Page 38 of Dagger’s Shield

When she didn’t answer, I came around the end of the bed, and she turned away from me.

“We should talk,” I said.

“There is nothing to discuss.”

“I disagree⁠—”

“That’s your right.”

“Maëlle, if you’d let me⁠—”

“I understand your games, Dagger. I’ve had a year to learn how they’re played. You flirt and you tease until a woman believes she has taken your breath away. The moment she reaches for you, you retreat, so she has to chase you. That will never happen with me.”

“You don’t understand⁠—”

“I understand perfectly.”

“You don’t,” I responded in a voice louder than I’d intended. “For the first time in my life, I’m not playing any games.” Whether she wanted to hear it or not, it was necessary to say.

She scoffed, took a chemise from the drawer, skirted around me, and walked out of the room.

As I sat on the side of the bed, waiting for her to return, I contemplated my next move. The trouble was there was no good option. If I acted on my desire for her, she’d hate me for it. Rejecting her did the same thing.

I removed my shoes, stretched out on the bed, and waited. Finally, after more than an hour, I went to check on her. The loo was empty, the corridor was dark, and there was no sign of Maëlle anywhere.

Rather than return to the bed, I looked out the window. The courtyard was dim, only illuminated by the light of the moon. I was about to turn around when a figure crossing it caught my attention. From the size and gait, I could tell it was a man but not who specifically. A light went on at the building’s entrance, then moments later, in an office window near the far right end. I waited to see if it would go off or the man would come out, but after several minutes, I stepped away. In itself, someone working at twenty-three hundred wasn’t odd—I’d spent enough sleepless nights doing the same. Still, I filed it away before crawling under the covers.

An hour later, Maëlle returned. She’d obviously thought she’d waited long enough that I’d be asleep. But even if she’d stayed away until dawn, I wouldn’t have been.

I’d been lying on my side of the bed, wide awake, when the door opened and she slipped in without a word. My eyes were already accustomed to the dark room, so I watched her ease herself under the covers and face the window. That meant her back was to both me and the door.

There was trust in that even though she didn’t realize it. An intelligence operative with her level of experience wouldn’t fall asleep facing any way but out.

I wanted to tease her for it. Not only that, but I wanted her to tell me stories like she had last night. The sound of her voice would’ve been enough.

I rolled out of bed when the sun peeked over the horizon, hit the loo, and stood under the hottest water the chateau’s pipes could deliver. By the time I’d toweled off and worked out what I wanted to say to Maëlle, it didn’t matter. The bedroom was empty. I dressed and went looking for her.

I found her in the dining room, having breakfast with Rémy. She didn’t look up when I came in. I filled a plate at the sideboard, took the chair across from her, and muttered a good morning to the pair of them.

Rémy answered with a grin that told me exactly how much sleep he assumed the happy couple had lost. He was right about our lack of rest; only the reason was wrong.

He finished eating first and pushed away from the table. “I have a meeting I can’t be late for. Enjoy your morning, you two.”

The silence he left behind lasted until his car started outside. Maëlle spoke first. “There will be no talk about what happened last night or two nights ago.”

“We need to⁠—”

“None.”

I’d lain next to her for most of the night, choking on all the things I wanted to say. What I’d done when I pushed her away was, for once in my life, the right thing, and my reward was the silent treatment. She wasn’t the only one who could go cold.

“Fine by me,” I muttered.

She finished her breakfast, folded her napkin beside her plate, and stood. “I’m going for a walk.”

She hadn’t invited me, but I followed anyway, through the kitchen and past Marthe, who watched us go with an expression I decided not to examine.

When Maëlle heard the gravel crunch behind her, she huffed and picked up her pace. I didn’t care. We couldn’t spend this op avoiding each other. We were at Valais to do a job: to find out whether her father was involved with Géraud.