Page 29 of After the Spy Seduces

“Damn it!” He began to open each drawer and tray, searching them all to see if the diary still remained.

“Raise your hands where I can see them.”

The heavily accented voice stopped him cold.The Frenchman.

Every inch of him tensed instantly, ready to fight. With all of his senses on edge and his skin prickling, he slowly raised his hands as he turned to face the man. “No need for—”

He froze.

Diana stood in front of the Frenchman, a knife pressed to her throat.

Diana tilted backher head to keep her throat from pressing against the sharp blade and whispered, trembling with fear, “Christopher…”

Across the room, his face grew hard as every muscle in his body visibly stiffened, like a coil tightening to spring, including his hands, which drew into fists at his sides. Yet he ignored her, his icy gaze fixed over her shoulder at the Frenchman standing behind her. No emotion showed on his face, but his eyes blazed.

“I want the diary.” The Frenchman jerked her back against him, eliciting a startled gasp from her as his arm clamped around her chest to hold her still. “Give it to me, or I will slit her throat.”

Christopher slid a glance at the wrecked cabinet, then back to her.Where is it?

She could read the pleading question in his eyes, but she couldn’t tell him—she didn’t know!

“It was you who broke into the cabinet,” Christopher directed at the Frenchman when she couldn’t answer, as calmly as if he were discussing nothing more important than the weather. But every bit of him was alert and ready to lunge. The air between them crackled with tension. “So you should have found it yourself.”

“It was not there.” The Frenchman’s breath fanned hot across her cheek, and Diana flinched, her stomach roiling. “You know where it is. Give it to me. Now!”

Christopher held up his hands in front of his chest, empty palms forward. “If it’s not in the cabinet, then it’s somewhere else in this room. Most likely there.” He nodded toward the other side of the room. “Did you search it?”

When the Frenchman turned his head to look where he’d indicated, Christopher’s hand dove beneath his jacket and pulled out a small coat pistol. He pointed it at the Frenchman and cocked back the hammer with a loud click.

“If you harm her,” he threatened in a low, menacing voice, “you’ll be dead before you reach the door.”

With a snarl, the Frenchman grabbed Diana by the hair and yanked hard, jerking back her head and bowing her neck to press the blade against her throat. She caught her breath with a soft cry of terror.

“I might die, Englishman, but I will take her with me to hell.” He made a show of sliding the knife back and forth across her throat. “And I know exactly how fond you are of her.”

Sheer murder glinted in Christopher’s eyes, but he didn’t look at her, not even to flick her a second’s glance.

“Give me the diary,” the Frenchman repeated.

Christopher’s jaw clenched. “Let her go.”

Another yank at her hair, his fingers twisting into her locks so hard that tears of pain blurred her vision. “You are not in a position to be making demands.”

“If you hurt her, you’ll never get the diary.”

“If you give me the diary,” the Frenchman countered coldly, “I will have no need to harm her. You have my word.”

Worthless!As worthless as the man uttering it. Only terror kept her from laughing at that.

Yet Christopher stared at the Frenchman for one long, painfully silent and still moment, then eased down the pistol’s hammer and lowered the small gun to his side. “All right,” he said quietly. “It’s in the desk.”

“No!” she cried. He couldn’t—surely hewouldn’thand over the diary! Not when they didn’t know for certain where Garrett was, not when that diary might still be the only way to find him and deliver him safely home. “You can’t!”

The two men ignored her cries, with Christopher’s narrowed gaze not leaving the Frenchman and the Frenchman only tightening his hold around her to keep her still, the blade pressing unyieldingly into her throat. Her eyes and nose stung as she watched Christopher pick up the letter opener from the rug and slowly cross the room to her father’s large desk.

The man rotated her in a half-circle, keeping her in front of him and his eyes on Christopher. “Slowly—no sudden moves.”

“Of course not,” he drawled. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything that might result in you getting shot.”