Closer To Sin (7 page)

The trees opened before them and Sinclair silently urged Vulcan under the canopy. Liliane, puffing slightly, stopped beside him and adjusted Satin’s bridle, slipping her horse a sugar cube as she did so. ‘Well, that was an invigorating start to the day,’ she gasped as she regained her breath.

Sinclair’s mouth twitched. He could think of more invigorating and eminently more satisfying ways to start the day. He stood silent for several moments and then gestured to Liliane. ‘It sounds like the Hussar party is leaving. I suggest we wait a few more minutes and then mount up. Once we’re on the move its imperative we put as much distance between them and us as possible. Be prepared for a long day in the saddle.’

***

Liliane stood taking in her surroundings, a chill breeze tugging at her hair as it hung in a loosely tied bunch at the back of her neck. It felt great to stretch her legs. Despite not meeting anyone all day, Sin had set an unrelenting pace since their precipitate departure from the cottage. Her stomach growled. They had stopped for lunch at a small inn about an hour ago but it seemed that riding all day, combined with the frigid winter air, had stimulated her appetite remarkably. Having to forgo breakfast hadn’t helped either.

After the morning’s fog, the winter sky was uncharacteristically clear. Absently, she watched a large eagle circle above her, gliding effortlessly over the fallow fields that fell away before her. It must have a nest somewhere in one of the tree tops. She hoped it wasn’t anywhere near the target she’d been firing at.

She pinned a few loose strands of hair back from her eyes and looked over to Sin. ‘Okay, ready when you are.’

In response to her pronouncement he came to stand beside her and handed her the small wooden handled flintlock pistol. It was proving to be a bit heavier than the one Uncle Nate had taught her to use, but the grip was smooth and fit comfortably into her hand. She’d had no problem hitting the target at close range, but now the real challenge began. She lifted it to eye level and peered down the barrel, steadying it with her other hand.

Sin nodded his head with approval. ‘We’ll use that tree over there as your next target. It’s about twenty yards away, which is close to the effective range of this pistol.’ He grinned down at her. ‘It will challenge your accuracy, but if you can hit that target from this distance, then it’s good enough for me.’

Liliane lifted her chin and straightened her posture, honing her concentration. A gust of wind tugged at her cloak and pulled at her hair. A strand slithered free of its restraint, falling across her eyes and tickling the end of her nose. The damn stuff had a mind of its own. Determinedly, she shut out the distraction. She lightly curled her finger around the trigger and squeezed. The ground not ten yards in front of her exploded into a shower of dirt. Damn it, she’d let the muzzle drop at last second. She looked up at Sin and grimaced. ‘I think I’ll try that again.’

‘Take your time and remember, aim just slightly below the target,’ he counselled, passing her the powder flask.

Carefully rotating the cock, Liliane disengaged the firing mechanism and proceeded to reload the pistol. Thank goodness the target wasn’t going anywhere. In the time it took her to pour in the powder, insert the lead shot and ram it all down, an assailant would be long gone … that, or she’d be dead and loading the blasted pistol would be a moot point. She prodded the ramrod down the barrel one last time and handed it back to Sin.

Liliane raised the pistol and sighted the target. The tree looked decidedly further away when viewed through only one eye, and impossible to see when that one eye blurred. She rubbed her eye and raised the pistol again.

‘Steady,’ Sin murmured from beside her. ‘Here, like this.’

Before she could protest, he moved to stand behind her, his arms wrapping about her and pulling her against the heat of his body. She went rigid at the unexpected impact of a solid wall of muscle adhered to her back. Her cheeks flamed pink as the heat from his body permeated her clothes and teased her senses. And then he leaned closer until, with his head rested above her shoulder, he clasped his hands over the top of hers and extended her arms forward. Time stilled and her feet rooted to the ground. She was enshrouded in over six feet of potent masculinity and being singed from head to toe. There was no way she could think straight when he was this close to her.

She drew in a steadying breath and his intoxicating scent of sandalwood mixed with a splash of bergamot imprinted upon her, igniting a visceral reaction over which she had no control. Her mouth dried and her skin prickled as his scalding heat enveloped her. Saints preserve her, how was she to concentrate when every lucid thought had incinerated on contact? She opened her eyes and tried to steady her gaze on the pistol before her, but the sight of her pale hands enfolded in Sin’s larger, darker hands sent another tremor racing through her.

‘Remember,’ he murmured in her ear, seemingly oblivious to her combustive state, ‘hold the pistol steady with both hands. When you fire, the kick-back will lift your arms, so always point the gun marginally below were you’re aiming, but not so low that you hit the ground in front of the target.’

‘Shall I—’ Liliane pause and cleared her throat. Gracious, he had even robbed her of the power of speech. ‘Shall I fire now?’

‘When you’re ready,
mon fleur
.’

Now if she could just close her mind to the wall of heat adhered to her back. She shut her left eye, lined up the target and squeezed the trigger. Wood and splinters exploded from the tree in a shower of debris and smoke. ‘I did it,’ she shrieked, dropping the pistol and swinging around to face Sin in her excitement. Only to find herself encircled within his arms and hauled up tight against his body as he grabbed her to stop them both from toppling to the ground.

The air
swooshed
from her lungs and she reached forward, steadying herself against his shoulders. If the heat that radiated from his back was scorching, then being held tight against his impossibly broad expanse of chest was positively incendiary.

‘Steady there,’ he laughed. ‘I don’t think the tree shares your enthusiasm, but you were impressive nonetheless.’

She looked up to find him studying her. She was consumed by the intensity of his expression as he lowered his eyes to hers. He looked as though he could read every thought she was thinking. Her hands curled into the lapels of his coat, her fingers barely registering the texture of the course grey wool, as she met his gaze. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, her attention held captive by whiskey brown eyes. They were lightly creased at the corners, either from laughter or too much sun, but if he were to so much as smile at her right now she feared she would disintegrate into a pile of ash.

Shaken, she dropped her gaze and was drawn to the pulse beating at the base of his throat. The temptation to put her lips there, to taste him and draw his essence into her body was close to irresistible. It was one thing to be tempted, though, and altogether another to ignore the precepts of behaviour that defined who she was. She swiftly patted the lapels of Sin’s jacket and stepped back from him.

‘I’m sure the tree will recover,’ she quipped, hoping he couldn’t read her discomposure.

Admonishing herself further, Liliane turned to find where she’d dropped the pistol. At least she’d proved she could accurately handle a weapon. She turned to Sin and bowed low. ‘Thank you for your instruction.’ A thrill of pride coursed through her and she grinned.

‘Do you think you’re confident enough to carry a pistol on you at all times?’

She hesitated momentarily. ‘Absolutely. I’m determined to be responsible for my own safety.’

***

And there it was again. That indefinable something that set her apart from the other women of his acquaintance. She possessed a determination to stand on her own two feet. But that could be dangerous if they were confronted by Gareth’s killer. Would she let him deal with the situation, or would she insist on being a part of the solution?

He moved toward her and grasped her firmly by the shoulders. Turning her to face him, he angled one hand under her chin and raised her gaze to meet his. ‘Liliane, I admire that you want to be responsible for your own safety. To most women of my acquaintance, that equates to finding a suitable husband.’ He tilted his head and studied her. ‘Your independence is unique, I truly admire it, but please, promise me this … if there’s any danger, you’ll let me deal with it.’

He felt her stiffened slightly under his touch and waited for her to argue back.

‘Let me assure you, I’ll never consider a husband a suitable substitute to my own ability to fend for myself.’ She squared her shoulders and drew herself upright. Her eyes barely reached his chin. ‘I see no reason,’ she challenged, ‘why I can’t contribute to our wellbeing if that need arises.’

Sinclair considered her words and struggled with the need to reveal to her the real purpose of this mission. Liliane’s face was an uncompromising mask of resolve with her brows raised high and lips pursed in a thin line. She may not be receptive to what he had to say, but it was a little late for regrets now.

He dragged a hand through the dark hair that had fallen across his brow and reclaimed her chin to refocus her attention on him. ‘I wish it were that simple. What I haven’t told you yet—what you have every right to know—is that at least three British intelligence agents have been murdered in the past six months.’ He paused, measuring her reaction. ‘There is every reason to believe we may become a target of that assassin.’

He grabbed both her arms and held her steady as her face paled and she swayed slightly. ‘But we’re French,’ she baldly stated.

‘Yes, but we are also collaborating with the English. That’s sufficient justification to make us the next target, should anyone discover our true purpose.’

She drew in a deep breath as her mouth opened into an O-shape. ‘Oh.’

‘Just ‘Oh’,
mon fleur
? You’ve suddenly become uncharacteristically quiet.’

‘Um, it’s not … I mean, it’s just …’ She stopped and buried her face in her hands momentarily. ‘What I meant to say is that I’m surprised. Solange insisted the purpose of this venture was to put you in contact with a government official.’ She drew in a shaky breath. ‘She said absolutely nothing about a murder.’

‘Solange is unaware that a courier has been murdered.’

***

Liliane closed her eyes and took a moment to consider all he had just told her. Did this really change things for her? She was already way beyond the boundaries of polite society. In order to get to France she’d constructed an elaborate ruse that would see her ruined if she were ever discovered. Perhaps Yvette as well, if her role in the deception was ever discovered. Was she being selfish, taking this one opportunity to have a moment of independence before acquiescing to Great-Aunt Woolner’s urgings to marry Freddy Parkes?

Except Solange’s revelation, and the contents of Grandpère’s diary had changed her focus entirely. Solange insisted it was incumbent upon Liliane, as heir to the Desailly baronetcy, to honour their grandfather’s work and reclaim their family’s due. Liliane sighed. Her father had been the last Desailly Baron in their line. Once upon a lifetime ago she could have expected to inherit that title, but now it was a liability best denied in France and one that held little value among the English aristocracy. Familial loyalty was important, though, and in a family that had been decimated to the extent of theirs she would do what she could, even just to make life easier for Solange.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Just because circumstances had now taken an alarmingly sinister turn, it changed nothing. In fact, her actions may even contribute to saving the lives of English soldiers. And she still had an obligation to determine where Sin’s true loyalties lie.

Seeing that Sin was waiting for her answer she lifted her chin in resolve. ‘I promise, if there is danger, to let you, in the first instance, deal with matters as you deem necessary.’ She nodded her head, happy with her decision. ‘But, in light of what you have just told me, I will do whatever it takes to protect myself—and you if it comes to that.’

She considered her next words, seeking to convey to him the reasons for her position. ‘I think there are still a few pertinent details you have yet to confide to me. So, until circumstances change, this is the most I can promise you.’

Liliane held her ground and dared him to deny her, although his jaw looked as though it was about to crack. He was apparently unaccustomed to having anyone contradict him. ‘I know so little about you,’ she placated. ‘My instinct is to trust you, but I will not lay my life in your hands—it goes against my very nature.’

While she held Sin’s fathomless brown gaze she realised he still held her by both arms. The heat of his hand felt like a brand, searing its imprint against her skin. He didn’t say a word, obviously trying to read her, to understand what it would take to navigate the road ahead.

Finally, he nodded in agreement and stepped away. ‘That will have to do for a compromise. For now.’

Liliane let out a shaky breath, resisting the premonition that hung like a cloud above her.

Never had a cup of tea been more appreciated. Liliane sighed and returned her empty tea cup to sit with the rest of the service on the tray. That was divine, and the innkeeper’s wife was a godsend. She had fussed over Liliane, exclaiming at her beautiful hair and insisting that she have the best room in the house. Then the good lady had wasted no time in sending up a tray laden with a tea service and the most delicate airy little cakes she’d ever tasted. And bucket loads of hot water.

She wouldn’t admit it to Sin, but her body ached from the day spent on horseback. Not bothering to smother the indelicate groan that escaped her lips, Liliane gingerly arose from her chair and peeled the layers of clothing away. At least the riding habit was a simple design: the skirt and jacket had a single line of buttons down the front, allowing her to dress and undress by herself.

Once she had removed her blouse and unlaced the short stays that laced below her breasts she gently lifted the fob chain from about her neck and laid it on the table. Lastly, she let her chemise drop to the floor and lowered herself into the steaming bath water.