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“Because I don’t like you.”
“Liking has nothing to do with it. You are a traitor to the republic. I am a patriot. I don’t particularly like you or your cause, but like you or not, I am attracted to you. I think you feel the same.”
She didn’t believe him for even a moment. He wasn’t attracted to her. He thought she was the sort of silly woman who would melt into a puddle of adoration if a man kissed her and took her to his bed. But two could play this game.
“And if I am attracted to you?” Her tone was silky smooth, that of the perfect charlatan. But then it was not difficult to pretend she wanted him. Even as her brain reminded her of all the reasons she hated him, her body rebelled. She looked at him and was sinking into his lovely eyes, into those soft lips, into that warm velvet voice. She wanted him to kiss her again. She tried to tell herself that it was because the kiss was the first time she’d been truly warm all night.
But that wasn’t the real reason.
“Then kiss me,” he whispered.
And she did.
***
TRISTAN DIDN’T EXPECTto react the way he did when her lips brushed against his. He’d planned to seduce her with kisses and silly words and plodding attempts at friendship. It was clear to him the men treated her as an equal, and if he could gain her trust, her affection, he would have won half the battle. He would yet see these traitors riding in the back of a tumbrel.
And then she’d kissed him. Her lips so soft and, God, impossibly sweet. It was only a light brush of her mouth against his at first, but Tristan felt his control slip. And then when she pressed her mouth against his, when her hand came up to cup the back of his head and her lips parted and her small tongue lapped at his mouth, he found himself reacting as though he were a boy of fifteen, not a man approaching thirty.
His fingers on her chin fumbled, and he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands. His cock was rigid and throbbing, and if he hadn’t been aware of the three men sleeping in the hayloft above them, he might have tried to push her down and take her there.
That was the strength of his need for her.Realneed.Realdesire, not feigned as it should have been
And then he felt a weight between them, and dimly, he realized it was the pistol. It had fallen from her skirts when she’d turned into him. He reached for it at the same time she did, and both of their hands closed over it, their fingers locking together.
He pulled back and so did she. Her green eyes were dark but clear. “Let it go.”
“And if I don’t?” he asked.Fool,he thought. He should let it go. This was no way to gain her trust.
“Then I’ll be forced to hurt you, and I’d much rather kiss you than break your nose. You do have such a straight, lovely nose.”
He felt his mouth curve into a smile. He liked her bravado, if nothing else. Yes, she had surprised him at the gate, when she’d punched that guardsman, but she’d taken the man unaware. Tristan was ready for an attack, and he had strength and size on his side.
Still, he released the pistol. Now was not the time to challenge her. They needed him for something bigger than the escape of an abbé from prison, and if he gave all away now some of them might be taken, but not all and, more importantly, the plan would be undiscovered. The longer he waited, the more he would learn about the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel and the more traitors he could catch in his net.
If he had not come tonight he would never have known about the Daudier family’s complicity. The more information he could give, the more likely he was to avoid the guillotine, though if he was to die, then he deserved his fate.
A picture of the little children peeking out the door of the house flashed in his mind. He was loath to leave those children orphans, loath to repay the goodness the family had shown him by turning them in.
But surely the husband and wife knew the consequences for their actions. They had freely chosen to betray the republic, a republic that stood for equality and liberty. He had not known either of those when he’d been made an orphan by the Duc du Mérignac, a man who had abused the privilege of his birth without ever thinking of the children or the families he harmed.
There was no such thing as a bloodless revolution.
He sat back, putting distance between himself and Alexandra Martin. She made him forget what was truly important: the ideals of the revolution must trump all.
Citoyenne Martin was looking at him. “You think I do not know your game?” she asked, placing the pistol back on her lap. “And don’t look at me and blink those innocent eyes. Do you think just because I argued against your murder and didn’t have you tied up for the night, that I trust you or would hesitate to put a pistol ball in your brain? You are trying to win my trust by seducing me, and it won’t work.”
She was certainly forthright, and while he liked that, it took him off guard. “Of course, I am trying to seduce you,” he said, equally forthright. “You are a beautiful woman.”
“Now I know you lie. Or perhaps I am suddenly beautiful because gaining my confidence would give you the opportunity to betray the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel.” She leaned close to him, her breath tickling his cheek. “Believe me when I say before you ever have a chance to inform on any of the people you met here tonight, I will slit your throat myself.”
Her green eyes burned bright as she spoke, and her lips were red as blood. He believed her. She’d protect these men and the Daudier family with her life. It was just that sort of loyalty he admired and wanted to see burn in the heart of every patriot. But too many patriots wanted power and their loyalty was capricious.
When she would have leaned back, he touched her cheek with a finger, holding her in place. “Is it strange that your threats make me want to kiss you again?” That was not a lie. Her ruthlessness aroused him.
She gave him a quick smile. “Nothing scares you, does it?”
“On the contrary. Many things frighten me, but a strong woman is not one of them.”
