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Authors: Elizabeth Bailey

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A multitude of changes flitted across Melusine’s features as
she stood there for a space, unusually silent. Gerald guessed she was biting
her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him. No doubt she was wondering
what he had done in Charvill’s house and what he intended now. That she was
provoked by his interference was obvious.

Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s
curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and
spoke in a lowered tone.

‘Come, mademoiselle, it is of no use to conceal anything from
me, you know. Which are you—Valade or Charvill? Or, no, let me guess. Both,
perhaps?’

At that, her eyes darkened with fury. ‘I have told you that I
am entirely English.’

‘Charvill, then,’ Gerald concluded, unperturbed.

‘This is altogether insupportable!’

She dug a hand into the recesses of the petticoat of her
riding habit and a moment later Gerald found himself once again confronting the
barrel of her overlarge and tarnished pistol. There was a concerted gasp of
shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman.

‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy.

‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly. ‘She won’t.’

He took a pace forward, seizing the gun with one hand, while
the other locked her arm so that he could forcibly wrest the weapon from her. The
struggle was brief, and Gerald stepped aside, the pistol in his possession,
while the girl Melusine stood trembling and glaring. She turned on the lad with
her, who was visibly relieved.

‘Jacques! This—this
bête
he attacks me, and you stand
there and you do nothing.’

‘But he’s a major of militia, miss.’

Gerald noted the mixture of respect and apprehension in the
glance he received from the boy. ‘You see, unlike you, mademoiselle, your
cavalier here would not wish to be arrested.’

‘You will not arrest him, because I will shoot you first,’
snapped Melusine.

‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. He looked the
boy over with interest. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’

‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. He is Jacques.
En tout cas
,
Leonardo is also a soldier.’

‘Oh, is he?’ Gerald said grimly.

‘Give me my pistol!’

Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. ‘I
can’t do that. Besides, you cannot visit people armed with a pistol in London, you know. It is not at all
comme il
faut
.’ He bowed slightly,
and indicated the house behind them with a wave of his hand. ‘But don’t let me
stop you from going to see Charvill. That is why you came here, isn’t it?’


Alors
, now we know who is the spy, Monsieur Gérard.’

‘And now we know also who is the
prétendant
,
Mademoiselle Charvill.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’

‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to
fathom.’

‘And you will not,’ came triumphantly from the cherry lips. ‘So
now you will please to go away and leave me to my business.’

‘But I am not stopping you from carrying on your business. Why
don’t you go in? Charvill is there. I’ve just seen him.’


You
have seen him?
Exactement
. And me, I wish
to know why you have seen him. What is it that you wish from me? You would like
to arrest me for spying? Very well, arrest me. I do not care, but only that you
will
leave my affairs to me
.’

She ended on a note of sheer frustration, clenched fists
beating the air. Gerald sighed. ‘You’re right. It is perfectly intrusive of me,
and I quite see that you must be sick to death of running into such an
interfering busybody all the time.’ He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘I’ll make
you an offer.’

‘What offer?’ she asked, suspicion rife in her voice.

‘If you are not going to visit Charvill today, I’ll escort
you back to the convent in Golden Square.’

Shock spread across her lovely features. Then she uttered a
strangled, ‘
Espéce de
bête
!’ and burst into tears.

‘Oh my God,’ uttered Gerald in some dismay. ‘Not in the open
street.’ He turned to the goggling footman and thrust him towards the coach. ‘Open
the door, fool!’

Then he had Melusine by the shoulders and was hustling her
into the hackney. With a curt command to her cavalier to get up on the box and
give the direction to the interested coachman, he jumped in beside the girl and
shut them both into privacy.

Turning to Melusine, he grabbed both her wrists and held her
away from him, as if afraid that she might go for him.


Laisse-moi,
’ she threw at him, her brief attack of
sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to
its sincerity. ‘Let go!’

‘Do you take me for a fool?’ Gerald demanded. ‘Don’t concern
yourself. It is a precaution merely. I have to see if you carry any more
weapons.’

‘How can I have more? You have taken my pistol. You have
taken my dagger. You have taken even my knife. Do you think a
jeune
demoiselle
may possess more weapons than this?’

‘Most young ladies would not be in possession of any weapons,’
Gerald said tartly. ‘You, Mademoiselle Charvill, are as unlike most of your sex
as you can be. I’m taking no chances.’

She tried to shake his hands off her wrists, but Gerald held
them fast and tutted at her.


Bête,
’ she flung at him. ‘You do not dare look in my
clothes.’

‘Oh, don’t I? What do you have under all those petticoats, a
holster?’

‘But yes, and they are empty.’

‘They? How many are there?’

‘Oh,
peste
.’ She struggled. ‘You have said you do not
wish to hurt me.’

‘I also said, if you remember, that I could not promise not
to do so. Now keep still. You will only make me hurt you the more.’

‘But I have told you I have not another dagger, even a little
one.’

‘A dagger, is it then?’

The girl froze. ‘What do you mean?’

Gerald grinned. ‘In fact you admitted only that you had no
more weapons. But you have, haven’t you?’ He tutted again. ‘You have a knack of
saying just the wrong thing.’

‘To
you
,’ she said angrily. ‘Because you are a
bête
,
and a pig, and
imbecile
.’

‘I am whatever you like,’ he agreed pleasantly, ‘but nothing
is going to stop me from searching for this dagger. And meanwhile, we’ll just
have these no doubt potentially lethal little claws of yours out of harm’s way.’

So saying, he pulled her forward, slipping her arms about his
back. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and
Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and
began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions.

Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried. The
thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. She
could not say a word, much less move. All the fury had left her, swamped by an
inexplicable flood of warmth. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot,
and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his
scarlet coat. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon
concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of
his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military
pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it.

Then the incredible happened. The major’s hand stilled. Slowly,
he drew back his head and looked into her face. His eyes swept down and
Melusine felt the quiver at her lips where he gazed. His glance came up again
and met hers. Melusine saw fire in his eyes and a streak of heat rushed through
her to match it. And then she could see nothing at all for his lips founds
hers.

The kiss was powerfully moving. Drowning, her brain dizzy,
Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly
held, moving without will about the firm back. Her feathered hat fell from her
head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair
and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably.
A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender
touches sent her senses reeling. They pressed more insistently, forcing her
lips open.

A moistened velvet touch found her tongue. A shaft of searing
heat plunged downward. Shocked, Melusine shot out of that blanketing warmth of
sensation.
Dieu du ciel
! Gerald was kissing her!

She struggled to be free, and the arms that held her
loosened, the lips leaving hers.

It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the
girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of
the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. He stared at her stupidly,
forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her. Until
he felt a sharpness digging into his coat at the point of his heart.

He glanced down between the still narrow distance that lay
between Melusine and himself, and discovered her hand there, a very small
dagger within it. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with
much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance.

‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled,
recovering some of his own sangfroid.

‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over
the words. ‘And n-never would you have f-found it. It has instead found you.’

‘So I see. It was not quite the search I intended,’ he said
with a touch of self-mockery as he released her, ‘but success comes in all
sorts of unexpected ways.’

‘Success?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You kissed me that you might
make me find it for you instead?’

‘I had no such intention. I certainly didn’t mean to kiss
you.’


Parbleu
, you deserve I should stick this dagger in
you this minute.’

Gerald raised his brows. ‘For kissing you, or for not meaning
to do so?’


Imbecile
,’ exclaimed Melusine impatiently. ‘You
should not kiss me at all, and undoubtedly I should kill you.’

‘Undoubtedly,’ Gerald agreed. He held her eyes. ‘Why don’t
you?’

Melusine frowned at him, grasping the dagger more firmly. ‘You
wish to die?’

‘Not in the least. But I shan’t try to stop you. You have
threatened to kill me for nothing, I know not how many times. Now I have done
something for which you might be pardoned if you did kill me. So here is your
chance, Mademoiselle Charvill.’

He held his hands out of the way, surrendering his chest for
her assault. Her eyes flashed and she withdrew the dagger, pulling away from
him.

‘But it is
idiot
. Certainly I cannot kill you if you
tell me to do so.’

‘Only in hot blood, eh?’ grinned Gerald.


Exactement
.’

Gerald held out his hand, and she meekly gave the dagger up
to him. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand,
watching the girl thoughtfully.

‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not
say anything. For my blood you made it very hot indeed.’

‘Did I so?’ Gerald said, amused. ‘I assure you it was mutual.’

Which effectually silenced her. She blushed prettily, and in
a moment regained command of her tongue.

‘Why did you kiss me?’

‘I don’t know,’ Gerald admitted.

‘There you have soldiers. For nothing they kiss.’

‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling. ‘I suppose
I need not ask to which other soldier you refer.’

‘That is not your affair.
En tout cas
, we are not
talking of that kiss, but of this one.’

‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it.’

Melusine glared. ‘I find you excessively rude. Why should you
wish to forget it? Unless it is that you did not enjoy it.’

‘I didn’t say I did not enjoy it,’ Gerald protested.

She smiled. ‘
Eh bien
, does that mean that you will do
it again?’

‘Not if I can help it,’ Gerald uttered, alarmed.

‘Ah.’ Melusine sighed in a satisfied way. ‘So it is that you
could not help it. That can be very useful, that.’

‘You little fiend,’ exclaimed Gerald wrathfully. ‘If you
imagine you’re going to use one ungentlemanly act to manipulate me, you very
much mistake the matter.’

‘Yes, but when I think about this, I do not think I can do
so,’ she said candidly. ‘For that, I must conceal that I also have enjoyed
the kiss.’

‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. ‘But the
fact remains that you should not have enjoyed it, you were quite right to
threaten to kill me, and I—God help me!—should not have kissed you at all.’

BOOK: Mademoiselle At Arms
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