Georges Lavalle took another look through his telescope and gave a cracked laugh of disbelief.
Fils de putain!
He didn’t believe in coincidences; everything was preordained, and here, at last, was proof that God was smiling on his efforts once again.
His idol, Napoleon, had been raised to the rank of emperor over those inbred Bourbons by divine right. His overthrow and subsequent imprisonment on Elba had been a minor setback, but the Lord had helped him escape and march on Paris again.
The defeat in Belgium last year had been unfortunate, certainly—a combination of a freak rainstorm and the devil-aided luck of the Prussians arriving just when the English were on the cusp of annihilation. The emperor had been imprisoned again, this time on St. Helena, but Georges had no doubt that he would escape that prison, too. And when he did he would reward his faithful followers appropriately.
Had he not paid the Austrian spy Schulmeister enough to buy his own chateau for his help in capturing the Duc D’Enghien? He would offer a similar reward to Georges Lavalle for killing these English spies.
Savary had not been pleased when Georges had returned to Paris with news that he’d failed to kill the Englishwoman, but he’d entrusted him with another mission almost immediately. He was to travel just over the border to Spain and make sure that those perfidious British didn’t renege on their promise to exchange his colleague Marc “the Baker” Breton with one of their own.
Since there was only one route up to the agreed rendezvous point, Lavalle had set up his observation post here, in a high-sided ravine, where there was plenty of cover from rocks, several avenues of escape, and a nice elevated position.
He’d thought to kill the British bastards before they even made it to the exchange site and free his friend, but this band of travelers was larger than he’d anticipated. There was no sign of Marc, either, although he was no doubt secured in one of those covered gypsy wagons.
But now he’d been handed the sweetest of opportunities. The agent sent to deal with the Spaniard Alvarez was none other than that British bastard Ravenwood! And, even more amusing, Georges’s initial target—that scarred code-breaking bitch—was with him. Truly, the fates were smiling on him today.
Georges mopped his brow and stifled another giggle of delight. The only difficulty, of course, was which to eliminate first?
It would have to be Ravenwood. He was the more dangerous of the two. With him dead, the woman would be easy to pick off, even with an armed gypsy guard.
Georges rolled onto his stomach, steadied his rifle, took aim, and squeezed the trigger. He had divine support. He couldn’t miss.
Crack.
A small clod of earth exploded on the bank of grass to Heloise’s left. She looked up, confused, and saw a puff of smoke floating above a nearby stony ridge. Her horse reared but before she could control it Raven practically pulled her off the plunging mount and pushed her roughly down behind the bank of earth that bordered the trail.
He already had his own pistol raised. She covered her ears as he fired toward the smoke, then craned her neck to tried to see what he’d been aiming at, but he reached over and shoved her cheek back down into the dusty grass.
“Do you want to get shot?” he growled.
There was a ping as another bullet ricocheted off a nearby rock; it spat a hail of sharp chips.
“Sniper. Stay down. And don’t move until I come back.”
He didn’t even sound shaken, just his usual cool, slightly irritated self. Did nothing rattle him? He started to move away from her.
“Where are you going?” she hissed.
“After him. Why? You worried about me, Hellcat?” He shot her a daredevil grin, totally self-assured. “I’ll be back, I promise.”
“You can’t promise not to get killed, you idiot.”
He had a dimple, just on the one side when he smiled. With his tanned skin, that hint of stubble, and his utterly boyish charm, he was almost irresistible. There was a vitality about him, a sort of gleeful madness in the face of danger; he looked lithe and virile and extremely capable.
He crawled forward. She followed him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“With you,” she said.
“No, you’re not.”
She pushed his restraining hand away.
He gave a skeptical lift of his brows. “What are you going to do? Argue the man to death?”
She opened her mouth, but he wasn’t finished.
“Good with a knife, are you? Handy with a garrote? No? I didn’t think so.”
“I might be useful.”
“Only as a target. Now stay here.”
“Do you even have a plan?”
He grinned. “I never make plans. Plans are for people with no imagination. Like lists.” The look he gave her was both arrogant and amused. “Now stay.”
With a signal to Alejandro and Carlos to follow his lead, he took off into the rocks, certain his high-handed command would be obeyed. Heloise clenched her jaw. Stay! As if she was some sort of barely trained house pet. Insufferable man!
She was still seething half an hour later when he returned. He strode in with Alejandro and Carlos, all dusty swagger.
“Did you catch him?”
“No. But I hit the bastard. We found a spatter of blood up there where he was hiding. I just don’t know how badly he’s hurt.”
“Who do you think it was? A robber?”
Raven shrugged.
“Think he’ll try again?”
“If he’s not dead, he might, but it’s unlikely.”
She frowned and crossed her arms. “I wish you wouldn’t just go running off like that.”
“Did you miss me, angel?”
“Hardly. My concern’s purely self-interest. If you go and die falling down a ravine or get yourself shot, who’s going to protect me?”
He snorted. “Credit me with a little coordination, please. Besides, I thought you didn’t need protection?”
“I’m not so foolish as to deny myself the services of a perfectly competent bodyguard if one happens to be around.”
He clapped a palm to his chest and staggered as if he’d received a fatal blow. “Did you just call me perfectly competent? Good God.”
She ignored his foolery. “It’s clear in this area you have skills that surpass my own.”
The corner of his mouth curved up in a wicked smile. “Oh, I think you’ll find my skills surpass yours in several areas.” The look in his eye had her flushing to the roots of her hair. “This is the second time I’ve saved you from a bullet, you know.”
She raised her chin. “And?”
“Most people I rescue are grateful.”
“I’m grateful.”
One dark eyebrow rose in disbelief.
“I am, damn you!”
Raven mirrored her defensive stance, folding his arms over his chest. “Prove it.”
“What do you mean?”
He tapped his cheek with his finger. “Come over here and kiss me.”
“Do you make everyone you rescue do that?”
His eyes glowed with a wolfish, predatory gleam. “So far they’ve all been men.” He stepped up close, toe to toe, and tilted his head. “What’s wrong with one innocent little kiss, hmm?”
Heloise strove to recover her composure even though her heart was racing. “Nothing to do with you is ever innocent, Ravenwood.”
His chuckle rumbled in his chest. “One kiss.”
He thought she’d forfeit. Heloise sighed loudly. “Oh, fine. Never let it be said that I don’t honor my debts.” She pursed her lips and leaned up on tiptoe, but even then she couldn’t reach his cheek. She braced herself on his arm to keep her balance.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m waiting.”
“Come down here, then,” she said crossly.
He bent until they were an inch apart. She closed the distance just as he turned his head; she made contact with his lips instead of his cheek.
She gasped in protest and started to draw back, but he followed her. She felt him smile against her lips. “You know, you’re much more attractive when you’re not talking, Hellcat.”
“That is so—”
He kissed her, hard, cupping the back of her skull in his hands, his mouth clinging and shaping the contours of her own, coaxing a response.
She punched him.
“You’re utterly depraved,” she panted, when he finally released her.
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
He grinned and kissed her again, slower this time. His tongue stroked hers in a maddening swirl and retreat that left her dizzy and aching, and Heloise surrendered with a moan of defeat. Why was she fighting something that felt so good?
This was stupid and reckless and would only lead to disaster, but she threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him back. He dragged her down into a whole new world. Not a place of sunshine and flowers, but somewhere darker, deeper, more complex. Somewhere infinitely more alluring. His hands framed her waist then skimmed over the curve of her buttocks, and a low hum of arousal rumbled from his chest into hers. Her brain shut down. The world narrowed to all the places they touched.
Heloise closed her eyes and let her head fall back as he pressed feverish kisses across her nose, her cheek, the sensitive skin just below her ear. Her legs turned to water. He widened his stance and pulled her between his thighs; his hard maleness pressed against her stomach and she felt a thrill of feminine satisfaction at his unmistakable reaction. She wanted her skirts gone, no barriers at all, only this wonderful hot rush of need.
A loud whistle and a peal of masculine laughter jolted them apart.
Heloise fell back, shaken and panting. A tide of heat rose to her cheeks as she realized she’d just made a public spectacle of herself like some ill-bred harlot. She dropped her gaze, totally unable to look at him. Idiot. She’d meant to kiss him once and step back. She should have known better than to try. She had no control when it came to him.
He flicked one finger carelessly across her cheek. “I’ll have to rescue you again, Hellcat, if this is the thanks I get.”
She took only slight gratification from the fact that his voice wasn’t entirely steady. “I have never met a man as infuriating as you.”
His smile was cocky. “You’ve never met any real men at all, sweeting. All you know is soft boys in silk waistcoats and pasty-faced fops.” He tilted his head. “You know, the gypsies believe that if you save a life it becomes yours.”
She snorted. “So I belong to you now, is that it? That’s ridiculous.”
His intense look made her stomach quake. She turned and stalked away.
“Maybe I’ll keep you,” he called out after her.
“Maybe I’ll stab you in your sleep,” she shouted back.
His laugh was genuine. “You can try.”
“I might get lucky.”
“Sweetheart, if someone as talentless as you gets anywhere near me with a knife, I deserve to die.”