Protection

Chapter Six

"Then we all agree," Jacques Vachon concluded, "the girl must be found."

  The man in the chair across from them asked why.

"She murdered Gustave de Lazare, our beloved revolutionary."

   The young man shook his head. "How much will you pay me?"

 "Seventy thousand pounds was the agreed price, non?"

"Seventy-five, and the girl is yours."

 The three exchanged an annoyed glance. "Oui, seventy-five. But speak of this to no one. En fait, mention it to one and we shall order ten after you."

  "I understand. When must I have her?"

 "Février."

"And if I have not succeeded by then?"

"That depends on how close you are," Vachon said, eyes icy. "Close, we will give you a week." His expression changed from merely obsessed, to toxic. "And if not, say bonjour to Madame Guillotine."

 Her first day in London had been an uneventful one.

Alex had set her up in a guest bedchamber, which he told her would be her own, and that she could change anything she wanted. There were quite a few changes to be made if it was to suit her. First of all, the wall paper was hideous- it was the color of pea soup and had ugly little orange flowers splashed over it. It was terribly ugly, and she pitied the poor soul who had designed such an awful picture.

    She had plans for her new bedroom;  decorating rooms had always been something she had enjoyed. The sheer bliss of pretty furniture and pretty clothes was a sensation Alayna could never get enough of. 

      There came a knock at her door.

 "Enter," she called.

 Alex waltzed in boldly, holding a perfectly square paper. "Good afternoon, Alayna."

    "Good afternoon. Is there something you need?" 

  "Yes, there is something I need, actually. I just recieved an invitation to a Christmas party, three weeks from now."

    "And how does this concern me?" she asked, raising a brow. 

 "I though perhaps you might like a social outing. The Whites' Christmas party would be a good time to introduce you to everyone. Its a few months before the Season, and would give you plenty of time to make friends. Plus," he added, "everyone around London is dying to meet my mysterious cousin." He grinned, and leaned against the door way.

     "Cousin?"

"I suppose I forgot to mention the details, didn't I? You are my orphaned French cousin, my aunt Phaedra's husband's niece, of whom I met when Uncle Algernon and Aunt Phae took me with them to his childhood home in Calais. Since those two both died, and Father is dead, you came to live with your dear, distant cousin."

   She had to admit, he thought of everything. While it satisfied her, it also irritated her. She rose from her chair. He thought he was so smart, didn't he?

    And she could not attend. The risk was far too great. Anyone could be working for them. For all she knew, even Alex could be working for them. The thought brought on a shiver.

     No, she would not let her fear dominate her. She couldn't. If she did, she could be easily manipulated- which was something Alayna was not willing to risk.

    "I do not think I will go," she sighed, and ran a delicate hand over her black, silken hair.

 "Oh, is the French aristocrat too high and mighty?" he taunted her.

"No," she hissed.

 "Then what might the trouble be, hm?"

Nothing but the fact that I've been blamed for a murder I didn't commit. There is no problem other than the fact that my entire family is dead, and that my fiance is dead. Everything is just marvelous except for the fact that I'm not certain of your intentions.

 James had been the only man she could trust, the only person in the world who knew of her heavy burdens. Now it was only her.

    "I do not wish to step into a group of people I have never met before," she lied, and licked her lips.

 "Are you concerned about what they shall think of you?" His tone was almost caring- but she knew better.

    "No. I just...I am not comfortable trying to make friends with everyone. What I mean is," she batted her lashes, "everyone knows everyone else. If you are the new person, then everyone gossips about you, and thinks up silly things about you."

   "Ah, so you have been involved in a scandal before?"

 "Of sorts, yes," she admitted sheepishly.

 His dark eyes sparkled with satisfaction. So he did enjoy her agony.

 "Also, recall who your cousin is," he told her. "Everyone is too afraid of my temper to spread lies about my pretty little Alayna."

     "Your pretty little Alayna," she repeated, and a small part of her wanted to be his.

"Yes. Now, I am expecting a guest for dinner this evening," he mentioned, eyes raking over her dress that had been retrieved from her trunks.

    "I think I shall have my supper in here," she said wearily. "I am very tired from...everything, frankly."

"Why don't you try to come down? He's an old friend of mine, a nice fellow, really. He's eager to meet you." Again, he observed her body. "You would probably enjoy his company; everything about him is opposite of me."

    "I don't think so," she stated again, "the last several days have been awfully taxing."

 Did he ever give up? Couldn't he understand the message? The last thing she wanted was to dine with him and his friend.

     "You're stronger than you think you are."

"I've seen more than any person should," she spat. "My answer is final. Perhaps next time."

He seemed to study her, and she studied him in return. He made her angry more than any person she had ever met in her entire life, and yet, at the same time, she had thoughts about him wrapping his arms around her. She wondered what it would be like for him to kiss her- 

    But a romance with him was ridiculous. A romance in general was out of the question. She couldn't risk dragging someone new into her passel of troubles.