Seduced by a Spy by Andrea Pickens

gain. I was not as much interested in the bauble as in what lay inside it.”
    “Hah!” Yussapov gave a bark of laughter. “You see, he had heard of O’Malley’s habit of hiding his orders from the French inside the treasure. I will pass over just how he coaxed such sensitive information from a member of the Irishman’s household, as it is irrelevant to the mission. But suffice it to say, the tip proved accurate.”
    Orlov allowed something akin to a supercilious sneer to alter his expression. He did not normally gloat, but Shannon’s scorn had stung. For some reason, he wished to disabuse her of the notion that his highest pursuit was that of money. To be sure, he
was
a rogue, who saw no reason why he shouldn’t profit from the risks he took, if the opportunity was there for the taking. But he had never compromised a mission for mercenary motives.
    “All in all, when you add up the score…” One by one, the prince ticked off the list with a jab of his well-tended finger. “The demolition of the French gold, the demise of O’Malley, the capture of the French document… I would say that my man came out on top.”
    Steepling his hands, Lynsley smiled. “In the spirit of friendly competition, let us give Shannon a chance to reply.”
    This time, Orlov noted that she didn’t so much as deign to glance his way.
    “Mr. Orlov’s accomplishments, marvelous as they may be, would not have been quite so impressive if I had not managed to haul his unconscious hide, along with the hidden document, over the moors—at no small risk to my own person—and get him aboard a British naval cutter. Where the captain and I performed surgery to remove the bullet from his shoulder.”
    “Better there than in your skull, would you not agree?” he retorted.
    She had the grace to flush.
    The prince chuckled. “You see how well they work together, Thomas. A formidable team, to be sure.”
    “Hmmm.” Lynsley’s look was a trifle more skeptical. “They appear to get along like…”
    Like fire and ice, thought Orlov to himself.
    “Like steel and flint,” blurted out Shannon. “The sparks put the pyrotechnics of Vauxhall to blush.”
    “Like cats and dogs,” finished the marquess. “But then, England’s arms feature a lion, while Russia is famous for its wolves.”
    If a merlin had fangs
, thought Orlov
, they would likely be sunk in his throat.
Reacting with his own flash of teeth in the lady’s direction, he tugged at his earring.
    “Well said, my dear Thomas. As usual, you see right to the heart of things,” observed the prince. His grin of unholy amusement made Orlov wish to aim a kick at his well-tailored rump. “I give thanks to St. Georgi that we—and our fearless agents—are allied on the same side.”
    Very little escaped Lynsley’s notice, agreed Orlov. Whether it was a blessing or a curse remained to be seen.
    “St. George is a patron saint of our country as well, Yuri,” added the marquess. “So perhaps we can consider it a match made in heaven.”
    Or hell.
The exchange of civilized banter between the two titled gentlemen stirred the hairs on the nape of Orlov’s neck. “Yuri,” he growled. “If you have finished having your fun, I should like to finish briefing you about the rest of the mission, and its consequences. In private, if you please.”
    “Ah, but you were the one who suggested we have no secrets from our ally,
tvaritsch
. This matter of D’Etienne is of vital concern to both the Tsar and the King. So Lord Lynsley and I have agreed to coordinate our efforts to eliminate the threat.”
    Orlov felt the prickling sensation turn into a stab of dire foreboding.
    “Between our informants and the secret orders you so cleverly captured from O’Malley, we are quite certain that the Frenchman is on his way to Scotland,” continued the prince. “While he was lucky in escaping our pursuit in Ireland, it seems that Fortune may have finally turned her smile on us.”
    His mouth stretched a bit