Petals in the Storm by Mary Jo Putney Read Free Book Online

already know where you are staying, the names of your groom and valet, and the number of pieces of luggage you brought." Having finally managed to produce a surprised look on the Duke of Candover's face, she added sweetly, "Remember, information is my business."
    Maggie felt rather pleased as she left. At least she had gotten the last word for tonight.
    A pity it wouldn't be the last word with him forever.
    ----
Chapter 3

     
    After Maggie swept from the room, Rafe released a long, exhausted breath. For years he had cherished romantic memories of the girl he had loved and lost, with occasional speculations about what might have been. It was jarring to have that nostalgia shattered by the very real presence of the former beloved, now alive, impudent, and dismayingly competent.
    He finished his wine, then set the glass on the sideboard. For all the haunting flashes of Margot Ashton, this woman was a stranger, hardened and unpredictable in ways he would never understand. The girl he had loved no longer existed, and he wasn't at all sure he liked this Maggie with her cool, polished surface and her prickliness. She acted as if he had been the one to betray her so many years ago, not vice versa.
    He sighed and stood up. Most truths had more than one aspect; perhaps her memories of the incident were different from his. It didn't matter now. It takes youth to risk the appalling dangers of total love, and Rafe knew that he was no longer capable of that.
    But he had been wrong on one point; he had thought no woman could be as desirable as his memories of Margot. As it turned out, she was even more alluring than he remembered. It had been difficult to keep his hands to himself even when she was spitting insults.
    As he stepped into the corridor to return to the ball, he reminded himself that he was not in Paris to romance her, reminisce with her, or to make childish taunts, no matter how great the provocation. What mattered was the conference, and the lives of the men who were trying to build a lasting peace.
    Before proceeding to her next rendezvous, Maggie stepped into a dark side passage for a moment to regroup her forces. Leaning against the wall and closing her eyes, she mentally went through the profanity that she knew fluently in five languages.
    Damn
Robin for talking her into meeting the Duke of Candover, damn Rafe Whitbourne both for his impenetrable coolness, and for that shattering kiss that proved that Margot was not as dead as Maggie had thought. Most of all, she damned herself for the faint, irrepressible anticipation she felt at the thought of seeing him again.
    She reminded herself furiously that a kiss meant nothing to him. He must have participated in hundreds over the years. Probably not hundreds but
thousands
.
    Which was why he was so very good at kissing ...
    The thought revived her fury. She was all the way down to Slovakian curses before she could laugh at herself and resume her journey. Her destination was another assignation room, a near-twin of the one she had just left. She entered without knocking and found Robin sprawled on the sofa with a glass of wine in his hand, for all the world like a lover eagerly awaiting a lady. Which was, after all, more or less the truth.
    He started to rise, but she waved him back. "No need to get up." She moved his feet from the sofa so she could sit down next to him, wanting the comfort of his familiar presence.
    As he interpreted her expression, the look of fatuous vacuity he cultivated changed to amused intelligence. "Dare I ask how your confrontation with the duke came out?"
    She sighed. "You and he win. I'll be staying through the end of the peace conference, no matter how long it takes."
    Robin gave a soft whistle of surprise. "How did Candover accomplish that? If he has found some miraculous technique to persuade you, I should ask him what it is."
    Maggie chuckled and patted his hand. "Don't bother, my dear. His method was not one that anyone else could use." Her brief