Nightside [Diana Tregarde series] Read Free

told you I spent a good deal of the Regency in London."
    "But—but—Andre, these things follow formulas; I didn't really have a choice—anybody French in a Regency romance has to be either an expatriate aristocrat or a villain—” She bit her lip and looked pleadingly at him. “—I needed a villain and I didn't have a clue—I was in the middle of that phony medium thing and I had a deadline—and—” Her words thinned down to a whisper. “—to tell you the truth, I didn't think you'd ever find out. You—you aren't angry, are you?"
    He lifted the hair away from her shoulder, cupped his hand beneath her chin, and moved close beside her. “I think I may possibly be induced to forgive you—"
    The near-chuckle in his voice told her she hadn't offended him. Reassured by that, she looked up at him, slyly. “Oh?"
    "You could—” He slid her gown off her shoulder a little, and ran an inquisitive finger from the tip of her shoulder blade to just behind her ear. “—write another, and let me play the hero—"
    "Have you any—suggestions?” she replied, finding it difficult to reply when his mouth followed where his finger had been.
    "In that ‘Burning Passions’ series, perhaps?"
    She pushed him away, laughing. “Andre, you can't be serious!"
    "Never more.” He pulled her back. “Think of how enjoyable the research would be—"
    She grabbed his hand again before it could resume its explorations. Aren't we supposed to be resting?"
    He stopped for a moment, and his face and eyes were deadly serious. “Cherie, we must face this thing at strength. You need to sleep—and to relax. Can you think of any better way to relax—"
    "No,” she admitted.
    "Well, then?"
    She briefly contemplated getting up long enough to take care of the lights—then decided a little waste of energy was worth it, and extinguished them with a thought. “C'mere, you—let's do some research."
    He laughed deep in his throat as they reached for one another.
* * * *
    She woke late the next morning—so late that in a half hour it would have been afternoon—and lay quietly for a long, contented moment before wriggling out of the tumble of bedclothes and Andre. No fear of waking him—he wouldn't rouse until the sun went down. She arranged him a bit more comfortably and tucked him in, thinking that he looked absurdly young with his hair all rumpled and those long, dark lashes lying against his cheek—he looked much better this morning, now that she was in a position to pay attention. Last night he'd been pretty pale and hungry-thin. She shook her head over him. Someday his gallantry was going to get him into trouble. “Idiot—” she whispered, touching his forehead, “—all you ever have to do is ask—"
    But there were other things to take care of—and to think about. A fight to get ready for, and she had a premonition it wasn't going to be an easy one.
    So she showered and changed into a leotard, and took herself into her barren studio at the back of the apartment to run through her katas three times—once slow, twice at full speed—and then into some Tai Chi exercises to rebalance everything. She followed that with a half hour of meditation, then cast a circle and charged herself with all of the Power she thought she could safely carry.
    Without knowing what she was to face, it was all she could do, really—that, and have a really good dinner.
    She showered and changed again into a bright-red sweat suit and was just finishing that dinner when the sun set and Andre strolled into the white-painted kitchen, shirtless, and blinking sleepily.
    She gulped the last bite of her liver and waggled her fingers at him. “If you want a shower, you'd better get a fast one—I want to get in place before he comes out for the night."
    He sighed happily over the prospect of a hot shower. “The perfect way to start one's—day. Petite , you may have difficulty in dislodging me now that you have let me stay overnight—"
    She showed her teeth.