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“Good, then moan.”
He took her bare nipple between his lips and sucked, oh so gently. It was no trouble at all to moan for him. No trouble to arch her back, thrust her nipple farther into his mouth, twine her hands in his hair…
“Halt! In the name of the republic!”
In her haze of arousal, she heard the door slam against the wall and the clomp of boots on the floor. She jerked in fear, but Ramsey took a long time releasing her breast. He rose slowly, and she had to fight the urge to pull the sheets up to conceal her nudity. But that would defeat his purpose. He moved unhurriedly to give the soldiers time to take in what was happening.
Gabrielle saw the two men at the door. They were young, their eyes wide. She thought they might be twenty at most, and that would work in her favor. She might have met their gazes, if they were looking at her face, but they were staring at her chest. She drew the sheet up languidly.
“What is the meaning of this?” Ramsey demanded, shielding her, belatedly, with his body.
“D-domiciliary visit,” the shorter of the soldiers stammered.
“I’m so sorry,” Alex said from the doorway then scowled at the soldiers. “I told you my brother and his friend were sleeping.” Her dressing gown fell off one bare shoulder.
“They weren’t sleeping,” the taller soldier quipped, a smirk on his face. Another soldier stepped into the room. He was older and his uniform, with its gorget hanging from his neck, marked him as an officer. He scanned the room quickly, taking in the hastily shed clothing and the two lovers. Gabrielle prayed he would see what they wanted him to see. His gaze didn’t even rest on her half-naked body, and she knew this was not a man to be easily distracted. He did study Ramsey.
“How did you injure your cheek?” he asked.
Ramsey pretended to be surprised, then touched first one cheek and then that with the scratch. It was no longer bleeding, but it was deep enough to be visible. “Ah, this?” He glanced at her. “Mark of passion.”
Gabrielle felt her face explode into heat and color. Was that the only explanation he could think of? The soldiers were laughing, but she refused to bow her head. She stared straight ahead.
“Show me the rest of the house, citoyenne,” the officer said to Alex. “And you two here—“This time he spoke to the young soldiers. “Conduct a thorough search.”
“Yes, citizen!” the shorter soldier answered with a quick salute.
Alex led the leader out of the room, and Ramsey huffed. “Go ahead and search. Do you think we’re hiding Royalists here?” He indicated the tiny room that didn’t even house so much as a cupboard. “Perhaps we have the queen hiding in the fireplace.”
Suspicious, the soldiers moved to the fireplace, held their hands toward the flame to test the heat. Gabrielle had to stifle a laugh.
“And the Scarlet Pimpernel is hiding under the bed,” Ramsey said.
The soldiers turned to him, their eyes narrow. “You’d better rise, citoyen,” the shorter one directed. “We need to see your papers and search the room.”
“My…” Ramsey glanced at her. “Friend is not dressed. Could you step out of the room for a moment to give her some privacy?”
“I’m afraid we cannot, citoyen,” the taller soldier answered. He grinned at Gabrielle, and she knew he was just hoping to get another glimpse of her body. She wouldn’t give it to him.
“Thank you, citoyen,” Gabrielle said, placing a restraining arm on Ramsey. Not that she thought he would fight the men. This, like everything else, was an act.
Their lovemaking had been an act, hadn’t it?
Gathering the sheet about her, she rose as graciously as possible. She tucked the sheet under her arms and lifted the excess as though it were a train. Ramsey pulled on his breeches and sorted through their discarded clothing for their papers. “Here.” He held the documents to the soldiers. “You see we have nothing to hide.”
The taller soldier examined the papers while the shorter man searched under the bed and in every corner of the small room. He lifted his bayonet and sliced through the mattress, and Gabrielle stood back as feathers rose like startled birds from the wreckage.
“Is that really necessary?” Ramsey asked. He stood, bare chested, arms crossed over that glorious expanse of bronze. Gabrielle found it increasingly difficult to look away, especially now that she could see the corded sinew and muscle of his back. She wanted to touch him there, run her fingers along the skin, kiss it with her lips…
The soldiers had answered while she’d been distracted, and now Ramsey asked, “Who are you looking for?”
“A prisoner escaped from the Conciergerie tonight,” one of the soldiers answered. “The former duc de Courtenay. We have instructions to search every house in Paris.”
“Long night,” Gabrielle murmured.
“Yes, mademoiselle,” the shorter man said. The taller man elbowed him. “I mean, citoyenne.”
“Why are you wasting your time here?” Ramsey demanded. “We’re clearly not harboring any ducs. No comtes or vicomtes either.”
