His Silken Seduction (4 page)

“I shall need the storeroom key.”

Suzanne picked up the bunch of keys from the office desk, removed the one for the little door on the landing and dropped it into Guillaume’s pocket. “Try not to make too much noise, please. Remember there is only a thin partition between the silk store and Marguerite’s chamber. Our…guest may be trying to sleep.”

“As you say, mistress.” Guillaume left, carrying his load. Was he going to heed her instructions? There was no way of knowing.

Suzanne sat down behind the desk and tried to concentrate on the column of figures she had been adding up. Guillaume would be in the silk store by now, just a few feet from where Benn lay. If she had taken the silk upstairs herself, instead of sending the old manservant, she could have unlocked the connecting door between the silk store and Benn’s room. She could have gazed at his beautiful sleeping body. If he were awake, she could even have spoken to him. She could have…

Spoken to him? What on earth could she have said? Pray, sir, what did you mean when you said you would never abandon me? And how long is “never”?

She threw down her pen. Whatever Benn had meant by those hasty words, it certainly would not include either love or marriage. Had he perhaps been thinking of the danger they were all in and of the debt he owed to the Grolier sisters for sheltering two English spies? Once Bonaparte was finally defeated…for that blessed day would surely come…there would no longer be any need for protection. The English spies would return to their comfortable life. And the Grolier sisters would return to their daily grind at the loom.

She stared down at her desk. Even the simple figures in her ledger seemed to be tinged with gloom, as if a fine grey gauze had been thrown over everything. The future that stretched before her was far from appealing. She knew she would probably end her days as a worn-out old spinster who had never known the joys of marriage and children, a dried-up husk who had never been loved.

Your future is your own to decide, Suzanne.

Her inner voice was back. And at the most inconvenient time. She did not wish to be reminded of all that she had lost.

Marriage and children may not be for you to decide, but love can be sought and found in other ways. Your future lies in your own hands.

Suzanne jumped to her feet and began to pace. She allowed herself the indulgence of a few choice curses, though only under her breath. They helped to drown out the sound of that inner voice. It was tormenting her, sketching a tantalizing vision of things she could never have. Still, one thing was true. She was mistress of her own life. And although the Groliers had lost land and status in the Revolution, they had not lost everything. Unlike some, Suzanne had not been reduced to abject poverty. She knew she had much to be thankful for. She might have been forced into menial service…or worse.

She took a deep breath and smiled round at the silent room. It was functional, but comfortable. In Marguerite’s absence, Suzanne ruled here. She could make her own decisions. She would choose to ignore Benn’s strange promise. Since he would be with her for only a few days more, she would live every second of the time they had left. To the full.

Once he was gone from her, she would have only memories. She was free to choose to make those memories the sweetest they could possibly be. And she would. She would show him a smiling face and a glad heart, and she would live for the moment, no matter what he said or what he did.

Still smiling, she sat down once more and picked up her pen. In her new and composed state of mind, even the columns of figures did not dare to rebel.

Days of hard, painful effort had made a great difference to Ben’s physical state. Although his shoulder was still not fully healed, he was able to use his right arm quite a lot, but only with caution. Soon, the bandages would be removed for good and he would be almost back to normal. Unfortunately, that also meant that Suzanne would cease to visit him here in his bedchamber.

To be honest, she should have stopped doing so already, in fulfilment of a promise to her sister. She had agreed not to spend time alone in Ben’s chamber once he was back on his feet. Which he now was. Ben was proud that Suzanne had shared that confidence with him, but he had not been equally frank with her. In fact, he had taken the greatest care to hide the truth. As far as Suzanne knew, he was mending remarkably slowly and was still much too weak to rise from his bed.

A minor deception, Ben assured himself. For a very good cause.

It was not that he was about to break his pledge to ensure Suzanne’s future. He was determined not to fail her there. Nor did he plan to take advantage of her during their short times alone together. It was more that those times had become so very pleasant of late.

He still revelled in the touch of her hands on his skin, but he had also learned to appreciate her sharp brain and her lively sense of fun. Scarcely a day passed without gales of laughter filling his bedchamber. That had helped him to forget the dangers surrounding them all. He knew he would treasure those moments once he had resumed his spying role, far from Lyons.

That would now be very soon.

“Mistress!” Guillaume burst into the office without bothering to knock. His face was full of alarm.

Suzanne rose quietly to her feet, doing her best to disguise her concern. She was in charge of this little household. It was her duty to remain calm and businesslike. “Goodness, Guillaume,” she said, a little testily, “since when have you forgotten how to knock?”

He stopped short. His weather-beaten skin could not conceal the colour that flooded into his face. It was a very long time since he had had to be reprimanded by anyone. Whatever his news, it must be important.

“What has happened?” she asked, rather more encouragingly.

 
“Mistress, I must warn you that the house is being watched.”

Suzanne’s breath caught in her throat, but she managed to keep silent.

“One of Bonaparte’s agents is lurking on the other side of the street, two houses down.”

“But how do you know he’s an agent?”

Guillaume smiled grimly. “He’s become very free with his opinions since we heard the news of Bonaparte’s triumphant entry into Paris. I suspected him before, I may tell you, but now there’s no doubt. He’s watching our street. And he may be watching our house. We can’t be sure, but it’s best to assume the worst.”

Suzanne looked over her shoulder towards the window. “Can I see him from here? It would be best if I knew exactly what the enemy looks like.”

Guillaume nodded. “I knew you would not be afraid to fight, mistress.” Then, as Suzanne started for the window, he said, “You’d be best to look from Mademoiselle Marguerite’s window, upstairs. If you look from here, he may see you and realize he’s been rumbled. We don’t want to risk that. They might replace him with someone we don’t recognize.”

Suzanne grinned at the servant. “You are a fine old schemer, Guillaume. I am glad that we are fighting on the same side.”

He shrugged. “I only wish we knew more of what the Bonapartists are plotting. That way, we might be able to forestall them.”

 
“Well…” Suzanne paused, thinking. To her surprise, she was not afraid. She felt as if her blood was all afire. If she had been a man, she would have been buckling on her sword for the coming battle. But she was only a woman, so she would have to find another way. ‘”Tell me, Guillaume, do Bonaparte’s agents know where your sympathies lie?”

“No, of course not.”

“Forgive me for seeming to doubt you. I had to be sure. Now, are you prepared for a little spying on your own account?” When he nodded, she smiled broadly and told him exactly what she wanted him to do.

Suzanne was humming to herself as she raced up to Marguerite’s room. Guillaume had provided her with the perfect excuse for visiting Benn, though she had no intention of telling him that the house was being watched. Such disturbing news would merely serve to frustrate him. Poor man. It was taking such a long time for his wounds to heal.

She reached the door and raised her hand to knock. What if he was asleep? She put her ear to the door. Nothing.

There was another way. Taking her keys from her pocket, she unlocked the door to the silk store that had been created in the gap between the walls of Marguerite’s bedchamber and her own. There was no window inside, of course, and she had not thought to light a candle so early in the evening. So she unlocked the door that led from the store into her own bedchamber and threw it wide. Light flooded in. A stray beam caught some fine red silk shot with silver, making it glitter like a spider’s web hung with dew. She smiled with satisfaction. She had woven that silk with her own hands.

He had to do something. But what?

Ben continued to walk quietly up and down between the bed and the window. He was safe enough for the moment. He was sure he could not be seen from the street below, and he had taken care to step softly so that no one in the house would suspect what he was doing. Regular exercise had made his legs almost as strong as before, and his upper body was improving, too. He paused for a moment to swing his right arm, which still hurt him whenever he raised it above his shoulder. He was relieved to find that the pain was becoming bearable at last.

He could enlist Guillaume’s help, though he doubted that even the two of them could deal with this danger. The watcher opposite might appear to be alone, but there were bound to be others, probably quite close. In a busy city street, a pistol shot would be worse than useless. They could try kidnapping the man, but that might bring even more of Bonaparte’s agents down on them. They might start to search from house to house.

No, the solution was to watch and to wait. Ben had to ensure that nothing happened to draw the watcher’s attention on to the Grolier house.

He risked one more glance into the street. The watcher was still there, but making no effort at concealment. Perhaps he was not a spy after all? Ben shook his head at his own naivety and continued with his furtive exercise program. It was safest to assume that the watcher was a spy unless there was proof that he was not.

A slight noise startled him, breaking his train of thought. Was someone there? He was safe enough, he knew, for he had locked his door before starting his exercises. He would tell his visitor to return later, by which time the door would be unlocked and he would be safely back in his bed, to all appearances still an invalid.

Suzanne was still smiling as she relocked the door to the landing and turned to unlock the door to Benn’s bedchamber. First, she listened again. This time, she fancied she could hear some kind of movement, but it was strangely muffled. He must be awake after all, but what on earth could he be doing? If she opened the door, would she see something that would embarrass them both?

Taking care to make no noise, she inserted the key into the lock. She hesitated. Did she dare?

Of course she did. Their house was being watched by the enemy. They might all be arrested at any moment. She and Benn might never have another chance to be alone together. Compared with that, what was the risk of a little embarrassment?

She turned the key, rapped a quick warning knock on the wood and opened the door a little way. “Forgive me, Benn, I…” She took one step into the room and stopped dead. “Why, you…!” She felt the blood rushing to her face. “You charlatan! You trickster! There is nothing wrong with you at all!”

Benn was not lying in his bed, weak and suffering, as she had expected. He was barefoot, wrapped only in a skimpy sheet, and walking very softly up and down his bedchamber. As he walked, he was stretching and flexing the muscles of his injured shoulder and arm. Suzanne’s carefully applied bandages and the sling she had fashioned were hanging loose against his naked torso.

He had played her for a fool!

Ben was shocked to see the locked door in the middle of the side wall swing open. Suzanne stepped into the room, and seemed to take in the situation at a glance. Her face became flushed with anger, overlaid with humiliation at the way she had been deceived. He could not blame her.

But when she started to rage at him, her voice rising with every accusation, he knew she had to be stopped before the suspicions of the watcher below were aroused. Since she had now given him the best possible excuse for yielding to his baser instincts, he simply pulled her against his body and kissed her, hard.

She squirmed against him, trying to free herself, but without success. Ben might not yet be fully fit, but he was still much stronger than Suzanne. He was certain that she was not afraid, however. She was much too angry for that.

He wrapped his arms more tightly around her body, ignoring the pain that nagged in his shoulder. It was worth a little pain to hold her. The warmth of her glorious body against his bare skin was sheer delight as was the subtle scent of lavender on her clothes and in her pale gold curls.

“Mmm.” A groan of pleasure escaped him. It was the last thing he had intended.

That sound had a strange effect on Suzanne. First, she stopped trying to break free, and then she slid her arms around Ben’s waist. What had been anger seemed to be turning into desire. Instead of fighting his kiss, she was returning it, and with more innocent passion than Ben would have dreamt possible.

He groaned again, as he gentled and then deepened the kiss. He had never known anything like this. It was as if he were drowning. Everything else was forgotten, everything except his driving need to taste her luscious mouth and to show her the pleasure that mutual passion could bring.