and adjusted her cloak and gloves.
‘Perhaps you will see her again. However, I will pass any messages on to her that you wish. I will leave you now. I have matters to attend to.’
‘Am I a prisoner?’ Jack asked, anger in his voice. ‘Is the door to be bolted once more?’
Blanche jerked her head up in surprise. She had not drawn the bolt when she had left, which meant that if he knew of its existence he had either opened the door or had heard it before. Which in turn meant he had been feigning sleep when she entered to bathe him. Her sense of fairness told her he had perhaps half woken and was lapsing in and out of sleep and had not intended to deceive her. The contemptuous part of her that knew what she did of men was unsure.
Jack flexed his arms. ‘I have been still and sleeping for too long and ache to stretch my legs.’
Blanche looked at the limbs in question that he now planted apart. They were long and lean with—she couldn’t help but notice—a sizeable bunching of cloth between them. She had thought her desire for men had been ground out of her by the degrading exploits she had put herself through since Yann’s death, but to her consternation, heat rose to her face. Images of lovemaking began to bud in her mind like wild blooms after the winter frost.
‘You stay here for now. For your safety as much as anything else. Madame Tanet had to fight to bring you here and her men will not trust a stranger as readily as she will. These are difficult times.’
She hammered on the door with a fist. Jack tensed, looking as though he was about to spring forward, but when she held out a hand he stood back. He clearly didn’t like the answer. She didn’t blame him.
When the door opened, Blanche dropped into a low bow, sweeping the hat from her head with a flourish, and swept out. She bolted the door, taking care to make as much noise as possible so Jack knew what she had done.
She leaned against the door and pulled the mask from her face, then fanned her neck with her hat and faced Andrey who was waiting at the end of the passageway.
‘I think he’s telling the truth.’
‘Did you mention what we found in the barrels?’ Andrey asked.
Blanche shook her head. What they had discovered had been surprising, but it had not seemed an appropriate time to throw it in his face. It had been interesting to see how Jack’s manner had been when he believed he was speaking to a man. He had been polite, yet this time she had sensed an undercurrent of belligerence he had not shown to Blanche. She’d half expected him to attack her even without a sword in his hand.
She believed his memory loss was true, however, though how to help him regain it was going to be a challenge. And she did want him to. He fascinated her beyond explanation. She would have to think about it, but now she craved her bed.
‘I want one more interview with him later on,’ Blanche insisted.
She pressed her ear to the door and could hear Jack muttering to himself but could not make out his words. She wondered what he would be like in a fight. She wondered what he would be like in bed. She wasn’t sure which excited her more.
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