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“Thank you,” Hester breathed. “I’ll stay close by.”
When she slipped back into the darkened stables to find Harry, her heart almost stopped as the tall figure of a uniformed French soldier loomed out of the darkness. She reared back in alarm, her hand on her throat, until she recognized Harry’s disarming grin.
“Thought I’d get a better disguise,” he whispered. “Vive l’Empereur.”
They spent the next few hours waiting for Napoleon to retire. Hester fell asleep against a large pile of hay at the back of the stables and only woke when Harry shook her gently. She blinked sleepily up at him in the half-light. She’d been dreaming of his lips on hers, his fingers stroking her skin. Her body still shimmered with desire.
Harry’s face was close to hers. His fingers brushed her cheek, and everything inside her stilled as he leaned closer. His wonderful scent wrapped around her. Still half asleep, she parted her lips in expectation of a kiss, but he merely tugged a wisp of straw from her hair and flicked it aside.
Her spirits plummeted.
“Time to go, sleepy-head,” he murmured. His voice was a deep growl that made her whole body vibrate.
Hester rolled away and tidied herself briskly. Shehadto stop imagining things that weren’t there.
When she slipped back into the kitchens, she almost tripped over a young lad who was sleeping on the floor in front of the stove for warmth, but he barely roused enough to grumble at her in annoyance. She filled a pewter tankard with hot water; if anyone questioned her, she would say she was delivering a late-night cup of cocoa to a guest.
When she neared Napoleon’s chamber, she slowed her steps and was relieved to see Suleiman still standing guard. He beckoned her forward.
“I have not had a chance to search his coat yet, but he sleeps now. I can hear him snoring. I will keep watch while you go inside.”
Hester nodded. She held her breath as she slipped inside the chamber and glanced toward the bed for a peek at the man who had brought such strife to Europe.
Napoleon Bonaparte lay huddled in the bed, a rounded lump, and Hester quelled a wave of disappointment. She’d expected so great a tyrant to be physically larger, but he was a rotund, dumpy little figure. She could just make out his face in the faint moonlight; his skin was pale and his cheeks jowled. He mumbled something, and she ducked down, crawling to the chair where his grey-blue overcoat had been draped across the back.
Her heart thudding in her throat, she slid her hand inside the fabric and felt around for the telltale weight of the scorpion necklace.
There! Her fingers slipped inside a pocket, and she breathed a faint sigh as the necklace slithered into her palm. It glittered in the faint moonbeams that shone through the window when she held it up. She almost placed it around her neck, but then she recalled the uneasy sensation she’d felt last time she’d done that and stuffed it down the front of her bodice instead.
With one last glance at the shrouded figure in the bed, she crawled back towards the door and slipped outside. Whatever Napoleon did now, at least he would not have the power of the necklace behind him.
Suleiman helped her to stand. “You have it?”
“Yes. Let’s get out of here.”
They reached the stables without mishap and discovered that Harry had saddled not only Makeen but had also managed to find two further mounts from somewhere. Hester decided she didn’t want to hear about his methods. She made brief introductions, Suleiman and Harry each gave a brisk nod of acknowledgment, and then they were off through the town.
Hester had no idea what time it was, certainly long after midnight, but the streets were still busy with people staggering out of taverns, brawling, and generally celebrating the emperor’s return. A few patriotic songs echoed down the alleyways.
On the outskirts of town, they came across a huge encampment of soldiers, but with Harry’s tattered uniform and Suleiman’s menacing demeanor, they managed to pass by unchallenged.
Hester tamped down a wild urge to shout at the top of her lungs as they kicked the horses to a gallop, using the moon to light the way. The necklace was a reassuring weight in her bodice. A great surge of joy filled her, an inexplicable sense that disaster had been averted.
After a few miles they slowed the horses to a walk, and Suleiman drew alongside her. He tilted his chin toward Harry’s back.
“I am satisfied with your Harry Tremayne,” he said softly.
“The man’s a scoundrel,” Hester breathed back.
Suleiman chuckled. “Scoundrel he may be, but the man knows good horseflesh when he sees it. And he rides like a Bedouin.”
Hester narrowed her eyes at the broad shoulders and slim hips in front of her and tamped down an irrational wave of longing. “Don’t tell him that, for goodness sake! He’s already insufferably conceited.”
Suleiman laughed, and Harry turned in the saddle.
“What are you two whispering about?”
“Just discussing Makeen,” Hester said quickly. “Suleiman was admiring him.”
