Chapter Fifteen

F rom the moment Amber saw Ram enter their salon, she knew there was trouble. Somewhere. Somehow. Whatever it was, it was horrid.

She gulped as he came to a halt, closed the salon doors, and fixed his gaze on her. In his pale, handsome eyes, she saw fear, sorrow, and, to her despair, death. He came forward. In his hand he held short, ragged sheets, the kind publishers used to print their gossip. He led her to the settee.

Biting her lip, she looked at him and sought what he could not give today. What no one could give. Peace would be destroyed by whatever was in those rags…

He pressed into her hand the sheets.

She read one with large print. Attempted abduction of niece of comtesse and British envoy!

No. Not Gus. She read another one. Skimmed another. But each one repeated the same story. Different words, but all the same meaning.

Last night after a social gathering, Monsieur le Comte Ashley and Madame la Comtesse Ashley were accosted by bullies in the streets. Dragged from their own carriage, the attackers attempted to separate the comte from his wife and carry heraway.

Rumors have it on good authority the criminals were hired by a certain official in the government who wished to bring misery to the comte, who is a British envoy living in Paris since the signing of the Treaty ofAmiens.

Fortunately, Monsieur le Comte employs his own guards, and it was they who were able to free the envoy and hislady.

Good Paris Citizens are eager to learn precisely who is responsible for this outrage and ask who will be punished for such a black mark on this city and itscitizens!

Amber sat, paralyzed. One thought rang through her head. Vaillancourt had done this to show her how powerful he could be. How perverse.

"Gus and Ashley," she finally managed to say, "are safe. It says so. Are they?"

Ram cupped her chin and directed her to focus on him. "Yes, it says so in one of the sheets. Whit has guards he hired."

"Like you do," she murmured.

Ram nodded.

"But they could not stop the abductors."

"Amber, they did. Whit and Gus are safe. At home. Unhurt."

She ran her gaze over Ram's face. "But what Luc said yesterday is true. Vaillancourt plans to destroy all my friends. Seek out all my acquaintances. Abduct them. Torture…" She clamped a hand over her mouth, lest the sobs that rose to her throat fill the whole house with outrage.

She was on her feet. The papers fell to the carpet. "I won't let him do it."

Ram rose and took her against him. His large hands to her spine, he stroked her. "Amber, sweetheart. You cannot stop him."

She shot back and stared at him. This marvelous man was kind and considerate, irresistible. She loved him. She ached with it. The joy he gave her, the unequaled bliss of being his beloved, she would always value—and never fully enjoy. "I can, Ram. I can stop him. And I will."

His eyes turned dark and frightful. "No. I will not let you throw your life away on him."

"Oh, my darling man, I will not let you throw your life away on me. Give over, Ram. You cannot stop me. I will return to Society. I will return to who I was. What I am. And the man who will not let me live without him."

He stood frozen. "That is madness."

Yes. She stepped out of his arms. "I dress to go to see Gus and Ashley. Please, Ram. Come with me."

His face showed a man hollowed out, ravaged by her declaration. She loved him. But she could not have him. Could not save him this torture of her loss. She would deal with her own as days wore on, for never would she have that serene life with him she had but glimpsed in the rapturous moments in his arms.

Tears in his pale blue-gray eyes, he said, "I'll have Gaspard hire a carriage."

Then he spun away.