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“What did you do,” she asked softly, “that he wants you dead? It’s not the money.”

“No,” Dixon whimpered.

“What, then?” she prodded when he seemed incapable of saying more. A dot of blood welled up under the point of her blade, and tears began rolling down Dixon’s face as he shook with fear. “I want to know.”

She had to know. She needed to know what Dixon had done that made Selwyn press Stafford to have the man killed—not just arrested and sent back to face prison in America, but discreetly and immediately killed. She was here, her knife ready, prepared to complete her assignment and damn herself forever in Nate’s eyes, but first she had to know why.

Dixon’s eyes drifted past her, and he began gesturing urgently with his hands. “Help me,” he cried. “Help!”

She knew who was behind her before she turned her head.

* * *

Nate couldn’t say a word, even when Dixon cried out for help. He was frozen in place, appalled by the sight of Angelique with her knife at Dixon’s throat. A trickle of blood ran down his collar; she was not merely threatening. She meant to kill him—had probably meant to kill him all along—and she knew it was because of Selwyn. Nate had tried to work it out of Dixon why he feared Selwyn, but the man refused to talk, wanting guarantees and promises Nate couldn’t give.

But this was Stafford’s mysterious secret order that Angelique had been keeping from him. Now he saw why she’d been upset when Ian arrived, why she’d been sad the previous evening when she asked how he would remember her. All along she’d planned to upset his plans and deny him the justice he sought. For a moment it felt like she’d put her knife into him instead of Dixon. Was this the woman he had lost his heart to?

She looked over her shoulder at him with absolutely no expression. “Go away.”

“He promised you wouldn’t kill me!” Dixon cried. “He promised!”

“It was not his promise to make.” Her voice was eerily calm and devoid of feeling. “Answer my questions.”

“He—he knows!” Dixon flapped his hands desperately toward Nate. “I told him Selwyn was dangerous! I told him not to trust you!”

Angelique paused. “Well?” she asked Nate. “Does he lie?” Dixon yelped as she moved the knife. More blood welled up, scarlet against his skin.

“No.” Nate shook himself. “He was frightened from the moment I said Selwyn’s name. And he fears you as well.”

For a moment she didn’t move a muscle, not even when the man pinned beneath her knife began thrashing with renewed energy, weeping loudly.

With a curse Angelique raised her arm. The blade glinted for a moment before she backhanded Dixon with her fist, still holding the dagger. His eyes rolled back and his head hit the wall with a hard thump, and his whole body fell limp.

She rose to her feet and turned to face Nate.

“You lied to me,” he said numbly.

She raised her chin, still the cold and deadly spy. “I never said I would not kill him.”

“You led me to believe you would return him to New York as I expected!”

She flinched, ever so slightly. “I never said that, either. You said it, and I did not demur.”

He looked past her to Dixon, slumped against the wall. “This is what you planned all along—what Stafford planned all along. To kill him, in spite of assurances that you were to help me!”

“That is what Stafford wants,” she agreed.

Nate was about to tear into her; his heart felt carved to pieces, and he wanted to roar in rage and hurt. She had betrayed him, and he wanted to lash out and make her feel the same pain that he felt. But at the last second, he realized what she’d said, and managed to hold back his temper a moment longer. “You didn’t plan to kill him all along?” he asked tightly.

She hesitated. Her mouth softened. “In the beginning, I did. I was ordered to do so, and I would have done it, no matter how distasteful.”

“But you didn’t want to?” He started toward her, one careful step at a time. She didn’t move.

“No. It is my least favorite job, and this one was particularly unpleasant. But still… Those were my orders.”

“And now?” Unconsciously he braced himself. She could shrug and say now was no different. She could throw her dagger right at him. He remembered how she had nearly taken off his ear the first night they made love. If that night and all the others had just been part of her orders, he wished she would throw the knife and put a quick end to the misery howling inside him.

“Now…” She glanced at Dixon. “Now I want to know why those were my orders.”