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times.”
    “Russia?”
    Sensing he still wasn’t believing it, she added, “Yes. Russia. ‘Tis an aspiration of mine to visit Saint Petersburg one of these days. They call it the city of giants given how massive the boulevards and buildings are. Apparently, these Russians are so hardened by the snow and life they chew glass for dinner.”
    He smirked. “I doubt they chew glass for dinner. But then what do I know? I have never been.” Rubbing a hand against his jaw, he turned and strode back toward the horse. Unsheathing the single dagger attached to the saddle of the horse, he gripped it.
    Her heart popped as she scrambled back. “What are you doing?”
    He glanced at her. “You are not the only actor in our midst.”
    With that, he detached the brass buttons on his coat with the tip of his dagger, letting the buttons fall onto the dirt path one by one. He kicked them away and detached the remaining buttons on his waistcoat, as well, before sweeping the dagger back into its leather sheath on the saddle.
    Thunder cracked again, startling her. The cooling wind, that whispered summer was almost at an end, gusted through the trees and flapped her skirts, causing them to balloon upward. She gasped, scrambling to keep her gown from exposing her lack of undergarments.
    He eyed her and smirked. Removing his coat with a shrug, he revealed a yellowing linen shirt and well-fitted waistcoat. Pausing before her and the basket that separated them, he held out his coat. “Here. Put it on. It will keep your gown from lifting.”
    She was officially impressed. “You, monsieur , would be the first to try to keep my skirt from lifting.”
    “I did not say I was doing it willingly, dearest.”
    She gave him a withering look. “I take it you offer your coat to every woman you meet?”
    He lifted a brow. “I used to let beautiful women take far, far more than my coat.” He leveled her with a stare. “But I have learned not to trust them to take off with my heart.”
    She blinked. “Are you flirting with me?”
    “Whatever gave you that idea?” He tossed the coat at her, startling her. “Take it.” He stepped back. “The wind appears to be strong enough to push this weather through. So hopefully, it will not rain.”
    She scrambled into his coat before her gown decided to put on another show. The thick fabric was heavy and smooth, weighing her shoulders with an impressive expanse that draped down well past her knees.
    Adjusting it over herself to keep it from falling, she paused, realizing the fabric had a melting scent of expensive cologne. It smelled like freshly hewn amberwood and spice and was so achingly divine, she wanted to do nothing but sniff, nuzzle and cuddle it.
    She refrained. “Thank you for the coat.”
    He said nothing. He simply removed his felt hat, causing strands of longer black hair to fall into his eyes. Brushing it back into his queue, he whipped the hat into the forest, well beyond the trees. Lifting his unshaven chin, he casually undid his cravat and flicked it aside. Stripping off his waistcoat that fully exposed his linen shirt, he hurled it.
    She tightened her hold on his coat. “What are you doing?”
    “I try never to be seen in the same clothing for long. I changed out of my last ensemble over an hour ago by a lake. After I went for a swim.”
    She gaped. “Is there a warrant for your arrest?”
    “I have no doubt there will be.” Holding her gaze, he set a gloved hand to his chest. “The name is Gérard. We will keep it to that until I have established what our relationship will be. I am still deciding.”
    Still deciding ? “Do tell the jury my name is Thérèse.”
    He lingered. “ Thérèse .” He intently searched her face, dragging in a slow breath. “You certainly were blessed. Everything about you is…your face is—” He still lingered, searching her features.
    She edged back. “Leave my face out of this.”
    He lifted a dark brow. “What? Did I say anything?”
    “You did