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Authors: Elizabeth Squire

BOOK: Closer To Sin
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Liliane stretched her back and wiggled to find a more comfortable spot in the saddle. ‘Does your brotherly concern extend to allowing us to stop for a comfort break any time soon?’

Sin nodded. ‘Actually, there’s a place another twenty minutes from here where I plan for us to spend the evening. Will that suit your needs?’

‘Thank you.’ Liliane looked over at him. As long as they were talking she may as well clear the air completely. ‘I get the impression you were not pleased about me taking Solange’s place.’

Sin quirked an eyebrow. ‘Perceptive of you. There have been some unexpected developments and my new mission takes precedence over my own personal considerations. Forgive me, I shouldn’t have goaded you so much.’

Liliane couldn’t help but feel there was reticence to Sin’s response. Something that hadn’t been present yesterday. She gazed into fathomless brown eyes, trying to determine what had caused a shadow of pain to pass across his face. ‘I’ll ensure you’re not disappointed,’ she finally responded. ‘Tell me, what exactly does this new mission entail?’

Sin regarded her with an assessing look for several moments. ‘
Mon fleur
, it wouldn’t pay for you to know the intricate details—just in case things don’t go to plan. The less you know, the easier it will be for you to stick to our cover story.’

‘That I am being sold for forgiveness of your gambling debts. Of course.’ Liliane guided her horse around a pothole and leaned forward to pat its flank, her mind whirling. Surely the same degree of trust should apply to her now, as it had done for their original mission. After all, the same element of threat still applied. Her mind stilled; that’s what had changed—whatever the new mission was, it had to be significantly more dangerous than Sin’s original orders. A shiver raced over her skin and she surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder, but other than a herd of grazing sheep and a couple of cows, there was no one about.

She moved her horse closer to Sin, drawing comfort from his proximity. ‘The original premise of our trip was to pass vital information to our allies.’ And in particular, she was to approach an old acquaintance of Grandpère’s, someone that Solange was convinced would help their cause once Liliane gave him the pocket watch she was carrying.

‘Has that original plan changed?’ she asked softly. Silence hung suspended between them until Liliane was convinced that he would refuse to answer.

‘Yes.’ He refused to look at her, his tone rigid.

A current raced through her, prickling her skin and coming to rest at the base of her spine. She glanced at him. His jaw was firm and his face became a taciturn mask.
Seriously, could the man be any less communicative? So much for being open with each other.
‘I see,’ she finally replied.

A thousand questions pierced her mind, but not one answer followed. Because, while, ostensibly, she was to there to provide Sin with an introduction to Henri Lyon, this was also her one opportunity to speak privately with him. Her hand drifted to the fob chain concealed below the high neck of her forest green riding habit; the watch attached to it sat warm and heavy between her breasts. With this watch she could fulfil Grandpère’s last wishes.

She slowly drew in a fortifying breath, the crisp air helping to clear her mind and focus her thoughts. Perhaps if she knew where they were going she’d be able to determine how to proceed. ‘So, where am I to be married?’

‘That, I can tell you,’ Sin replied with a sympathetic grin. ‘First I’m taking you on an extended tour of the region—so that relatives may offer their felicitations, of course—and then finally on to the port town of Boulogne-Sur-Mer. Your betrothed is a wealthy wine merchant.’

‘And a drunkard to boot I expect,’ she replied haughtily. ‘That’s quite an elaborate story, let’s hope we don’t have cause to use it.’ Boulogne, oh thank God. Even if the mission had changed, she should be able to get a note sent to Monsieur Lyon to arrange a meeting—even if he had to come to her.

Sin gave her a speculative glance. ‘Do you know how to fire a pistol?’

Liliane blinked. ‘Sorry, I missed what you said.’

‘I was wondering whether you know how to fire a pistol?’

‘My uncle is,
was
,’ she hastily corrected, ‘quite liberal and taught me to shoot. I also think he was indulging me in order to aggravate my Great-Aunt. She’s somewhat of a stickler for propriety and maintains that my only true value lays in shoring up the family pedigree.’

He shot her a grin. ‘An utter paragon. Excuse me if I don’t request an introduction.’

There was no fear of that. The thought of Great-Aunt Woolner and Monsieur St Clair going toe to toe sent jolts of fear to her very finger tips.

Liliane had heard stories from Mama of the antics Uncle Nate and his friends got up to during their days at Oxford. The most notable being the time they had invited some lowly sailors and their doxies to Great-Aunt Woolner’s grand ball. The Dowager Countess of Carrick had worn that outrage like a cloak ever since, to the point that to this day she adamantly refused to allow either her or Yvette to be introduced to Uncle Nate’s two closest friends, or to even attend any function where they were rumoured to be in attendance. Doubtless, in the unlikely event Sin was to have the audacity to grace a ballroom of the Ton, Marguerite Woolner would see him banished with the utmost alacrity.

Sin interrupted her thoughts. ‘I’d like to do some target practice tomorrow morning to gauge your accuracy. I have a spare pistol in my saddlebag and, while I think it’s unlikely, there may be a requirement for you to use it.’

Liliane twisted in her saddle and stared at him. The possibility that she may need to carry a pistol
had
occurred to her; she was under no illusion about the danger of travelling through France in the current climate. But the casual manner in which he discussed carrying a weapon left her wondering what his life must be like, to always be alert to danger. Another cold chill raced through her, a portent to trouble. She rolled her shoulders to shake the feeling away and pulled her cloak more securely about herself. That must be why Sin had gone to such pains to make it appear as though they were heading north. As they rounded a corner she spied a cluster of buildings coming into view and, beyond them, an older dilapidated-looking cottage.

Nodding towards the furthest building, Sin indicated that they would take shelter there for the remainder of the night. ‘There are mostly peasant farmers in this region. They’re not averse to travellers seeking shelter, provided a small recompense is left,’ he explained.

Liliane was relieved they were stopping for the evening. The sun was low on the horizon and the meagre warmth of the day had started to give way to a bitter night chill. She looked around, taking in the farm house, the barn, other storage sheds and the old cottage. Her stomach churned. She had been expecting to stop at a village, or some place with an inn and separate rooms. She wiped her hand down her leg. The cottage didn’t look like it would afford much privacy, though maybe Sin would be sleeping in the barn. ‘Will we both be sleeping there?’

She resisted the urge to look away as Sin regarded her for several long moments. ‘Yes,
mon fleur
, we’ll both be sleeping in the cottage,’ his voice soft and reassuring. ‘I need to know you’re safe.’

Heat flooded into her face. ‘Ah, I see,’ she gurgled. ‘Are they expecting us?’

‘No, but colleagues of mine have stopped here before and report that the facilities are more than adequate. There’s always clean linens on the beds, the fireplace set and fresh bread and eggs in the larder. More importantly, no questions are asked. We can shelter in that far cottage with no fear of being disturbed.’

Liliane steered her horse to the rear of the cottage where a lean-to doubled as a storage area and makeshift stable. It was probably too much to expect Sin to sleep out here. She stifled a yawn. Provided the cottage was warm and dry—and they each had their own bed—she didn’t mind where she slept. She gratefully dismounted and handed the reins to Sin, who indicated for her to go inside while he saw to the horses.

The farmyard was quiet, but she still couldn’t shake the sense of disquiet, that someone was following them. She was being ridiculous and letting herself read more than was warranted into Sin’s refusal to elaborate on the purpose of his new mission.

Liliane walked around to the front of the cottage. With one last look over her shoulder at the empty farmyard, she pushed the door open and paused at the threshold to peer into the black interior. She had a distinct aversion to darkened rooms and she was beginning to think she should have volunteered to stay and assist Sin with the horses. Drawing a deep breath, she groped her way forward and prayed no other living creature was there to greet her. ‘Damn it,’ she cursed as she stumbled against a large bench that dominated the centre of the room. At least she could be grateful it was inanimate.

A little fumbling revealed candles and a flint and when the flame flickered into life after the third attempt she breathed a sigh of relief to see the darkness melt away.

She turned slowly and examined her surroundings with a critical eye. In reality, the cottage was little more than a hut. Against the far wall a fireplace was laid with kindling, a basket of firewood beside it. To the right was a small cupboard she surmised to be the larder, and above the fireplace a set of shelves was stacked with an assortment of crockery and cooking implements. Glancing around, she gratefully noted the wooden pallets on either side of the room. A privacy screen in the far corner completed the cottage’s amenities.

Dropping her valise onto one of the beds, she made her way to the hearth and knelt down to place the flame of the candle against the tinder. Small tendrils of smoke drifted upward and the soft scent of a wood fire combined with the crackle of flames to bring life to the little cottage. Ah, this was what she had been longing for this past hour. She leaned over the fire and smiled softly as its heat started to warm her hands. She closed her eyes and the knot in her belly eased.

Lost to her thoughts she didn’t hear Sin enter the room. A shadow passed across the doorway and loomed over her, blocking the outside light. ‘There’s a well outside—’

Liliane gasped and spun around, her heart hammering loudly against her chest. Good grief, as if her imagination wasn’t jumping at ghosts as it was.

Sin placed a large bucket of water beside her. ‘I thought you may appreciate some water to wash up with, and perhaps a cup of tea.’

Holding her hand to her throat she smiled weakly. ‘That’s kind of you, I’ll hang the kettle in the hearth.’

Oblivious to having startled her, he nodded and returned outside, presumably to further tend to the horses.

Liliane busied herself filling the kettle and hung it to heat. Sin was right, a cup of tea would be divine. After a little extra poking around the larder she located a small tea canister that she set upon the table with two well-worn mugs. While the water came to boil she took the opportunity to explore a little further.

The privacy screen in the corner concealed a chamber pot, a wash basin and jug. She would use them just as soon as the water was ready. She must smell like a stablehand after a day in the saddle. The prospect of being able to wash away the dust and horse scent was appealing.

‘I take it you’ve found everything you require?’

Liliane jolted at his nearness. Did the man have to keep sneaking up on her like that? The rich timbre of his voice sent fissions of heat tingling down her spine to dissipate through every nerve ending in her body.

It was impossible not to react instinctively to his proximity. Impossible not to be drawn towards him. She turned rapidly, nearly over setting the screen in her haste. He was standing directly before her. He stepped closer and reached a large hand past her to steady the rocking screen, effectively caging her within its boundaries.

She froze. Her eyes locked onto his hands and an unfamiliar sensation arced through her, volatile and untamed. For one ephemeral moment, she imagined those hands steadying her, pulling her close and enfolding her within his heat. She drew in a deep steadying breath. And realised her mistake as her breasts brushed against his chest. Her nipples budded, sending a stream of heat to the pit of her stomach.
Oh my
.

She licked her lips. If she lifted her chin her mouth would be only mere inches from his. That wide, sensuous mouth with those lips that seemed to be mocking her.
What would he taste like?
Unbidden, the thought splintered through her. Her lips parted and she darted her tongue across the surface. His eyes tracked the movement, and her pulse quickened. The seconds ticked slowly away. Liliane could smell the aroma of horses and fresh hay in his clothing, underpinned by an enticing masculine essence. The spiciness of his scent embraced her and beckoned her to move closer, to bury her face in the heat of his neck and breathe deeply. The weight of his appraisal fell upon her and she looked up to find herself being assessed by his knowing gaze.

Sin raised a hand towards her and pushed a wayward strand of hair back from her face to tuck it behind her ear. ‘You need to be more careful,’ he gently chided. The admonishment, so at odds with the intimacy of his touch, propelled her back to reality with ungainly speed. Mortified at the direction of her thoughts, she ducked beneath his arm and stepped out from the confines of his nearness. ‘The tea is nearly ready. Would you like some?’ She could hear the tremble in her voice.

He was still standing where she left him. ‘It’s an early start in the morning. Get yourself settled. I still have some things to take care of outside.’

Liliane watched with silence as he gouged a hand through his thick dark hair before turning to head back out the door and into the night.

***

Fuck.
What just happened in there? Dragging a hand across his brow, Sinclair paced up and down beside the stable. He had no idea what had overcome him. It wasn’t like the bloody privacy screen had been going to crush her. The damned thing wouldn’t have even wobbled if he hadn’t startled the life out of her, except he’d been inexplicably drawn to see what she was doing. Until she’d lifted her sapphire eyes to him and his thoughts had narrowed down to base instinct. He savagely kicked a rock out of his path. His reaction to Liliane was just the type of distraction he had wanted to avoid.

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