Chapter Twelve
In that instant, Louis saw that Gosselin had his listeners. He doubted anyone would arrest him on the spot, but awkward questions would now, surely, be asked.
Under the suddenly tense observation of the Winslows and Anna’s sea of admirers, Louis met his enemy’s gaze with a tolerant amusement he did not feel, while he tried to decide on the best way to deal with the situation.
And then Anna’s laughter broke across them. “Mr. Banion,” she scolded. “What a tease, you are! You almost had me believing you. Had not the Braithwaites’ governess—who you must know has been more than once in Sir Lytton’s company!—already identified a quite different man!”
In the general, somewhat bewildered laughter, she actually took Gosselin’s arm and began to walk with him. “I suppose you must be very old friends with Sir Lytton,” she confided, “to play such a joke on him.”
“Very, very old,” Louis murmured as his enemy all but brushed against him. Gosselin seemed as bewildered by his companion as by the sudden vanishing of his dangerous accusation. But Gosselin and his little trick no longer concerned Louis. What worried him was that Anna had not so much as glanced at him since he had entered the ballroom.
Even now, even through the fraught moment of Gosselin’s accusation, Louis’s body still hummed from the excitement of holding her in his arms this morning. Her surrender had elated him, her untutored, instinctive response to his kisses had thrilled him. Her wonder and confusion were so at odds with her usual bold confidence that she only fascinated him all the more.
Nor could he doubt that she had found that first kiss as shattering as he had. She would not otherwise have spilled out the truth. The naivety of that moved him. For the rest of the day, even as he’d continued tracking Gosselin, and making his own arrangements, she had been there in all his thoughts. And although he had followed Gosselin here, he would have come anyway, just on the off-chance of seeing Anna again.
And there she was, having turned a dangerous moment for him into a mere jest. And she was all the more convincing for wandering off with Gosselin. Even though it made Louis’s blood boil with fury and fear for her.
Keeping her discreetly in view, he stayed with the Winslows for a little longer, discussing the Bradleys’ run-in with the highwayman which, Winslow said, was so like Sir Lytton’s own experience that it had to be the same man.
Louis nodded sagely. “But there has been no further sign of him?”
“Nothing around here or over the border. Someone did try to hold up the Edinburgh mail but the coach never stopped and the driver said the assailant appeared to be drunk. I doubt it was the same man.”
“Well, providing he has stopped, I find I bear him no ill will,” Louis confided. “Since I would not otherwise have come to Blackhaven.”
Anna quickly abandoned “Banion” and was seen next with two young army officers. She did not dance but flitted like some restless butterfly from place to place, never gravitating closer to Louis.
Louis gave her time, by dancing with the Winslows’ daughter. After that, he hunted her down, for he would not lose her.
The thought sparked a deep twinge of unease. He would not lose her? He could not keep her, even if he won her. Neither his choice nor hers mattered when they were enemies, when the French and the British both wanted him dead. And despite all the plans he formulated, he wasn’t sure he could ever abandon France to its fate. Even for her.
At this moment, though, he needed to convince Anna that this morning’s encounter had come from genuine feeling. Dear God, how could it not?
She saw him coming, of course, and retreated further away. But in this part of the ballroom, closest to the door, it seemed she had no acquaintances to protect her. So, refusing to be cornered, she simply walked out.
He was in time to see the train of her gown vanish into the ladies’ cloakroom. Although he could think of no reason why she would go outside, just to be sure, he lounged near the ballroom entrance, from where he could see the cloakroom door.
She emerged a couple of minutes later and walked back toward the ballroom. She entered briskly, heading directly for Serena and the vicar’s wife who sat together enjoying what looked like a comfortable gossip.
Louis fell into casual step with her. “You are avoiding me,” he said pleasantly.
“Can you blame me?” she said at once. “Who wants to be seen with the French spy?”
“Thank you for that. I foresee a great future for your bother-in-law with you behind him.”
“So do I,” she said cordially. “Did you want something before I continue to avoid you?”
“Many things,” he replied at once. “But I would settle for five minutes of your time.” He let his fingers brush against hers and she snatched her hand back as though using it to adjust her other glove. He let it go for now. Other matters were more urgent. “You defended me,” he pointed out, low-voiced. “You must be on your guard against him, now.”
“I am always on my guard.”
“I know.”
At last, she looked at him, a quick, darting glance. “Then what did you really wish to say?”
“What I just did,” he said firmly. “And also, to entice you into the alcove to our left.”
This time, she met his gaze properly, challenging him. “Why?”
“I want to kiss you,” he said softly.
Color seeped into her face. “Why?” she repeated.
“I liked it the last time and I want more.”
“Don’t be silly. We both had parts to play.”
It was her means of self-defense. He understood but could not let it stand. He could not allow her believe that he used her, that such was all she would ever know. With a low growl of irritation, he cast a quick look around and, grasping her fingers, whisked her into the alcove and let the curtain fall behind them.
Giving her no time, he snatched her into his arms and crushed her mouth under his. There was an instant’s resistance and then she just let him kiss her. It was delicious, heady, but not enough. He needed her response, that instinctive, fiery passion he’d tasted this morning. And so, he coaxed her, caressing and opening her lips wider, exploring her mouth while he stroked her smooth, elegant neck and the pulse that beat at its base.
With a gasp, she seized the hair at the back of his head, but not to pull him off her, to drag him nearer while she kissed him back at last. His soft groan was more relief than triumph.
“There are no roles here, Anna,” he whispered. “I want you and I won’t pretend otherwise.”
Her fingers fluttered against his cheek, his lips. “I can’t give you that, Louis.”
“And perhaps I wouldn’t take it if you did,” he said at once. “That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the persuasion.”
Laughter caught in her throat, and he released her, though only to take her hand and peel back her glove to press a kiss on the inside of her wrist and another on her bare arm.
“You had better go before we are discovered,” he said. “If we are careful, we can steal many such interludes.”
The risk appealed to her, as he had known it would. Her eyes gleamed with it. And there was definite desire in her quickened breath, the faint, sensual tremble of her lips. She made his heart ache.
Then she simply smiled and walked away from him into the noise of the ballroom.
*
Her lips still tingling from his kiss, her heart curiously light, Anna stepped back into the blazing light of the ballroom and moved immediately away from the alcove. The only gaze she encountered was Banion’s. Gosselin’s. She didn’t care. He must already suspect some collusion between them and romantic intrigue would make it seem less dangerous to his plans. Whatever they were.
“You are playing with fire,” Serena murmured at her side.
“And I thought I was being so discreet.”
“In Blackhaven, there is no such thing as discretion. Everyone else knows your business before you do.”
“I would be surprised,” Anna muttered. “I hope you are not meaning to turn into a strict chaperone.”
“I doubt that would achieve anything.”
“It wouldn’t.”
“But you will take care?” Serena said anxiously.
Anna looked at her with as much surprise as curiosity. “You are worried about me.”
“Who else would I worry about? Him?” She twitched her head in the direction of the alcove.
“Probably,” Anna said ruefully. But secretly, she was touched by her sister-in-law’s concern. She had imagined at first that it was only about the reputation of her family, but for some reason, Serena seemed actually to care about her. The thought came to her that Serena was her friend, which was yet another novelty. Anna had never had a friend before. Except Christianne, who was like part of herself. Or Rupert, when they remembered each other’s existence.
The rest of the evening flew by for her, and she discovered that Louis was right. Their intrigue was fun. He sat beside her at supper, and while he spoke to Serena, he held Anna’s hand beneath the table cloth. She did not jump when his fingers brushed and curled around hers, although she worried someone might notice the heightened color in her cheeks. Her skin tingled beneath the caress of his thumb.
She allowed it only for a few moments before withdrawing her hand to eat. On other occasions, his leg brushed against hers, and she knew that was deliberate, too. It did not appall her. It excited her.
“I think our friend has left,” she murmured once, in an attempt to make things more normal, at least normal by her own and Louis’s standards.
“He has,” Louis agreed.
“Should you not have followed him to find out where he stays?”
“He’s at the tavern. I searched his room before I arrived. There is nothing new.”
“You leave no stone unturned, do you?”
“Not if I can help it.”
For Anna, the departure of their quarry made the passages with Louis much more intimate. She was more than his tool, or his means of watching his enemy.
When, during the after-supper dance, Tamar decided he had had enough and wished to go home, Anna almost refused. But they were no longer children running wild around the countryside. Staying at the ball alone would not be tolerated by society, and that did not at the moment suit her.
Clandestine meetings would not be tolerated either, of course, which was at least part of their thrill. She did not at once accompany Serena to the cloakroom, since she was in the midst of a group of men who had all asked her to dance and been refused. While finishing her laughing conversation with them, she was searching the ballroom for Louis.
Failing to find him, she abandoned her admirers and left the ballroom with a faint sense of pique. Two women were entering the cloakroom as she crossed the foyer which was, otherwise, quite empty. Or at least, she thought it was until the door to one of the rooms on the left, opened and Louis stood there.
Her heart soared. A swift glance told her she was unseen, and then she simply ran to him in a rustle of skirts and laughing breath. He seized her, even as he closed the door behind her. In the darkness, his lips found hers.
She flung her arms around his neck, sliding her fingers into his hair. When the kiss broke, she pressed her cheek to his.
“You did not dance with me,” she said, low.
“You do not dance with anyone else. People would talk.”
Laughter erupted. “Really, Louis? Are you saving my reputation?”
“It’s a fine line.” He pressed little kisses down her ear to her neck and shoulder, where his lips clung to the line of her clavicle and paused. She felt the heave of his breath and then he straightened. “Tomorrow.”
He released her. She heard the click of the door re-opening and light from the foyer drifted in. In the dimness and shadows, he was a stranger, her enemy. In was still true, though she had never felt it to be so wrong.
“It’s clear,” he murmured.
Because she couldn’t help it, she reached up to touch his rough cheek, trailing her fingertips over his parted lips as she slipped past him and out into the foyer.
*
“Were you ordered to kill me?” Louis asked casually.
It was early morning in the white-covered woodland by Braithwaite Castle. As they walked, Louis had again withdrawn the stiletto from its sheath in her habit and was examining the blade’s point.
“Not unless I had to,” Anna replied. “By preference, I was to persuade you to change sides and tell me—or Henry—everything you knew. If I couldn’t, if you wouldn’t…”
“Then you were to kill me to prevent me returning to the French with what I’d discovered about Britain?”
“It was mentioned,” Anna acknowledged. “I agreed I would use my judgement. I wasn’t convinced you could have learned anything very useful rotting in a prison in the back of beyond.”
He regarded her curiously over the top of the stiletto. “The prospect of such a task did not daunt you?”
“If your enemy is not human, he is easy to kill.”
A frown tugged down his brow, though his eyes remained steady, un-accusing. “How can you have learned such a thing? How many enemies have you killed?”
“None, so far as I know. Though I certainly wounded a couple of thieves who attacked me in London.” She lifted her chin. “Do you find me unnatural, unwomanly?”
“I find you disturbing and magnificent. You have a brave heart.”
Her smile was twisted. “I have no heart at all.”
He stopped and pushed his hand inside her cloak, placing his palm flat between her breasts. “Then what is it that beats for me?”
She stared at him, for the first time genuinely afraid. “Don’t make me weak,” she whispered.
Something in his face changed. For a moment, she thought he reflected her own fear. But then, it might have been pity or simple longing.
He said, “If we don’t feel, it isn’t for anything. I feel for you. I care for you.”
She swallowed. Her heart seemed to slam against her ribs, against his hand. “And I for you,” she whispered.
His hand moved lightly, caressingly over her breast as he bent his head and kissed her mouth.
*
Parting from Anna that morning was a wrench. This was more than caring. It was closer to obsession. And that was dangerous for both of them. To Louis, no problem was ever insurmountable in the long run, and he could hatch a hundred future plots to bring Anna and himself together. The trouble was, that in the immediate, even if he discovered Gosselin’s plot, and killed him, he was still a discarded French spy with too much knowledge in his head, trapped in England with no friends or means of support. Or even protection beyond his own wits and his weakened physical strength.
Only his long-honed instincts made him aware of someone approaching through the woods. One man. He was prepared to meet Gosselin or any bravo hired by him. In fact, on the whole he wanted that, to learn what he could, even if he would not yet kill him. And so, he kept walking as if he had every right to be there, alert and poised for whatever action was necessary.
But the man who met him at the fork in the track was none other than Lord Tamar.
“I thought it was you,” the marquis said, amiably enough. “Assignation with my sister?”
“Would you knock me down if I said yes?”
“I didn’t knock you down for manhandling her at the masquerade, so possibly not. Though I reserve the right.” He reached up, breaking a bare twig off the tree beside him. “I’m not used to this,” he said disarmingly. “But I suppose I should ask you what your intentions are.”
Louis’s lips twisted. “I wish I knew.”
It was probably not the answer Tamar expected. He threw the twig on the ground. “I won’t let you hurt her. And if I can’t stop that, I promise I’ll beat you to a pulp.”
“Because she has been hurt already?”
Tamar gave him a clear look. “Is that what holds you back? You fear she is not…pure?”
“Jesus Christ, no.” Louis dragged his hand through his hair. “Such things do not weigh…” He dropped his hand and met Tamar’s gaze. “What happened to her?”
Tamar searched his eyes, then said shortly, “She was assaulted when she was fourteen years old.”
Louis had guessed, yet it still hurt to hear. His fists clenched and unclenched. “By the man in your picture?”
“By his brother, but there is an association for her. They were bailiffs, dunning us for money my uncle owed since they could not touch me or my late father. He caught my sisters alone.” Tamar swung away from him, tight-lipped. “Anna bore the brunt of it.”
“What happened to him?” Louis ground out. Where can I find him?
“I killed him,” Tamar said simply.
Louis nodded once, forcing himself to breathe.
“But the damage was done,” Tamar said. “The twins clung all the closer to each other. Christianne grew dependent, and Anna grew protective. And hard. For years, she could not bear to be touched. She still has to force herself to shake hands, even with women. But she made herself strong, as you may have noticed. She is not afraid of men. She merely learned how to despise them and how to use them. For amusement, I can only suppose.”
Tamar turned back to Louis. “She is different with you. More natural. Which is why I didn’t knock your teeth down your throat when we first met. I never thought she would kiss anyone. I don’t object to more kisses, Lewis, if you’re discreet, but I won’t have you toy with her, or dishonor her.”
Louis nodded once. His suspicions had been one thing. To hear the story, even without details as Tamar told it, was quite another.
Tamar took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders as though banishing the past. “Very few people know any of this, for obvious reasons. If I did not think you a decent man who cares for her, I would not have told you.”
The blood seemed to drain from Louis’s face, rushing to his feet so fast he felt dizzy. “Decent?” The word escaped him with something very like revulsion. “And if I am not? If I am not what you think me?”
Tamar’s eyes narrowed. “Are you already married?”
The guess was so wildly wide of the mark that Louis laughed. “No. No I am not married. I am a decent man, by my own lights, at least. But the rules I live by are not yours.” His lips twisted. “Though, ironically, they may be hers. Goodbye, Tamar.”
Abruptly, he walked on, all the pleasure of his morning lost in a flood of guilt and impossibility. Tamar did not for a moment believe “Lewis” was not a gentleman. Louis doubted he would be quite so understanding of a Paris street urchin turned spymaster courting his sister. But that was not really the issue. Anna would go her own way, regardless of family or social conventions. She would not care for the loss of ton society because she had never known it. The issue was, Louis was the only man she had ever trusted enough to let near her. If he had helped her to heal, to be ready for the life most women of her rank longed for, that should be enough. He should walk away before her heart was fully engaged. Before he truly hurt her.
He suspected it was already too late for him.