“WHY CAN’T YOU TELL ME WHO YOU ARE?”

“You said you did not want to be bored by my tale,” Tessie replied.

“Well, that was before you saved my life and I hadn’t the faintest inkling what a devilish fine shot you are!”

“A fine shot is no recommendation for marriage, my lord. And I told you, saving your life was payment of the tab.”

“Extravagant payment.”

“Indeed, but then I was horribly hungry and sadly in need of a chamber. I do not deceive myself that I should have succeeded in either had you not intervened.”

“True, but it took little effort on my part.”

“Yes, it is a shocking thing what rank and a haughty demeanor can achieve.”

Nicholas grinned, but those subtle marks of pain were back. Tessie noted it instantly, for his brows furrowed and there was telltale moisture upon his brow.

“Try sleeping,” she said. “If there was some laudanum somewhere . . .”

“There is. Joseph carries it. For . . . emergencies.”

“For acting the spy, you mean.”

“For acting as government’s agent, Madame Sharp-Tongue.”

Tessie grinned, for he was obviously nettled. “I shall get some, then. And a cotton shirt. You will feel better clean.”

She slid down from the bed, glad of something to do other than fall under the spell of those mesmerizing eyes and the sheer lines of his body, hardly decent under the bedclothes. . . .