Page 87 of To Love A Spy
“Most men find the chase heats the blood.” She poured a splash of spirits and lifted it to her lips. “Do you?”
Rochambert sauntered over and drained his drink in one gulp. “Oh yes, I enjoy the hunt.” His hand flattened on her back and slide like a snake down her spine. “There is a powerful thrill in moving closer and closer, knowing that your quarry has no chance for escape.”
“Some ladies might find the idea frightening.” She sidled back with a saucy swoosh of her skirts. “What if I screamed?”
“My servants are trained to ignore any such noises.” His laugh quickly died to rumbled growl. “You see, I like it when a woman moans and begs. And in my bedchamber, I’ve a number of interesting implements to encourage such cries.”
“It sounds intriguing.” Valencia hid her disgust behind a titter. “Do tell me more.”
As he launched into a lengthy boast of his sexual prowess, she listened with only half an ear, her mind working furiously to devise ways to draw out her teasing. She was well aware that she was walking on a razor’s edge. Rochambert’s lust was honed to the point of snapping. The smallest misstep would be fatal.
Her cut crystal glass cast a dancing of light over the gilded sideboard. A decade was a long time to be out of practice. Perhaps her skills had grown sluggish, hobbled by crippling memories of old mistakes. Even at her best, she had slipped at the critical moment.
Doubt could cut deeper than any knife. And yet, Lynsley had faith that she was up for the task. A small smile played on her lips. Perhaps it was time to leave the ghost of the past behind.
Spinning around, she began a flouncing walk around the perimeter of the room. “Why don’t you go get your book and bring it here? We’ll whet our appetite for the coming night with its pictures and another bottle of champagne.”
Rochambert rose and followed her with a slow, stalking step. “I’m hungry enough already,cherie.” He caught her wrist and turned her around.
“Just a tiny taste, now,” she murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Trust me, I have some very sweet ways of stimulating your senses.”
His hand slipped down to her hip. “So far, I’ve had little to sink my teeth into.
“I promise, you not be disappointed.”
Valencia was about to sidle away when he suddenly shoved her against the wall, his forearm pinning her throat with crushing force. Before she could react, he yanked up her skirts, the ruffled silk skimming over her knees and her thigh. His nails dug into her scar, tracing its jagged length.
“Alors, what have we here? His fingers shifted, finding the slim stiletto held by her garter. “Enough of your coquettish games,cherie.” Whipping the weapon from its sheath, Rochambert pressed the point to her jugular. “Who the devil are you?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Click. Click. Click.The tumblers of the brass box’s lock yielded to Lynsley’s probe with surprising ease. Rochambert had been confident that his secrets were safe enough within the guarded gallery.
Too confident.
He set aside his tools and slowly opened the lid. Hopefully, the Frenchman had grown lazy about other precautions as well. His own deliberate drunken staggers had already confirmed that Rochambert’s whipcord muscles had gone a bit fleshy and the Frenchman’s reflexes were just a hair slow. That was good, for he and Valencia would need every advantage they could get.
Valencia.Lynsley forced his breathing to remain tightly controlled as he unfolded the sheaf of parchment set atop the array of bottles. He must think of nothing but the mission and maintain an ice-cold resolve that nothing would be allowed to stand in the way of its success. But against all reason, against all will, Valencia had melted his reserve with her courage, her commitment, her passion. Her friendship. The memory of their bodies joined in lovemaking warmed him to the core.
Was love a weakness or a strength?
Lynsley stared at the scrawls of ink. That was up to him to decipher.
Smoothing out the sheets of paper, he set to work. The original notes, torn from a lined ledger and showing a smattering of telltale bloodstains, were a jumble of incomprehensible letters. A fresh set of foolscap showed that someone had been working on breaking the code. A Caesar shift had been tried and discarded, along with several other basic techniques.
He turned the page to find a Vigenere Square had been set up. So, Rochambert knew a thing or two about cryptography. Lynsley skimmed the variations and slowly smiled. But not quite enough to read between the lines. Taking up his pencil, he tried a few variations of his own. He had precious little time to devote to the process, yet understanding just what he had at his fingertips could be crucial. Knowledge was, after all, the ultimate weapon.
Deju vu.
Despite the cold tongue of steel pressed up against her throat, Valencia managed a calm reply. “Why, simply a lady who takes precautions. Of course I carry a knife. As you see, I’ve suffered the consequences of not being prepared to deal with an angry man.”
“Who cut you?” he demanded.
“A ship captain in Martinique. He felt he hadn’t received the services he had paid for.”
Rochambert angled the blade a bit higher. “You lie nearly as well as I do,cherie. But as a master artist, I recognize my own work.”
Valencia felt the razored edge cut a tiny nick in her flesh.
