“What a pleasure to see your hair unbound like that,” he commented as they hefted the basket next to him on the seat. “I’ve been wanting to see it that way since the first night we met at The Silver Chalice.”
“It gets in the way,” Victoria told him. “I have considered cutting it, but I cannot bear to.”
“Thank heaven for vanity!” he said, opening a bottle of wine. “Will you look to see if there is any cheese in there?”
While she rummaged in the basket, he poured a glass for her, and when she handed him the cheese and bread, he gave her the wine and they settled back to eat.
Her body still thrummed, and there were still a lot of questions to be asked and mysteries to be solved. Such as what he looked like underneath all those clothes.
And who Beauregard was.
As she sipped her wine and nibbled on a piece of bread, Victoria felt lazy and sleepy and content. It wasn’t until her cup was half-empty that she realized it was an unnatural lazy, sleepy, content feeling.
She bolted upright and the carriage pitched. She grabbed at the wall next to her.
“May I take that, ma chère, before you spill it?” Sebastian was quick to relieve her of the wineglass.
“Salvi,”she accused. Her tongue was thick; but she forced herself to say it again. “You put salvi in…this. You…lie…” The words were hard to get out; her eyes were drooping.
“I did not lie when I said it was a ploy to get you in here,” he told her. “I am sorry it had to be done this way…but you would not have come otherwise. You are, after all, a Venator, and used to doing things your way.”
Was there a bit of mockery in his voice?
“Sebastian…” She put as much accusation in her voice as she could muster.
“You will be more comfortable if you come here.” He helped her settle next to him, her head propped in the corner opposite him, her knees drawn up on the bench, her feet pushing into his leg.
“Why?”
“Unfortunately, you were becoming a problem for the Tutela’s plans, and I was asked to remove you.”
“You…liar…You…bastard.”
“Such language! But it is only temporary, my dear. I promise no harm will come to you. You will be safer outside of Rome until a
fter the second.”
“Who is Beau…re…gard…?” Her eyes were closed. Sleep dragged her away.
He said something; perhaps he answered her question. She thought she heard it, but then she remembered no more.
+ 21 +
In Which Monsieur Vioget Makesan Unflattering Comparison to Our Heroine
* * *
When Victoria came back to herself, the first thing she noticed was that the nape of her neck was cold.
Then, that she couldn’t move her arms. Or her legs.
She slitted her eyes open in an effort to pretend she was still unconscious, but it obviously didn’t work.
“Ah…our lovely Venator has returned to us.” Sebastian’s voice was very near, and so Victoria opened her eyes all the way and managed a sleepy glare.
He was sitting in a chair next to where she was lying on a narrow bed or sofa; she wasn’t quite certain. She was certain her wrists and ankles were bound, however, and that she was going to kill Sebastian.
A quick dart of her eyes around the small chamber told her they were in some kind of residence: Curtains covered the windows, rugs protected the floor, a table with a wax candle on it sat next to Sebastian’s elbow. Nice and homey.