“That will be pleasant.” She was obviously struggling to stay awake. “We haven’t done that since theBonne Chance.”She drifted off to sleep.
Jean Marc’s arms tightened about her, his cheek pressing against the top her head. She felt small, fine-boned, and utterly breakable in his arms. She had made herself totally vulnerable to him, and yet there was no weakness in her surrender. She was stronger now than she was at her most defiant, and he had the strange feeling that at his moment of triumph he had been defeated.
He gently kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes against the hot wetness stinging his lids.
Tutto a te mi guida.
True words. No wonder they had struck a note of recognition when the queen had—
The queen.
Jean Marc’s eyes flew open and he stiffened against Juliette’s lax body.
He had assumed Juliette had been quoting the queen from a moment in their past in Versailles, but Juliette had always refused to dwell on the past and livedonly for the moment. Why should those words trigger such a strong reaction now?
Unless the words had been spoken much more recently.
Unless she had gone to see Marie Antoinette again at the Temple…
He carefully slid his arm from beneath Juliette’s head and drew the silk coverlet over her. He got out of bed, shrugged into his brocade robe, and glided toward the door, stopping to pick up the candelabrum on the table.
A moment later he opened the door to Juliette’s chamber. What did he expect to find? Juliette would already have sent the soot-stained gown of her disguise downstairs to be cleaned if she had gone to the Temple as he suspected. Perhaps he was hoping to be wrong and find nothing at all.
A white linen sheet draped the desk across the room and on it rested a fan, a vial, and an oak machine of some sort. On the floor beside the desk lay a straw basket of paper fans.
Jean Marc moved slowly across the room toward the desk. When he reached the desk he set the candelabrum down on the cloth-covered surface.
The white silk fan lying open on the desk was exquisite. Fine lace edged the delicate silk, carved ivory sticks were polished to a glowing patina, and the picture painted on the silk was of a graceful Pegasus with eyes of tiny almond-shaped emeralds.
Jean Marc stared down at the fan, panic icing down his spine.
“What are you doing here?” Juliette stood in the doorway behind him, wearing the lace robe, her hair tousled. “I didn’t tell you that you could come in here, Jean Marc. You had no right to—”
“What is this?” Jean Marc picked up the silk fan on the desk and held it up. “For God’s sake, what have you done?”
“You know what it is. It’s the Wind Dancer. I did it for my own pleasure. I have no intention of using it in public.” She pulled her robe closer about her as shehurried forward. “You shouldn’t have touched it. I’m not sure the glue is dry.” She took it from him and carefully laid it back on the linen-draped desk. “It’s very good, isn’t it?”
“Exquisite.” He motioned to the box of paper fans on the floor beside the desk. “And you did those for your own pleasure as well, I suppose.”
She didn’t look at him as she repeated, “You shouldn’t have come in here.”
His hands grasped her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. “The Café du Chat. The queen. It’s been going on for months, hasn’t it?”
She raised her gaze to his. “Yes, but I’m very careful. There’s absolutely no danger to you, Jean Marc. If I were caught, I’d never—”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” His voice was harsh. “Christ, do you think I don’t know you by now?”
“It won’t be for much longer. She’ll be free soon. But you mustn’t interfere now.”
“You saw her today, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “She wanted me to promise that I’d find a way to free her son. Oh, Jean Marc, she’s so sad. I’vegotto help her.”
“For God’s sake, everyone in Paris knows the National Convention is gathering evidence for her trial.”
“François says the escape plan is almost in place. He’s already bribed the guards at the Temple and we’ve only to wait until we have a way for her to safely pass the barriers.”
“François!”
