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appeared relaxed, but she could tell by the set of his jaw that he was alert to the surrounding countryside and the dangers it might pose.
    Intuitively she knew she could trust him, that he was a man whose first instinct would always be to protect those around him. And what’s more, she knew beyond doubt that while he had an obvious fondness for women, he would never take more than what was offered. Ironically, he reminded her of Uncle Nate in many ways. In fact, they were probably even about the same age, except Uncle Nate was more reserved, burdened as he was by the responsibilities of the Dukedom and the weight of his Parliamentary duties.
    Liliane stretched her back and wiggled to find a more comfortable spot in the saddle. ‘Does your brotherly concern extend to allowing us to stop for a comfort break any time soon?’
    Sin nodded. ‘Actually, there’s a place another twenty minutes from here where I plan for us to spend the evening. Will that suit your needs?’
    ‘Thank you.’ Liliane looked over at him. As long as they were talking she may as well clear the air completely. ‘I get the impression you were not pleased about me taking Solange’s place.’
    Sin quirked an eyebrow. ‘Perceptive of you. There have been some unexpected developments and my new mission takes precedence over my own personal considerations. Forgive me, I shouldn’t have goaded you so much.’
    Liliane couldn’t help but feel there was reticence to Sin’s response. Something that hadn’t been present yesterday. She gazed into fathomless brown eyes, trying to determine what had caused a shadow of pain to pass across his face. ‘I’ll ensure you’re not disappointed,’ she finally responded. ‘Tell me, what exactly does this new mission entail?’
    Sin regarded her with an assessing look for several moments. ‘ Mon fleur , it wouldn’t pay for you to know the intricate details—just in case things don’t go to plan. The less you know, the easier it will be for you to stick to our cover story.’
    ‘That I am being sold for forgiveness of your gambling debts. Of course.’ Liliane guided her horse around a pothole and leaned forward to pat its flank, her mind whirling. Surely the same degree of trust should apply to her now, as it had done for their original mission. After all, the same element of threat still applied. Her mind stilled; that’s what had changed—whatever the new mission was, it had to be significantly more dangerous than Sin’s original orders. A shiver raced over her skin and she surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder, but other than a herd of grazing sheep and a couple of cows, there was no one about.
    She moved her horse closer to Sin, drawing comfort from his proximity. ‘The original premise of our trip was to pass vital information to our allies.’ And in particular, she was to approach an old acquaintance of Grandpère’s, someone that Solange was convinced would help their cause once Liliane gave him the pocket watch she was carrying.
    ‘Has that original plan changed?’ she asked softly. Silence hung suspended between them until Liliane was convinced that he would refuse to answer.
    ‘Yes.’ He refused to look at her, his tone rigid.
    A current raced through her, prickling her skin and coming to rest at the base of her spine. She glanced at him. His jaw was firm and his face became a taciturn mask. Seriously, could the man be any less communicative? So much for being open with each other. ‘I see,’ she finally replied.
    A thousand questions pierced her mind, but not one answer followed. Because, while, ostensibly, she was to there to provide Sin with an introduction to Henri Lyon, this was also her one opportunity to speak privately with him. Her hand drifted to the fob chain concealed below the high neck of her forest green riding habit; the watch attached to it sat warm and heavy between her breasts. With this watch she could fulfil Grandpère’s last wishes.
    She slowly drew in a