Closer To Sin (12 page)

With shaky hands, Liliane pulled her nightgown from her valise. On the other side of the horses, Sin could be heard moving around, settling them for the night and changing out of his own wet clothes. His concern was touching, even if she was too cold and fatigued to be worried about modesty. She quickly dispensed with the rest of her clothing and dragged the heavy flannel nightrail over her head.

The pallet, with its thin mattress and thinner wool blanket, silently screamed at her. The rain intensified and was hammering the roof relentlessly, but it was failing miserably in drowning out Sin’s silence. In the far corner a steady stream could be heard making its way through the thatch roof and landing with a dull splat on the dirt floor. With each drop one thought beat a steady tattoo across Liliane’s mind: one bed. One bed to share with a man who kissed like the devil and not minutes before had turned her senses to ash while he had feasted on her mouth. One bed to share with a man whose hands, whose mouth, she wanted caressing her body further still.

Her mouth dried. She was going to have to share that bed with Sin. Or curl up in the corner and slowly drown through the efforts of a leaky roof while being trampled by a horse. She climbed onto the pallet and pulled the thin wool blanket up to her chin.

Sin had stripped down to a pair of woollen undergarments, but he was yet to look at her. Silently she watched as he moved about the hut, checking the horses and stoking the fire. Outside the wind buffeted the cabin, rattling the door and seeping through the gaps in the timber walls. It was unclear whether the fire would gain the upper hand tonight.

Finally, he ceased his movements and turned to face her, his own thoughts clearly imprinted on his features. Liliane tried to ignore the rapid pounding of her heart. She propped herself up on one elbow and skittered over to the far side of the narrow cot. ‘Sin, we don’t have to make a big deal out of this. There’s nowhere else for you to sleep and this blanket is doing a miserable job of keeping me warm.’ She swallowed, hard. ‘Climb in—I promise to keep my hands to myself.’

Sin laughed dryly. ‘Sweetheart, it’s not
your
hands that I’m worried about. You’re a temptation and I’m not sure that I have the willpower to resist. Men have been knighted for less.’ He exhaled loudly. ‘Move over.’

With obvious reluctance, Sin arranged himself along the length of the bed. The ropes underneath creaked as they stretched to accommodate his weight. Unaccustomed to sharing a bed with anyone, Liliane endeavoured to move over further, but the pallet dipped in the middle, toppling her back towards Sin. As she rolled her elbow connected with his ribs. ‘I’m so sorry—’

His stifled grunt barely acknowledged her apology. She shuffled a little more, trying to find a position that afforded some modesty.

Leaning over her, Sin growled. ‘Mon Dieu,
sweetheart
, is the idea of sleeping in my arms so repugnant to you?’ She froze as he twisted to his side and slipped an arm under her back. ‘Roll onto your side and face the wall, then lean back into me. That way there’ll be room for both of us.’

She nodded mutely. He wanted her to lie with her back pressed intimately to his chest.
Oh.
She bit her lip and shifted to her side, easing herself against the hard length of Sin’s body. Heat radiated to her very core. As she lay there, Sin lifted one hand and combed her hair back from his face. His warm breath brushed the back of her neck, sending goose bumps coursing down her limbs. She sucked in a ragged breath as he shifted that arm to lie across her body, and then tucked her tightly into himself. His hand resting heavily beneath her breasts.

Oh my, lying in Sin’s arms was definitely not repugnant. Nor conducive to sleep. She forced herself to ease her muscles and close her eyes. His warm spicy scent enveloped her, instilling a sense of comfort and security. The night noises in the hut took on a rhythm of familiarity. The horses occasionally shuffled from one foot to the other. Water continued to drip through the roof in the corner and the fire emitted a comforting crackle as the wood slowly burnt. Settling her head into the curve of his shoulder, she wondered about the events of the past few hours. Behind her she could hear Sin’s deep steady breathing, but the stiffness of his body against hers suggested he had not yet succumbed to sleep either.

‘Sin, what’s going on? The Hussar has started following us, and I’m trying to make sense of all the different factions and how your missing friend ties into all of this.’ Sin’s protracted silence almost led Liliane to believe that he was asleep after all. Or at the very least, feigning sleep. ‘Sin, please, I think I have a right to know.’

Sin sighed his consent, his warm breath washing over her face. ‘Gaston is part of a movement that would like to see France’s monarchy—its legitimate monarchy—reinstated. Gaston and I go back years. I trust him implicitly.’

‘Ah-huh,’ Liliane urged him to continue.

‘He’s also heard that troops have been warned to be on alert for an English spy operating in this part of the country. Until he met with me last night, he hadn’t considered that I might be their target.’

Liliane felt a chill go through her. Sin had no reason to suspect she wasn’t French, but she wasn’t sure how long it would be before her ruse was discovered if they were detained by the Hussar. ‘If you already have a network of contacts, why do you need me, or Solange, to accompany you on this mission?’

‘Solange is part of an entirely different network. One whose sympathies, for one reason or another, lie exclusively with the English. Ordinarily, it’s her network that will provide the English with information intercepted from Napoleon’s armies. Unfortunately, it is within this network that I expect to find the traitor. ‘

‘And then there are those who want to see Napoleon remain Emperor at all cost. So many factions, I wonder how many more are at play,’ Liliane mused.

‘I suspect you’re right there,’ Sin conceded. ‘So, tell me. Why did you decide to betray France and smuggle secrets to the English?

‘I hadn’t thought about it in those terms, actually.’ Liliane took a moment to consider Sin’s question. ‘Initially, I was drawn to the adventure. But the more I thought about it, the more attractive the prospect came.’

Pausing, Liliane let her thoughts wander. In the darkness, the bleakness of her family history came flooding back to her. It was something she and Yvette rarely discussed, but in the intimacy of the quiet hut it somehow felt right to confide her longing to Sin.

Twisting in his arms, Liliane rolled over so that she lay facing him. ‘Most of my family was executed in the Terror. It’s a shadow that has hung over the rest of us like the darkest cloud.’ She looked across to the fire, gathering her thoughts. ‘But how does one, particularly when you are born female, right those wrongs? Growing up I often used to imagine that I could do something that would set everything to right again.’

Sin lifted a hand and gently pushed her hair back from her face, his thumb tracing a path across her finely arched eyebrow. Taking a steadying breath, she continued. ‘When Solange suggested I take her place and accompany you on this latest expedition, I felt this was my opportunity to … oh, I don’t know, to perhaps even the score a little bit.’

‘And now, do you still feel like that, or has some of the gloss gone?’ His voice rumbled over her and her defences slipped a little further.

‘I think I still feel like that, but perhaps these last couple of days have shown me some reality. What happened to my family was cruel and unjust and wrong. But I now understand that while they, and others of their ilk, lived a life of luxury, people in the villages were starving. There must have been a better way, though.’ Liliane paused to reflect a little more, gathering her thoughts so that she could convey to Sin the conflict within her.

Looking at him, so close that their breaths mingled, she absently reached out and lifted the gold ring that lay on a chain about his neck. As she studied the delicate filigree she considered his question. ‘I’m beginning to accept that it’s part of the fabric of my past. But France is now a threat to other countries, to the security of other families. My grandparents foresaw the changes that were to come and to protect my father they sent him away at a young age. As a consequence, Papa had a difficult childhood and we saw the legacy of that pain. I would hate to see other families have to live with that same loss, all because of the ambitions of a few despotic men.’ She shrugged. ‘I suppose that does make me a traitor to France though.’

‘There is that.’

‘What about you? What led you to betray your country?’ Because, whatever Solange may have suspected, Sin was most definitely not in Napoleon’s employ.

Sin chuckled deeply. ‘Ah,
mon fleur
, you’re assuming that I share your same altruistic notions. Perhaps the English are simply paying me well for my services.’

Liliane looked up at him, his features obscured in the dimly fire lit room, his eyes shadowed in his face. It was impossible to see what he was thinking but she sensed there was more to Sin than simple avarice. If he didn’t want to confide in her, though, she wasn’t going to push him. ‘I don’t think you are as shallow as all that, but I’ll let you keep your secrets for now. Tell me, though, why do you wear this ring on a chain. Are you married?’

‘No. The ring belonged to my grandmother and she gave it to me on her deathbed. She said that I was to wear it close to my heart and one day it would bring me love.’

‘And so you believe in magic?’ she teased.

‘No, I wear it to honour her. She was a remarkable woman.’

‘And you were her favourite.’ Not a question, just a simple statement.

Sin grinned sheepishly and slowly nodded his head. ‘Yeah, I think I was.’

As she’d told her story and as he’d answered her questions, his thumb had continued to stroke across her brow. In the silence and the warmth of the fire, the gesture wove a cloak of intimacy about them. As the silence lengthened, Liliane became aware of their closeness, and a lump formed in her throat. How ironic, the one thing she had always wanted may just be the one thing she could never have.

***

Sinclair had never considered himself a lonely man, but lying here with Liliane, confiding secrets with her, he felt a longing for something he couldn’t put a name to. To the best of his recollection, he’d never lain in a bed and had a conversation with a woman. Not even Carolyn. Especially not Carolyn. In fact, even the women with whom he regularly socialised rarely condescended to speak of anything other than the weather or the latest salacious piece of gossip.

Liliane was unique. He enjoyed talking with her, listening to what she had to say. She had an astute perspective on things, and a sharp wit that he suspected she kept hidden from most people.

Unable to resist, he lifted his hand to cup her face and gently leaned in to kiss her. His tongue traced a light exploration of her lips, warm and firm against his own. He sucked lightly on her top lip, nibbling, teasing, inviting her to join him. As she softened against him, he moved in closer, angling his head to deepen the kiss. Accepting his invitation, she opened her mouth beneath his, allowing him to explore.

He sighed as she pressed herself against his long, lean length and held on, as though to stop herself from being swept away. Easing back, he let her tentatively explore with her own tongue, to tangle with him, to venture forward and share her honeyed warmth with him.

Her body was lushly curved and it branded him as she moved sinuously against him. In slow exploration he trailed his hand down the angle of her jaw, tracing the arch of her neck, following the plane of her back until he moulded himself against the curves of her waist.

Slowly though, he softened the kiss, moving to trail his lips across her jawline, and then her eyelids and finally the tip of her nose. His breathing felt laboured, like he had run a race that he could not recall entering. His body was aflame with need and his cock, fully erect and engorged to the point of madness, was lying heavily against her abdomen. The desire to roll her onto her back and plant himself to the hilt was nearly more than he could resist.

Sinclair pulled back and attempted to put some space between them. As Liliane murmured her objection he gently soothed her. ‘Shh, it’s time for sleep. Roll over and I’ll keep you warm.’

‘But—’

‘No,
mon fleur
, you ask the impossible. Go to sleep.’

He could sense her reluctance as she rolled over and snuggled into his embrace. Sleep did not come so easy for Sinclair. Never had he felt so connected, so close to losing complete control with a woman. The women with whom he found himself sharing a bed were frequently more eager than him to shed their clothes and share their charms. The opportunity to sample his prowess or to trap him into a fortuitous marriage was not one to be passed up. Liliane’s passion and responsiveness had taken his breath away. The honesty of her kisses cut to his soul, devoid as they were of the deception and coquetry so typical of the widows and matrons of the Ton.

Whatever game Solange had been playing when she’d persuaded him to let Liliane go in her place, he expected the real game had only just begun. One where there were only two players and the rules had yet to be defined.

At daybreak, Sinclair stood before the shepherd’s hut and looked around. Last night’s rain had ceased but the sky remained heavily overcast and an icy wind was still being swept in from the North Sea. Liliane emerged to stand next to him, fully dressed and apparently none the worse for their night in the makeshift shelter. On the other hand, a near sleepless night had left him feeling fractious. That combined with a decidedly empty stomach only served to further sour his mood.

Liliane drew in a lungful of fresh air. ‘Ah, that’s better. I don’t think I’ll be in a hurry to share my bedroom with a horse again any time soon.’

Sinclair grimaced. ‘They were a little odorous.’

‘That’s putting it politely.’ She looked about. ‘Where do you think we are?’

‘I’d hazard a guess we’re about ten miles north-east of Boulogne—we should be there by early afternoon. I don’t know about you, but with nothing more than a couple of apples to tide us over since yesterday afternoon, I’m starving. I think our first priority should be to find somewhere to purchase breakfast and some feed for the horses.’