Claire Delacroix by The Rogue Page A

that moment. I suspected that he had need of me, though I could not imagine why, and that his need for my aid would protect me for a while, no matter how dark his ultimate intent. Truth be told, I had greater fears - of my own weaknesses, or at least of revealing them to a man who might well use them against me.
    “I should think not,” I retorted. “Whatsoever you have to say can be uttered here, as can an apology.”
    “I should apologize for granting what you so clearly desired?”
    “I did not desire you in my bed.”
    Merlyn almost smiled. “Again, chère , your certainty was somewhat difficult to read in your response.”
    I straightened. “Then let me be blunt. I have no intent of leaving this stable with you, not for any reason, nor to enter that black hole in your company.”
    Merlyn’s gaze flicked across the stable. “I would confide in you, but it is not safe here.”
    “In your own abode?” I rolled my eyes, though his pledge intrigued me. Merlyn sharing confidences? That would be worth a risk or two. “With the family of your own designated heiress? You make much of little, Merlyn.”
    His gaze hardened. “Do I?”
    “Indeed. Whereas I have much to lose by following you into darkness. Am I the sole one who knows that you live? Did you lure me back to Ravensmuir to begin matters again betwixt we two?”
    “The prospect has a certain allure, you must admit.”
    “You find allure in whatsoever you find useful,” I charged, but he did not deny the accusation.
    As if he meant to persuade me, Merlyn left the opening then, and strode toward me. He lifted a hand to my cheek and ran his thumb across my flesh once more. I held his gaze stubbornly, hoping he could not discern the fullness of the response he awakened so easily in me.
    His smile broadened, and I knew my hope had been a futile one.
    “So many matters remain between us, chère ,” he murmured.
    There is something beguiling about the man’s very voice, especially when he drops it low. A woman could be coaxed to do much by the splendor of that voice. It is a temptation to many sins and pleasures.
    “So many questions lie unanswered,” he continued, “but there is only one I would have from you now. Did you endeavor to see me killed? Did you wish to see me dead?” His gaze searched mine, and no doubt he saw my astonishment.
    “Before this morn?” Had I been a hen, my feathers would have ruffled in agitation. “Before this moment?”
    Merlyn chuckled, apparently reassured and not in the least bit fearful of me. “Before I came to speak to you abed last evening.”
    “You did not come to speak to me.”
    “I did.” I must have looked unpersuaded, for he smiled slightly though his gaze was still filled with doubts. “Did you, chère ?” His gaze locked with mine and I could not deny him such a simple answer.
    “No, Merlyn.”
    “Did you tell any that you had seen me?”
    I arched a brow. “You rode into Kinfairlie in the full light of day. None needed to ask me whether you were there, for you left witnesses aplenty.”
    Still he insisted, his gaze boring into mine. “Did you send word to any man of my presence?”
    “No, Merlyn. I had labor to do.”
    “Swear it to me, chère .”
    I was surprised by his insistence, struck by the uncertainty in his eyes. “I swear it.”
    I saw his relief, felt the warmth fairly pour from him. He had not truly believed that I was responsible, but he had not been certain.
    I was inordinately pleased that he accepted my word. “Why did you come to me at all?”
    “I have missed you,” he whispered, his gaze dropping to my lips.
    “And it took you five years to seek me out?” I tried to scoff, though the words sounded breathlessly. “It is somewhat difficult to perceive any enthusiasm in that.”
    Merlyn’s eyes gleamed. “Did you expect me to retrieve you, like a stray hound?”
    I looked up, and this was my mistake. I was snared by the thousands of secrets in his gaze, caught by the