His Silken Seduction by JOANNA MAITLAND Page A

caress? Suzanne could not be sure, but she felt as if her whole being was aglow. Her hand was certainly burning. Her throat was suddenly so tight and dry that she wondered if she would ever be able to speak again. The man she loved was caressing her fingers. The glory of it shivered through her.
    And in that same moment he broke the contact with a murmured apology. As if it had been a mistake! No!
    She wanted to scream at him, but she was quite unable to make a sound. She could not move, either. She risked a glance at his face. Before, his expression had been open and even gentle, but now there was a shadow of concern. He was troubled. And something more. He wore a puzzled frown, as if he had been presented with a conundrum he could not solve.
    Was that how he viewed her? As a puzzle?
    He swallowed a sound that could have been a groan. He was in pain! His shoulder was bleeding. Suzanne pushed her doubts to the back of her mind. What mattered now was her role as Benn’s nurse. Love must wait for another day.
    Deftly, she eased the rest of the dressing from his shoulder wound. The fresh bleeding had loosened it. She bit her lip as she worked, for it had been her fault. She had been so full of the joy of his touch that she had not paid enough attention to the mundane business of removing his bandages. And so she had hurt him and possibly set back his recovery.
    A little voice whispered that she should be glad, for as soon as he was recovered, he would leave. He was a spy, after all, with a mission to fulfil. In her heart, she was betraying her family’s royalist cause by wishing to keep him hidden here and under her own care. For a moment, she felt truly guilty, but then her logical mind began to fight back. There was no real urgency. The previous day, Herr Benn’s companion, Monsieur Jacques, had left for Paris with Suzanne’s elder sister, Marguerite. The intelligence that Benn and Jacques had gathered would presumably be sent to England with all speed, via their embassy in the capital.
    What purpose would it serve for Benn to rise from his sickbed to follow them? Nothing of note had happened since they left. Bonaparte was still here in Lyons, basking in the adulation of the crowds, and issuing imperial proclamations, right and left. No doubt he would leave for Paris soon, but Marguerite and Jacques were days ahead of him. They would be safe.
    Suzanne eased Benn up from the pillows to pass the bandage behind his back. The tips of her fingers slid across smooth skin and leashed muscle. Benn was beautiful to look at, with his thick blond hair and his finely sculpted features, but his body was all male…lithe, powerful and hard.
    She shivered again.
    “Tickling an invalid is unfair, you know.” He was grinning up at her. The fine skin at the corner of his unbandaged eye was crinkled with good humour. Was he deliberately teasing her? Could he feel her tension?
    She attempted to respond in kind. “An invalid must be kept in his place, sir. Which is under the thumb of his nurse.”
    Oh dear. Had she gone too far? She quickly secured the bandage round his torso. The bleeding had stopped, thank goodness. “And now for your head,” she said, briskly efficient. “I imagine it should be possible to leave off the bandage now. Your wound will heal more quickly if it is open to the air.”
    “I should certainly prefer to have the use of both my eyes.” His French was correct and colloquial, though the foreign accent was unmistakable. He could never pass for a Frenchman. “With two eyes, I am better able to appreciate the view.” He grinned at his own wit.
    Suzanne ignored it. “It was your own fault for trying to leave your bed.” She was trying to sound stern. “And head wounds are extremely difficult to bandage. If I hadn’t taken it across your eye, it would have slipped off. All that hair of yours gets in the way, you know. Perhaps I should shave it off?”
    “Spare me, lady!”
    Their normal, comfortable rapport was