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“I know, but I checked the room next to his. It’s empty. We can hide there. We should be able to hear him leave.”
She was clever, he thought, following her. They skated down the corridor and ducked into the empty office. She closed the door and leaned upon it, letting out a long sigh. No lamp burned here, so Ramsey opened the curtains, allowing moonlight to spill inside.
This office was not quite so well outfitted as Saint-Just’s. It was probably that of a clerk’s, which meant they were safe for the night.
Or until the guard at the gate began to wonder what happened to his compatriot and why he and Gabrielle never exited.
“This will never work,” Gabrielle murmured.
“My thoughts exactly,” he said.
“Nowyou realize this?” She glared at him, hands on hips. “Why didn’t you tell me when I was making the plans?”
“Ididtell you when you were making the plans.”
“Oh.” She dropped her hands. “I suppose that was when I told you we would make it work somehow and stomped off.”
He raised a brow.
“Your cheek is bleeding,” she said.
“Madam, that’s the least of my worries. What I really want to know is—“
“Shh! I hear someone coming.” She sank down on the floor, behind the door so that should someone open it, they would see an empty room. Ramsey crouched beside her, and the smell of lilies immediately filled his nose. Good God, why had he ever let her leave dressed like this? Not only would anyone looking closely never believe she was a boy, they’d never believe she was a peasant. She smelled too good. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on listening. He heard muted voices and then the sound of the office door beside theirs opening and closing again.
“It’s Robespierre,” Ramsey whispered. He made the mistake of leaning close to speak to her, and there was that intoxicating scent again.
“Yes.” She pulled her knees under her chin, as though that would make her invisible. “At least we know where he is.”
“In the next room. Probably discussing who next to execute with the head of the police.” He was looking at her. That small freckle beside her mouth was tempting him again.
“Will you stop that?”
“If I’m to die helping you, I think you might at least allow me the fantasy of kissing you a last time.”
“What?” She stared at him. “I meant stop pointing out all the dangers we face.”
“Ah.” He sat back. He could still hear voices in the room beside theirs, but he could not make out the words. Too bad. He might have learned information valuable to the Scarlet Pimpernel.
He shook his head. Now he was thinking ofhelpingthe Pimpernel? He couldn’t even save himself.
“Did you…” Gabrielle began. He cut his gaze to her. Even in the gray light of the moon, he could see how blue her eyes were. He could see too the way the light caressed her cheek, limning her soft skin. “Did you want to kiss me?”
His gaze fell to her lips. And that freckle. He’d kissed her enough to know how she would taste, how her mouth would feel on his. “I always want to kiss you.”
Her face was turned to his, and he couldn’t resist lifting a hand and placing it on her cheek.
“Why?”
He frowned. “Why do I want to kiss you?”
“Yes,” she whispered. A chair scraped across the floor in Robespierre’s office.
“You…” He would have said she was beautiful, but that wasn’t the reason. He’d known many beautiful women. “You intrigue me,” he said finally. “You always have.” He rubbed his thumb in small circles on her cheek, descending slowly toward the freckle and her lips.
“The first time we kissed, in Exeter’s greenhouse—“
“I remember.”
