The Wicked One
“. . was now approaching. Then, faintly discernible over the wind, the rising tattoo of her heart, she heard them.Footsteps.His footsteps.Coming, now, up the spiralling stone stairs of this ancient tower.Her senses heightened. Her heartbeat quickened. Sitting cross-legged on the huge medieval bed in the near darkness, her heavy skirts fanning about her hips, she became keenly aware of every sensation; the icy air against her skin . . . the way his fine linen sheets felt against her calves, he...r feet, naked beneath her petticoats . . . the way the lone bedside candle seemed to shrink back in nervous anticipation. She caressed the butt of the pistol, savoring the comforting weight of it in her hand. Her breath, hanging thick as fog in her lungs, stirred in small, silent exhalations. She tensed like a cat poised to strike down her prey.Any moment now . . .And yes, there it was, the sound of his tread coming up those last few stairs as he made his way, unsuspecting, to his apartments, the footfalls louder now than the wind outside that had been her companion since she'd scaled, by way of a rope and her own wits, the parapets, the window ledge, the very walls that had been able to hold at bay cannon balls during the civil war, besiegers from the Middle Ages — but had been unable to keep her, one furious, determined woman, out.But she was driven by purpose. She had come for one thing, and she would not leave without it. He had fooled her once, this man, his diabolical machinations nearly costing her her position at the French court and jeopardizing her standing amongst the American contingent in Paris — all of whom were working to secure France's aid in the fight for American independence. She had worked hard to gain respect and prominence in a political arena dominated by men, but he had threatened that — and now she would threaten him.Her adversary was a worthy one, a dangerous one, a man purported to be one of the deadliest duelists in England. He had a reputation for cunning. He had secured a formidable backing among his peers at a young age, had steered older men to attain his goals when his own youth should have hampered him, had been a subtle, sinister presence who was quite likely behind or at least involved with the British spy ring in France — a spy ring that had always been one step ahead of the Americans' own cleverly laid plans. No sane person would make an enemy of the Duke of Blackheath. Especially now that he was in the true height of his power .MoreLess
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