Page 8 of The Agent and the Outlaw
From inside the room, I heard prolonged muttering, then a damp stomping over to the door. She glared at me through the gap between the warped hinges and the wall, then angrily pulled me into the room. With a kick of disappointment, I saw she’d finished bathing and had wrapped herself in a shabby blanket stolen from the bed. She crossed the room with the haughty poise of a noblewoman and sat in a chair in the farthest corner of the room. The pistol lay on a table at her side.
The morning sunlight was just beginning to warm the room, and the golden light coming in through the window spilled across her alert form. I cursed myself for failing to recognize that she’d been a woman in disguise—seeing her now, I couldn’t believe I’d mistaken her for anything other than a creature of devastating beauty.
She twisted her hair into a knot atop her head, showing off her elegant neck and shoulders. Her exposed skin looked softer than silk, except for the angry welts across her wrists where I’d bound her hands.You wretched monster!Those wounds are your fault!
I frowned, but she seemed to take no notice.
“Who are you?” we both demanded in unison. I reddened. She laughed.
“No, no. You go first,” she said. “You are trying to save my life, after all. It’s only fair that I have a name to direct my gratitude.”
I ignored the sarcasm.
“I… Well, you may call me Antoine,” I said.
Silence descended. She waited.
“Antoine,” she finally echoed.
I nodded, trying to hide the irrational surge of pleasure I felt at hearing my name on her rose petal lips. When I didn’t offer anything more, she rolled her eyes and carried on.
“Very well, Antoine. What information do you possess that you believe will save my life?”
I shifted uncomfortably, feeling as though I was being interrogated by an enemy.You are, you fool.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I suppose you can call me Charlotte,” she said.
“Charlotte…have you a surname?”
“Certainly.”
“What is it?”
She rolled her eyes again, apparently tired of our exchange.
“Charlotte None-Of-Your-Concern. The information, Monsieur. I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“Why?” I asked, unable to help myself. She looked at me like I was a complete idiot.
“Those soldiers know exactly where I—we’ve—gone. This is the closest town for some distance, apparently, and I don’t imagine they’re particularly thrilled to be burying their comrade. I’d like to get out of here as quickly as possible. If you do, indeed, have life-saving information you wish to impart, I suggest you do it while our lives are still able to be saved.”
At this, a knock sounded. Charlotte picked up the pistol and I went to see who disturbed us. A young girl stood in the hallway, arms full of clothing. I opened the door a bit wider, and she entered the room.
“You are most fortunate, Madame! I was able to find something suitable at my aunt’s house. It’s not as fine as you’re used to, I’m sure, but it’ll be warm enough to see you on your journey,” she said.
Charlotte’s frigid manner melted away and she smiled brightly at the other woman.
“Merci,Hélène, you absolute angel!” Charlotte went to the discarded Roman costume on the floor and pulled out a staggering amount of money for the girl.
“Oh, no, Madame! That’s too much—I couldn’t!”
“Nonsense,chérie.Keep it close to you. Don’t let that bastard downstairs wheedle one coin from you,d’accord?”
The girl nodded fervently.
“Good. Now, be so kind as to bring up some breakfast for my companion and I, would you?Merci beaucoup,” Charlotte said in a generous lilt. She ushered the girl back out and began to lay the garments out on the bed.
