“Where in Spain?”
“Andorra. I’ll probably be there no more than a week or two and then return to Cannes.”
“Providing you can escape Spain without getting a musket ball in your gut,” Danton said grimly.
“I’d leave instructions with my man of business, Bardot, to give you the required assistance. Then my demise would not affect you one way or the other.”
“You won’t tell me why you’re going to Andorra?”
“Why should I?”
A thoughtful frown creased Danton’s forehead as he looked at Jean Marc. He turned abruptly and walked toward the door. “I’ll let you know.”
“When? My business has a certain urgency.”
“Later today.”
François paused before following Danton out the door to gaze at Jean Marc and Juliette. “You go first to Vasaro?”
“Yes.” Jean Marc cast a sly glance at Juliette. “I have some baggage to drop off.”
“I’m not baggage,” she said indignantly. “And I’ll, not be—”
“Just keep her out of Paris,” François said. “This has gone on too long.” He didn’t wait for a reply but left the room.
Juliette turned to Jean Marc, and to his surprise did not continue her harangue. “You did that very well. Do you think Danton will give you what you need?”
“It depends on how badly he wants a balanced convention.”
“He let himself be known as one of the butchers of the September massacres to assure it.” She gazed at him curiously. “What will you do if he doesn’t agree?”
“Think of something else.” Jean Marc smiled sardonically. “Though you perceive me as ancient, my maturity does give me some advantages. It allows me to draw upon experience and make certain choices.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d summoned them here?”
“Did you give me an opportunity? As I remember, you were too busy telling me what to do to listen to me.”
“Oh, you should have just told me to be quiet. Catherine always does.” She gazed at him speculatively. “I believe you may be very clever, Jean Marc.”
“I’m honored by your praise.”
“Well, I must go.” She turned and moved toward the door. “If we’re to leave for Spain shortly, I must finish Robert’s painting today.” A smile suddenly lit her face. “And, if we’re to stop at Vasaro, I wish to have him go purchase a present for me to take to Catherine.”
“Perhaps you didn’t understand me. You’ll be staying at Vasaro with Catherine. The trip to Spain may be dangerous and I won’t have you along.”
“We have a bargain. I must get the Wind Dancer for you.” She studied him thoughtfully. The morning sunlight pouring into the room touched his black hair with a dark luster and illuminated his bold features with stark clarity, but she could read nothing in his expression save mockery and cool determination. “You’re…different. You’ve changed since that first night we wentto the Café du Chat.” Color flooded her cheeks. “I told you that you’d change your mind about me.”
“You’re quite correct, I have changed my mind. You’ve been wounded and I find I can’t stomach the thought of risking hurt to you again. Believe me, that discovery astounds me far more than it does you.” His lips twisted as he looked at her. “Which is the reason you’ll not accompany me to Spain. You have far more chance of being hurt by me than by the Spanish border guards.”
“It’s because of what I told you about the abbey? I’m not really wounded. I wouldn’t let Dupree hurt me.” She stared at him defiantly. “And I wouldn’t let you hurt me.”
“I don’t think we’ll allow that opportunity to arise. You’re going to stay at Vasaro with Catherine.”
“Hmm, we’ll see.” She hurried from the salon.
“What do you think he’s after, Georges Jacques?” François asked as he gazed thoughtfully out the window of the carriage at the passing scene.
“I have a few ideas and I think you do too.”
