She frowned at him.
“Did Lucheux send you to me?”he asked again in Norman French, studying her, looking for any sign she understood what he was saying.Nothing.Not one spark of recognition.
“What are you saying?”she asked, obviously confused.
He looked away.“Never mind.”
She thought she was going mad?’Twas nothing to what his mind was telling him.More and more he was beginning to believe she was an innocent bystander in all of this and it made his anger boil.If Lucheux truly had pulled an innocent into this war, then Christien was going to make him pay.
“I think I should go.”
The soldier in him went on alert.“I wish you would stay.”And not only because he didn’t want her going back to Lucheux—if that was where she was going—but because he genuinely didn’t want her to leave.
She looked around as if searching for something and found her shoes by the couch.She was still dressed in the jeans and sweatshirt she’d arrived in the night before.“Thank you for letting me sleep…” She looked away and a blush rose up her neck and cheeks.
“Madelaine.Look at me.”
She slowly turned her gaze to him.
“You are welcome here anytime.My door is always open to you.”You fool.Why give her an open invitation?Turn your back and concentrate on protecting the treasure.That was what he should do, follow the inner voice, pretend she didn’t exist, but he couldn’t.He would sooner cut off his sword arm than turn his back on those frightened eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He followed her to the elevator and punched the button, his mind screaming not to let her go.To protect her.
From what?Shouldn’t he be protecting himself?He found the idea ludicrous and the idea of her needing protection from Lucheux all too real.The thought of her alone out there, working for Lucheux, experiencing her dreams by herself, made him feel helpless and if there was one thing he hated it was feeling helpless.He’d experienced it too often in the past.
They rode the elevator in silence.The club was dark and silent.Their footfalls echoed over the deserted dance floor as they moved beneath the darkened lights.
“You don’t have to walk me home.I’ll be fine.”
“Nevertheless, I am.”
“I jog these streets nearly every day.Right now they’re deserted.”
His hands clenched at the thought of her running through the streets alone.He might be living in modern times, but his mind was of a warrior who constantly catalogued the dangers around him.And the streets of Milwaukee, while not the most dangerous, were still wrought with some danger.
“Humor me.”He began walking in the direction of her apartment.
He heard her sigh, then fall into step beside him.“Look, Christien, I appreciate that you let me stay the night.That was very nice of you.”
He snorted.Nicewasn’t the word he’d been thinking andnicecertainly weren’t the thoughts he had when he carried her to bed.He’d wanted to kiss her awake until she was hot for him and squirming beneath him.Even thinking of it now made him want to turn back and drag her through those doors and do everything he wanted to.The fact he kept walking didn’t make himnice.It made him an idiot.
Apparently she chose to ignore his sound of disgust because she kept speaking.“As you know I just started this new job—”
“I know.”
“Yes, well.”She cleared her throat.“It’s important I succeed in this new position.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is it important for you to succeed?”
She waved her hands in the air.He liked that she talked with her hands.The other Madelaine had done that as well and he always thought it endearing.He concentrated on those hands, watching them.Just like the other Madelaine.The actions weren’t something easily duplicated and probably not something Lucheux had noticed about the fourteenth-century Madelaine.He filed the thought away with the other clues that told him she was the genuine thing.
“Because it’s difficult to get into a company like Lucheux Limited.The competition is fierce and so few jobs open up.”
