The door opened, and a deep voice commanded, “Come in if you are alone and have what I requested, Mademoiselle Levesque.”
Michelle stepped forward. A footman assisted her into the familiar carriage, giving her no time for second thoughts. As a hand grasped hers and tugged her down to sit, the carriage sped along the busy street.
An arm around her shoulders kept her from striking the side of the carriage as it rounded a corner at a dangerous speed. She stared at the hated face she had seen only once before. She pulled away.
LaTulippe chuckled. “I was being gentlemanly. I understand you hurt your left arm during the winter, and I did not want you to reinjure it.”
“Do you do all your dirty work in carriages, Monsieur LaTulippe?” she shot back.
He gaped at her, shocked at her daring words. Then he smiled coldly. “I can understand why your lover has been lamenting about you since we left you behind in Vienna, Mademoiselle Levesque.”
“You made an error by believing me in Vienna.” She gave him a condescending smile.
“Not if I get what I want.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
He laughed. “I have many ears that listen for me throughout Paris. One happened to hear how Mademoiselle Michelle D’Orage had a heartwarming reunion with her family, the Levesques. A few questions, and I knew where you were.” His gaze swept over her. “Intelligent women disgust me. I want one who knows only enough to serve my needs. Too bad, for you are a sweet morsel. If you ever tire of—”
“Never!”
He smiled coldly and crossed his arms over his chest. “Mayhap you are not so intelligent after all, if you prefer him over me.”
“I hope you will be insulted that I would prefer Satan over you.” Her laugh was as callous as his. “Unless, of course, you are one and the same. No, Satan would not make so many careless mistakes.”
He spat, “Did you bring it?”
“Until I see Alexei is alive, I will not answer your question.”
“I doubt if you can halt me if I decide to search you.”
She hoped her cloak hid her shiver as his gaze raked her again. It took all her strength to answer in the same tranquil tone. “You are probably right, but would that give you as much satisfaction as forcing him to watch as I give you the information in exchange for his life?”
He pyramided his fingers in front of his face. “Very questionable, Mademoiselle Levesque.” Suddenly he laughed. “He told me you were a novice and to leave you out of my attempts to gain the information I need. As usual, he was lying. Would you be interested in employment by the same people who hired your mother?”
“I thought—” She halted herself. The malicious twinkle in his eyes warned he was trying to trick her.
“A woman with your obvious talents could be as skilled at dealing with gentlemen as your mother was.” His fingers stroked her cheek. “In the satiation of desire, a man tells a lovely lady things he might not at other times.”
She slapped away his fingers. “Maman did not prostitute herself.”
“While you were being educated in that stuffy school, she was roaming Europe on the arms of some of the Continent’s lustiest men. Do you think she charmed them with only her bright wit?”
“You are lying!” When her hand rose, his fingers caught her wrist and pressed her against the wall. Her breath came sharp and fast in fear as he leaned toward her.
Before he could fulfill the threat visible in his narrowed eyes, the carriage stopped. He glanced out the window and snarled a curse. Releasing her, he stepped from the carriage. Holding up his hand, he assisted her out. She tried to pull her fingers away, but he held them tightly. With a growled order, he led her around a stone house.
Her nose wrinkled as they stepped into a reeking alley. “Where are we going?”
“You will see when we get there.” He laughed, the sound ricocheting through the narrow alley. When he paused before a door set several paces below street level, he motioned for her to precede him.
Uneasily she did. Every sense waited for betrayal, but she heard nothing but his footsteps behind her. She opened the door and went down a flight of dimly lit stairs. Trying to breathe shallowly so the hideous odor did not sink into her lungs, she took each step cautiously. She was not surprised to see water pooling on the floor. A chill clung to the stones.
LaTulippe pushed past her, grasping her arm. When he stopped before a wooden door with a metal grate at eye level, he called, “Vernier, you have a guest.”
“Vernier?” She gasped. When LaTulippe glanced at her, she masked her shock. This must be Alexei’s true name.
With a key pulled from beneath his coat, LaTulippe unlocked the prison cell. A shadowed form stood, and she heard the clank of iron. She cursed, and LaTulippe chuckled.
Stepping into the room ahead of her, he lit a candle on the wall. “Aren’t you going to pay a call on Alexandre Vernier, onetime spy?”
She ran to be enfolded in Alexei’s arms. She heard him gasp her name, but she wanted only to touch him. His lips found hers through the tears engraving a path along her face. As his arms closed around her, she forgot that Alexei was chained to the wall by one ankle and that his hair and beard were long. Nothing mattered but the caress of his loving mouth on hers.
“Isn’t this sweet? Another reunion for you, mademoiselle.”
LaTulippe’s sarcastic words separated them.
Alexei glanced from her to his captor. “Michelle, Liebchen, you should never have come here.” He edged between her and LaTulippe.
With a victorious laugh, LaTulippe toyed with the key in one hand and held a gun in the other. “You might as well speak French, Vernier. Your charade as the Russian is over. Even Mademoiselle Levesque is no longer betwattled.”
“Levesque?”
LaTulippe laughed again. “It seems you were not the only one traveling under an assumed name. Alexandre Vernier, allow me the supreme pleasure of introducing you to Michelle Levesque, sister to the duc of Tonnere du Grêlon.”
When Alexei regarded her with astonishment, she wanted to explain. Her voice dried up in horror as LaTulippe pulled back on the pistol’s hammer. She had not stopped to think how easy it would be for LaTulippe to kill both of them. The first shot from his gun would be for her, for he would want Alexei to suffer as long as possible.
LaTulippe smiled. “I have fulfilled my share of this agreement, Mademoiselle Levesque. Give me what I want.”
“She will give you nothing!” In one smooth motion, Alexei shoved her aside and slammed his fist into LaTulippe’s face. Before he could swing again, men appeared as if from some hidden spring, drowning him in a cascade of blows.
She shrieked and tried to pull one of the men away from him. A strong arm pushed her backward. She fell on a filthy pallet, striking her head against the stone wall. Fuzz filled her mind.
Someone jerked her to her feet. When she swayed, her slipper hit something more pliant than the stones. She saw Alexei facedown on the floor. Time collapsed into itself. Again she was in Vienna, and the horror was only beginning.
With a moan, she dropped to her knees and put her hands on his shoulders. “Alexei. Alexei, look at me.”
“He is alive,” said LaTulippe with a snarl. “Get up.” He wiped blood from his nose. “Give it to me, Mademoiselle Levesque.”
Clutching her reticule close to her chest, she watched as Alexei—no, she must think of him now as Alexandre—shook his head and sat. “If I give you this,” she asked, “will you let both of us go alive?”
“Alive?” He snickered and tossed the key on the floor in front of her. “Give me what I want, and you and Vernier are of no further use or interest to me.”
She pulled the brown book from her bag. Holding it out, she heard Alexandre’s curse as LaTulippe snatched it from her.
“Move a muscle, Vernier, and your mistress is dead.” LaTulippe riffled through the book and smiled. “Thank you, Mademoiselle Levesque. What you have done w
ill be remembered throughout history.” He motioned to his men, and they followed as he sauntered out, leaving the door open behind him.
Michelle dropped to her knees next to Alexandre. She started to put her arms around him, but his scowl halted her. He put his hand up to his head.
“Your right hand!” She gasped. “You can use it.”
“I have had nothing else to do since I was caged here but to practice using it.” He struggled to his feet. Grasping her shoulders, he brought her upright. “Michelle, how could you be so stupid as to come here?”
She shoved his hands away. “I would not let you die.”
“Instead now hundreds of allied men may die to fulfill Napoleon’s dream of regaining his empire.” He reached for the key on the floor and unlatched the rusty manacle around his leg. “LaTulippe is correct, Liebchen. You may be remembered throughout all history for giving Napoleon the information he needs to beat the allies.”
“That is what is in that book?”
“I was in Vienna to obtain military intelligence from the allied leaders. It was to be used to halt Napoleon if he tried to annex Europe again. LaTulippe let me live after I convinced him I could not get him what he wanted. I did not understand then, but I do now. He knew he could lure you into giving the information to him with me as the bait. Verflucht, Michelle! How could you be so stupid?”
“I would risk the whole world for you.”
“Even though I lied to you right from the beginning?” He took her hands and pressed them to his chest as he stood. “LaTulippe was being honest. My name is Alexandre Vernier, not Alexei Vatutin.”
“It does not matter who you are. I love you. Let’s go home.”
“Home?”
“My family’s house here in Paris.” His brow wrinkled in confusion, and she smiled. “It is lovely outside. While we walk, I shall try to explain everything that has happened since we left Vienna.”
“Outside? I have been in here so long, that seems like a dream.”
“Let’s go,” she urged gently. “Once you get cleaned up, we can decide how to halt LaTulippe.”
“You make it sound so simple, my love.”
“Isn’t it? Do you think he is any match for us when we work together?”
She thought he would smile, but his eyes narrowed as he said, “Yes, Liebchen, I think he is our match. I only hope he is not more than our match.”
Alexandre sat in an overstuffed chair of Michelle’s bedroom and puffed contentedly on his pipe. This had been an amazing day. He chuckled as he thought of his reunion with Rusak, who had been glad to see him and eager to rout LaTulippe from his hole.
It should not have amazed him that Sophie had hidden her past as the duchesse of Chateau Tonnere du Grêlon. He wondered if even her superiors had known the truth.
That Michelle had a whole family waiting for her in Paris had been the greatest surprise of all. He had been uncertain of a welcome when he learned Michelle’s brother had served as a privateer for Napoleon in the blockade of England, but Alexandre Vernier had been greeted as a hero, although he had made a mess of the whole situation.
Several times Michelle had tried to speak to him of the book she had handed over to LaTulippe, but he had cut her off each time. He did not want anyone else, not even her family, to know of what was in it. There might be a way to undo this muddle, but he was not sure how. He needed some time to think of a solution. Yet all he could think of was Michelle and how he wanted her. When a door opened, Alexandre smiled as his dream was given life.
Michelle’s bare skin above the open collar of her wrapper glistened with droplets from her bath. “I wish Maman had lived long enough to see this day when we are all here together.” She put her hairbrush on the dressing table. Sitting on his lap, she waved away the smoke from his pipe.
He set the pipe aside. “I forgot how it vexes you, Liebchen.” When she smiled, he said, “I can get no more accustomed to calling you ma chérie than you once could imagine calling me anything but Alexei.”
“Rusak is Russian, but if you are French, how …?”
His lips hardened, creasing his freshly shaven cheeks. “The work I do creates strange friendships that are not bound by political alliances. He was a contact I had made several years before the Russian campaign. When I returned there, I met with him. Unfortunately our rendezvous was witnessed by my enemies. You see the result.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. When his arms tightened around her, she whispered, “You must not blame yourself for what happened. Rusak does not.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me.” She raised her head and smiled. Pleasure and the need for her curled through him, making him taut. Her breath brushed his cheek as he wished her fingertips would when she said, “We talked often of you. It helped me believe you were still alive. I even laughed about all our conversations that had ended in angry words.”
He stroked her damp hair. “I feared that I would be mad and fall in love with you if I was honest with you about anything.”
“You do a very good Russian accent in both German and French.”
“I thought so.”
She batted at his hand teasing her cheek. “You need not sound so smug.” Running her finger along the collarless neckline of his shirt, she asked, “How do we find LaTulippe?”
He did not want to talk about his enemy. He wanted to make love with this beguiling woman. “We start first thing in the morning. With the funds your brother so generously has offered, we should be able to buy more information about LaTulippe’s comings and goings than he can remember himself.”
Suddenly Michelle slipped off his lap. Frowning, Alexandre stood. She whispered, “Alexandre, he said Maman was …”
He tilted her face up. “Liebchen, what did that cur say?”
“He said Maman once worked for his organization.”
“That is true, but she grew disillusioned with Napoleon, as many of us did when it became clear he was not France’s salvation but the road to her ruin. Then she approached my superiors to help them destroy Napoleon’s empire.”
“Is it true that she used her skills to gain information?”
“She certainly was skilled, for she could urge reticent men to tell her things that they soon regretted that they had.”
When Michelle walked away from him again and ran her fingers along the covers of the bed, he frowned. She was hiding something from him. He cursed under his breath. How had LaTulippe poisoned her mind?
“LaTulippe offered me a job,” she said so softly that he could hear her only by drawing her back against him. “The same one he said Maman had.”
“And you wisely refused. Liebchen, you are not upset because LaTulippe tried to twist you into his web. What is wrong?”
Whirling, she cried, “He said Maman prostituted herself to get information.”
He slanted her head against his shoulder as she flung her arms around him. “How could you believe him? Your mother was a skilled spy. She flirted with men, but, if she had a lover other than your father, it was because he offered his heart, not because he had information she needed.” He leaned his head against her soft hair. “As I have offered you mine.”
“If he had killed you, there would never be happiness for me again.” Her fingers stroked his jaw. “I love you, Alexandre.”
“And I love you.”
“Alexandre, I know you are angry that I gave the book to LaTulippe, but—”
“No more about him now, Liebchen.”
“But Alexandre, I wanted to explain—”
He captured her lips. For a moment she tried to pull away; then she answered his kiss with her own longing. Whatever she had to tell him could wait. Nothing mattered now but that she was in his arms. With a laugh, he gathered her up and dropped her onto the bed. Leaning over her, he whispered, “And that is not the only fantasy I want to make come true with you tonight.”
Her lips were soft beneath his as he held her to the pillows with his
kiss, soft and willing and eager for the passion that had been denied them too long. It would not be denied them any longer.
Chapter Twenty-one
Walking to where brilliant blossoms overflowed a planter on the edge of the terrace, Michelle wished Alexandre would come back to the house. She had tried since they had returned here yesterday to talk to him about the book she had given to LaTulippe. He had not given her a chance to explain.
She smiled as she ran her fingers along a ceramic planter. Last night any opportunity to talk had ended with feverish kisses and an ecstasy that still sent shivers down to her toes, which curled with delight at the memory.
Dominic walked toward her, smiling. He had suggested at breakfast several “friends” who might help Alexandre find LaTulippe. She had been shocked to discover that her brother and her brother-in-law had once made a living smuggling art across the channel. Alexandre had smiled and thanked Dominic for the offer, but had left to seek an ally of his own.
“How are you doing, Michelle?” Dominic asked, sitting on the low wall.
“I shall do better when Alexandre gets back.”
He sandwiched her hands between his. “Why don’t you and Alexandra come with Abigail and me at the end of the week to Château Tonnere du Grêlon? It is relatively inaccessible, and you will have time to decide what you must do.”
“I do not think we have any time.”
With a grim expression, he nodded. “I guessed that, but I fear what will happen if you stay here. LaTulippe knows you are here.”
“He knows about the chateau as well.” She pulled her hands away and looked at the river. “We are not safe anywhere until he is arrested.”
“Let Alexandre take of that,” urged Brienne as she came to join the conversation. “He knows what he is doing.”
Michelle gasped. “Would you let your husband go into such danger alone? Wouldn’t you help him?”
“She has you there, Brienne,” Dominic answered with a smile. As a maid walked toward them, he added, “Here comes lunch. Shall we wait for Alexandre?”
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