Page 46 of The Agent and the Outlaw
“Why, Jacques! This is your establishment?Mon dieu, you are clever, aren’t you? My husband and I are absolutely overjoyed to sample the best that Gévaudan has to offer. Come along, Antoine, don’t sulk back there. A nice hot meal and some good company is just what the doctor ordered. Go on, then, Jacques—Antoine and I will be right behind you. Choose for us the best table,d’accord?”
Charlotte pulled me aside and fixed me with a steely glare.
“You and I are going to have aseriousdiscussion when we finish here. I cannot believe you would be so pig-headed as to start a fight at seven o’clock in the morning with the burliest man in town. We’re trying to escape notice, Antoine!”
“He started it,” I grumbled. “I tried to apologize but the fellow wanted a fight. If you think about it, I was actually being very obliging by offering him one. Would’ve been rude of me to refuse.”
She raised her eyes heavenward. “Dieusave me from the hopelessness of men.”
Needled by her lack of faith in my abilities—and me, in general—I tried to turn the tables.
“I’m willing to have this serious discussion,” I began. “But you have a lot of explaining to do about your whereabouts last night and that man on the road.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she sniffed, turning to join Jacques at the far end of the tavern. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“Perhaps you don’t,” I admitted with a shrug. “But if you expectmeto explainmyself, it’s tit for tat.”
She threw a saucy glance over her shoulder.
“I’ll bear that in mind if I’m in the mood for tat.”
Blood rushed to my face in a furious blush, then surged south to my cock as her insinuation—obviously meant to unsettle me—landed with its intended effect.Merde. This woman would be the death of me.
Or you’ll be the death of her, I thought miserably.
Every decision in the last few weeks had not only made me the fool, but they’d also put her in grave danger. Granted, she’d been more than capable of handling everything that had come her way, but the fact remained she would have been much better off if we’d never met. With a grave reluctance, I realized my honor and sense of obligation—all that I felt I had left—were causing more problems than they were solving. What was more, she’d protested so much that she hadn’t needed my protection, and she was right. Shedidn’tneed my protection, but she certainly needed me to stop putting her in harm’s way. Every moment we remained together was one more moment I was endangering her and clearlynotprotecting her.
I looked at her across the room, laughing easily with Jacques. Her warm brown eyes glinted with mirth and several curls escaped her cap with the movement. In that moment, she didn’t look like a spy, or an agent, or acomtesse, for that matter. It was as if every part of her body felt every feeling, and she overflowed with joy like she overflowed with passion, or with frustration. As much artifice as there was to Charlotte,Comtesse de Brionne, there was even more that was genuine. The kind of genuine that men became hopeless around.
That I have become hopeless around.
With a knife-sharp sense of despair in my heart, I knew what I had to do. As much as I wanted Charlotte, I had to leave her.
15
CHARLOTTE
November 19, 1767
The Wild Rose,Gévaudan
As we madeour way back to the inn, we were pursued by a black cloud that had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with Antoine’s surly countenance. Whether it was due to my exhaustion, our current circumstances, or the strange interaction I’d had with the “beast” this morning, I had no patience for his melancholy.
“That Jacques turned out to be a fine fellow,” I said. “It’s unfortunate you two got off on the wrong foot—or should I say,fist.”
Antoine frowned but said nothing.
“Lucky for you, I was there to help handle the situation,” I continued. “If I hadn’t, I daresay you would’ve ended up with more than a black eye and a bloody lip.”
Still, Antoine remained quiet. He simply refused to rise to my bait. The telltale muscle in his jaw flexed, though, proving that at the very least, he was listening.
“A simplethank youwould suffice,” I sniffed, playing my last card. Hehadto respond to that. We’d reached the Wild Rose and trudged our way up the stairs, plagued by fatigue. “Monsieur, would you send up a bath, please?” I called down to the innkeeper. I was cold, sore, and filthy from last night. I wanted to rest, but above that, I wanted to bathe.
“Thank you?” he practically choked on the words.
At last, he speaks.
We’d reached our room and he pushed me inside. I expected him to slam the door, but he closed it very slowly and quietly, which unnerved me more than his anger would have.
