distressed... Please find the coins for him."
As she staggered back to hover over the bed, Rothgar obliged, resisting the urge to share a smile with the doctor. He would remember Doctor Ribble if he ever had need of a physician in this locality. He was sure the medicine was a harmless syrup with some herbs to make it taste unpleasant. Who, after all, would believe in a pleasant medicine? Perhaps even a touch of opium to send the patient to sleep.
When the doctor had left, he turned to find Madame de Couriac tenderly feeding some of the medicine to a resistant husband. The man saw Rothgar watching and said in French, "It tastes foul, my lord."
"Such things usually do, monsieur. I advise you to take it, however. The doctor seemed to know what he was about."
De Couriac drained the glass then shuddered.
"Now," cooed his wife, "get under the covers, my darling, and rest. Soon, I am sure, you will be completely well again."
Though he had no reason to stay, Rothgar did, intrigued to see what happened next. His journey had been no secret. His night here had been arranged in advance. He'd be flattered to think Madame de Couriac was taking extreme measures to get into his bed, but it was more likely to be another attempt on his life.
The interesting question was, why? Why were the French so desperate to dispose of him? He had influence with the king, and was known to advise the king to stand firm against them. He was urging limits on exports of anything that would help them rebuild their fleet, and the speedy destruction of the fortifications at Dunkirk.
None of it seemed justification for murder. There was always the chance that Madame de Couriac could shed some light on matters.
When the woman had her husband settled to her liking she turned to Rothgar, a picture of grateful womanhood, and ran forward to seize his hands. "How can I thank you, my lord? You have been so kind, so gracious..." Then she swayed. "Oh, I feel... Oh."
He caught her against his body as he was clearly expected to. So tempting at such moments to step aside, leaving the lady to tumble to the floor. He'd done it a time or two.
This time, however, he tenderly supported. "Madame, please. Come to my dining room for a little cognac. We must let your husband sleep."
"You are too kind," she whispered, limp against him. His role now was to sweep her into his arms, but he merely supported her toward the door and down the stairs. On the lower floor he glanced at Lady Arradale's door, expecting to see her peering out. He was sure she would be if she'd known just when he'd return.
He sympathized with her curiosity, but hoped she'd not interfere before he discovered exactly what was going on.
He guided the Frenchwoman into the dining parlor, and to the chaise, slipping off her shoes and raising her feet so she was reclining. Having made it impossible for him to sit beside her, he poured cognac - his own reserve, carried with him - for both of them.
She sipped, sighed, and said, "You are extraordinarily kind, my lord. I am so grateful. I find many of your countrymen are not so sympathetic."
"Our nations were so recently at war, madame."
"Alas. But you?" Eyes on him, she drank from her glass with an exaggerated pursing of the lips, pressing her lower lip down with the glass as she slowly drew it away. A whore's trick. "Do you," she purred, "still feel enmity toward the people of France?"
"I try not to let my feelings for a nation affect my feelings for individuals, madame."
"So," she said with another enticing sip and a sliding look from under her long, darkened lashes, "you do not feel enmity for me?"
"Assuredly not."
"I am so glad," she murmured, holding out a hand. When he took it, she curled her legs and predictably drew him down to sit on the chaise beside her feet. "I feel no enmity toward you, Lord Rothgar. None at all..."
"Why should you, indeed?"
That seemed to disconcert her for a moment, but she put aside her glass and pressed her stockinged feet against his thigh, flexing her toes there. "Quite the reverse, in fact..." She held out both hands, swaying closer. "Oh, my lord, this is a madness... But... I cannot resist you. All evening I have wanted you!"
Agile as a cat, she was on him, her arms snaked around his