“Because you drive me to—” He swallowed, seemed to be searching for words, and then said wearily, “I promise I won’t hurt you. You said you’d trust me.”
“But I don’tknowyou.”
“You know the man I am tonight.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You know the angry Basque, the man who hates aristos and spies for Danton. You know that man, Catherine.”
“You’re confusing me.”
“I mean that we’re all many people.” François gazed at her intently as if willing her to understand. “I can’t help you if you won’t trust me.” François looked down into his empty goblet. “When the servant comes back to clear the dishes, she must see us in that bed together.” He heard the soft intake of her breath, but he didn’t look up. “She’ll giggle and then go back downstairs and tell the others. There will be more jests and winks.” He paused. “And tomorrow at the barrier those men you found so offensive will remember François Etchelet’s pretty little wife and comment on how weary she looks after her romp between the sheets.” He stared into her eyes. She was clearly alarmed. “And then they’ll open the barrier and let you go home to your Vasaro. That’s what you wish, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He pushed back his chair and stood up. “Then let’s set about it.” He held out his hand. “Come. It won’t be so terrible.”
She gazed at his hand as if it were a striking serpent and then slowly placed her hand in his grasp.
“You see, it didn’t hurt.” François pulled her to her feet. “Now, can you undress yourself or must I help?”
“I can do it.”
“Good.” He gave her a push toward the bed and then sat back down and poured himself more wine. “Call me when you’re in bed.”
He was speaking to her as if she were a small child. Why was he pretending to be gentle when he was not a gentle man? “I don’t believe it’s necessary to do this.”
“I do. If you won’t obey me for your own sake, then do it for your friend Juliette. She’ll also be in that coach, and her risk is greater than yours if she’s captured.” He kept his gaze straight ahead. “Everything.”
“What?”
“Take off everything.”
“I don’t think—”
“Undress!”
The command was so sharp she worked more quickly to unfasten her gown. She could hear the panicky sound of her own breathing in the quiet room. Why was she doing this? She should never have come here. She wanted to run away back to the house on the Place Royale. Juliette would help her. Juliette would never let this rude, violent man order her about.
Juliette. Juliette had killed a man for Catherine’s sake and must be kept safe. Was François right that this act would help keep Juliette from being questioned at the barrier? She suddenly realized she was entirely naked and hurried across the room toward the bed, dove beneath the covers, and pulled up the sheet.
François continued to look straight ahead, slowly sipping his wine.
Minutes passed, the silence unbroken.
Catherine was suddenly irritated. “Well, it’s done.”
He stood up and her annoyance was submerged in panic.
“It’s all right, Catherine. I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone was no longer sharp but soothing again. “Are you entirely undressed?” He slowly turned to face her.
She sat rigidly upright in bed, holding the sheet to her chin, her gaze fixed suspiciously on him.
He looked at the smooth flesh of her shoulders bared by the sheet. “I see you are.”
He walked slowly toward her.
She tensed and backed against the oaken headboard.
