The Theft (Thornton 2)

"No, no, three days would be fine." André nodded, clutching the money and staring at it as if the very sight of remuneration would help ease his annoyance—and his discomfort at having to tell Baricci that his plan was delayed. "I'll gather up what's left of my things and return then."

With a lingering glance at Noelle—a rueful, brooding glance—he began reassembling his easel.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the entranceway door shut, and André was en route to the railroad station via Eric's carriage.

Inside the sitting room, Noelle waited only for her father's affirmative nod. Then she whirled about.

"You can come out now," she hissed.

Ashford complied, brushing himself off as he rose to his feet.

"What in God's name set Tempest off like that?" Noelle demanded.

"I did."

"That much I guessed."

"Then you should also have guessed why."

If Noelle had expected sheepishness, she wasn't getting it. On the contrary, Ashford looked utterly self-righteous and positively murderous.

"I very nearly charged out and broke Sardo's jaw," he informed her, anger flaring in his eyes. "If it weren't for the fact that it would undo our entire plan and endanger you…"

"I thought you don't lose control, don't act before you think, and don't take stupid chances," Noelle reminded him dryly.

"I didn't. Now I do."

"Would one of you tell me what happened here?" Eric commanded. "Why did you want to break Sardo's jaw, and why did your urge to do so incite Tempest's frenzied behavior?"

"Answer the second part first," Noelle urged swiftly. Her father shot her a dark scowl. "In other words, I'm going to erupt when we address the first part."

"Exactly." Noelle inclined her head at Ashford. "Did you jolt the ledge? Although I can't imagine that upsetting Tempest to the degree that it did."

"No." Ashford flexed the stiff muscles in his arms, rubbed the back of his neck. "When I saw Sardo make his sensual little move, I decided to thrash him. I was on my way when I realized how reckless my actions were, how dire the ramifications would be. So I jerked backwards into my original position. Unfortunately. Tempest's tail got caught between my shoulder blade and the ledge. Given the speed of my movement and the weight of its impact, I'm sure I gave her tail a pretty painful squeeze. I freed her the instant I realized what was happening, but it was too late. She let out that furious yowl and took off."

Just the memory made Noelle dissolve into laughter again. "Papa, you should have seen her. She destroyed the entire room in less than a minute."

"So I noticed." Eric glanced at the towels that were draped across the sofa, settee, tables and floor. "This certainly brings back memories, Noelle. It took you fourteen years, but you've finally managed to teach Tempest everything you know." His affectionate tone faded as Ashford's initial phrase sank in. "What sensual little move?" he demanded.

Noelle didn't look away. "I would have handled it, Papa. I would have dealt with André just fine without all the commotion."

"How?" Ashford inquired. "By kissing him back?"

"He kissed you?" Eric thundered.

A sigh of frustration escaped Noelle's lips. "That's generally the prelude to seduction, Papa."

"Yes, and we all know the culmination—or hadn't you considered that?" Ashford bit out.

If she weren't so thrilled by what this jealousy implied, she might be getting angry. "No, I hadn't considered that—because it's not a consideration. It would never get to that point. Ashford, André has a job to do. He's doing it as quickly and effectively as he can—or, rather, he's trying to."

"He seemed to be making great strides."

"He thinks so," Noelle replied. "And I want him to think so. A kiss is harmless, but necessary. Besides, I didn't kiss him. I let him kiss me. There's a big difference between the two. But think about it—calmly and rationally," she emphasized. "If I show André no encouragement at all, I'll get no information at all. It's my job to keep him eager, hopeful, and striving to win my affections—while I thwart him without his realizing it. In the interim, I'll get him to trust me, to pass along a growing number of snippets about Baricci and his actions. We already learned something of their association: when they met, how many of André's paintings are displayed at the Franco Gallery. We need to learn more. And we shall. But not if you explode every time he touches me."

"Explode?" Eric interrupted. "Believe me, Noelle, Tremlett's reaction was mild. If that libertine artist touches you again, I'll kill him."