Page 68 of Lord Ramsey's Red-Headed Ruin
“Brandy?” she asked him as he prowled toward the window that faced her back garden.
“No.” He faced her in a slow and careful manner and watched her pour a generous draught for herself. “Why not just tell this news to Kane or Gus?”
She took a long drink, studying him. Looking sad and rather chilled, she shook back long tendrils escaping from her coiffure—and turned valiant. “I have many reasons. The first is that I wanted you to know first. I want to prove to you that what I did… The reason I left you was not without good cause.”
“You owe me nothing.”
She bit her lower lip.
Hell. You are an ungracious bastard. She’s trying to be helpful.He ground his teeth. “You don’t, Amber.”
“I have news about the muskets.”
What had he hoped she’d say?I love you?I want you?I wish to leave this life? He suppressed his sorrow and waited.
She smiled at him, triumph in her large brown eyes. “New shipments of muskets are being sent to Strasbourg.”
Thatwasnews. “Shall I ask how you learned this?”
She shook her head once.
No, then. Very well.“You believe the source?”
“Of course.”
A document? And you won’t tell me what it is. Wise.But the danger she had put herself in to acquire such information spiked his fear for her…and his anger at himself that he had no means to protect her.
She sauntered toward him, he unmoving as he stood before her roaring fire, burning up with the need to put his hands on her and kiss her into tomorrow. Her glass dangling in her hand, she stood so close he could smell her cologne.Peonies and spring grass?God, she drove him mad.
She sipped her brandy, her gaze a smoldering invitation to drink her in and never let her go. She waved her glass, careless, perhaps even a little spiteful, as she said, “In addition, new muskets manufactured at St. Etienne in the south may go to Strasbourg.”
He did not even breathe. That city stood on the Rhine, across the river from the territory of Baden. That nobleman, now a duke, had been cozying up to Bonaparte since last spring. He was not alone. A few other German potentates did too. Many German princes had lost homes and land to those who attempted to align with the hungry French first consul and gain more land from other, less agreeable German princes.
Last month, Vienna had agreed to let certain imperial cities and small principalities leave the Holy Roman Empire. Whit had often heard of this possibility from his cousin and colleague, Dirk Fournier, who had gone to there in late May. Dirk believed Bonaparte wanted alliances with the south German nobles so he could march across the territories freely.
“This is vital to us,” Ram said.
“To us all.” She took another sip.
“Have you any idea when they are being sent?”
She held his gaze, sure and steady. “No. But I will.”
Ram frowned. To be certain of that, she had to count on her source. Its reliability and her ability to learn more about it. All of it was dangerous to discover. Dangerous to transfer the information, too. For that, she could be taken tola Forceand shot for treason. His heart turned over. What in hell was she doing sacrificing her life for such news?
Ah.But he knew the answer to that. Now she was not only protecting her friends from the likes of Vaillancourt, but also transferring information about military supplies.
And he could not dissuade her. He’d never been able to. Instead, he tried to make her add relevance to current news. “Bonaparte and the British ambassador are not getting on well.”
“Too many issues remain unsettled.” She watched him, her dark eyes pleading for something softer, kinder. “They fight over who owns Malta. Bonaparte wants to sell land to the Americans.”
Ram knew about both. “What worries me is not who occupies an island in the Mediterranean, but what Bonaparte will do with all that money from the sale of Louisiana.”
“Fifteen million American dollars.” She stepped up next to him with her brandy in hand—and held it out to him. “He will finance war. But I’ve learned more, and I need you. I need you for…for everything, Ram.”
The warmth of her, her fragrance and her nearness, undid him. He took the glass from her and put it on the mantel. Anger died. Desire undid him. He reached for her…and she came like a river to the sea. Like his one and only love.
His lips in her silken hair, his hands to the satin skin of her spine, he inhaled her.
