. Then Le Lézard sent me his challenge, and I had no choice. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come. I’m letting my passions rule me. I can’t keep up the facade anymore.” Meg walked toward him. She closed her fingers around his arm and turned him to face her. By simply touching him, she was playing with fire. Tension had been crackling between them ever since he’d spotted her across the king’s drawing room. She ran her fingers lightly up and down his arm. “I know you like to work alone, but you need other people. Open up to me Lucien. You’ve been alone for too long.” Lucien nearly choked. He didn’t think they were talking about the mission anymore. “I can’t.” He started to turn away, but she tugged on his arm. “I don’t believe you.” “Damn it, Meg. You think you can dive in and solve all my problems.” “You think you’re invincible. You want to control everyone around you instead of working with them.” She stepped even closer, keeping her hold on his arm. He was alarmingly aware of how thin and tight her bodice was. Part of him wanted to run away as fast as he could. But another part of him asked why he couldn’t have the courage to open up to her. Why was this young woman braver than he was? Why did he want her so desperately? Whenever he came near her, his mind clouded with desire. He forced himself to look directly into her eyes. Heat flared. She wanted him, and he couldn’t resist the pull of her body. “I can’t control everything. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop wanting you.” She closed the last few inches between them and lifted her arms to his neck. “Kiss me.” He was incapable of denying her request. His lips crushed hers, and his tongue thrust into her open mouth. She tasted warm, comforting, addicting. He’d longed to feel her lips again.
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He put his arms around her and carried her to the settee. She stretched out while he shrugged out of his coat. Then he joined her, letting his weight rest on top of her. His hands found her breasts, and she arched under him, pulling his head to her. He’d never felt anything like her wild abandon. She was utterly without pretense. He ground his hips against hers while he undid the fastenings on her dress. He needed to taste her, to feel her hard nipples under his tongue. Night after night, he’d dreamed of making her writhe while he tormented those delightful peaks. Meg tore at the buttons of his waistcoat and freed his shirt from his pants. When her hands slid under the fabric to find his bare skin, he couldn’t hold back a moan. He bathed her breasts with his tongue, licking every inch, sucking on the sensitive crests. When he nipped her lightly, she raked his back with her nails. A blast of desire shot through his belly so strong he thought he would explode. He supported himself on one arm and reached to unbutton his pants. Then he heard a door creak. “Oh, my!” Fabienne gasped as she entered the library. Meg’s head snapped up as Lucien tried to untangle himself from her arms. “I’m so sorry, Fabienne. I thought you’d gone to bed.” Meg gasped for breath. Fabienne flashed a wicked smile. “Don’t apologize. I’ll leave you two alone.” “No.” Lucien snapped. “I need to go.” “Oh, yes. It did look as though you were in quite a hurry to leave.” Fabienne laughed. Lucien couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He’d lost control with Meg, and now Fabienne would tease him about it endlessly. He made a futile attempt to sober her with a hard glance. “I trust you won’t mention this incident again.” “Anything you wish, Lucien dear. Shall we expect you tomorrow?” “I’ll send a note,” he said, gathering his coat from the floor. Fabienne pressed her teeth into her bottom lip, obviously trying not to laugh. “Don’t bother to see me out.” Lucien nearly ran for the door.
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When he was gone, Fabienne met Meg’s eyes and giggled. “Don’t worry dear. He’s just angry because you broke through his oh-so-impressive control. He is très English, non?” Meg sighed as she straightened her dress. “At least he still wants me no matter how I infuriate him.” Fabienne sat down beside her and took her hand. “Of course he wants you. You’re quite beautiful, and you’re unaffected innocence is so refreshing. Every time he looks at you, I worry he might catch fire.” “Do you think there is a chance for us?” “That depends on what you want from him. I think it’s inevitable you will become lovers in truth. I believe there is a chance for more, but you must work for what you want.” “Lucien and I were together once already. Just for one night. But he said it was wrong for him to keep me as his mistress, and he never intends to marry.” “Would you like to change his mind?” “I’d be happy to be his mistress. As to marriage, I don’t know. At first, I thought I would be satisfied just to be his lover. Now I fear I may need more.” Fabienne smiled. “That may come in time. But, you have to start somewhere. If you become lovers, I believe it will be harder for him to hide his true feelings.” “He’s built such strong barriers around himself. I can’t imagine him allowing himself to fall in love.” Fabienne nodded. “Lucien loves to believe he can control every aspect of his life. He likely thinks he can order himself not to fall in love, but of course, that is impossible. But you’ve broken him once before. You can do it again.” “I didn’t set out to seduce him initially. He was angry and then he kissed me, and it just sort of happened.” “I’ve seen you together. You know exactly how to make him want you.” Meg shook her head. “I feel so inept at these games.”
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Fabienne smiled. “I think you have more talent than you think. Lucien wants you, we simply must find a way to get him to admit it.” “Every time I think he’s going to give in and take me to bed again, he pulls away.” “Then we must make it so he cannot leave.” “How do we do that?” Fabienne gave a wicked smile. “I’m so glad you asked. I have an idea, but I did not want to be so forward as to offer it on my own.” “You? Forward?” Meg smiled. Fabienne laughed. “I suppose I am a bit much at times. However, I usually get what I want.” “Indeed. What is this plan?” “Do you know what Lucien has planned for tomorrow evening?” “No, but I don’t imagine he will include me,” Meg said, scowling. “Actually, that would be perfect. Perhaps he will tell us more in the note he promised. Once we know he has gone out, you will go to his rooms and wait for him, in his bed, naked.” “Fabienne! I could not possibly.” “How badly do you want him?” Meg frowned. “Badly, but I’m not sure I’ve got the nerve to just appear in his bed.” “All you must do is find the courage to wait for him. Once he sees you, his control will snap. He is walking a tightrope with you, chérie. Once he falls, he will be unable to get back on. “There is a wildness in him. He wants to keep it locked up, because it scares him. He knows how to be passionate and how to love, but he wants to shut off that part of himself. I think you are the only woman I’ve met who stands a real chance of helping him find himself again.” “What is he hiding from?” “His past. But that is not my story to tell.” “Ian said much the same thing.”
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“Oh, chérie. Perhaps he will talk to you. He’s never told me his whole story, though I know bits and pieces. His childhood was not easy. War and violence were an escape, and he fears he has lost himself in them.” Meg drew in a long, slow breath. “I will do as you suggest. If I don’t try to make this work, I will regret it. If we have but a few nights of passion, at least it will be one more adventure to remember in my later years.” Fabienne smiled. “I have every confidence in you, chérie.”
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Chapter Sixteen Lucien was exhausted by the time he climbed the stairs and opened the door to his bedroom. All he wanted to do was find his way to the bed and collapse. He removed his coat, waistcoat, and shirt and moved to the bed, so he could sit to remove his boots. When he turned back the covers, he stumbled back in surprise. The sleeping form curled tighter, protesting the loss of warmth. It was Meg, and she was naked. Utterly, completely naked. Her hair spread across the white sheets like flames, and he could see the line of her back, the curve of her buttocks. He hardened instantly, wanting to reach out and stroke her body, to lie across her and plunge himself into her, to lose himself in loving her. Instead, he started to back away. She rolled onto her back, stretching, trying to wake herself. Lucien drew in a sharp breath as she arched her back and her luscious breasts thrust upward. The sound must have woken her, because she sat up, looking alarmed. The she saw him. “Oh! I must have fallen asleep. I was waiting for you.” “So I gathered.” Neither of them spoke for what seemed like an eternity. Their shallow breathing filled the room. Finally, Lucien broke the spell. “Get dressed. I will drive you back to Fabienne’s.” “No.” Suddenly wide awake, Meg scooted across the bed toward him. “You want this. I want this. And tonight I am going to have you.” “You don’t know what you’re saying.” “Oh but I do. You showed me passion before, and I want more.” Her aunt would swoon if she heard her well-bred niece talking like a doxy, but she didn’t care. She’d chosen a new life for herself and the woman she wanted to be wouldn’t back down. Winning Lucien was worth any amount of embarrassment. “I thought you were someone else, or I would never have touched you.”
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“But I’m me, and I want you.” She reached out and stroked his arm, the soft pads of her fingers tickled maddeningly. Lucien tightened his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her and taking what she offered. His chest was so tight he couldn’t breathe, and his cock throbbed painfully. “If you won’t leave, then I will.” He turned to go, but she shot across the room and blocked the door. “Move!” His voice was full of its usual command, but his eyes were wild, his face flushed. She’d broken through his reserve. She stood still, so he couldn’t leave the room without touching her. She was more frightened of him than she’d been since he’d acknowledged her innocence, yet the fear only heightened her desire. She had to be bold, shock him into staying. She reached out and caressed the bulge in his trousers. “This part of you doesn’t want me to leave.” He grabbed her hand intending to push her out of the way, but once he touched her soft skin, he was lost. He pinned her arm back and crushed her mouth with his, forcing her head into the door. He wanted to punish her, scare her, make her understand she should not ask for this, but her tongue met his and ravaged his mouth. He scooped her up and walked toward the bed. She grabbed the sides of his head, trying to pull his lips to hers. “Slow down,” he commanded. “This time, we are going to do this right. I am going to take my time with you. I want you to know just how hot I can make you.” Wide-eyed, Meg said, “That’s not what you did before?” “We were wild before, uncontrolled, hot…but like a wildfire. This time I am going to make you burn slowly.” Meg fell back with a moan as his mouth closed on one of her nipples while his thumb rasped across the other. The pounding of her blood echoed in her ears as his teeth raked the tight crest before he drew it into his mouth to suckle it strongly. She twisted and arched beneath him, fisting her hand in his hair.
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He moved his attention to the underside of her breast, tracing the curve with his tongue, leaving a trail of kisses as he moved to the other side. She ran her hands up and down his back glorying in the texture of his hard muscles, feeling them move under her fingers. She whimpered when he abandoned her breasts and sat up to explore her further. Ever so slowly, he drew a trail from her neck across her collar bone, through the valley between her breasts and over her smooth, flat stomach stopping where red curls covered her mound. She moaned, and her hips lifted, seeking his fingers. “Lucien, please.” She reached up for him, tugging at his shoulders. “We’re going slow tonight, remember.” But she grabbed his wrist and tried to force his hand between her legs. He laughed, low and seductive. “Meg, darling. We’ve only just begun.” He lifted her hands from his shoulders, kissed them, then pushed gently until her arms stretched over her head. He wrapped her fingers around the rails in the headboard. “Don’t let go. Concentrate on the sensations I create. Later, you can touch me.” Chaos swept Meg’s body. Her sweaty palms slipped up and down as she gripped the rails, squeezing so hard she feared they might break. She couldn’t breathe. It was as if there were no longer air in the room. Her hips wouldn’t stay still, and her breasts felt full, heavy. Her nipples had hardened to painful points from the attention of Lucien’s hands and mouth. She didn’t know how long she could last without touching him. The longing to feel his flesh under her fingers was so strong she thought she might die of it, yet it was strangely arousing to be denied that pleasure. Her inability to touch amplified the sensations of her body. Though she was restrained, she felt freer than she ever had in her life. Lucien licked and kissed his way across her stomach, stopping to nip at the sensitized flesh above her woman’s mound. Wetness pooled between her legs, and the throbbing there continued to grow.
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He glanced up, and their gazes met. She reached out to stroke his face, but he grasped her arm and pushed it away. “Not yet. Just feel.” “I can’t…I need…” Her breath came in pants, and she could barely form words. “You think you need me now, but I can make you burn far hotter yet.” “Please. I can’t.” “Oh, yes. You can.” God, Lucien was intense. Their first coupling had been hard and fast. Meg had abandoned herself to the pleasure of it, but this was different. He was forcing her to bare every bit of her soul, to give herself to him completely. It was agonizing, yet she wanted more. He parted her thighs and used a feather light touch on her skin. Her blood pounded between her legs as if her heart had sunk from her chest and lodged itself at the center of her need. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, lowering his head to her. Surprised, she wondered if he were really going to kiss her there. Then his tongue reached out and touched the focal point of her pleasure. It was a light flick, but she felt a lightning bolt run through her body. Her hips lifted off the bed, and she cried out. “What are you doing?” Lucien only laughed and reached out with his tongue once again. This time, he used a long, slow stroke. She writhed, reaching for his mouth with her hips. He seized her thighs, pulled her to him, and began to feast on her in earnest. Her thoughts came in flashes. Hot. Shock. More. Need. No longer capable of restraining herself, her hands found their way into his hair. She cupped the back of his head, holding him against her. Barely able to draw breath, she sank deeper and deeper into something she couldn’t quite grasp. She feared she would drown or be swallowed up, yet she wasn’t afraid. She longed to give herself to the sensation. Suddenly, shock waves exploded from her center, and she slumped back, her hands sliding from his hair to fall against the mattress.
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Meg opened her eyes slowly and met Lucien’s gaze. His eyes showed a predatory hunger like the one he’d built in her. Reaching up, she trailed a finger down his chest, but he caught it before she reached the waistband of his pants. She groaned. “Please, I want to touch you.” “I don’t think I can bear that right now. Next time will be your turn to explore me.” She smiled. “So you’re ready to admit there will be a next time?” He sighed. “You tempt me too much. I can’t fight this anymore. But we’ll talk about our future later. Right now, I intend to focus all my attention on our pleasure.” Meg started to speak, but his hand pressed against her mound, and all she could do was moan as he inched a finger inside of her and pumped it in and out. “This time I want to make certain you’re ready for me.” Meg lost her ability to speak. Her world narrowed to the sensations he produced as he drove another finger into her. The callused surface of his thumb stroked her center. The sensation was almost painful coming so soon after her climax, yet the sharp pleasure of it made her dizzy. He added a third finger, and she felt impossibly stretched. She wondered how she had accommodated his shaft which was certainly far larger. Sweat dripped from Lucien’s face as he strained to keep from taking her. He was so hard and swollen he feared he would split the seams of his trousers before he had a chance to slip them off. It took every shred of self-control he possessed, but he was determined not to hurt her. He wanted to pleasure her beyond her wildest dreams. Her breath rushed in and out in pants. He knew she was close to the edge again. Her hips lifted, pressing firmly against his hand while her fingers gripped his forearm, keeping him inside her. He twisted his wrist and plunged his fingers deep. She let out a shriek. “Lucien…please…” was all she could manage before she went over. The look on her face as her inner muscles greedily milked his fingers nearly made him spill his seed right then. Her unrestrained passion was everything men dreamed of.
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When the last of her spasms subsided, he pulled away from her and tore at his trousers, popping the buttons off in his haste. The sound of them hitting the floor caused Meg to open her passion-drugged eyes. When he pushed his pants to the floor, she sucked in her breath and reached for him. This time, he didn’t try to stop her. As she caressed his shaft, he parted her legs and settled between them. The movements of her hand slowed. Lucien looked up at her and saw uncertainty on her face. “What’s wrong?” “Do you know how to keep us from making a child?” Lucien nodded. “I won’t spill my seed inside you. That will help. Fabienne has some herbs that you can take as well. Ask her for them tomorrow.” The tension melted from Meg’s face. He wrapped his hand around hers where she still held his cock. “Guide me. Show me where you want me.” Her eyes widened, but she did as he asked, pressing the tip of his shaft against her wet flesh. “Stop!” The word exploded from his mouth. Meg pulled her hand back, a look of confusion on her face. Lucien squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I need a minute. You’ve robbed me of control.” Confusion turned to humor as she smiled at him. She’d begun to recognize the power she could wield with her body. Trying to slow his breathing, but unable to keep still, Lucien ran the tip of his manhood through her wetness, teasing her. She wrapped her legs around him and lifted her hips. “Now,” she commanded. He couldn’t help but obey. He entered her slowly, inch by inch. Her eyes widened as she adjusted to him, but her mouth curled into a satisfied smile. When he’d buried himself to the hilt, he could no longer go slow. Over and over again, he thrust hard and fast.
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Meg showed no sign of pain or distress, only eagerness as she met every stroke. He ceased worrying about being gentle and gave himself up to the primitive rhythm. Meg felt a wildness building inside her. She wanted to tear at Lucien with her nails and teeth. She dug her fingers into his buttocks and gripped him with her legs, trying to push him even deeper inside her. Lucien fought her attempt to take control. He gripped her thighs and forced them back until her legs were bent double against her belly, giving him greater access to her. He acted as though he wanted to devour her. Meg thought she screamed but her hearing wasn’t working properly. She couldn’t feel her limbs any more, only the hot imprint of Lucien’s hands burning her thighs. He pistoned her harder and harder. She rose on a wave of sensation, ready to surrender completely though she feared her heart might burst. When she reached her peak, she dug her nails into his back and sank her teeth into his shoulder. He pushed violently against her legs, pulling out of her body just as he exploded. Several minutes later, Meg came back to reality. She had no idea what to say. When Lucien turned her on her side and wrapped his body around hers, she simply sank into him and let herself doze. She woke to the sensation of Lucien massaging her breasts with his palms and grasping her nipples in his fingers. She moaned and arched against his touch, feeling wet heat drip against her thighs. Her muscles clenched, wanting him inside her but protesting the notion of having him again so soon. “Lucien, I don’t know if I can, I—” But her concern vanished when he let one of his hands drift across her belly to find the center of her need. She knew instantly she not only could make love again so soon, she had to. Lucien leaned down and whispered against her ear. “It doesn’t have to be so rough this time. I won’t hurt you.” She closed her eyes and gave herself to sensation as he stoked her passion, alternately brushing lightly, almost tickling her, then returning to the firm pressure she
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craved. When she’d grown so hungry she could no longer still the gyrations of her hips, Lucien turned her to face him. He claimed her mouth with his own as she arched against him, begging with her body for what she needed. She reached for his shaft, stroking him as they kissed. He made a strangled noise as she increased the pressure of her touch. “Enough.” He rolled to his back and pulled her on top of him. “Ride me.” She grasped his cock, guiding him into her. As she sank onto his hardness, she gasped. His shaft reached even deeper in this position, but she wanted every inch. Once her body adjusted to the intense fullness, she tentatively moved up and down. Lucien gripped her hips and pulled her into a deeper, faster rhythm. She gave herself up to pleasure, and no conscious thought came to her again until long after they both found their peak.
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Chapter Seventeen Meg awoke to sunlight streaming through the thin, white curtains of Lucien’s bedroom. She heard movement and rolled over to see Lucien dressed in a blue silk dressing gown, adding bath salts to a steaming tub. The realization that a footman had probably been in to arrange the bath made heat rise to her cheeks, but she told herself that if she was going to be a worldly woman, she would have to ignore such concerns. “I was about to wake you,” Lucien said, crossing to her. “I thought you’d want a hot bath first thing. It will help ease any soreness.” The heat in her cheeks increased. She was indeed quite sore, not only between her legs, but all over. She felt much like she had after the long days of riding when they’d first met, but the pleasure she’d experienced had been well worth it. “Thank you.” She realized the sheet had fallen away, revealing her body to him. Suddenly struck with embarrassment, she kept her eyes lowered and wished she had a dressing gown too. “Would you mind leaving while I bathe?” Lucien grinned. “Where’s the bold minx who waited for me last night, forcing me to end weeks of foolish denial?” he asked with a teasing smile. “I think she may have fled with the dawn.” Meg smiled. She’d never seen Lucien so carefree. She felt an odd combination of relief and desire run through her. “Then you’d best call her back. I have no intention of leaving. I want to bathe you myself.” “Oh,” was all she could manage, because he chose that moment to remove his thin garment, giving her a full view of his thickly muscled body. It was quite evident that even after the previous night’s exertions, he desired her still. “Come. We don’t want the water to get cold.” Lucien was pleased that Meg found the bath soothing. As much as it pained him, he kept his desire in check, knowing her body would need some rest after last night. He 182
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enjoyed watching her and having a chance to touch and explore her as she adjusted to being naked in front of him. Being with her felt comfortable, and that terrified him. But even without her provocation, he could not have stemmed the tide of his desire much longer. Their longing for each other was too strong to be denied. All he could do was hope that if they indulged themselves until the mission ended the intensity would wane. After they found Le Lézard, it would be wise for them to part. And the sooner they found him, the better. Le Lézard wouldn’t hesitate to kill them, but Lucien was just as frightened of what he would suffer if he let himself fall in love with Meg. He intended to encourage her to return to her family. Surely they could concoct a story that would protect her. He tried to convince himself that she could find a settled, caring man who would overlook her lack of innocence. He refused to admit how slim this possibility was. For now, Meg wanted him, and he could not resist her, but he prayed he would not hurt her further. He did not want her to ever regret their time together. When they’d dried off and dressed, he asked if she would stay for breakfast, so they could talk. Meg’s heart pounded as they entered the dining room. Would Lucien try to dismiss what they’d shared? He’d said his denial was foolish, but he was a man who so rarely bent his own rules. A full British breakfast was laid out on the sideboard, something Meg hadn’t indulged in for quite some time. Despite her nerves, she was ravenous so she filled her plate with eggs, ham, tomatoes, and toast. Lucien did the same and seated himself across from her. He reached across the table and caressed her cheek, before lifting her chin so she met his gaze. “Thank you for staying last night and for making me realize how much I was denying us both.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I would like to continue our relationship, if you—”
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Meg couldn’t wait for him to finish. “I would like that very much.” “I’m afraid I can’t make any promises about how long this will last.” Meg forced herself to smile. “Let’s not worry about the future. I want you now. If we must part later, I will not make any demands on you.” No matter how much it hurts me. “About your involvement in this mission—” “I’m going to be involved whether you like it or not.” “I believe you. You’re nothing if not relentless. I would rather have you working with me than going off God knows where on your own. However, I must ask you to be patient. Until I know what became of Gaffney, I don’t want you going out with me—” “Luc—” “Give me one night to track him. After that, I promise to include you.” Meg considered his words. He’d never lied to her, so she supposed she had to give him the chance to prove he was sincere. “You have one night.” He smiled. “That is all I ask.”
After driving Meg to Fabienne’s, Lucien went to see Ian, rousing him from bed for a report of his evening. After complaining about the early hour, his friend explained he’d had a productive evening and suggested they walk to his grandfather’s shop so he wouldn’t have to tell his story twice. As they descended the steps of Ian’s lodgings, Ian gave Lucien a pained look. “I’m afraid I must impose on the depth of our friendship and ask you about the nature of your relationship with Meg.” Lucien snarled. “I don’t want to talk about this.” Ian ignored him. “She cares deeply for you Lucien, and I believe you care for her as well. When are you going to face it?” “Did she speak to you about this?” Ian shook his head. “No. But I saw her face at the ball when she feared you’d be killed in the gardens. She fought desperately to follow you.”
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“I’m her protector. If she loses me, she will be alone.” “That’s horse shit, and you know it. Can you honestly say you feel nothing more for her than brotherly concern? Because if so, I may distract her attentions from you. She is quite beautiful, or hadn’t you noticed?” Lucien laid hold of his friend’s arm. “Don’t play games with her. She doesn’t need further attachment to Paris. I intend to make her see sense and go home.” Ian smiled, “I did but jest, and your reaction answered my question perfectly. Why can’t you admit you’re in love with her?” “What is between Meg and me is none of your business!” “You have been my confidante for many years. Let me be the same for you. I can’t pretend I don’t feel the heat crackling between you and Meg. It’s strong enough to make me need a woman of my own every time I’m near you.” “Meg is a virtuous young woman, despite what appearances may tell you.” “I don’t doubt her virtue, nor would I think any less of it were you to tell me you were lovers in truth.” Lucien looked away, but Ian had seen his face. Damn. Ian was the one person who seemed able to read his emotions no matter how he tried to mask them. Ian grinned. “I won’t press you to tell me more, but I’m here if you need to talk. Just one last piece of advice. Hold on to her, Luce. She is a very special woman.” Lucien nodded. “That she is, but I will have to let her go eventually.” Ian frowned. “I pray she can change your mind.” “Your grandfather already suspects my feelings just as you did. Pray do not bring it up around him. I need to focus on finding Le Lézard, so Meg can be safe.” “I will do as you ask, but I can’t promise you’ve heard the last of the subject.” Ian spoke first once they were settled in Andrew’s office. “I have good news. I think we’re closing in on Le Lézard. I followed Daupresse and d’Outon they went straight to Levaux’s meeting where little was discussed besides finding willing women for an upcoming house party.”
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Ian paused to pour himself a brandy. “I talked to Daupresse and d’Outon privately after the meeting and learned that they met Gaffney when he joined Levaux’s group. Recently, Gaffney began seeking recruits for a group which he promised was similar in nature but held even greater delights for its members. He told them the leader was a true practitioner of black magic who could charm young women into becoming willing sex slaves.” Disgusted, Lucien interrupted. “And they fell for this?” “Apparently, many of them did. D’Outon and Daupresse dismissed the nonsense about black magic, but the promise of willing woman caused them to join even though the price for admission was steep. Daupresse was quite enthusiastic about what he called the Lizard cult, but d’Outon was more wary. I think if we keep our eyes on them, these two will lead us right to Le Lézard.” Lucien scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I hope you’re right. My gut tells me we haven’t got much time. Le Lézard is going to make another move soon. I just wish I could figure out his connection to me.” Andrew had been listening silently, processing all the information before he spoke as was his want. “I don’t think his connection to you comes from your work in Spain. I think it’s personal.” Lucien nodded, “So do I. But I’ll be damned if I can guess what it is.”
Meg returned to find Fabienne at the breakfast table. “So?” Fabienne raised an eyebrow as Meg accepted a steaming cup of tea from Clotilde and joined her at the table. When the maid exited, Meg said, “After Lucien found me, he tried to resist, intending to take me home or sleep elsewhere, but I didn’t let him.” Heat crept into her face, but she couldn’t help from exclaiming, “Oh, Fabienne. It was wonderful.” “I am so happy for you, chérie. So what now? Did he consent to your wishes? Will you remain lovers?”
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Fabienne was blunt as ever, and Meg couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. “Yes, actually. But we will not meet tonight. He has asked me to give him one more night to investigate alone. He will call tomorrow morning.” “You agreed to stay home tonight?” “He promised he would include me after this. He wanted a chance to track down Gaffney before he took me out again. Do you think I can trust him?” Fabienne nodded. “Oui. If he says he has changed his mind, then he has.” “I would like to see Katie, but I promised Lucien I would stay here. I hate to break my promise when we have just reached a compromise. Would you mind if I sent a note asking her to call?” “Not at all. You need never ask my permission to have a guest. I truly want you to be at home here.” Meg was struck again by how gracious Fabienne was. Though she looked like a goddess, she had the easy manner of a simple friend. Katie came to visit that afternoon. After hugging Meg tightly, she said, “Where did you disappear to last night? I was a bit worried.” Meg had struggled with how she would explain herself without giving away what she and Lucien were really doing. At the same time, she needed to warn her friend that le compte d’Outon and Baron Daupresse were not appropriate companions. “D’Outon made an improper advance. Lucien cut in on our dance. He could tell I was upset. When he finally got the truth out of me, I was terribly afraid he would call d’Outon out so I pretended to have a headache and asked him to bring me home. I regretted being unable to say good-bye or to introduce you to Lucien. Please forgive my rudeness.” Katie shook her head. “There’s nothing to forgive. I was simply worried about you. So Lord Rainsby was the tall dark man with whom you danced?” “Yes.” Katie smiled. “He’s absolutely breathtaking. Doesn’t he make your knees turn to jelly?” Meg laughed. “Many times he does.”
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“Mr. MacPherson is also quite remarkable. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find my voice when you introduced him. He’s more than a little intimidating.” “Yes, Ian is terrifyingly handsome.” “I was uneasy about dancing with him. I thought I might swoon from having someone so exotic for a partner, but he’s so easy to talk to.” Meg nodded. “Ian is one of the most amiable people I have ever met.” “Is he unattached?” “Yes, but I can’t understand why. He could certainly have his choice of women.” “I hope I have the chance to dance with him again.” “So do I. He is exactly the sort of man you should be looking for. Speaking of which, I must warn you to stay away from le compte d’Outon and his friends. They are connected with a group of men who are completely lacking in decency.” Katie inclined her head. “What sort of group?” “Lucien wouldn’t say.” Meg hated lying but she saw no other course. “He is acquainted with some of their friends. They are apparently members of a secret society that involves itself in illicit pleasures. They cannot be trusted.” Katie looked concerned. “They were a bit forward, but otherwise they seemed nice. I suppose I really am a terrible judge of character.” “Not at all. They may be nice enough themselves, though a bit rakish, but the people they are involved with are despicable.” Katie looked as if she wanted to ask more, but she did not. Having made her warning, Meg quickly changed the subject. “Will you be going out this evening?” “Yes, but only to a small dinner party with my sister’s closest friend.” Meg was relieved, Katie should be safe enough at such an event. Especially if she would be closely watched by her priggish sister. Katie glanced at the clock on the mantle. “Oh, dear. Is it that late? I must hurry home. My sister doesn’t know I’m here. Please don’t mention our visit if you see her. I’m so sorry, but she doesn’t approve of our acquaintance. She thought the lovely dress you
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wore was shocking, and she said she saw you on the balcony in a…compromising position.” Meg’s cheeks heated. “I was outside with Lucien. I’m sorry if I offended your sister. I don’t want to cause you trouble.” Why had Lady Whitbourne of all people seen her? To be fair, Meg knew no decent chaperone would approve of an innocent girl befriending the the type of woman she’d become. She could hardly blame Katie’s sister, but the insult still stung. “I thought your dress was lovely, and you’ve been the dearest friend. I wish I’d met a gorgeous man who wanted to take me outside and kiss me. It must be marvelously exciting.” Meg could only think of her own curiosity and where it had led her. “It is exciting, but please be careful. Not all men can be trusted, and sometimes you only find out their true character after it is too late.” Katie nodded. “I know that well enough. I will be careful, and I will call on you again despite what my sister thinks.” Red-faced, Katie looked down and fiddled with her gloves. “I hope I didn’t hurt you by saying what I did. I just thought you needed to know in case we meet when my sister is by my side.” Meg forced a smile. “Please don’t worry. I’m glad you explained.” After showing Katie out, Meg spent a melancholy evening. Katie’s sister’s reaction made Meg more aware than ever of her separation from the society she’d grown up in. For the first time, her brazenness all but disappeared, and the prospect of never returning to the life she’d known frightened her. Was freedom really worth the price of isolation? If it included life with Lucien then it would be, but if she failed to convince him that there was more than lust between them—she refused to let her thoughts go in that direction. She’d made her choice, and she would do what she must to enjoy it. Her worrisome thoughts and her concern for Lucien’s safety made her unable to settle to any task. She selected a book from the library but found herself merely staring at the pages. She decided to go to bed early, but she couldn’t sleep.
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Not wanting to bother Clotilde, she found her way to the kitchen and fixed a cup of warm milk, but it did no good. She tossed and turned for hours before falling into a fitful slumber filled with dreams of Lucien hurt and alone.
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Chapter Eighteen Shortly after breakfast the next morning, Lucien readied himself to visit Meg. He’d learned that Gaffney was dead. The man’s body had been found in the Bois du Boulongue the morning after the royal assembly. Lucien hoped Meg would be relieved to hear that Gaffney would not bother her again. But he debated whether to tell her about the second note he’d received from Le Lézard. He unfolded it and reread it for perhaps the tenth time:
So you finally succumbed to your desire for the little minx. Perhaps she was not truly innocent as Gaffney assumed. Did you enjoy her? I know I will when the time comes, and it is coming soon.
One of Le Lézard’s men must have been watching his hotel and seen Meg arrive at night and leave in the morning. That’s what he told himself at least, because he did not want to contemplate the possibility that Le Lézard or one of his men had actually watched them make love. The thought of that sick bastard seeing Meg’s innocent curiosity nauseated him. Meg was more afraid than she let on, and he didn’t want to frighten her more by telling her Le Lézard may have seen them together the night she’d come to Lucien’s rooms. But he also had a more selfish reason for keeping the note from her. He didn’t want her to become self-conscious when they were in bed. If she feared being watched, she would not respond to him with such abandon. When he thought of Le Lézard harming Meg, he longed to wrap his hands around the man’s throat and squeeze the life from him. Watching Le Lézard die would give him a powerful rush, and that made him no better than his damned father.
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He’d always known that, like his father, he was capable of great violence, but he’d forced himself to use this capacity in positive ways—military engagements, subduing those he’d captured. The blind rage that hit him when he’d killed Meg’s attacker frightened him. He didn’t regret killing the man, and MacPherson was right, most other agents would have done the same thing, but he could have tried to subdue the man and call for his arrest. Killing may not have been necessary. He’d always feared that if he let the violent beast free, he would never regain his control. And he knew that if he saw Le Lézard right now, no amount of resolve would keep him from violence. How could he let the man live after what he had done to Meg?
Lucien arrived shortly after breakfast. Meg was thrilled to see that he was safe. The red scar still showed across his cheek, but he had not sustained any other injuries. Her nightmares had not come true. He asked Meg if she’d like to sit in the courtyard, since the day was so fine. Happy as she was, she felt awkward around him. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to behave after her actions two nights ago. He’d said he wanted their relationship to continue, but she was waiting for him to make the next move. She didn’t think she had the courage to play the aggressor again. When they sat down, Lucien took her hand, but made no other move to touch her. “Gaffney is dead. The police found his body in the Bois du Boulongue.” Meg’s heart pounded. “Lucien, did you—” He shook his head. “I didn’t kill him. Ian and I think Le Lézard found out he’d bungled last night’s meeting and had him killed.” Meg felt no sorrow for Gaffney. He’d gotten nothing less than what he deserved. She was relieved to hear that Lucien was not responsible. While it was romantic to think of Lucien as a man who would avenge the wrongs done her, she didn’t want the weight of another death on his soul.
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“Meg, are you well?” She nodded, pushing away her dark thoughts. “I’m fine. I’m glad Gaffney’s gone, and I’m also glad you didn’t have to kill him yourself.” Lucien looked uncomfortable and changed the subject, explaining what Ian had learned about d’Outon, Daupresse, and their association with Gaffney. “Neither of us has seen them since we learned of Gaffney’s death. I hope his demise scared the hell out of them. Perhaps they will leave Le Lézard’s cult, though I doubt he will let anyone go quietly once he has pulled them in.” “I warned Katie to stay away from d’Outon and Daupresse. I hope to God she’ll listen.” Lucien nodded. Then they both began to speak at once. Their tangled words made them both laugh and their laughter eased the tension between them. “Meg, if you have any regrets about what happened between us the night you came to me, tell me now. I will honor your feelings, but if you still want to—” “I do. I don’t regret anything. I was only feeling a bit embarrassed this morning, and I thought perhaps you’d changed your mind. I can’t bear to be around you and not be able to touch you.” Lucien smiled. “I haven’t changed my mind. I need you.” He kissed her with delicious intensity, and she reveled in the feel of his tongue exploring her mouth. When he finally pulled back, both of them were panting. “I must go. I’ve got to meet MacPherson.” She nodded and stood quickly, knowing if she touched him again, she would not be able to let him leave.
Lucien fulfilled his promise to Meg. For the next few nights, he took her with him to salons, balls, and some of the seediest gambling hells in Paris. During the day, he took her to Longchamps for riding, the Louvre, and the Rubens collection at the Palais du Luxembourg. They even attended a dog fight at the Place du Combat, but Meg begged to
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leave early, saying that watching people cheer as animals tore at each other sickened her. He’d been equally disgusted, and they’d left as quickly as possible. But despite their efforts, they made no progress in learning the identity of Le Lézard. Lucien knew time was running out, but he was fresh out of leads. Ian kept an eye on d’Outon and Daupresse, hoping they would mention something more about Le Lézard, but nothing came of that connection. The investigation was wearing him down. Every night he thought himself too tired to do anything but sleep. But as soon he and Meg were alone, desire banished his exhaustion. Once he touched her, he couldn’t stop until they’d made love with a crazed passion that alarmed them both. The longer they were together the more dependent he became on her, but he needed more than her body, he needed her friendship. He could no longer imagine parting with her when their investigation was over, assuming they would survive to make such a choice. He’d finished his breakfast and was wracking his brain for some new angle to follow, when Ian arrived, looking as excited as a child. “I’ve found a new lead,” he said, grabbing a croissant and joining Lucien at the table. “Even though we had ruled out Renault as a suspect, I made a point of running into his housekeeper a few days ago. I promised to make it worth her while to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. I got a note from her early this morning asking me to meet her while she did her shopping. “Renault is giving a party tonight. The housekeeper overheard him telling someone that a friend of his named Annette had recently arrived in Paris and would be coming to the party. His housekeeper also told me he recently received a new letter opener as a gift. The handle is shaped like a lizard.” Lucien frowned. “Sounds promising, but I still find it difficult to imagine Renault as Le Lézard. It doesn’t feel right.” “I agree, but that doesn’t mean he’s not involved with the cult in some way.” Lucien nodded.
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“The housekeeper is in charge of the guest list so she brought me a few invitations. There will be hundreds of guests, so he likely won’t remember that you and Meg weren’t really invited. I would go as well, but I’m leaving for Levaux’s house party this afternoon. I will be back in three days.” “Take Stevens with you. He can pose as your valet, and you can send him to me if anything big comes up.” Ian grabbed one more croissant and stood. “I’ll pick him up on my way out of town.”
Meg dressed for Renault’s party in her favorite new gown, a lilac silk with a darker lilac underskirt and white flowers across the bodice. It wasn’t her flashiest dress, but from what Lucien had told her, the party would be sedate compared to many of the events they’d attended. Her dress would still draw attention, especially if she damped down the cloth and wore a thin chemise. When Lucien arrived to collect her, his eyes swept her body. Without speaking, he pulled her against him, kissed her, and whispered against her ear. “I wish we didn’t have to go out. I could think of a much better way to spend the evening.” Meg smiled. “Yes, but if we learn something important, we can come back and celebrate.” His expression sobered. “You must be especially careful tonight. Several men will be watching the house, and I’ve given invitations to Thurston and another agent. Renault doesn’t have the right personality or physical traits to be Le Lézard, but we can’t be certain that the man himself won’t be there.” “I’ll pretend to be so besotted with you that I cannot leave your side.” “Good, with one exception. I’ll be looking for a chance to get into Renault’s study and examine the letter opener and anything else I can find. I don’t want you with me while I search.” “I might recognize something you wouldn’t.”
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“If I need your assistance, I’ll find you. It’s too dangerous for both of us to prowl around. If Renault is connected with Le Lézard and we’re caught, it’s likely we would be killed.” Meg chose not to argue. If she decided to follow when he made his search, then she damn well would. She could deal with the consequences later.
Ian had been right about the extensive guest list. The crush of people in Renault’s drawing rooms was astonishing. Lucien didn’t know if they would find Annette or not. He was having enough trouble making sure he didn’t lose Meg. Finally, he spotted Renault selecting two champagne glasses from a buffet table. He took Meg’s hand and headed it that direction, trying not to lose sight of his target. As he suspected, one of the glasses was for a woman, but she was a petite blond. She was so small that a strong puff of air might blow her away. Lucien had a sinking feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t as though Annette was an uncommon name. Still hopeful though, he worked his way through the crowd until he and Meg reached Renault’s side. If he introduced Meg, then Renault would have to introduce his companion. “Good evening,” he said. “Good evening to you,” Renault replied, looking slightly confused. Lucien hoped he wasn’t remembering that they’d not been on the guest list. “I wanted to introduce you to my companion, Madame Covington.” Meg curtseyed and Renault bent to kiss her hand. His kiss was exactly what a gentleman’s should be, neither too cold nor too forward. Renault turned to the woman beside him, and as Lucien feared, he introduced her as Annette. The couples talked for a few moments. Then Lucien and Meg made their excuses and headed off through the crowd. Lucien found them a couple of chairs in a secluded corner. Meg raised her eyebrow when he sat down beside her, and he answered her unspoken question. “It isn’t her.” “Are you sure? She could have changed the color of her hair.”
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“True, but the Annette I was looking for is supposed to be voluptuous. If that woman got any thinner, she’d disappear.” “True. She also seemed terribly shy. I supposed that could be a facade, but her fear of the crowd seemed real to me.” Lucien exhaled sharply and stood, helping Meg to her feet. “Let’s find Thurston. I want you to stay with him while I search the study. This looks like another false lead, but I need to be certain.” “Are you sure I shouldn’t come with you?” “Yes, damn it! I am not in the mood to deal with this. I expect you to do as I say.” Lucien had expected further argument, but Meg didn’t say another word. He left her talking to Thurston and went in search of Renault’s study. Using the directions the housekeeper had given Ian, he quickly located the right door. After looking around to make sure no one had followed him, he eased it open. A large mahogany desk dominated the room, and the silver letter opener lay on the desk in plain view. The handle was indeed shaped like a lizard, but it in no way resembled the symbol on Le Lézard’s pendant. A thorough search of the desk and the bookshelves lining the wall beside it turned up nothing to link Renault to Le Lézard or any other secret society. The letter opener was probably nothing but a strange coincidence. After making certain everything looked as it had before he entered, Lucien closed the door of the study and rejoined Meg and Thurston. “Nothing,” he said before they could ask any questions. “Have either of you seen anyone suspicious?” Meg and Thurston both shook their heads. “I think we’re at another dead end. Thurston, I’d like you to stay, just in case anyone suspicious shows up.” Thurston agreed, and Lucien took Meg’s arm. She was unusually quiet, which unnerved him. “Shall we go back to my rooms?” She gave him an icy stare. “I would be happy to leave, but I find myself rather tired. Please take me back to Fabienne’s.”
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“Meg, what’s wrong?” “Nothing. I simply want to go to bed now, alone.” “I know I was harsh with you earlier. I was angry that this lead has come to nothing. I did not mean to offend you.” “I’m certain you did not.” Lucien was too tired and angry to coax her out of her fit of pique. “Fine.” They rode to Fabienne’s in silence and Lucien didn’t even see her to the door.
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Chapter Nineteen Lucien woke in a hell of a mood. He’d sent his driver on once Meg was safely within Fabienne’s home. He’d hoped a walk would help him release some of his anger. When that hadn’t worked, he’d tried to drown his sorrows in brandy. Now he had a raging headache and a crick in his neck from passing out on the couch in his study, and he was still as angry as he had been after leaving Renault’s party. He’d learned nothing and now his asinine behavior had put Meg in a snit. He’d promised Andrew he would come by early that morning. When his friend saw his mood, he suggested Lucien take a day and try not to think about the investigation. When Lucien refused, Andrew admonished him. “You’re going to save Le Lézard the trouble of killing you if you don’t slow down a bit.” “Meg’s life and mine are at stake. I can’t ignore that.” “You are too damned tired to do yourself any good. When was the last time you had more than a few hours sleep?” “I’m not sure I’ve had a good night’s sleep in the last nine years. Sleep is not important; finding Le Lézard is.” “You can’t find him if you’re too worn out to think clearly. I want you to spend today doing something other than working. I suggest you take Meg with you, because there is no chance you’ll relax unless you know she is safe.” “I can’t rest until we find him. How much longer do you think he’ll wait to make his next move? I can’t worry about whether or not I’m tired when I know he’s close. He’s had someone watching Meg. If he harms her—” Lucien’s throat constricted. He didn’t want to finish the sentence. Andrew laid a hand on his shoulder. “You said yourself you don’t know where to look anymore. Hopefully, we’ll learn something from Ian in a few days. If Le Lézard decides to move before then, there’s nothing you can do to prevent it. It won’t matter if www.samhainpublishing.com
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he attacks you while you’re relaxing or while you are searching the gambling hells for news of his cronies. You might as well enjoy the day.” “Damn it! I can’t stop trying.” “You aren’t stopping. You’re taking one day for yourself. You can even work tonight. Just one morning and one afternoon.” He thought about how angry Meg had been the night before. Maybe a day like Andrew suggested would set things right between them. Knowing Meg’s love of nature, he thought of the perfect place. “Meg would love Le Jardin du Plantes. If we spend the day there, will that make you happy?” Andrew smiled. “More than happy.” “Promise you’ll send a note if you learn anything, and I will go.” “I promise. Now, get moving. You need a full day to explore the gardens and the menagerie.”
Meg received a note from Lucien, telling her he had a surprise for her and asking her to put on a walking dress and be ready for him in an hour. She considered responding with a note of her own, saying she’d already made plans for the day, but that would be petty. As much as she wanted to remain angry at him, she knew he’d not meant to treat her so rudely. He was taking it quite personally that the mission was not going well, and for all his bravado, she knew he was terrified Le Lézard would move against them before they identified him. Making Lucien go home alone had been punishment enough for his treatment of her. She donned a pale green walking dress, found suitable gloves and a parasol, and waited for him in the library. When he joined her, she allowed herself to take in the beauty of his muscular body. He was simply amazing. There was no other way to describe it. The muscles in his thighs stretched his tight buckskin breeches so much Meg feared they might split. She pulled her
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gaze up to his eyes. They were filled with heat. Pure desire rushed through her. She began to doubt the efficacy of denying him her company the night before. Lucien’s heart pounded. Meg’s stare was hot enough to melt him. He was powerless to do anything but pull her into his arms. He’d intended to give her a quick kiss, apologize for his harsh words, and tell her about Le Jardin, but as usual, he was swept away by her touch. One taste of her lips, and he hungered for her desperately. His tongue delved into her, teasing the roof of her mouth. She moaned and reached up to loosen his cravat. The tug on his clothing brought him back to his senses. He grabbed her wrists, putting a halt to her efforts. “If we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to tell you about the surprise I have planned.” “That wasn’t it?” she teased. “I think we’ll save that for after our outing. I want to take you to Le Jardin du Plantes. My cook packed us a picnic lunch and—” “Whom are we looking for today?” “No one. I know how much you love animals. There is a wonderful menagerie there, so I thought you would like to go.” “I would, but—” “Andrew thought a day away might refresh us. Truthfully, he ordered me to take a day off and made me promise to try to relax. I won’t let my guard down, but I’m hopeful Le Lézard will not attack us in a public place in the middle of the day.” Meg smiled. “I’ll have to remember to thank Andrew for his wonderful suggestion.” Lucien brushed the side of her face with his knuckles. “I wish I could give you a full tour of Paris. I wish we could enjoy all our time together.” She laid her hand over his. “I am enjoying every minute I have with you.”
Lucien had borrowed Ian’s phaeton for the day, and Meg gave an uncharacteristic girlish squeal when she saw the conveyance. She explained she’d never been allowed to ride in a one before.
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Pleased to see her smile, Lucien showed off his driving skill, giving her one hell of a ride. Meg laughed at his muttered curses when they got stuck behind a dairy wagon, and he had to hold back the choice words he had for some of the pedestrians and riders who crossed in front of them, forcing them to stop abruptly. He parked the phaeton near the lawn where they would return to eat. When he took Meg’s hand to help her down, a strong longing for her ran through him. If they hadn’t taken an open vehicle, he would have climbed back in and kissed her thoroughly. In fact, he might have broadened her horizons considerably by showing her more things one could do in a carriage. As it was, he allowed himself only the pleasure of kissing her hand after helping her down, letting his lips linger on her warm skin and feeling a slight shiver run through her. Looking up, he saw his own passion mirrored in her eyes. He couldn’t resist stoking her fires further as he straightened and laced her arm through his. “Tonight, I’ll show you some new ways to satisfy our desire. I promise it will be well worth the wait.” “I should’ve listened to my first instincts about you,” she said, smiling at him. “What did they tell you?” “That you were dangerous.” “I am dangerous.” He considered his words for a moment and added, “But I would never hurt you.” Meg squeezed his arm. “I know.” His breath caught at her simple words. They affected him far more than he would’ve liked. It frightened him that she trusted him so much, because it meant that no matter what, he had to be worthy of her trust; he had to protect her. They passed an enjoyable morning. First, they inspected the well-labeled displays of growing things of every variety from fruit trees to decorative flowers to aquatic plants incased in a small marble pond. Meg was amazed by how meticulous the curators were, keeping all the plants contained and well-cared for.
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Next, they toured the menagerie where they saw bears, elephants, wolves, monkeys, and a variety of large cats—more animals than Meg had ever seen in one place. Her favorite exhibit was the lion cage where one of the lions appeared to keep a dog for a pet. The dog barked at them, guarding his master fiercely while the lion lazily cleaned himself. After their explorations, they retrieved the picnic basket from the carriage. Under normal circumstances, Lucien would have been a proper gentleman and left Meg resting in a shady spot while he got the lunch himself, but he had no intention of letting her out of his sight. He’d enjoyed himself so far, and while he was trying to put their mission from his mind, he wasn’t going to leave her unprotected. When they returned from the carriage, Meg picked out a perfect spot under a tall tree. They spread a blanket and settled themselves on the soft grass. He unpacked ham, cheese, bread, jam and an assortment of pastries. Meg reached for a miniature strawberry tart, but Lucien insisted on feeding it to her. He reveled in the delight on her face when she tasted the sugary concoction. Then he leaned over and licked the sugar from her lips. She looked slightly shocked that he would kiss her so openly with others close by, but she said nothing to scold him. After lunch, they continued to sit, enjoying the afternoon, and talking. Meg had never seen Lucien so relaxed. She hated to risk altering his mood, but she wanted to ask him about his childhood. She hoped he would reveal something about why he had closed himself off from others. “Lucien, tell me about your sisters.” “My sisters live with my aunt in Cornwall. I haven’t seen them much since I joined the army. They visited me a few times during my convalescence, but over the last ten years, most of our communication has been through letters. Even that has been scant. They became ladies while I was away.” He got a far-away look on his face as if he were remembering something very painful. “I believe they are happy now. They seem so in their letters.” He paused again, saying nothing for awhile, then he added. “I think you would like them.” He smiled, but his eyes remained distant. “I don’t like to talk about my past.”
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Meg laid her hand on his back and caressed him gently, wishing she knew more about the source of his pain. “If you ever do want to talk, I’d love to listen.” “Thank you. Tell me about your life growing up?” “There’s not much to tell. I had a fairly typical childhood for the daughter of an English gentleman.” Lucien’s somber mood faded, and he laughed. “There must be more to your story than that. A traditional English childhood would not have made you the woman you are. You’re anything but typical.” “I grew up on our estate in Kent. After my mother’s death, I pretty much did as I pleased until I turned twelve, and my aunt insisted I be sent away to school. I loved horses, and I learned to ride early. My father would take me hunting and shooting, and I got to do things that would be forbidden most girls.” A sudden painful jolt of longing for her father hit her. She still mourned him deeply. “Are you all right?” Lucien put his hand under her chin and tilted it up so he could see her eyes. She gave him a weak smile. “I was just wishing I could see my father again. I miss him terribly. My aunt has never understood me the way he did.” Lucien studied her as she spoke, thinking how well-matched they were. She would love the horse farm he wanted, and she would never fuss for him to take her to London to attend all those dreadful parties. She was so animated, far more full of life than the girls he’d been introduced to in London. She had her own opinions, and she wasn’t too shy to share them. Simply watching her pleased him. Her hands moved wildly as she talked, and several strands of hair worked their way loose and fell across her neck or fluttered around her face. His eyes fell to her breasts which were barely covered by the thin fabric of her dress. He loved the way they hung free since she’d ceased wearing stays. Though the knowledge that other men could see them as well set his blood boiling.
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He propped himself up on one elbow and stretched out. Meg’s eyes roamed the length of him. He knew the instant her gaze rested on the evidence of his arousal. She stopped mid-sentence. “Lucien?” She met his eyes, and his cock hardened even more. For several seconds, neither of them breathed. Lucien brought his feet under him, so he could stand. “Meg, darling, we’d better leave, or I fear we may embarrass ourselves.” They quickly repacked the basket, folded the blanket, then walked to the carriage so fast they were nearly running. Lucien handed her in and let his hands slide along the length of her legs, eliciting a groan from her. She felt drugged with need as she settled herself in the carriage, not knowing how they would make it all the way home without touching. “My rooms?” Lucien asked, his voice hoarse and raspy. “Yes,” she shouted, and a passerby looked up at them. Lucien laughed at her embarrassment. To pay him back, she surreptitiously caressed the inside of his thigh as he drove. He sucked in his breath, and his grip on the reigns visibly tightened. Meg laughed and leaned against him, deliberately brushing his thigh with hers. Lucien had driven fast that morning, but this time, he handled the phaeton like a mad man. Several times, he avoided a wreck by the narrowest margin. Her first taste of his driving had frightened her. Now the fast pace only exhilarated her more, making her think she would die if she could not get inside and touch him. When they pulled up to his hotel, Lucien quickly helped her to her feet, and they practically ran for the door of his hotel. He took only a second to ask the doorman to see to his vehicle. Then he pulled her into his bedroom. He shut the door and pressed her up against it, kissing her ferociously, his tongue stabbing at her mouth, forcing her to open for him. She met his fierceness, wrapping her tongue around his and arching her back, wanting to feel his body along her entire length.
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Grabbing her waist, he scooted her along the wall until they were no longer pressed against the door. He placed his hands behind her thighs, urging her to lift her legs and wrap them around him. Never breaking their kiss, her pushed her skirts up and unbuttoned his trousers. As his lips moved to the column of her neck, he pressed his fingers between her legs, opening her to receive him. He found her already slick and ready for him. She whimpered when he touched her. “Now, please, now!” That simple urging was all it took. He pressed her body against the wall and buried himself to the hilt. When he began to withdraw, she clamped her legs tightly around him, trying to hold him in her body. He feasted on her breasts as he stroked her over and over. She fisted her hands in his hair and threw her head back, moaning and begging him not to stop. Meg felt out of control, and she knew Lucien was as crazed as she was. His thrusts were savage in their intensity, but his brutality didn’t hurt or scare her. She only wanted him more. Her release built quickly. She bit her lip to hold in a scream. Lucien held her waist, pinning her against the wall so tightly she couldn’t move. All she could do was let him take her. When she exploded, she sank her teeth into his shoulder, sending him over the edge to join her. When he’d recovered enough to move, Lucien shifted Meg so he could carry her to the bed and stretch out beside her. “Are you all right?” Meg shook her head as though trying to clear a fog from it. “I think so.” “I didn’t hurt you?” “Not at all. That was amazing.” Lucien grinned and settled beside her on the bed, pulling her into his arms. They snuggled, and Lucien caressed her slowly, building her desire again. Neither of them spoke again for a long time. Then, without warning, Lucien began to tell her about his family. “My father is unspeakably cruel. I spent much of my childhood protecting my sisters from him.”
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His statements took her by surprise, but Meg remained silent, thinking it best to simply let him talk. “My mother’s family insisted she marry him. They needed her to make a good alliance, and as heir to the Marquess of Weldon, my father was an excellent choice, except that he drank too much and had a love for violence. My aunt told me he came back from a tour of the continent right before their marriage, and she feared he’d lost his sanity completely. There were rumors he’d impregnated a young woman in France and abandoned her. They were never substantiated, but it is quite possible. He never tried to hide his indiscretions from my mother. “When he came home drunk, he would often beat my mother. She denied it, but I knew what was going on. Sometimes I tried to deflect his anger, but I eventually learned I couldn’t save her. When I intervened, I got beaten, then my mother got it worse. I encouraged her to leave him, but she was too damaged from her years with him to fight back.” Lucien ran a hand through his hair. “All I could do was try to protect my sisters. They are eight and ten years younger than me. I had to be their brother and their father. My father never hit them that I know of. I don’t know why. Perhaps he understood that I would kill him if he harmed them. “I went away to Oxford at sixteen. Whenever I came home on holiday, I sensed that things were better. My father was drinking less, and my mother seemed to have more energy than she had in years. On my twentieth birthday, I came home from London, because my sisters wanted to see me. When I entered the house, my father and mother were fighting. She was standing up to him for the first time in years. He hit her, and she tried to block him. He caught her arm and shoved her out of the way. She fell down the stairs. The fall broke her neck. By the time I reached her, she was dead.” Meg’s heart pounded and a knot had formed in her stomach. She wanted to soothe Lucien, to take away his pain, but she knew that what he needed most was for her to listen.
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“My father swore he hadn’t killed her intentionally. He pretended to grieve for her, but he felt for no one but himself. I threatened to go to the authorities. Then I threatened to kill him. I raged at him for hours, until he was in tears. He consented to give my aunt full guardianship of my sisters. When the arrangements had been made, I bought my commission. I haven’t seen him since. “I’m afraid that if I ever see him again, all the violent tendencies he passed on to me will erupt, and I’ll kill him. The army was a good choice for me. I could channel my thirst for blood into something positive, but I grew to hate being surrounded by death. Now, I fear trying to live as a civilian. What if I find out I am like my father after all?” Meg pulled him against her, cradling his head on her shoulder. She stroked his hair over and over. “Lucien, you’re nothing like that. You would never hurt a woman deliberately. Think how kindly you treated me even when you thought I worked for Le Lézard. That first night, I ceased being afraid of you when you tried to protect my wrists from the rope. I knew you wouldn’t truly hurt me, no matter what you said.” He squeezed her tight. “Thank you.” Meg intended to say more but Lucien began licking and sucking at her neck, distracting her from their painful conversation. Within seconds, she’d given in to her body’s needs.
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Chapter Twenty The next morning, a messenger arrived at Fabienne’s with a note for Meg. It was from d’Outon. He told her she was in danger, and he needed to talk to her. Her heart pounded. Was he luring her out so he could take her to Le Lézard, or did he truly want to warn her about something? The note asked her to meet him on the track at Longchamps in one hour. What should she do? Her instincts told her d’Outon did not intend to harm her. But was she willing to bet her life on it? If she went to meet him unescorted, and he did intend to hand her over to Le Lézard, he would likely succeed. At least there would be other riders at Longchamps, so she stood the chance of someone coming to her rescue. She knew she should tell Lucien, but he would insist on going instead of her and d’Outon would likely flee if he saw Lucien coming, after the scene at the royal ball. She donned her dark amber riding habit and found Fabienne reading in the library. “It’s been days since I had a good ride. I was thinking of heading out to Longchamps. Might I borrow one of your mounts?” “Of course, my dear, but be careful. What should I tell Lucien if he calls? He’ll explode if he finds out where you’ve gone.” She thought back to the wonderful day at Le Jardin du Plantes. Lucien had opened up to her more than ever before. She felt more than a trifle guilty about striking out on her own, but no matter how much she cared for him, she could not let him order her about. “He said he would be busy today so I doubt he will come by. Tell him the truth if you must. I’m tired of living in fear, and I need to get out of the house. I will make sure I stay where there are plenty of people.” She considered telling Fabienne her real purpose, but she was afraid even bold Fabienne would caution her not to go. She didn’t want anyone deterring her from her course. www.samhainpublishing.com
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Her stomach did somersaults as she wove her way through the city streets, moving out toward the Bois du Boulongue. Every step of the way, she expected someone to jerk her off her horse and spirit her away, but she made it to Longchamps without incident. D’Outon was waiting for her exactly where he’d said he would. She approached him with trepidation. When she was a few yards away, he noticed her. She could tell by his reaction that her fear was clear on her face. “I am not here to harm you. I swear it.” She moved closer, still unwilling to trust him completely. “Just tell me what you have to say. I must return home soon. I will be missed.” “Ride with me. We’ll draw attention if we continue to stand here.” They moved onto the track, and d’Outon began his explanation. “Remember when we danced together, and you asked about my cravat pin.” “Yes, of course. You wouldn’t tell me much about it.” “I told you it was a symbol for a secret society. Joining it was a huge mistake. Our leader has mentioned your name several times. Yours and the man who went after Gaffney—Viscount Rainsby. Apparently, Rainsby is a British spy, and our leader intends to kill you both. He wants to perform some kind of ritual and use you for the sacrifice. I don’t know why or when, but I want no part of murder. I felt I must warn you.” Bile rose in Meg’s throat. Her hands gripped the reins so tightly that her knuckles were white. “Thank you. I know of Lord Rainsby’s connections, and I know we are in danger. Now, I fear you will be in danger too.” “If I end up dead I suppose it is my punishment for being so stupid. I wanted to have some fun, and I did not realize what I had gotten into. Now, I cannot get out. The leader will kill anyone who tries to leave the group. He fears we know too much.” “Do you know who this leader is or what he looks like?” “I’ve only seen him in the dark, and he was masked. Only a select few know his true name.” “If you learn anything more, will you find a way to let me or Lord Rainsby know?”
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D’Outon nodded. “I’ll do whatever I can to stop him. I’d rather die than let him kill you.”
Lucien fumed as he held Dragon at a slow walk. He remained close enough to help Meg if she needed him, but far enough back to keep from being noticed by her or d’Outon. For a sickening moment when he’d seen Meg riding with d’Outon, he feared his whole assessment of her had been wrong, and she’d been working for Le Lézard all along. But he’d quickly brushed the thought from his mind with the memory of her terror the night she was attacked. She wasn’t setting him up. She was simply headstrong and foolish enough to go off alone to meet someone they knew was involved with the Lizard. Thus far, d’Outon had done nothing threatening. Lucien prayed he’d summoned Meg to flirt with her or, better yet, to tell her more about Le Lézard’s organization. The longer he followed them, the more confident he became that Meg was not in danger. As his fear waned, his anger grew. She’d done some reckless things in the past, but this was remarkably foolish even for someone with her penchant for danger. How could he get through to her? Must he lock her in her room? Likely as not, she’d climb out the window and break her neck. D’Outon pulled out ahead of Meg and pushed his horse into a canter. Meg made no attempt to follow, and Lucien assumed their meeting was at an end. He maneuvered Dragon directly behind Meg as she exited the track and entered a wooded, more secluded path. Then he came along side her and dragged her off the mare, setting her on his mount. She tried to scream, but his hand clamped over her mouth. “You thought you could protect yourself, didn’t you?” She stopped struggling when she heard his voice, and he released her mouth. “You scared me to death.” “Which is less than you deserve. You might’ve been dead already if your instincts about d’Outon had proved wrong.”
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Meg’s mare had taken off when he’d grabbed her so he urged Dragon down the path in search of the run-away. “We’re going to find your horse. Then I’ll escort you back to Fabienne’s. I don’t wish to discuss this anymore until we get there. I don’t trust my temper right now.” Meg turned to glare at him, but she said nothing which was well enough. He was having trouble thinking clearly with her firm behind pressed against his thigh. He seemed to lack every last shred of self-control around her. They left their horses at the livery near Fabienne’s house, and Lucien practically dragged her down the street. As soon as they were inside, Meg wrenched herself free of his grasp. “I’m disgusted with your high-handed attitude. You pretend to let me help you, but whenever I take any initiative, you berate me and call me foolish. You take risks every day. Why should my sex prevent me from taking them too?” Lucien was furious with Meg for meeting d’Outon alone and with himself for not being able to keep her safe. He wanted to punish her, make her feel as miserable as he had when he’d first seen her with d’Outon. He wanted to push her away because he couldn’t handle the intensity of their connection. Cruel words leapt from his mouth before he could stop them. “Now that I’ve seen you conversing alone with d’Outon I no longer know who you’re working for. For all I know, you’ve betrayed me.” Meg’s face turned bright red. “You bastard! How dare you say such a thing? If you trust me so little, then you certainly won’t take my word for it. I suppose you’ll have to have proof.” She unbuttoned her jacket, reached into her shirt, and pulled out a piece of paper. “There’s your damned proof.” She threw the note at him and stomped off up the stairs. Lucien read the note from d’Outon and put it into his jacket pocket. He’d never truly doubted Meg, and now, he had no idea what d’Outon had told her. In the state she was in, she would never tell him. He cursed his foolish behavior. He’d come to Fabienne’s to tell Meg that he and Ian were heading to an estate on the outskirts of Paris to check out a new lead. Exasperated with Meg and himself, he summoned Fabienne’s butler and left a note, explaining that he would return late on the
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following night. He asked her to follow through with their plans to attend the Delompreses’ party, hoping to show that he did still trust her.
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Chapter Twenty-One Meg stepped into a small, empty drawing room, wanting to escape the crush of the crowd for a few moments. Fabienne wanted them to stay together, but Meg had grown tired of all the social chatter. Sinking into one of the upholstered chairs, Meg basked in the delightful silence. She hated to admit it, but she missed Lucien. It had only been a day and a half since she’d stormed off from him, but she already regretted her childish behavior. His anger and fear were perfectly logical. She had known it was foolish to meet d’Outon. Of course, she still felt a sense of satisfaction that her instincts had been right. She planned to have Thurston take her to Lucien’s rooms after taking Fabienne home. If Lucien was not yet home, she would wait for him to return and refuse to leave until their quarrel was resolved. She didn’t intend to let him rule her, but staying angry at him was far too painful. She understood his fear. She just wished he could see her side. Movement near the room’s far doorway drew her attention. A man moved into view just beyond the arch of the door. He looked as if he were waiting for someone. She could barely make out his features in the dim light, but when he leaned against the door frame, she got a full view of his back. She drew in her breath. It was Lucien. He hadn’t expected to be back in time to come to the party, but she was delighted to see him. Then the man turned to the side, and she saw that it wasn’t Lucien at all. But it was uncanny how much this man looked like him. They had the same hair and the same height. Even his profile resembled Lucien’s a great deal, though she was certain it was not him. Something niggled at the back of her mind, something she should remember. When her memory clicked into place, a wave of nausea slithered through her belly. She gripped the edge of her seat to steady herself.
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Lucien’s words about his father echoed in her mind. There were rumors he’d impregnated a young woman in France but had abandoned her. They were never substantiated, but it is quite possible. Now she knew the truth. Lucien’s father had left a child behind in France, a child who would likely harbor resentment, one who might be violent like his father. She’d told Lucien that Le Lézard had the same coloring and height as he did. Dear God. She had to get out of here and find Lucien as fast as she could. She rose slowly and inched along the wall toward the door that would lead into the crowded ballroom. As she neared the door, her foot caught on a wrinkle in the rug, and she fell against a table. A lamp hit the floor with a resounding thump. Le Lézard turned. She took off running, not bothering to wait and see if he pursued her. She pushed through the crowd, ignoring the stares of the men and women she jostled. Running through the foyer and out the door, she scanned the street, looking for Fabienne’s carriage. When she located it, she held up her skirts and ran, giving all the waiting drivers and footmen a glimpse of her calves. “Thurston!” she called as she ran up to the vehicle. The guard leaned against the side of the carriage, but he stood up straight when he saw her. “What’s wrong, miss?” Breathless, she tried to explain. “I must find Lucien immediately.” She hoisted herself into the carriage while Thurston stared dumbfounded. When he didn’t immediately move, she added, “Now! Go!” Thurston hopped up onto the driver’s seat. “Lord Rainsby’s rooms, then?” “Yes, please hurry.” Thurston drove as quickly as he could, but Meg felt like they were hardly moving. The luxurious carriage was not built for speed, and despite the late hour, the roads were quite crowded. She bit her lip to restrain herself from urging him to go faster. When they finally reached Lucien’s hotel, she scrambled out, rushing toward the door. From behind her, Thurston called, “Let me go first, miss.”
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Thurston followed her, and she didn’t try to stop him, but she refused to slow down to let him in front. She knocked furiously on Lucien’s door, and his valet, Gregson, answered the door and told her Lucien was not yet home. After much arguing, she got Thurston to agree to go back to the ball and make sure Fabienne was safe, reminding him that Gregson would be there to protect her. He left reluctantly, saying he would return for her once he’d taken Fabienne home. Meg wrote a note for Lucien in case Thurston returned for her before Lucien did. She knew he would insist on taking her back to Fabienne’s house which was more heavily guarded. She sat down at Lucien’s desk and located a pen, but she’d only written a few lines when someone knocked on the door. Her heart pounded. Who could it be? Surely Le Lézard wouldn’t bother to knock. She entered the foyer, but Gregson motioned for her to stand back. He crept to the window and eased back the curtain. “It’s a young woman. She is very small with light blond hair.” “It’s Miss Wexham,” she said, leaning around Gregson to get a look. “Let her in, quickly.” When Gregson opened the door, Meg saw that her friend’s dress was dirty and torn. Blood stained her sleeve, and her eyes were wild and frightened. Katie fell into her arms, sobbing. Her words came out in a jumble. “Daupresse…could be following me…should have listened to you.” “Katie! Katie!” Meg shook her gently. “You’ve got to calm down so I can understand you. Did Daupresse do this to you?” She indicated the blood stain on Katie’s upper arm. Katie nodded. Meg helped her to a chair while Gregson went in search of medical supplies. After handing her friend a glass of brandy, Meg peeled her sleeve away from the wound, trying to determine how serious it was. She was relieved to see that the cut was superficial. When Gregson returned, Meg let him take over while she tried to distract Katie from his ministrations.
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The few sips of brandy which Katie had taken calmed her, and after some deep breaths, she was ready to talk to Meg. “I saw Daupresse at the Delompreses’ party after I talked to you, and—” She sucked in her breath and turned to look at her arm when Gregson applied a whisky soaked cloth to it. Meg grabbed her chin and turned her head away from Gregson. “Focus on me. What did Daupresse say to you?” “He wanted to talk to me. I thought about what you said, but he really seemed harmless. I—” Tears started pouring down her cheeks again. Meg squeezed her hand. “It’s all right. Just tell me what happened.” “I stepped into an alcove with him. He pulled a knife on me and told me I must follow him outside if I didn’t want to get hurt. When we got outside, he kissed me. I tried to get away. Then d’Outon appeared and told him to let me go, but Daupresse said he was bringing me to the Lizard. Does that make any sense?” Meg felt the color drain from her face. “You do know what he meant, don’t you? What is going on?” “I’ll tell you later. Right now, I need to know exactly what happened tonight.” Katie looked like she would protest, but she went on with her story. “Daupresse and d’Outon argued some more. I can’t remember exactly what was said. Daupresse dragged me toward a carriage. I knew I couldn’t let him take me away from the party. “I struggled with him, and he cut my arm. D’Outon pulled him away from me and told me to run. I went to Fabienne’s. No one was there so I asked her butler if he knew where Lord Rainsby’s lodgings were.” “Do you think Daupresse followed you?” “I don’t know.” Meg’s mind raced. Chances were good that Daupresse or Le Lézard or both were coming for them. Where would they be safest?
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But before she could think of a plan, someone knocked on the door. Le Lézard’s hypnotic voice called to her. “You won’t escape this time. Your precious Lucien isn’t going to make it back in time to save you. I’ve made sure of that.” Gregson retrieved a pistol from a cabinet and motioned for them to hide. Meg grabbed Katie and pulled her through the door of Lucien’s bedchamber. They tried to open the window, but it was hopelessly stuck. No amount of pushing or pulling would move it. The pounding grew more intense, and they scrambled under the bed. Meg heard the door swing open. Shots were fired, and a man groaned. Meg thought it was Gregson. “They’re here somewhere. Find them.” It was Le Lézard’s voice. Footsteps echoed across the floor. Meg’s heartbeat accelerated. She could barely make out Katie’s form in the dark, but she knew the young woman was biting her hand to keep from making any noise. The footsteps stopped right by the bed. Meg could hear the man breathing. She was praying he would walk away. Instead, he bent down and found her. His hand closed around her ankle and tugged. She fought him, kicking out with her other foot, but the man easily pulled her from her hiding place. Katie scrambled out to help her. The man had to use one of his hands to grab her, thus freeing one of Meg’s arms so both women were able to pummel and kick him. But he was so solidly built, the blows were ineffective. The sounds of their struggle drew the other men. Daupresse entered the room and pulled Katie off Meg’s attacker who was then able to subdue her by forcing her arms behind her back, twisting them painfully. It took Daupresse a bit longer to subdue Katie. She was in the midst of a blind panic, kicking and hitting him over and over, desperate to free herself. “Stop!” he commanded, slapping her across the face. “Daupresse, do not damage her. We want her well for tomorrow.” Le Lézard spoke from the doorway. Meg turned to him. “I’m the one you’ve been hunting. Leave her out of this.”
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Le Lézard smiled and shook his head. “I’m afraid I cannot do that. She knows far too much for us to let her go. Besides, she is almost as pretty as you. My men will enjoy her.” A fourth man entered, carrying two partially filled brandy glasses. He gave them to Le Lézard who divided a packet of white powder into them while Daupresse and the other man held Meg and Katie. He approached Katie first. “Pull her head back and hold her still.” Katie struggled, but she was clearly no match for the two men. Le Lézard poured the drink down her throat. She coughed and sputtered but seemed otherwise unharmed. Meg prayed it was only laudanum or something else to make them sleep. She did not think Le Lézard would kill them now and deprive himself of using them in his sick ceremony. By the time he reached Meg’s side with the other glass, Katie’s movements had slowed, and her eyes were drooping. Meg knew he would succeed in drugging her as well, but she fought against the man who held her nonetheless. The brandy burned her throat. Taking so much of it at once arrested her breathing. She began to feel sleepy before she had even stopped coughing.
When Lucien and Ian reached their destination, they learned they’d been set up. They rode back to Paris as fast as they could, but when Lucien saw his broken door, he knew they’d not been fast enough. His heart sank. “He has her.” He didn’t know he’d spoken the words out loud until Ian responded. “We don’t know what happened here. She may be at Fabienne’s.” Lucien silenced him with a dark look. They entered the apartment, and the first thing they saw was Gregson’s body on the floor. Lucien dropped to the floor and felt for a pulse but found none. “He’s dead,” he said, looking up at Ian. “Damn! Go to Fabienne’s. I’ll search these rooms for clues. Then I will summon the police but tell them as little as I can. I’ll find you as soon as I’m free.”
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Lucien nodded his head, assenting to Ian’s plan, but he wasn’t even sure he’d heard what his friend had said. He felt like he was outside himself, watching this horror happen but not believing it. He turned toward the door, and Ian laid a hand on his shoulder. “We will find her.” Lucien didn’t respond, but Ian had to be right, because no matter what he had to do, he would not let Meg die. He had been unable to help his mother, he would not fail to save another innocent woman.
Thurston and Fabienne were just entering Fabienne’s house when Lucien arrived. His panic must have shown on his face, because Fabienne drew in her breath when she saw him. “Where’s Meg?” she asked. The last of Lucien’s hope died. “I was praying she was with you.” “I left her at your rooms above an hour ago,” Thurston said. “Then he has her.” “Mon Dieu.” Fabienne sat down on the stairs, her eyes wide with shock. “When Ian and I returned. We found Gregson dead on the floor. No one else was there.” His anger boiled over as he turned to Thurston. “Why the hell did you leave her? You were supposed to keep her safe.” “She had something urgent to tell you. She insisted she must find you quickly. She practically dragged me away from the Delompreses’. I left her with Gregson while I went back to get Fabienne. I thought she would be safe with him.” Lucien wanted to rail at him some more, but he would have thought her safe with Gregson too. He forced himself to focus on finding her. The three of them spent the next several minutes guessing what Meg might have learned. Lucien was pacing the floor when Ian arrived. “Did you find anything?”
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Ian held up a woman’s light pink hair ribbon and a piece of paper. “I found this ribbon on the floor by your bed, and this note on your desk. It isn’t signed or finished, but it must be from Meg.” Fabienne pointed to the ribbon. “That’s not Meg’s.” “How can you be sure?” Lucien asked. “I was with Meg tonight, remember? Besides she would never wear that color. It would look terrible next to her hair.” “Then, where—” Fabienne interrupted him. “Katie Wexham, the woman Meg met at the Carringtons’. I heard her sister saying she was nowhere to be found. What if she went to find Meg?” Lucien closed his eyes for a moment. The situation was even worse than he’d thought. He drew in a long breath. “Let me see the note.” Ian handed him the paper. His eyes grew wide as he read. “What does it say?” Fabienne asked. Lucien stared at the note, reading it again before he answered. “I saw a man at the Delompreses’ and thought it was you. I think it was Le Lézard, and he is your brother, the child your father left in France.” Lucien read the words one more time, hoping they had changed. Meg’s words from several weeks before echoed in his mind. He wore a mask that covered most of his face, but he was very tall, and I could see that he had dark hair and eyes. In fact, his coloring was much like yours. “She thinks she’s identified Le Lézard. I told her there were rumors my father sired a child in France before he married my mother. Apparently these rumors were true, and Le Lézard is that child.” He met Ian’s gaze but quickly turned away from the sympathy he saw there. His friend knew, better than anyone, how he felt about his father. “Now he has her, and Miss Wexham.” Thurston slammed his fist into the wall. “I should never have left her.” “No, you should not,” Lucien said icily.
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Ian gave Lucien a look that said he was being unfair. “We all know how forceful Meg is. We don’t know how many men were there. You might have been killed just as Gregson was if you had been there. Lucien and I were set up. The whole trip was a diversion. I think the Lizard had been planning all along to take Meg tonight.” “What did the police say?” Lucien asked. “They believe Gregory was killed by robbers who ran away when they realized they’d killed a man. I did nothing to change that impression.” Lucien nodded. “Fine. The next thing to do is find d’Outon. Meg met with him yesterday at Longchamps. She—” His voice caught around the tightness in his throat, and he had to pause. “She never had a chance to tell me what he said, but I believe he warned her about Le Lézard. I think we can convince him to help us.”
The Lizard’s men placed Meg and Katie in an underground cell. The walls were cool and damp, and water dripped from the ceiling. Scratching sounds in the walls indicated that rats were scrambling around just behind the plaster. Meg regained consciousness first, but it took her a few moments to gather her wits and remember what had happened. Katie lay on the floor a few feet away. Meg tried to move toward her friend, but her body was still in the thrall of the drug she’d been given. Her limbs felt as heavy and stiff as stone. She could barely scoot herself across the dirt floor. When she was close enough to touch Katie, she rolled onto her side to face her friend. Her hip landed on something hard. She remembered that she’d attached Madeleine’s charm bag to the waistband of her petticoat. Ever since Madeleine had given it to her, she’d taken it everywhere, but it certainly hadn’t done her any good tonight. She forced her arm to move, breathing hard from the effort. Her hand fell heavily against Katie’s shoulder as she called her name. Commanding her muscles to work, she rocked her friend back and forth encouraging her to wake. When Katie’s eyes finally opened, they were unfocused. She wasn’t even sure Katie could see her. Finally, her friend spoke. “Where are we?”
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Meg tried to remind her where they were and why, but Katie seemed unable to comprehend Meg’s words. “Do you remember anything that happened tonight?” Meg watched as Katie tried to shake off her disorientation. A few moments later, Katie nodded. By that time, Meg had regained enough muscle control to sit up, and she helped Katie join her. They positioned themselves so they could lean against the wall. They heard footsteps approaching the door. A key rattled, and the bolt slid back. Katie grabbed Meg’s hand and squeezed it hard enough to hurt. The door swung open. Meg saw a man she didn’t recognize. He held a tray with two bowls of soup and a loaf of bread. He looked them over, a disgusting leer on his face. “I heard you moving around. I was told to bring you this when you were awake.” He set the tray on the floor, looking pointedly at Katie’s legs which stuck out from her rumpled skirts. “Rest up, you’re going to need plenty of energy tonight when you entertain us.” His mocking laughter echoed through the cell as he shut the door. Meg let out the breath she’d been holding. She and Katie studied the food on the tray. “Do you think it’s safe?” Katie asked. Meg nodded. “Le Lézard will want us wide awake for tonight. He’ll enjoy our fear.” Meg was surprised how calm her voice sounded. She should be shaking with fear. Instead she was numb. “We should try to eat. If we’re to have any chance of escaping, we must regain our strength.” Katie took a tentative sip of soup. “Why are we here, Meg? What’s really going on?” Meg took a deep breath before answering. Despair threatened to overwhelm her along with the horror of what might happen to her friend. “Katie, I’m so sorry. I should have told you more from the beginning.” Tears formed in Katie’s eyes. “Please, just tell me now.” There was no point in trying to hide her identity any longer. It seemed likely she and Katie would be dead soon anyway, and Katie deserved a full explanation. “Lucien is a
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government agent, and I’m working with him. Do you remember the man who gave you the drugged wine, the one who looks a bit like Lucien?” “Y-Yes,” Katie said, visibly shivering. “He goes by the name Le Lézard, but he’s apparently Lucien’s half-brother. He worked for Napoleon’s secret police in Spain, and he set up the ambush of Lucien’s regiment. The two of us have been trying to discover his identity since we came to Paris. I figured out who he was tonight.” “You’re really a spy?” Meg smiled. “Yes, but only by accident. Le Lézard is the leader of a cult. He claims to be a dark magician who worships the devil. One of his contacts, Lord Gaffney, kidnapped me from London and brought me to him to be used as a sacrifice.” Deciding the whole story was too complicated, she simplified it. “Lucien helped me escape, and now I am working with him.” Meg took a bite of bread and realized her hands were shaking. As the drug wore off, her fear intensified. “There’s no reason for you to be mixed up in this. I can’t possibly apologize for what’s happened.” “I’m here because of Daupresse. I would have been safe if I’d listened to your warning. Once again, I let a man make a fool of me.” Katie began to cry. Meg pulled her friend into her arms and stroked her back, praying with all her might that she could figure out a way to save them. Lucien would try to rescue them, but if he tried and failed, he would be killed along with her and Katie. She almost wished he would stay away. She could not bear to be the cause of his death. Katie’s sobs subsided after a few minutes, and Meg realized her friend had fallen asleep. The drug must have affected her more, since she was so petite. Now that she no longer had to appear strong for her friend, Meg let some of her own tears fall. She’d already been mad at herself for fighting with Lucien. Now she might never get to tell him she was sorry or that her regard for him was more than physical.
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She vowed that if a miracle occurred, and she and Lucien both lived through this ordeal, she would confess her love to him. Whether he returned it or not, whether he could envision a future for them or not, she had to let him know how she felt.
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Chapter Twenty-Two Lucien found d’Outon meeting with several other men from Le Lézard’s group. Having realized their leader planned to torture and kill at least two young women, they were already working on a plan to stop Le Lézard. They easily agreed to include Lucien and Ian in their efforts. D’Outon explained that Le Lézard was planning to perform a ceremony the following evening where he would sacrifice Meg and Katie. The Lizard hoped to lure Lucien there and kill him as well. “Do you know where the women are being held?” Lucien asked. “We’re not certain, but it is likely they were taken to Le Lézard’s home outside Paris. That is where tomorrow’s ritual will take place. The basement is used as a dungeon.” Lucien chest constricted when he thought of Meg locked in a cell. He remembered the fear in her eyes when he tied her hands, and his heart ached. He had to free her. “We still have several hours before daylight. We could—” D’Outon shook his head. “We must wait until tomorrow night to have any chance of success.” “I’m not going to leave Meg with him for a whole day. There’s no telling what he will do to her.” “He will do nothing until the time of the ceremony.” The speaker was one of the men Lucien didn’t know. “You don’t know that.” The unknown man approached Lucien and continued his explanation. “Le Lézard never acts until he is ready. He won’t kill her or her friend before tomorrow. I don’t think he’ll hurt them either. He wants you to be there to witness their pain.” Lucien bit back a howl of frustration. “You can’t guarantee their safety. He could decide to perform his ritual early.” 226
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“He believes it will only work when the moon is full. He’ll not do it before the time is right. If you go now, you’ll be caught. Le Lézard expects you to come for Meg today. He’ll have guards posted all around his property.” D’Outon spoke again before Lucien could reply, “I do not want Mrs. Covington or Miss Wexham to come to any harm. I came to Mrs. Covington two days ago and warned her she was in danger. I hoped to save her, but she did not heed my warning.” “I’ve never been able to convince her to avoid danger.” D’Outon smiled. “No, I imagine not, but it is her independence and strength that will help her and Miss Wexham survive this day. We must bide our time until our chances are greatest to rescue her.” No matter how rational d’Outon’s explanation, Lucien’s heart and mind revolted at the thought of waiting. “I’m going after her now, even if I have to go alone.” He moved toward the door, but Ian stopped him with a hand on his arm. “If you move without thinking, you could kill Meg, Miss Wexham, and yourself. Listen to their plan. We cannot risk Meg’s and Katie’s lives because you are too impatient.” Lucien itched to slam his fist into Ian’s face, but he pounded the door instead. “Fine, tell me the damned plan and I will consider it.” “We’d planned to take our places with the group and attack when the ceremony began. Now that you are here, we can create a diversion by bringing you in, pretending we are delivering you to be killed. As we are about to hand you over to Le Lézard, we’ll set you free and attack the rest of the group. We’ll be outnumbered, but we have the advantage of surprise.” Lucien started to protest, but d’Outon continued, ignoring him. “I believe that if Le Lézard himself were killed or captured, the rest of the men would surrender, with the possible exception of his innermost circle.” Lucien reluctantly agreed to their plan. He knew waiting was the right thing to do even as hard as it was, and he could think of nothing better. Ian refused to be left out. Since he could not be brought to Le Lézard’s meeting place without drawing suspicion, it was decided that he would wait in the woods at the perimeter of the Lizard’s property. If
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the men succeeded in freeing Meg and Katie, they would send them to Ian to make their escape. Lucien spent an agonizing day concocting visions of Meg being tortured. He told himself over and over they would not fail. Thinking he might never be able to tell Meg he loved her devastated him. If she became the second woman he loved to die by violence while he stood by helpless, he didn’t believe he would survive with his sanity intact. He thought how they had parted, and he berated himself for fighting with her when he should have been thanking her for the ways she’d contributed to their mission. He’d been too caught up in his efforts to protect her to bother telling her how much he appreciated her efforts. When he saw her again—he would see her again, he could not allow himself to doubt it—he would thank her. The thought of how her face would light up when he told her made him smile.
“Well, it looks like your lover doesn’t think enough of you to come to your aid, my dear. I’ve sent a few men to help him find his way to us, but we’ll have to proceed without him for now. I’d hate for him to miss your torment, but I must go ahead and prepare you for your ordeal.” Meg shuddered at the Lizard’s words. Where was Lucien? She didn’t want him to walk into a trap, but she needed him desperately. Le Lézard called in two guards and instructed them to tie the women’s hands and bring them outside. Meg bit her lip to hold back her tears, but she could not stop her body from shaking. As her hands were tied, she thought of the night she’d met Lucien, and her chest constricted. They walked up a stone stairway, down a long corridor, and outside into a beautiful garden. As they passed the flowers, Meg wondered how such sweet-smelling blossoms could grow near so much evil. Beyond the garden, she could see trees and the light of a fire.
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They entered the woods and approached a circular clearing. Torches were placed around the perimeter of the circle, casting dancing light over the men who gathered there. A large stone table and a smaller rectangular one stood in the center. The smaller table held a large knife, a bowl, and a book. Le Lézard walked up behind them. “Unfortunately, there isn’t room for me to play with both of you at the same time.” He looked at the guard holding the rope between Katie’s hands. “Tie her to a tree.” Katie’s eyes widened. She struggled against her captor, giving Meg a pleading glance. There was nothing Meg could do for her though, and the guard easily hauled her off to complete Le Lézard’s instructions. Turning back to Meg, Le Lézard said, “When dear Lucien arrives, I want him to see you displayed for my men.” Meg held her breath, wanting to fight but too frightened to even move. “My guard will untie you. Then you will remove your clothes. If you disobey, your young friend will suffer.” Le Lézard took hold of her chin and turned her to see Katie who was pinned tightly to a tree by a rope that circled her arms and chest. “LeMond, show our lovely captive what will happen if this one does not obey me.” The guard lifted his knife and pressed it against the side of Katie’s throat. He made a shallow cut, and a small line of blood welled up on Katie’s white skin. She shrieked, pulling on the ropes that held her. “You don’t want to see your friend hurt anymore, do you?” Unable to speak, Meg shook her head. “Good. Strip and lie down on the altar.” He gestured to indicate the large stone table. Meg forced herself to do as he asked, because she could not watch them torture Katie. Her hands shook as she tried to untie the ribbon that circled the neckline of her dress. “Work faster,” Le Lézard said, pulling out a knife and walking toward her. He touched the tip of the knife to her breastbone, but instead of cutting her, he sliced through her bodice. “There, that should make it easier for you.”
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Meg gathered her wits enough to push her torn dress from her shoulders. As she pushed her dress and petticoat over her hips, she remembered the charm bag. Although it had not protected her from capture, she hated to leave it behind, so as she bent to push her clothing to the ground, she pulled it free and palmed it. Nausea curled in her belly when she saw Le Lézard and his men leering at her nakedness. The circle of men seemed to spin around her. She had to command the muscles in her legs to carry her the ten or so steps to the altar. More and more men gathered within the circle, obviously enjoying her naked subjection. Tears stun her eyes, but she was determined these men would not break her. She would not cry for them. Instead, she continued to pray for a miracle, torn between wanting Lucien to come and wanting him to stay far away where he was safe. The stone altar was cold, and it scratched her buttocks as she adjusted herself so she could lie down as instructed. She’d noticed four hooks imbedded at the corners of the altar. Chains were attached to each hook. She knew what would come next.
Meg had no idea how long she’d lain chained to the altar, but full dark had descended. She tried not to allow herself to contemplate the humiliation of her position. A light wind played over her body, and she couldn’t control her shivers. She wanted to test the strength of the chains, but she could not do so quietly. Even if she got free, she’d never escape all the men who were gathered around her. She forced herself to open her eyes and meet the stares of the men who ogled her. She could count twenty men, and there could be more behind her near the tree where Katie was tied. Very bad odds indeed. Le Lézard approached her and ran a hand across her stomach and down her thigh. “Dear Lucien must not care as much for you as I’d thought. He’s had an entire day to come for you, but he has left you all alone.” Meg worked to keep her face blank, but she knew fear showed in her eyes. “Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon. I won’t permit him to miss the show.”
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The vibrating thrum of far-off hoof beats drew her attention. Lucien? If so, was he a prisoner, or did he approach on his own power? The horses drew closer, then stopped. She heard men shouting, and her heart sank. If Lucien had come alone, he would not have made so much noise. A commotion arose in the circle, and several men turned in the direction of the house. Straining to lift her head, she saw d’Outon and several others approach the clearing. They had Lucien with them, his hands tied behind his back. What a fool she’d been. She’d sent Lucien right into a trap. D’Outon had been so convincing. She’d truly believed he didn’t wish her harm. Now, her thick-headedness was going to get Lucien killed. “Look what we found,” d’Outon said, pushing Lucien closer to the table where Meg lay chained. “Yes, I wondered what had detained you.” Le Lézard’s voice dripped with acid. “He gave us a bit of trouble on the way in, but we’ve subdued him now.” D’Outon laughed. “Welcome, Lucien. We’ve kept your little prize safe and sound.” The Lizard gestured in Meg’s direction. “We didn’t want you to miss our ceremony. We’ve planned a very special night for Meg and her friend.” He gestured behind Meg’s head toward Katie, and Meg tried her best to see her friend, but Katie was out of her line of vision. When she turned back toward Lucien, he caught her eye, and something flashed across his face. He was trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t read his signal. “Bring him closer,” Le Lézard commanded. “I want to show him what we have in store for his little whore.” Suddenly, chaos exploded around Meg. Lucien lurched forward, landing a punch squarely on Le Lézard’s jaw. The men who’d come with d’Outon had slowly spread themselves around the circle while Le Lézard had focused his attention on Lucien. All of them sprang into action, fighting Le Lézard’s men.
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Two men grabbed Lucien’s arms before he could hit Le Lézard again. He struggled to free himself from their grasp. A loud grunt drew her attention to where d’Outon was getting pounded by a man nearly twice his size. Then she smelled the sharp scent of burning straw and looked around to find the source. Someone had knocked over a torch, setting the brush on fire. Screams erupted as men scrambled to put out the blaze. Lucien still grappled with two men. He had shaken loose from one of them, but the other landed a hard kick to his stomach, and he doubled over. Le Lézard had backed up to stand by Meg’s side holding the huge knife from the table. His eyes were wild. He looked as though the last shreds of his sanity had fled. The fire was out, but d’Outon’s accomplices who had been near the blaze had been killed or captured. The men still loyal to the Lizard moved around the circle to take on Lucien, d’Outon, and the few others who remained standing. Another man joined the fight against Lucien. Lucien held out for several more minutes, but a solid punch to his face sent him falling to the ground. Two of the lizard’s men wrenched his arms back, holding him while the third found some rope to tie his hands. They dragged him toward the altar and forced him to kneel in front of Le Lézard. Meg had been unable to take her eyes off Lucien, and she’d lost track of the fighting. When she looked around again, d’Outon and the rest of his friends had all been subdued. Her body sagged against the rock.
Lucien ached all over. He’d taken kicks in the ribs and stomach and one particularly hard blow to his face had left his jaw throbbing. His body wanted to collapse, but his mind raced, searching for a new strategy. Disgusted, he realized he still didn’t know Le Lézard’s true motive, though he was now certain the man was his half brother. He could see the resemblance to himself, and the man was nearly identical to his father. Perhaps asking Le Lézard about his
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motivations would buy him some time. Perhaps the bastard would want to talk about his hatred and brag about his plans. Lucien looked up at his nemesis. “Would you permit me a question before my torture begins?” Le Lézard looked intrigued. “Perhaps.” “What do you hope to accomplish from our deaths?” “Revenge. Misery. You grew up with a father while my mother and I were left to survive on our own. I want you to suffer as I did. I’d thought to do this ceremony with only the blood of a virgin, but the blood of my greatest enemy and his whore will surely add to my power.” Lucien needed more time. Perhaps he had to get Le Lézard angrier so he forgot to be calculating. “Do you truly fancy yourself some kind of sorcerer?” Snarling, his brother said, “I serve my Master well, and he gifts me with great power. He will increase your suffering tenfold for your insolence.” He kicked Lucien in the face, and Lucien’s head snapped back. Darkness closed in, and he fought for consciousness. He had to force himself to breathe through the agony. “I will give your blood to my Master, and I will ask him to bring suffering to your whole country. Even now, I have men working to bring Napoleon back to France.” Gasps could be heard all around the circle. Most of these fools didn’t know, Lucien realized. Le Lézard continued, “When your blood is poured out, the fate of England will be sealed. My Master will see that Napoleon returns, stronger than ever. He will take your country and make your people suffer.” “Why do you want to destroy an entire country?” “His love of England took my father away from me. He said he would never settle in France or marry a French whore.” Le Lézard looked skyward then continued. “I’ve no more time for talking. The moon is high. I must offer my sacrifices.” He turned his back on Lucien and studied the book that lay open on the small table.
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Lucien took a gamble. “Will it really satisfy you to kill me while I’m helpless? Wouldn’t you take more pleasure from proving you can beat me man to man? Surely your master has given you the power to defeat me.” “Such a fight is unnecessary. I must only spill your blood.” “But wouldn’t your revenge be more complete if you proved your superior strength? Wouldn’t you like Meg to see you kill me with your own hands?” “She will know my power soon enough.” “Our father never needed anyone to help him. He fought his own fights.” That did it. Le Lézard growled and turned on him. “Release him,” he ordered the guards. Lucien struggled to his feet, praying he could find the strength to win the fight. As Le Lézard moved toward him, Lucien risked a glance at Meg. The love he saw in her eyes gave him the power he needed to land the first blow. Blood poured from the Lizard’s nose, but he rammed his head into Lucien’s chest. The impact bruised Lucien’s already aching ribs. Lucien hooked his leg around the back of Le Lézard’s knees and brought his brother tumbling to the ground. Lucien pounced, trying to get a hold around his reptilian throat. Le Lézard bucked and rolled, nearly catching Lucien between the legs with his knee. Lucien freed his arm and landed another blow to Le Lézard’s face, allowing Lucien to roll on top once again. This time, Lucien got a firm hold on his opponent’s throat and straddled him to trap his arms at his sides. All his anger poured into his hands as he squeezed the life from the man who’d dared to harm Meg. Over and over again, he slammed his brother’s head into the ground. The Lizard fought him, twisting under him and trying to free his arms. He finally succeeded, and his fists pummeled Lucien’s ribs where he’d been kicked earlier. The pain was nearly blinding, but Lucien held on. Nothing short of his own death could make him let go. He could sense Le Lézard weakening. His enemy’s struggles slowed, and his face turned a deep red. Lucien squeezed harder. He reveled in watching the life drain out of Le Lézard. But Lucien knew he had to stop. He had to take Le Lézard into custody and bring
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him to the proper authorities. If Lucien killed his brother, he would be no better than the Lizard or his snake of a father. He could not allow himself to take pleasure in killing. He released Le Lézard, stood, and jerked him to his feet. He was about to ask d’Outon to help him when the Lizard broke free of Lucien’s hold. Stumbling to the table, he grabbed the ceremonial knife and prepared to plunge it into Meg. But Meg threw something small and round at Le Lézard, distracting him and giving Lucien enough time to reach him. Lucien grabbed Le Lézard’s arm as it arced upward, forcing the knife down instead until it was embedded in the Lizard’s gut. Lucien forced the knife upward until it pierced his brother’s heart. Le Lézard fell to the ground. Blood pooled around his abdomen and spilled from his mouth as he tried to scream. Lucien couldn’t resist one last word. “You’re just like our father. You both thrive on pain. I’m sure he’ll be joining you in hell.” Le Lézard mouthed something that looked like “no”. Then he fell forward, hitting the ground with a thump. Lucien bent and checked for a pulse. He found none. “He’s dead. Is there anyone here who still wishes to stand against me?” No one spoke. Ian and Thurston now stood beside d’Outon. The three men held two others between them. D’Outon spoke first. “Of the men who are left, these are the only ones who approved of his crimes. Daupresse and some of the others fled, but we’ll see that they are brought to justice.” When Lucien felt confident no one else would challenge him, he went to Meg. Tears streamed down her face, as he ripped off his dirty, torn shirt and used it to cover her. “The key. Someone bring the key.” A man he didn’t know rushed over to help him. He released Meg’s bonds and pulled her into his arms, letting his hands roam over her body to check for injuries. “Are you all right?” “I am now.” She nearly choked on a sob. “I didn’t think any of us would survive.” He stroked her hair. “It’s over. It’s really, finally over.”
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Neither of them spoke again for several minutes. Lucien’s whole world had narrowed to the woman in his arms. “I—” “I—” They laughed nervously as their words tumbled over one another’s. Lucien brushed Meg’s hair back from her face, tilting her head up, so he could look directly into her eyes. “I love you.” Her tears flowed harder and faster at his confession. “I love you too.” “When I came back to Paris and found you gone, I realized that if I lost you, my life would never be full again. You’ve made me happier than I’ve been in years. I don’t think I could live without you.” “I wanted you to come for me, but I was so scared for you. I couldn’t bear being responsible for your death.” He kissed the top of her head and laughed softly. “You still don’t understand that I must protect you. It is part of who I am. Nothing short of death could have kept me from you, but I’m thankful for all the help you’ve given me.” Meg smiled and the light in her eyes made his heart fill to bursting with love for her. They held each other for several minutes. Then Lucien asked, “What did you throw at Le Lézard?” Meg looked down, and her cheeks pinkened. “A charm bag that Madeleine gave me. She hoped it would keep me safe. I’d decided it was useless, but I guess it worked after all.” Lucien smiled. “I’ll have to remember to thank Madeleine when I get the chance.” Suddenly, Meg pulled away from him. “Where’s Katie?” Lucien looked around for her friend. “She’s fine. She’s with Ian.” “I need to talk to her.” Lucien didn’t want to relinquish his hold on Meg, but he knew she was anxious to make sure her friend was all right. He buttoned her into his shirt, wishing he had something else, and escorted her to where Ian and Katie stood.
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After Meg and Katie hugged each other, Ian and Lucien took them to d’Outon’s house which lay only a short ride away. D’Outon and his friends had taken the prisoners and Le Lézard’s body there. Meg and Lucien joined the others in the parlor, and Meg took the opportunity to thank d’Outon personally for his help. A few moments later, Lucien took Meg aside and explained that he and Ian needed to deliver Le Lézard’s accomplices to the authorities, give a full report of what had transpired, and assist in bringing the rest of the Lizard’s men to justice. D’Outon offered Meg and Katie the use of his carriage for their trip back to Paris, and he asked one of the maids to lend Meg a dress, so she could ride home decently clothed. Meg didn’t want to part from Lucien, but she knew he needed to see their mission through to the end, so they could put it behind them. She quickly dressed and joined Lucien, Ian, and Katie outside. Before handing her into the carriage, Lucien pulled Meg tight against him and kissed her. “I’m sorry I can’t come with you, but our separation will be short. I’ll join you at Fabienne’s as soon as I can.” He held on to her hand until she was seated. Her heart ached at having to leave him, even for a few hours. From her seat in the carriage, Meg looked down at Ian and Katie, and noticed for the first time that Katie was giving Ian a look of love-struck wonder. His part in her rescue had obviously increased her estimation of him. What surprised Meg was that Ian returned her smitten look. After he lifted Katie into the carriage, he leaned in and kissed her. The kiss was brief but full of intense emotion. They waved at Ian and Lucien until they disappeared in the dusky pre-dawn air. Meg clung to the hope that Lucien’s confession of love meant they did indeed have a future. She could not imagine being happy without him.
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Chapter Twenty-Three Dawn came again for the second time since her rescue. Meg sat up in bed feeling more than a little depressed and disheartened. All the previous morning and afternoon, she’d waited nervously for Lucien to come, trying to think exactly what she would say to him, embarrassed by the rush of emotion she’d poured out the night before. Then, in the late afternoon, he sent a note: Pack your things. We leave for England tomorrow. Her stomach had knotted as she’d read the curt words. Return to England? Had he decided she had no place in his life, after all? Did he regret his confession of love? Was he so much of a coward he couldn’t have told her in person? She threw the note against the wall in disgust. Pack her bags, indeed. She would do no such thing. As she had so many times, Isis detected her mood and padded up from the foot of the bed to offer comfort. While rubbing the cat, Meg pondered what course to take. She was not going back to her family, that was for certain. She’d planned to seek out a position as a governess or a companion when the mission was over. Since she hadn’t developed the proper sober reputation needed for a governess, she thought it best to ask Fabienne to help her locate an older woman seeking a traveling companion. She needed to find a position quickly. Her conscience wouldn’t allow her to accept Fabienne’s charity now that her work with Lucien was over. A lump formed in her throat at the thought of leaving Paris. She willed herself not to think about Lucien or what he might have been thinking when he wrote the note. She had to think with her head, not her heart. If she let her emotions run wild, she might not be able to pull herself together again. She’d let herself fall in love when she’d known it was unwise. Now it sounded as if her fantasies of a future with Lucien would not become reality. She deeply regretted that she would have to give up her friendship with Katie. Lady Whitbourne had decided that Katie must return to London at once, and Meg knew she 238
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wouldn’t be permitted to continue their acquaintance even through letters. Katie had written to her, explaining that Ian had come to talk to her family and explain what happened, but they wanted nothing to do with him. They wanted to get out of France before anyone connected Katie’s name with the scandal. Katie had snuck out of her sister’s house the day before and come to say a quick, tearful good-bye. Meg had never gotten a chance to ask Katie what had transpired between her and Ian, but it didn’t matter anyway. Katie would not be permitted to see him again. She chided herself for feeling sad. It would do her no good. Taking action to secure her future was essential. She dressed in a simple white linen morning dress and went to join Fabienne at breakfast. “Good morning,” Fabienne said, lifting her head from the paper she was reading. “Good morning,” Meg replied, but her words lacked the cheer of Fabienne’s. She fixed a plate with eggs and a croissant from the sideboard, but she didn’t really feel hungry. “I was hoping I could speak with you about something rather important.” “Certainly, chérie. What is on your mind?” “Now that Le Lézard is dead, I need to find a position for myself. I was hoping you might know of a lady in need of a companion.” “But I thought you and Lucien—” “He intends to take me back to England, but I will not go.” “But—” Fabienne studied her for a moment. “Never mind. I will make inquiries for you. However, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.” “Thank you, but I would not feel right taking advantage of your hospitality. Once I have found a position, I must go.” “Please, do not feel that you must hurry, chérie. I have far more house than I need, and I enjoy your company.” “I appreciate all you have done for me, but I need to find a way to support myself. Besides, if I stay here, I will only think of—” Meg barely stopped herself from saying
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that Paris would always remind her of her dreams for a future with Lucien. “I simply must move on.”
Lucien walked down the Rue St. Germain, delighted he’d finally freed himself from the work associated with bringing Le Lézard’s accomplices to justice. He’d spent the morning tying up the loose ends of the investigation and preparing to take Meg back to England and make her his wife. The Lizard’s men had betrayed their military contacts, revealing conspirators among the guards at Elba. He knew it was only one of numerous plots afoot to bring Napoleon back to France, but he hoped they were one step closer to keeping the former emperor at bay. The officials at the embassy had requested that he remain in France and continue to uncover other such plots, but he declined, explaining that he was now firmly in retirement. Having served his country for nearly ten years, he was ready to do something for himself. He was going to marry the woman he loved and purchase an estate of his own, one free of any ties to his past. He regretted not being able to see Meg the day before, but he’d been closed in meetings from his arrival back in Paris until late at night. He’d intended to go to Fabienne’s though it was long after midnight, but as he completed the last of his correspondence, he’d fallen asleep at his desk and not awakened until morning. He smiled as he thought of Meg, and he longed to hold her again, to see the fire light in her eyes as he kissed her. He wished he could erase the memories of her ordeal with Le Lézard, but at least he could rest easy knowing his brother wouldn’t be able to harm them again. The irony was that while Le Lézard, whose true name had been Auguste, had been wishing his father was with him, Lucien had been wishing his father would go far away. It was a shame their father hadn’t returned to France to be with his brother. Lucien certainly wouldn’t have missed him, and maybe his mother would still be alive.
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He’d expected Meg to be a bit irritated that he hadn’t managed to come to her sooner, but he was completely unprepared for the cold reception he received when he arrived at Fabienne’s. Meg all but ignored his greeting. Fabienne rose from where she sat reading by the library window and excused herself. As soon as Fabienne had left, Meg turned to face him. “I have absolutely no intention of going back to England.” Lucien felt her words like a blow. Surely she couldn’t mean she didn’t want to marry him. Surely she wouldn’t leave him after what she’d said two nights ago. Meg gave him a puzzled stare. “Lucien, did you really think I would just go with you?” She might as well have ripped out his insides. “Actually, I did. Damn it, Meg. What do you plan to do instead?” “Fabienne is going to help me search for a position as a companion.” He wanted to beg her to go with him, but he would not, no matter how much it hurt him. “Why?” Now Meg looked even more confused. “I’ve already told you. I can’t return to society with my reputation ruined.” Lucien felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe her reluctance was all about how society would view what she’d done. “There will be talk for awhile, of course, but few people would have nerve to shun Viscountess Rainsby, the future Marchioness of Weldon.” “Viscountess? What are you talking about?” Now Lucien was confused. “Surely you understood we would marry once we reached England?” The surprise on her face turned quickly to anger. “All I understood was that you sent me an order to pack. If you proposed to me at some earlier point, I missed it.” Lucien clenched his fists. “I told you my life wouldn’t be the same without you, that I wouldn’t survive if I lost you.”
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“When you didn’t come to me yesterday, I assumed you’d only said those things in the heat of the moment. I thought you didn't believe there was a place for me in your life.” Lucien’s heart pounded. “I can no longer imagine my life without you in it. Did you mean what you said to me that night?” “Oh course I did. I’ve loved you since before we reached Paris, but you can’t assume I will marry you without even asking.” “We love each other. Neither of us will be happy if we’re apart. I thought it obvious we would wed. I thought you felt the same way. I already sent for a special license.” Meg’s cheeks flamed. “You sent for a special license? Before you even proposed?” Lucien suddenly realized now how high-handed his actions were, but he’d been so thrilled to learn that Meg returned his love and so eager to marry her and start a new life together. “I’m sorry. I just thought—” “No, you didn’t think. You just tried to take charge like you always do.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I thought you’d be pleased with the arrangements I’ve made. I’m truly sorry.” Meg simply stared at him, anger and shock both evident in her eyes. How could this have all gone so wrong? Nausea curled in his stomach, and he was afraid the tightness behind his eyes meant he was about to cry. He started for the door. Meg’s heart did a somersault. She wanted to say something but she didn’t know what. She was angry at his high-handedness but she didn’t want him to walk away. She wanted to be his wife more than anything else in the world. Why was this going so wrong? “Lucien?” He stopped and turned to face her. She sucked in her breath. He looked angry, determined, and vulnerable all at the same time. She was almost frightened by his intensity. “Please don’t leave.”
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Her heart nearly stopped when he knelt before her and took her hand in his. “I’ll always feel the need to protect you, but I promise I’ll respect your independence. I don’t want to control your life. I just want the privilege of sharing it with you.” He paused, taking a deep breath and locking his gaze with hers. “Margaret Wentworth, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Her anger disintegrated, and joy threatened to overwhelm her. “Yes, oh yes. I love you so much.” He rose and pulled her into his arms. “I love you too.” Before she could say anything else, he kissed her. The excitement that coursed through them both turned the simple kiss into a storm of passion. When he finally pulled away, Meg asked, “Does marrying you mean I get kissed like that every night?” “You’ll get far more than kisses at night, not to mention morning, afternoon—” Meg laughed. “I think I’m going to like being your wife.” Lucien leaned down to nip her neck. “You most certainly will.” She twined her hands in his hair and pulled his head toward hers. “I love you with all my heart.”
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About the Author To learn more about Silvia Violet, please visit http://violet.chaosnet.org. Send an email to Silvia at
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Look for these titles by Silvia Violet Now Available: Magic in the Blood A Carnal Agreement A Persistent Attraction
Their wicked desire sparks a game of passion that could claim their hearts. If a killer doesn’t first claim their lives. Sometimes desire cannot be denied…
A Persistent Attraction © 2008 Silvia Violet Regency Intrigue, Book Two.
At first, Amanda Halverston assumes the anonymous extortion letter she’s received is a harmless prank. But the following night she is attacked and nearly killed. Desperate for help in finding her attacker, she turns to the notorious rake she has avoided for the last five months, Rhys Stanton. Rhys, a confirmed bachelor, hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Amanda ever since he met her while helping her sister uncover a plot to sell young women into prostitution. When the alluring Amanda seeks him out, he offers a bargain. He will help her—in exchange for one chance to seduce her each day. Despite a wicked desire to explore the heat that crackles between them, Amanda refuses and launches her own search. But the attacker strikes again, and when Rhys is there to save her she decides to accept his shocking proposition. In the midst of an investigation that could claim their lives, the two begin a dangerous game of passion that could claim their hearts.
Enjoy the following excerpt for A Persistent Attraction: Rhys ran after Amanda. He wasn’t letting her go until he knew why she’d come. As much as his clouded mind wanted to believe she’d finally succumbed to his sensual lure, he knew better. He reached her as she started down the steps to the street. He caught her waist and pulled her against him. Once she caught her breath, she began to struggle. “Let me go.”
“You’re not leaving until you tell me why you came.” He fought to ignore the delicious sensations coursing through his body as she writhed against him, rubbing her tight, barely covered derrière against his thighs. “You are in no condition to help me,” she snarled. “Stop this before we draw unwanted attention. I’m not letting you go until you agree to talk to me.” He watched as she glanced from side to side, likely looking to see if they had attracted onlookers. Eventually, her struggles ceased. “Fine. If you promise not to touch me again, I’ll come inside and talk to you.” “You ask much considering how you are dressed, but nevertheless, I won’t touch you even if you beg me too.” “You needn’t worry about that.” “Ever so confident, are we?” he asked, before turning to go back into his house. She followed him into his study and eyed him closely as he sank into a leather chair. “Can you possibly be sober enough to comprehend what I’m saying?” He cursed his stupidity. If only he’d known she was coming, he never would have drunk so much. What had made him want to lose himself in the bottle anyway? The answer nagged at his consciousness, but he couldn’t quite catch it. His mind was filled with base urges that made him want to use Amanda’s body in a way no man should. Why did she look so angry? Oh, right, she’d asked him a question. What was it? Sober. Was he sober? No, definitely not. Maybe he could fake it. He sat up straighter. “Get on with your story. I’m tired of waiting.” She looked ready to murder him, but the rapid rise and fall of her chest had him mesmerized. “I would ask Aunt Claire for help, but as you probably know, she’s been in poor health recently. I refuse to endanger Elise. Mark and Cassandra have enough to think about, and they are too far away. You were the only other person I could think of.” She said the last sentence as if the very idea of speaking to him disgusted her.
“I’m sorry you are faced with such an odious option. I’m still waiting to hear what this problem is.” He stood and leaned over his desk to grab the whiskey decanter. “Would you like some?” “No thanks. I prefer not to dull my senses when I’m near you.” “No, you mustn’t give an evil rake a chance at seduction.” Her pink cheeks brought him satisfaction. “I received this note the afternoon before the Leightons’ ball.” She extracted a piece of paper from the waist of her breeches and handed it to him. It was warm from her body. The feel of her heat made his cock harden instantly. He unfolded the paper and forced his tired eyes to focus on the words. When he finished reading he was ready to use his bare hands to strangle the man who’d written it. The cold terror that ran down his spine sobered him. “Why didn’t you come to me the day you received this?” “I thought it was a joke. I figured some man I’d jilted sent it to frighten me.” “Damn it, Amanda. You were almost killed.” “I’m fine. But I received a second letter today. That’s why I came. He wants me to meet the same demand in three days.” “And you want me to help you find him before then?” “Yes.” She kept her jaw tight as though her response pained her. An evil idea came to him. He had every intention of finding this bastard and making him pay dearly for harming Amanda, but her situation had given him a wonderful opportunity to toy with her. For just a second, reason broke through his alcohol-laden haze. He knew better, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I deserve some payment for my assistance, don’t you think?” “What?” Amanda’s eyes widened. “Every day that I’m helping you, I will be given one chance to seduce you.” She shook her head back and forth vigorously. Her fists clenched at her sides. He watched her attempt to get her anger under control. For a few moments, he thought she would send the vase on the table next to her toward his head, but she reined herself in.
“You told me that if I ever needed help, I should come to you. I should have known better than to trust you. Mark may think you have a heart under your detached façade, but he’s wrong.” She stood and grabbed her cloak from the back of her chair. “I’ll handle the problem myself.” He cursed himself and considered following her once again, but decided against it. Instead he rang for Meadows. When the valet appeared, he said, “I want Miss Halverston followed and guarded. She should be in the sight of one of my men any time she leaves her aunt’s residence.” “Yes, sir. Anything else?” “No, that is all.” He sat at his desk and proceeded to drain the rest of the whiskey. His last thought before he passed out over the hard wooden surface was that he could never drink enough to forget the feelings Amanda stirred in him. Feelings a man like him should never have.
He captured her body. Now he must capture her heart.
Capture Her Heart © 2008 Cynthia Breeding Abducted at sword-point and bound to a bed aboard a fast-sailing frigate headed for Constantinople, Lady Kaitlin Coltan knows she must be mad to be attracted to the handsome Scottish captain. But perhaps seducing him will change his mind about selling her into sexual slavery. If only she knew how. The last thing Adair MacDouglas needs is overpowering lust for his beautiful captive, but the Sultan will only pay well if Adair delivers a virgin. He pushes his guilt aside, reminding himself that her sale will avenge the rape of his young sister by Kaitlin’s brother, and sets about teaching the stubborn lass the art of being a good concubine. But when Kaitlin’s life is at risk, Adair realizes his feelings for her run deep as the sea. He captured her body—now he must capture her heart.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Capture Her Heart: Damn him. Kaitlin glared at Adair. The man was infuriating, standing there with a lopsided grin on his face. Well, she’d show him. She took a deep breath and suddenly darted around him toward the ship’s rail. It was now or never. In the split second it took him to realize what she’d done, Kaitlin had one leg over the rail. An iron arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her back on deck. Adair spun her around and backed her against the cabin wall, pressing his body against hers. “What the hell were ye doing?” She didn’t want to admit—not even think—about how good he felt. “What did it look like? I told you I’d be no man’s concubine, and you can’t make me into one.” A preternatural glow made his eyes pure gold. “I think I can, lass.” He laced his fingers with hers and brought her arms over her head, pinning them to the wood. With one deft motion, his boots spread her legs just enough that she had no traction to kick him, and then he lowered his mouth to hers.
His tongue exploring her mouth sent ripples of warmth coursing through her veins. The crush of her breasts on his muscled chest made her nipples ache and she sought the friction of brushing against him. His instant reaction was to grind against her hips, causing his granite-like thing to house itself between her thighs. Ahhh! Kaitlin felt a throbbing sensation begin to pulsate through her belly. She had not known she had such a sensitive spot down there, but he obviously did, for he was teasing it now, bucking against her. Her body tingled, tiny pricks of flame igniting her skin everywhere. The area between her legs blazed with desire and need. Her thoughts centered only on the wonderful sensation of his jutting thing banging at her, begging to be released from the confines of his clothing. And then the contraction came, one great convulsive spasm that caused her to shudder uncontrollably. She gasped for air. When her mind could function again, she slowly opened her eyes to find Adair watching her, an inscrutable look on his face. He still had her hands imprisoned. Embarrassed, she looked down. “I didn’t know I could feel…” Adair shifted her wrists to one of his hands and tilted her chin up with a finger. “Ah, lass. That was only the first lesson.” He stepped back, but did not release his hold on her. “It’s obvious I can’t let ye roam the deck unless ye’re tied to me, so I’ll have to keep ye confined to the cabin.” Kaitlin stared at him. “You can’t keep me caged like an animal.” “For certes I can. It’s my ship.” I’ll never have a chance to escape! “I’ll go stark raving mad!” He leaned closer. “Ye’ll have your lessons to look forward to. Every night. By the time Ali Stafa sees ye, ye’ll be a most compliant concubine.” She had no intention of being compliant at anything, but she shivered in anticipation of what Adair might do. Having seen a stallion mount a mare once before her brothers had pulled her away, she knew where that hard thing should go. She wondered what it would feel like actually inside her and was surprised when a heated rush filled her again and started her nub pulsing. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing what her traitorous body was doing. “What if I refuse?”
For a moment he looked surprised and then he grinned. “Then the next lesson will be teaching ye to obey me.” “Obey you?” Kaitlin sputtered angrily. Even her father treaded lightly when ordering her around, and her brothers gave her a wide berth if her temper was up. “Never.” “We’ll see,” he said.
Exile…or love. Life…or death. His demons will force him to choose.
Hell for Leather © 2008 Beth Williamson Gunslinger Kincaid has traded his black clothes and pistols for a homespun shirt and trousers. Now he’s Cade Brody, a man with dark hair, dark eyes and an even darker past. The blood money he’s earned bought him a small piece of property in New Mexico territory, at the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. But it can’t buy him peace. Sabrina Edmonds, a tough, no-nonsense widow, runs the post office and store in the small town of Eustace. She’s made her way in life with an independent streak a mile wide. Sabrina doesn’t want to get involved with Cade, but she finds herself drawn to the dark stranger who hides in his mountain retreat. Cade wants nothing more than to be left alone, but an elusive wild child who delights in tormenting him, and a town full of people determined to befriend him, conspire to intrude upon his self-imposed exile. Then there’s Sabrina, who should be afraid of him— but isn’t. Not even when the deadly demons of his past catch up with him. Warning: This title contains lots of smart-ass remarks, a kick-ass heroine, a dark hero and some kickin’ hot sex.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Hell for Leather: Once she stepped outside and he spotted her, Sabrina felt like an impulsive fool. The expression on his face told her everything she needed to know about Cade Brody’s feelings for her. However, someone had raised him to be a gentleman, because he pulled the horse to a stop. “Mr. Brody.” Sabrina clasped her hands in front of her, the palms still damp from putting the cloth on Jeremiah’s forehead. “Mrs. Edmonds.” He touched the brim of his black hat. “Clara told me what happened. I just wanted to say thank you for helping Jeremiah.” She sounded rushed and a bit out of breath.
He stared at her hard until she started to feel uncomfortable. “I believe you mean that.” Sabrina frowned. “What does that mean?” “Not everyone in Eustace is glad to see me or thank me for helping the boy.” He flexed his hand on the saddle horn. “Especially the boy’s pa.” “Hiram? What did Hiram do?” She knew the man to be a bit of a blowhard, but he had no reason to be unfriendly to Cade, particularly if he’d helped Jeremiah. “Tried to show me how hard his fists were.” Cade’s lips pinched together. Sabrina couldn’t have been more surprised or embarrassed by how he’d been treated by Eustace’s townspeople. “I’m so sorry, Cade.” She reached out and touched his knee, not realizing until too late that she shouldn’t have done it. A spark of something hot jumped between them. It traveled up her arm, then spread through her whole body. She’d only touched him once before and now she knew she shouldn’t have ever touched him. She sucked in a gasp, which was echoed by Cade. Sabrina opened her mouth but nothing came out, and for some reason, she couldn’t pull her hand away. It seemed to be content to rest on his muscular, warm leg. Sweet heavens, he was even wearing the trousers she’d sold him. The air between them grew heavy, and Sabrina’s blood flew around her body as she heated between her legs. Cade was a handsome man, a sexy man. Although she’d seen many good-looking men, something about him struck a chord within Sabrina. It resonated strongly as pure need slammed into her. “What’s happening?” she whispered. Cade’s dark eyes looked even darker as his pupils dilated and his nostrils flared as if scenting Sabrina. “I don’t know.” “Come into the store.” He shook his head even as he dismounted and secured the horse to the hitching post in front of the building. Sabrina trembled with the need to kiss him, touch him, absorb him. She hoped Ellen had taken herself upstairs for at least an hour, because Sabrina didn’t think she’d be able to stop once she got started.
As soon as they stepped inside, Sabrina kept walking, leaving him to close and lock the door. At that point, she was possessed by hunger and only Cade could satisfy the craving. Sabrina walked behind the curtain that hid her office. It was a small room, but it held a potbelly stove, a desk and chair. She didn’t bother to light the lamp, the darkness felt soothing to her sizzling skin. One time, she and Eric— She cut the thought off before it could completely invade her mind. This was not the time to think about anything, it was only time to feel. Within seconds, Cade was there in the shadowy office behind her. His long, lean body pressed against her, and her entire body sighed with relief. “What are we doing?” Sabrina whipped around, and instead of answering his whispered question, she pulled his head down and kissed him. Oh Lord, his lips were as hard as she expected them to be. She used every meager trick she had to soften them until finally he relented and his arms wrapped around her. Sweet, long, openmouthed kisses followed. Sabrina could’ve kissed him for days on end. He had the most intoxicating, sensual lips she’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing. His hands were busy roaming up and down her body, leaving goose bumps in their wake. He pulled her closer to him until she cradled his erection against her soft belly. Tingles spread out from the contact, heightening her already-burning arousal. Sabrina clenched her eyes shut as the sensations almost overwhelmed her. It had been so long since she’d been intimate with a man, and this one engendered more feelings than she ever thought possible. Eric had been gentle, sweet and undemanding in their marriage bed. Nothing prepared her for the onslaught of sensations when she was in Cade’s strong arms. She immersed herself in the absolute pleasure with more abandon than she’d known she had. Her nipples grew hard enough to ache for his touch, but since she still had her clothes on, she had to settle for pressing them against his chest. Their kisses grew longer, hotter, deeper until Sabrina had trouble remembering her name. She needed more than just their mouths touching though, much more.
Cool air hit her legs as he raised her skirt, his large hands cupping her behind. Her heart raced with anticipation of what she was about to do. She’d never been so impulsive, so naughty in her life. It felt good. When Cade’s finger found the slit in her drawers, she bit her lip to keep the scream in her throat. Sweet heavens, he slid back and forth in her wetness, teasing and tantalizing her swollen nub until she thought she’d bite right through her lip. He must have been unbuttoning his trousers as he pleasured her because the next thing she knew, his cock nudged at her entrance. Five long years she’d been without a man, except in her dreams of course, and here she was about to have sex with a virtual stranger. Sabrina spread her legs a bit wider, never so ready for more. As he pushed inside her, tingles raced through her. His cock stretched her longunused channel, inciting a mixture of gratification and discomfort until all that was left was bliss. Oh how she’d dreamed of being with him, but the reality was much better than the fantasy. “You’re so fucking tight.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Am I hurting you?” His voice sounded strained to the point of breaking, exactly how Sabrina felt waiting for him to move. “No, please, I need…” She could hardly form a coherent thought as her body screamed for his. “Yes, ma’am.” He pulled almost all the way out then slid back in, slow enough to send her to the brink of madness before withdrawing again. Sure, measured strokes left her panting, literally, for more. Her fingernails scrabbled at the desk for purchase so she could thrust back against him. She finally got hold of the side and top of the desk and met his stroke with one of her own. “Faster,” Sabrina managed to growl.
Cade, it seemed, didn’t need to be told twice. She’d unleashed a beast and hung on for the ride of her life. He held her hips as he pumped in and out, faster, harder than she’d imagined. Delicious heat flowed between them as her body took everything he gave. A crescendo built inside her, spiraling up along with her moans. She tried to be quiet, but couldn’t stop herself. It had been so long since she’d felt pleasure, much less ecstasy, that she reacted like a woman freed from confinement—with abandon.
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