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England had attracted her in the same way Reed did. They were simply hapless men who had been placed in her care before leaving French shores, never to be seen again. And so it would be with Reed.
    That thought gave Fleur the impetus to do as she should have done in the beginning: end the kiss. She tried to pull away, suddenly aware that Reed’s uninjured arm had found its way around her waist. No, this wouldn’t do at all. Struggling against her own desire to enjoy Reed’s kisses, she broke away and gently removed his arm from her waist.
    “Forgive me,” Reed said before Fleur could form a rebuke. “I do not know what came over me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any interest in a woman. And you—” he shook his head—“are a woman only a dead man could resist.”
    Fleur wagged her finger at him. “You are in no condition to be thinking such thoughts.”
    That irresistible dimple appeared in Reed’s cheek. “I’m not dead yet, Fleur.”
    Fleur studied his gaunt features, trying to visualize what he had looked like before he had been starved and beaten. She suspected he was a bit of a rogue despite his dangerous work. She couldn’t help admiring his daring, fully aware that he was in no condition to follow through with his amorous intentions.
    Fleur returned his grin. “There is plenty of time for that once you are back in England. I suspect there are any number of young women whose eager mamas will actively seek your attendance upon their daughters.”
    Reed grimaced. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
    She tucked the blanket beneath his chin. “Good night, Reed. I’ll send Gaston up to see to your needs before you settle down to sleep.”
    Fleur picked up the candlestick she had brought with her and left, closing the door softly behind her. She leaned against the door for a moment and placed her fingertips over her mouth. The warmth of Reed’s lips still lingered, creating a long-forgotten tingling throughout her body. She shook her head and moved on to her own bedchamber. She was a fool to let herself be distracted by a man’s lips. Especially a man she would never see after he left France.
    Reed’s thoughts matched Fleur’s. Whatever had possessed him to kiss Fleur? There was something about her luscious plump lips he couldn’t resist, and kissing her had made him feel more alive than he had in weeks, no, months. He grinned. If the opportunity presented itself, he wouldn’t hesitate to kiss her again.
    Reed continued rapidly on the road to recovery. According to Doctor Defoe’s instructions, the bandages were removed from his patient’s midsection. A few deep breaths proved to Reed that his ribs had indeed mended. And a few days after that, Fleur carefully removed the splints from Reed’s arm and fashioned a sling to hold it in place while it finished healing.
    The amount of food Reed consumed during the following days surprised even him. Within a month after leaving Devil’s Chateau, he had regained much of his former weight. His hollow cheeks had filled out and his silver eyes had lost their hollow look. Though full recovery was still weeks away, he began to feel like his old self again.
    One of the first signs of recovery was Reed’s continued fascination with Fleur. The woman was truly amazing. Brave beyond words, Fleur put her life on the line each time she visited Devil’s Chateau under the guise of the Black Widow.
    Reed knew Fleur’s vow to avenge her husband’s death drove her, and he admired her for not wavering from her course despite the risk to herself. Every moment he spent at the cottage increased her danger. Therefore, he vowed to hasten his recovery and return to England as soon as his weak body would allow.
    One pleasant evening after dinner, Fleur asked Reed if he felt like going for a walk. Reed agreed with alacrity.
    “I’d like that; I could use the exercise. Will you walk with me?”
    “If you wish.”
    “I wish. Are you sure it’s safe?”
    “No one