of her thoughts was having equal difficulty concentrating. Richard had tried to consider strategies for ferreting out Bonaparte’s plans for the invasion of England, but Amy conquered his concentration more effectively than any number of units of artillery.
Under cover of the darkness, he shifted his weight to face Amy and asked softly, ‘What brings you to France?’
Amy snapped her head up, instantly on the defensive. Richard put out a hand as though in his own defence. ‘Retract your claws! I’m scarred enough from this afternoon. Can we cry a truce, at least for the night?’
Amy eyed him askance.
‘Consider it our own personal Peace of Amiens. I’ll be France and you can be England.’
Some of the wariness crept out of Amy’s stance. ‘You can be England and I’ll be France before the Revolution,’ she offered.
‘Sorry. I’m afraid you’re stuck with the present.’
‘Only if you stay on your own side of the Channel, then.’ Amy indicated the sliver of deck that separated them.
‘What would you do if I tried to invade?’ Richard wiggled his eyebrows in mock flirtation.
‘I’d call out the heavy artillery.’ She motioned to the hatch leading down to the cabin.
‘I’m sorry. You can’t pass off a dragon as a brace of guns. Not allowed. And I assure you, dragons are not an acceptable weapon in modern warfare.’
‘Why not? They both breathe fire.’
‘Yes, but…’ Richard cast about for a rejoinder, but all he could come up with was, ‘but dragons are frightening !’ which didn’t sound terribly brave and manly.
‘I win!’ Amy crowed.
‘But dragons are obsolete,’ Richard finished smugly. ‘As the victor of that round, I claim a boon.’
‘I don’t believe you deserve one, Sir Knight. After all, you didn’t slay any dragons.’
‘Nevertheless’ – he held up a magisterial hand – ‘I still claim a boon. Outwitting you ought to rank with slaying dragons.’
‘I don’t know if I’d call that outwitting,’ protested Amy.
‘It was a compliment.’
‘You don’t compliment people often, do you? That was really an awfully poor attempt. If you’d like, I’ll help you practice. We could start out with something simple, like, ‘Why, Amy, how clever you are!’ and proceed from there.’
‘Nonetheless.’ Richard leant forward, his dark blond hair shimmering in the moonlight. ‘Do I get my boon?’
Amy’s pulse picked up speed at a reckless rate. ‘What sort of boon did you have in mind?’
‘I would like you’ – his voice was low and intimate – ‘to tell me what brings you to France.’
‘Oh.’
‘Is it that much of a secret?’ Richard teased.
Amy fought against an unreasonable sense of disappointment. ‘No, no, of course not. It’s quite dull really. I’m going to live with my brother in Paris.’
‘I’m disappointed in you, Miss Balcourt. How can someone whoso disapproves of the French have a brother there?’
Amy stumbled to her feet, catching her skirt on her bare toes and clutching the railing to steady herself. She towered over Richard. ‘My brother is half French; I am half French; good heavens, you really are the most provoking man! Is there anything else you wanted to know, or may I go back to the cabin?’
Richard took Amy’s hand and tugged her back down. ‘If your brother’s in France and you were in England, where are your parents?’
Amy allowed herself to be tugged, but settled on her heels, as if ready to spring up again at any moment. ‘They suffered the embrace of Madame Guillotine,’ she said tersely.
Still holding her hand, Richard squeezed it lightly, for comfort.
‘Actually, only Papa was really murdered, but Mama might as well have been. She loved Papa so much – they must have said goodbye three dozen times before we left. When they killed Papa, they killed her, too. Theirs was a love match, you see.’
Oddly enough – for one who had thus far assiduously avoided matrimony – Richard did see. His
Under cover of the darkness, he shifted his weight to face Amy and asked softly, ‘What brings you to France?’
Amy snapped her head up, instantly on the defensive. Richard put out a hand as though in his own defence. ‘Retract your claws! I’m scarred enough from this afternoon. Can we cry a truce, at least for the night?’
Amy eyed him askance.
‘Consider it our own personal Peace of Amiens. I’ll be France and you can be England.’
Some of the wariness crept out of Amy’s stance. ‘You can be England and I’ll be France before the Revolution,’ she offered.
‘Sorry. I’m afraid you’re stuck with the present.’
‘Only if you stay on your own side of the Channel, then.’ Amy indicated the sliver of deck that separated them.
‘What would you do if I tried to invade?’ Richard wiggled his eyebrows in mock flirtation.
‘I’d call out the heavy artillery.’ She motioned to the hatch leading down to the cabin.
‘I’m sorry. You can’t pass off a dragon as a brace of guns. Not allowed. And I assure you, dragons are not an acceptable weapon in modern warfare.’
‘Why not? They both breathe fire.’
‘Yes, but…’ Richard cast about for a rejoinder, but all he could come up with was, ‘but dragons are frightening !’ which didn’t sound terribly brave and manly.
‘I win!’ Amy crowed.
‘But dragons are obsolete,’ Richard finished smugly. ‘As the victor of that round, I claim a boon.’
‘I don’t believe you deserve one, Sir Knight. After all, you didn’t slay any dragons.’
‘Nevertheless’ – he held up a magisterial hand – ‘I still claim a boon. Outwitting you ought to rank with slaying dragons.’
‘I don’t know if I’d call that outwitting,’ protested Amy.
‘It was a compliment.’
‘You don’t compliment people often, do you? That was really an awfully poor attempt. If you’d like, I’ll help you practice. We could start out with something simple, like, ‘Why, Amy, how clever you are!’ and proceed from there.’
‘Nonetheless.’ Richard leant forward, his dark blond hair shimmering in the moonlight. ‘Do I get my boon?’
Amy’s pulse picked up speed at a reckless rate. ‘What sort of boon did you have in mind?’
‘I would like you’ – his voice was low and intimate – ‘to tell me what brings you to France.’
‘Oh.’
‘Is it that much of a secret?’ Richard teased.
Amy fought against an unreasonable sense of disappointment. ‘No, no, of course not. It’s quite dull really. I’m going to live with my brother in Paris.’
‘I’m disappointed in you, Miss Balcourt. How can someone whoso disapproves of the French have a brother there?’
Amy stumbled to her feet, catching her skirt on her bare toes and clutching the railing to steady herself. She towered over Richard. ‘My brother is half French; I am half French; good heavens, you really are the most provoking man! Is there anything else you wanted to know, or may I go back to the cabin?’
Richard took Amy’s hand and tugged her back down. ‘If your brother’s in France and you were in England, where are your parents?’
Amy allowed herself to be tugged, but settled on her heels, as if ready to spring up again at any moment. ‘They suffered the embrace of Madame Guillotine,’ she said tersely.
Still holding her hand, Richard squeezed it lightly, for comfort.
‘Actually, only Papa was really murdered, but Mama might as well have been. She loved Papa so much – they must have said goodbye three dozen times before we left. When they killed Papa, they killed her, too. Theirs was a love match, you see.’
Oddly enough – for one who had thus far assiduously avoided matrimony – Richard did see. His
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