Page 38 of A Remarkable Rogue

Another chore…and another attempt for him to find the men who were using her as their pawn. “What is it?”

She shook her head as the music ended and the dancing stopped.

“Perhaps we can continue this conversation upstairs,” she offered loudly so that the couples around them overheard. Another part of the pretense, as if he’d propositioned her and she was consenting. “In private.”

Stepping out of his arms, she raised his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers, then placed his hand over her breast.

He inhaled sharply. Her gesture was nothing more than show to anyone who might be watching, a touch that paled in comparison to what others were doing around them, yet the feel of her still burned him. God help him, he didn’t pull away.

Sydney leaned up to touch her lips to his. “Upstairs, first floor, last room on the left,” she murmured. “Follow me.”

With one last caress of her fingers across his cheek, she slipped away and left him standing there. She glided up the marble stairs. When she reached the first-floor landing, she paused to glance over her shoulder invitingly at him before disappearing down the hall.

Nate stared after her and did his best to control his spiking pulse and the hot hum of his blood surging through his body.Dear Lord.If that encounter had been only for show, God help him if she ever decided to truly seduce him.

He dragged in a deep, jerking breath and followed.

Eleven

Sydney nervously caught her breath as the door opened and Nate stepped into the dimly lit sitting room.

“What trouble are you stirring up tonight, Baroness?” He closed the door and threw the lock, which spiked her nervousness even higher. Then he stalked toward her, and each step reminded her of the lithe, dangerous panther his mask portrayed.

Fitting, then, because Sydney suddenly felt like prey. “None of my own making, I assure you.”

“Explain yourself.” He stopped in front of her.

She trembled with equal parts arousal and wariness. “Another messenger came by the house this morning. I’ve been ordered to deliver a message at tonight’s party.”

He removed his mask and revealed his handsome face, the strong cheekbones she’d come to know well, and the troubled frown of his brow she’d come to knowtoowell. “Another boy?”

She nodded. “He had a memorized message for me and no idea of the name of the man who’d paid him to deliver it, just as before.”

Nate gave a disbelieving shake of his head. “Impossible. I had a guard watching your house this morning. He reported nothing to me about another messenger.”

“Then you need to find a new guard.” Whoever watched over her was either incompetent or could no longer be trusted, and Sydney feared she knew which. From the way Nate stiffened, so did he. “The boy handed me an invitation to tonight’s party and a message to deliver to General James Braxton.” She hated showing any weakness, yet she admitted, “I had no choice but to come tonight, and I wanted you here with me.”

“To protect you.”

“Yes.” She lowered her voice to a whisper although no one could overhear. “This chore frightens me.”

His hard expression softened with concern. “What’s the message?”

She placed her foot on the seat of a nearby chair and slowly lifted her skirt to bare her left thigh. The heat of his gaze raked across her flesh, and she did her best to ignore it even if she couldn’t stop the soft tremble that rippled through her in its wake.

“This.” She nodded at the folded piece of paper she’d tucked beneath the garter of her red stocking.

He slowly reached for it. Her breath hitched when his fingers brushed against her thigh as he pulled it free.

“When I deliver it, I’m to tell the general…Bois Saint-Louis.” She dropped her skirt back into place. “What is that note? What does it all mean?”

He unfolded the message and scanned it. “A quartermaster’s request,” he murmured, “for explosives to be delivered to a warehouse in St Giles at dawn.Lotsof explosives. Enough to blow up a building.”

Fear curled down her spine, and she reached for the back of the chair to steady herself. “And the other part of the message—Bois Saint-Louis? Was it a battle in France?”

“Not that I know of. But there were hundreds of skirmishes across the continent. It could refer to anything.” His eyes raised slowly to hers. “Whatever it means, though, it’s the next piece of blackmail.”

Confusion mixed with her fear. “Pardon?”