Free Storm Winds by Iris Johansen

des Fleurs than you would be in those noblewomen’s bedchambers. They’d devour you.”
    “Would they? What a blissful prospect,” Philippe murmured. His smile faded and his big white teeth pressed worriedly into his lower lip. “I didn’t know youwere aware of my little cottage, Jean Marc. I assure you it’s only a small indulgence and it doesn’t interfere with my running Vasaro.”
    “I know it doesn’t. You’re doing fine work caring for Catherine’s inheritance. If you weren’t, you would have heard from me before.”
    “And why am I hearing from you now?”
    “I want no outraged fathers applying to me for aid for their ravished daughters.”
    “Ravished?” Philippe’s tone was indignant. “I seduce, not rape. No unwilling woman has ever come to Les Fleurs.”
    “Make sure the circumstances remain unchanged, and you’ll have no argument from me.”
    “I wouldn’t cause you distress, Jean Marc.” Philippe gravely met his gaze. “I know how fortunate I am to have this post. I enjoy my life at Vasaro.”
    “And Vasaro evidently enjoys you.” Jean Marc suddenly smiled. “At least the female population of Vasaro does. I simply thought it best we clarify the situation.”
    Philippe’s gaze narrowed on Jean Marc’s face. “Is that why you asked me to leave Vasaro and accompany Catherine here?”
    “I asked you because I knew you would guard Catherine and I find your company stimulating.”
    “And because you wished to issue a warning to keep my pleasures separate from my duties.” Philippe smiled slowly. “So why not accomplish a threefold purpose, eh?”
    “Why not, indeed?”
    “Don’t you ever tire of these convoluted maneuvers to shape the world to suit yourself?”
    “On occasion, but the prize is usually worth the game.”
    “Not to me.” Philippe made a face. “Which is why you’re busy gobbling up all the wealth of Europe while I labor humbly at your command.”
    “At Catherine’s command. Vasaro belongs to her, not to the Andreas family.”
    “Does it? I wasn’t sure you knew the difference.”
    “It’s tradition for our family to guard the heiress of Vasaro.”
    “But you care nothing for tradition,” Philippe said softly. “I wonder what you do care about, Jean Marc.”
    “Shall I tell you?” Jean Marc’s tone was mocking. “I care about the French livre, the British pound, and the Italian florin. I’m also rapidly acquiring a passion for the Russian ruble.”
    “And nothing else?”
    Jean Marc was silent a moment, thinking. “The family. I suppose I care for the well-being of the Andreas family more than I care for anything else.”
    “And your father?”
    Jean Marc kept his expression guarded. “He’s a member of my family, is he not?” He glanced coolly at Philippe. “Don’t expect cloying sentimentality from me, Philippe. I’m not a sentimental man.”
    “Yet, you’re capable of friendship. You call me your friend.”
    Jean Marc shrugged, then winced. He had forgotten momentarily that his wound would be long in healing.
    “But, of course, I’m an exceptionally charming fellow.” Philippe continued. “How could you restrain yourself from feeling affection, not to say admiration, respect, amusement, and—”
    “Enough.” Jean Marc raised his hand to stop the flow of words. “I’ll grant you the amusement, at least. Pour all your charm into the task of cajoling Her Majesty and I’ll be content.”
    “I have no intention of exerting myself in such a profitless endeavor. Gentlemen who make cuckolds of royalty often end with their heads on pikes. Tell me, do you think the queen really prefers women to men?”
    “Why ask me?”
    “Because I know you well. Undoubtedly you’ve made it your business to discover everything about everyone down to the lowest groom in the stable at that splendid palace. You never go into any venture without a full knowledge of your opponent.”
    “Opponent?” Jean Marc murmured. “Her Majesty is my sovereign