Napoleon Must Die by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, Bill Fawcett Read Free Book Online

will see to it that your name is cleared, Vernet.”
    “You fill me with pride, Victoire,” said Vernet, not knowing what else to say to her. “It succors my heart, your faith in me.” He reached over and stroked the side of her face gently.
    “This is not a matter of faith, husband,” said Victoire with asperity. “This is a matter of your career and your future. It won’t do to have suspicions remain. Therefore something must be done, and it appears that I am the only one willing to do it.” She took a tum about the confines of the tent. “I’m going to somehow discover who killed that unfortunate marine, and when I’ve done that, I will recover whatever has been stolen. You may be sure of it. And Berthier can choke on the booty.”
    Vernet stopped her, holding her by her shoulders. “Have care, Victoire. You could expose yourself to great danger, and I would not like to think you were at risk for my sake.”
    She shook herself free of his hands. “You’re absurd, Vernet. I’d be worth very little if I permitted my husband to suffer when it was within my power to alleviate it.”
    “Your concern is great solace,” said Vernet, his arms going around her. “You’re as fierce as a Cossack.”
    “My assistance is more to the point,” she declared. She took the orders out of his hand and read them. “Jaffa. Where you can do nothing to prevent Berthier from implicating you more deeply than he has already. Well, he reckons without me.”
    Vernet was able to smile genuinely this time. “What a determined creature you are, Madame Vernet.”
    She considered this and accepted his compliment. “You are very good to me, Lucien.” She looked into his face as she spoke his name. “Be sure that while you are in Jaffa, I will be busy here. Berthier will not be able to hoodwink me. You will not have to bear this stigma one instant longer than necessary.”
    “I believe that,” said Vernet, then added more encouragement, “and if someone like Berthier has had a part in this, his days are surely numbered.”
    Victoire stared at him. “You may jest if you like, Vernet, but as you yourself have said, I’m determined.”
    “Yes, you are. You’re a very determined woman.” He bent and kissed her lightly. “I am going to miss you, little love. Being away from you will be a greater hardship than all the rest.”
    Her face softened. “Then we must hurry. You will need to get your fill of me, and I of you.”
    “I will never get my fill of you,” Vernet said with utter conviction.
    “Nor I of you,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t try.”
    He tightened his arms around her. “No, it doesn’t,” he said softly, loosening the laces on the back of her gown. Soon his fingers danced down her graceful, arching back. Victoire pulled him closer, her hips swaying gently against him as she raised her lips to meet his.

JEAN DOMINIQUE LARREY wore a blood-spattered smock and carried a basin in his left hand when he admitted Victoire Vernet to his quarters. The tent was full of medical instruments, books, and a skeleton hung from one tent pole. Victoire wasn’t sure if the skeleton had come with the army’s chief surgeon or from inside the wrappings of one of the local mummies. As always, even before noon the air in the tent was stifling. “You’re not a very substantial woman,” he observed when he had finished looking her over. “There’s nothing much on your bones.”
    “I’m strong enough,” she told him, taking no offense. “I am like a cavalry officer, all sinew.”
    From the physician’s expression, he had his doubts. “You’re not the sort who faints, are you?”
    “No, I’m not. That is no bravura. I have seen wounds before, and I am no stranger to hospitals. My husband is Major-Inspector Vernet, and I have accompanied him at other times.” She did not admit that they had only been married sixteen months and that the most travel she had undertaken with Vernet until they come to