Page 24 of The Avenging Angel and the Spy
“So you did. I thought you would be finished by now.”
His gaze passed over Sinclair with as much indifference as though Sinclair did not exist. He stalked toward Belle, a strange passion firing beneath the pale lashes of his silvery eyes. The malice emanating from the man was as palpable as waves of heat pouring off a destructive flame. Sinclair had a strange urge to wrench Belle out of the man’s path.
“The fair Isabelle,” Lazare drawled. “It has been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure,ma chére.”
“Not nearly long enough, Lazare.” Belle drew her cloak more tightly about herself, as though any contact with the man would contaminate her. She turned toward Merchant, her eyes blazing with accusation. “What is he doing here, Victor?”
Merchant did not seem able to meet her gaze. He answered hesitantly. “Lazare. will also be accompanying you on your mission.”
“Will he indeed! And when, pray tell, did you plan to inform me of that fact?” Belle asked.
Victor moistened his lips to answer, but he was given no opportunity.
“No!” Belle fairly shouted. “I won’t have it. I told you after the last time that I would never work with Lazare again.”
The last time? Sinclair wondered. His gaze flicked from Belle’s pale face to Merchant’s flushed features, then to Lazare’s impassive expression. Lazare was obviously another agent in Merchant’s employ, but he was not anyone whom Sinclair had been informed about. He made a mental note to add Lazare’s name to his list of suspects.
“You forget yourself, Madame Varens,” Merchant blustered, trying to reassume a semblance of authority. “I will decide who goes on these missions. Only I.”
But as Belle’s lips thinned to a stubborn line, Victor apparently thought better of his words and adopted a more conciliatory manner. “You may have need of Lazare?—”
“I would have more need of the devil,” Belle snapped.
Merchant darkened with anger, but he controlled it. “There will be no trouble this time, I assure you. Lazare fully understands that you are in charge. He pledges to take his orders from you, is that not so, Lazare?”
Lazare acknowledged the words with a stiff bow. Belle’s look of contempt showed clearly what she thought of such a promise.
“You must bury the past,” Merchant continued, “and give Lazare a second chance.”
“Oui,” Lazare said. He fixed Belle with his compelling gaze. “You owe me that much,ma chére.”
The low-spoken words had a curious effect on Belle. She turned away in almost guilty fashion.
“Very well. Lazare may come,” she said at last, although the concession seemed wrung from her. “But the first time that Lazare seeks to challenge my authority …” She left the threat unfinished, but Lazare appeared to understand her well enough.
Without another word to anyone, she pushed past Lazare and strode from the room, slipping through the French doors into the garden beyond. Sinclair hesitated for a moment, but neither Merchant nor Lazare looked likely to offer him any explanations for the scene that had just taken place. Sinclair knew Belle disliked questions, but this was one time he had to have some answers. Bidding a curt farewell to the two men, Sinclair went after her.
She was halfway down the path to the beach by the time Sinclair caught up with her, her expression as stormy as the sea-tossed wind tangling her hair. Her breath came rapidly, but whether from fury or fear, Sinclair could not tell. Maybe a combination of both.
“Would you mind telling me what that was all about?” he asked.
“We have acquired another accomplice, that is all,” Belle flung back at him. She started to rush on when Sinclair caught her by the wrist, pulling her back.
“And why does this particular accomplice look at you as though he were the devil planning to drag you off to hell?”
Belle compressed her lips in that closed expression Sinclair was beginning to find so frustrating.
“Is he a rejected lover?” Sinclair persisted, trying to goad a response from her. “He has the look about him of a man scorned. Are you the lady who broke his heart?”
“No!” Belle wrenched herself free. She glared up at Sinclair.
“I am the woman who shot off his ear!”
Lazare examinedMadame Dumont’s collection of china treasures displayed upon the salon’s console table, hefting the pastille burner with his rough fingers and eyeing it with contempt.
Merchant snatched the china from him and carefully replaced it upon the table.
“There was no need for you to come here tonight, Lazare.” I proposed to lead up to your part in this affair more gradually.”
