Heather and Velvet by Teresa Medeiros Read Free Book Online Page B

You should have pressed your suit to make her so. A threat of scandal might have silenced her effectively.”
    “I don’t recall rape being one of my duties.”
    D’Artan shrugged as only the French could. “Why consider it a duty? Consider it a privilege of the position.”
    Sebastian turned back to the window, needing a moment away from those steely eyes to steady his breathing. The dark oak paneling of the chamber absorbed both sunlight and air. He unlatched the window and shoved it open. A gentle breeze wafted in, bringing with it the scent of honeysuckle and the teasing warmth of a perfect summerday. An unexpected edge of longing closed Sebastian’s throat.
    He laid his fist on the windowsill. “If you are so well informed, then you must also know that the girl you speak of was blind.”
    D’Artan gave a genteel snort. “A bit off the path from the usual pencil peddler, wasn’t she?”
    Sebastian swung around. “The incident is over. I shall never see her again. What does she matter?”
    “She doesn’t matter.” D’Artan pounded the desk, allowing Sebastian’s anger to fuel his own. “But you do. You matter to France and you matter to me. As Sebastian Kerr, you can gauge support for the new French government in the best circles of London and Edinburgh society.”
    “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I don’t suppose the tidbit I brought you about the Marquess of Dover’s speech
against
the National Assembly had anything to do with his unfortunate phaeton accident in the park.”
    D’Artan shook his head sadly. “Such a pity about his legs. They say he may walk again someday. But I didn’t summon you here to discuss the Marquess’s heavy hand with his horses.” He rose and paced behind the desk, his hands locked at the small of his back. “I’ve indulged your little penchant for highway robbery thus far, but I won’t put my new position and the influence it will bring at risk. You’ve become far too cocky. You’re turning into a legend along the border! They’re composing ballads about the adventures of the dashing Highlander. Those mealymouthed English magistrates are beginning to envy you. Who do you think their wives dream of when—”
    “Enough!” Sebastian roared.
    D’Artan acknowledged Sebastian’s shift from French to English with a pained spasm of a smile.
    “You’d take care to remember that my ‘little penchant for robbery’ filled your coffers with gold long before Lord Campbell would even grant you an audience. Who do you think has been paying for all those precious cannons and pistols you’ve been smuggling to France?” Sebastian’s burr deepened. “Forget the girl. She was dressed in fashions at least two years old. She’s probably some impoverishedsquire’s sister. I doubt she travels in the same circles of society as I do.”
    “You could be right,” D’Artan said with maddening calm. “However, there’s too much at risk now. If you are caught, it would take very little effort to trace your name to mine. Then all of my work would be for naught.” He sank back into his chair and shuffled the papers on his desk as if they had become of primary importance. “Before I return from London in August, I would like her dispatched. Something simple. A fall from a horse. A hunting accident. You know how to arrange such things.”
    Sebastian turned and groped for the edge of the windowsill like a blind man. The trim green of the manicured lawn mocked him. Why were the gentry so determined to create a miniature England wherever they went, he wondered, to prune and smooth away all traces of the wilderness and majesty that was Scotland? He hungered for the snowy peaks of Ben Nevis, the wild heathered moors of Strathnaver.
    A new resolve tautened his jaw. D’Artan didn’t know it, but by the time he returned from London, Sebastian would be trapped forever in a prison of such neatly bordered hedges and marble fountains. It would be a trap of his own