Don't Tempt Me

Lynette directed the conversation back to the mysterious Lysette, knowing she was out of her depth. 'She does not like men, you say.'

'That is what she said,' he rumbled.

'Did she like you?'

'I doubt it.'

'She must truly be touched, then.'

'Of course.' He grinned. 'A woman would have to be insane not to want me.'

Lynette laughed and felt the pressure between them lessen. Not that the tension was uncomfortable. Far from it.

'You should go,' he said, unfolding. 'While I can still let you.'

'What of Mademoiselle Rousseau? You said you would take me to her.'

'No.' He shook his head. 'I said I should like to see you together. I did not say I would facilitate such a meeting.'

Her hands settled on her waist. 'Why not?'

'Because she is dangerous and unsettled, as are the individuals she works for. I have no idea what the sight of you will do to her mind. I will not risk you for a whim.'

'A whim?' she scoffed. 'Would you call it a whim to learn that there is another man in the world, in the same city, who is identical to you in appearance? Now compound that with the person bearing the name of your sibling-'

'I have no siblings,' he retorted, his jaw clenching. 'I have no family, no name of any value, no property.'

She stared at him, knowing there was only one reason a man listed his marital value. 'You are a mercenary,' she murmured, repeating Solange.

'Yes.' His squared shoulders dared her to want him after such a revelation.

She still did, of course.

'I will pay you,' she said.

'Damned if you will! For what?'

'For taking me to see her. I could be concealed in a carriage-'

Moving with the lightning speed that continued to catch her unawares, he snatched her close and shook her. 'What do you intend to pay me with?' he snarled.

Lynette met his livid gaze, unflinching. 'You know very well what I have to barter.'

His fingers tightened in the delicate flesh of her upper arms, then he pushed her away, causing her to stumble. 'Curse you. I am attempting to be honorable.'

'Honor is a cold bedmate.'

'Is your innocence worth so little that you would concede it to the likes of me?'

'Perhaps my sister is worth so much, I would pay any price for her.'

'Is she dead or not? It cannot be both.' Simon's hands went to his lean hips, a pose that widened the neck opening of his shirt and revealed a tantalizing glimpse of his tawny skin.

'I saw her buried.'

'Did you see her body?'

Lynette shook her head. 'I wanted to. I begged to. But I was told she was too badly burned in the fire.' Her eyes stung and she blinked rapidly to hold back tears. 'My mother saw her.'

'Do you trust your mother?' His tone had softened, as did his handsome features.

'In a fashion.' Despite her efforts, a tear fell. She swiped at it with the back of her hand. 'But there is much I do not know. Much she will not tell me. Such as why she fears Paris.'

'Fears?' He was alert now, intensely so.

'We are staying with Solange. No one knows we are here. I am to tell no one my name-'

'Lynette,' he murmured, enfolding her in a warm, powerful embrace. 'You knew I was an English spy, yet you revealed yourself to me, regardless. I cannot decide whether I should kiss you or shake some sense into you.'

She sniffled. 'I prefer the kissing.'

Simon laughed and set his cheek to her temple. She clung to him, taking comfort in his sympathy and caring.

'Last night,' she whispered, hugging his waist, 'Solange commented on our interest in one another. My mother protested.'

'Wise woman.'

'To which Solange replied, 'Seems to me the daughter has the same taste in men as her mother.' '

Lynette knew he was frowning, even though she did not see his face.

'Do you know what that means?' he asked.

'No. And 1 am equally ignorant about many other statements made within my earshot.' She pulled back to beseech him. 'What if this woman is my sister? Or worse, what if the connection is malicious? What if she met my sister at some point, noted the resemblance, and has taken advantage of her memory?'

'Lynette-'

'I cannot explain it,' she blurted, before she lost her courage, 'but the bond I always felt with her is still here.' Her hand fisted over her heart. 'It has yet to be severed. W-why would it still be there i-if she is g-gone?'

He exhaled wearily and smoothed her brow with callused fingertips, then followed with the press of his lips to her fevered skin. 'I fear your grief has invented hope where there is none.'

'Then lay it to rest,' she pleaded.

Simon's head went back and he gazed at the ceiling, as if looking for divine guidance. Beneath her palm, she felt his heart beating steady and strong. For the first time since Lysette passed, Lynette felt as if she had a purpose and Simon gave her the support she needed to pursue it.

'How did you find me?' he asked finally, returning his gaze to her face.

'Eavesdropping.' She smiled. 'I think Solange champions you. She was describing your home in detail to my mother this afternoon. She was quite flattering in regards to your taste and wealth.'

A change came over him, a steely resolve taking hold with such tenacity it was tangible.

'From now onward,' he directed resolutely, 'I want you to follow your mother's admonishments to stay hidden. No more parties. No more outings.' He cupped her face and reinforced the severity of his words by touch. 'Whatever reasons your family may have for their discretion, you must add the risk of being seen by Lysette Rousseau or someone she works with or for. That cannot happen, Lynette. You trusted me when you came here. I need you to trust me when you leave, as well.'

'What is she?'

'She is an assassin. And I am not certain murder is the gravest of her crimes.'

'Mon Dieu…' Lynette shook violently, the chill starting from the inside and spreading outward to coat her skin with gooseflesh. Her hand rose to his face, her quivering fingertips brushing over his sinner's mouth. 'I am grateful to have your guidance.'

She drew strength from him and comfort. For the first time in two years she felt like herself. It was a precious gift and meeting Simon had given it to her.

'A thiasce,' he whispered, his eyes darkening. 'I wish we had never met. No good can come of it. The only path on which I can guide you is one that leads you straight to hell.'

Chapter 10

I

t was nearly midnight before Simon found Richard Becking in a tavern in an undesirable part of town. The Englishman was occupying a far corner of the room with a buxom serving wench on his lap and a singing Frenchman to his right. Richard himself was grinning from ear to ear and he lifted a hand in a wave when he spotted Simon approaching.