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Together.
The problem was that he liked the idea of being together with her far too much. Together as in...together.
Joined. Connected.
As in... his hands connecting with her hair and pulling that simple knot free so he could see her black hair tumble around her shoulders.
He buried the idea as quickly as it arose.
“I thought wehaddeveloped a plan,” he said lightly. “We attend the diplomatic event tomorrow and find out whether any other country has reported missing antiquities so that we may eliminate more suspects.”
“I thought we’d decided on a plan as well, but then I saw you sneaking out of the house earlier with Sir Charles, going Lord only knows where.”
So that’s why her eyes sparked brighter than the fire in the hearth. “You didn’t like being left alone this evening.”
She crossed her arms. “I did not.”
He wasn’t going to apologize for going out with Sir Charles. He’d done nothing wrong. They’d visited his club and Raven had talked to several European diplomats. “You didn’t enjoy your evening with Lady Sterling?”
She made an impatient noise in the back of her throat. “That’s not the point, Raven. Here’s the crux of the matter. You knew precisely what I was doing this evening. A quiet repast with genteel ladies. I, on the other hand, have absolutely no idea how you spent your evening. And I must say that my imagination ran away from me. You accuse me of being theatrical, impulsive, and unguarded, but you could say something in the heat of passion in a bawdy house and you could expose the entire mission and I won’t have—”
“Indy, I didn’t go to a bawdy house.” He hadn’t even thought that she might make that assumption.
She sniffed. “I don’t care if you did.”
She was lying. She did care. And he cared about making her think better of him. He was sick to death of trying to make her hate him.
He put on the robe and knotted it loosely around his waist. “I went with Sir Charles to his club with an eye to assessing whether any other diplomats might be aware that the stone is missing. All anyone could talk about was the theft of the chair from the Louvre.”
“Well you could have informed me that you were going out,” she said stiffly. “If I’d been the one sneaking off like that you would have scolded me for being reckless.”
“You’re right. I should have told you where I was going. I’m not accustomed to having to answer to anyone for my actions.” The Foreign Office left him mostly to his own devices. No questions asked if he achieved the desired results.
He approached her. “I won’t leave you alone again without an explanation.”
During the day, he amended silently. At night he would continue his recognizance in preparation for the raid on Le Triton’s stronghold.
He needed to confirm the exact number of guards patrolling the estate.
Malcolm had said he would assemble a team to assist with the mission, but Raven hadn’t yet received any sign.
He bent over the map. “What’s this, a map of Paris?”
“I’ve circled the residences of all the key players, as well as other locations that could conceal the stone.” She tapped her finger on the map. “Let’s approach this like an archaeological excavation. We know the item is in Paris, but we must narrow our search. We know it’s not at the Louvre, so that leaves the Russian ambassador’s residence, here,” she pointed it out on the map, “Or Le Triton’s estate, here.”
Why did she have to be so damnably intelligent? He had to throw her off of the Le Triton trail. “You didn’t circle the palace?”
“I don’t suspect the French monarch. I think he’s too busy suppressing the rumors of an uprising in his own court.”
“Agreed. But you haven’t yet consulted Lady Catherine. Doesn’t she know every antiquities enthusiast in Paris?”
“Lady Sterling informed me that Lady Catherine is on the guest list for tomorrow, as she’s a well-connected British citizen living in Paris. I’ll consult with her tomorrow.”
She’d thought of everything. “Excellent work.”
“Thank you. I also have a list of suspects.” She extracted a tiny scroll of paper from her bosom and handed it to him. The paper was still warm from being next to her skin, cradled between her breasts.
He’d never envied a scrap of paper before.
