Free Exile's Return by Alison Stuart Page A

approval?’
    She flushed, looked down at her own mournful gown, and thought of her pale and wan face. As a seductress she had a lot to learn. Staring at your quarry like a rabbit facing a fox was probably not a good way to begin.
    She cleared her throat and forced herself to look up at him again, a smile fixed to her lips. ‘I was thinking that you must have spent a great deal of time in warmer climes than ours, sir. I have never seen a man so dark.’
    Lucas shrugged. ‘I have travelled extensively, Mistress Fletcher.’
    â€˜Are you a merchant?’
    Something flashed in the grey depths of his eyes. Amusement?
    â€˜A merchant? In a manner of speaking, perhaps,’ he said with an almost studied insouciance.
    The more she looked at him, the more piratical he appeared for all his fine clothes. A sword hilt crowned with a jewel of deepest green winked at her, and she could have sworn from the line of his well-cut jacket that he carried a pistol tucked into his belt.
    It would be madness to throw herself on the mercy of this man. What was she thinking?
    She steeled herself. ‘You have been very kind. Thank you for settling my account. There really was no need … I will repay you.’
    His eyes creased at the corners as he smiled. ‘Of course you will, Mistress Fletcher, but for the moment you are my guest. Will you at least sit and eat with me?’
    He gestured at the flagon of wine and a large pie that now took up most of the space on the tiny table. Agnes’s stomach growled in appreciation.
    â€˜Please help yourself. The world’s troubles will seem easier on a full stomach,’ he said.
    A man’s response, that, she thought. Food — the panacea to all evil.
    She seated herself with all the grace she would have used at James’s table.
    â€˜I lied,’ she said after several mouthfuls.
    â€˜Lied?’
    â€˜I do not have the means to repay you. I have nothing. Not a groat.’
    â€˜I know,’ he said and leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his cold, grey eyes narrowed. ‘I am not looking for you to repay me in coin, Mistress Fletcher.’
    Agnes swallowed, taking his meaning. Men – they were all the same. What choice did she have?
    She cleared her throat and met his gaze. ‘I know I am indebted to you and whatever you want of me I will give you gladly, but I ask one more thing in return.’
    â€˜That is?’ The man’s mouth quirked at the corners and a seething resentment rose in Agnes. Here she was practically throwing herself at him and all he could do was smile?
    â€˜You assist me with the means to reach Charvaley, in …’
    â€˜Lancashire?’ he answered for her.
    â€˜You’ve heard of it?’
    His mouth tightened and he sat back. ‘Yes. What particular means do you have in mind?’
    â€˜Money to buy a passage on the Liverpool coach?’ she suggested, having not really considered how one travelled the countryside without the benefit of a private conveyance.
    He nodded. ‘I could do that, or … ’ he paused, his eyes narrowing.
    â€˜Or?’ she prompted.
    â€˜I could take you myself.’
    Agnes’s heart skipped a beat. ‘You would take me to Charvaley?’
    â€˜Yes. That is what you want, is it not?’
    â€˜Yes,’ she whispered, her fingers circling the gold locket. ‘More than anything but why would you wish to go such a distance … for me.’
    He studied her for a long moment, the tips of his fingers steepled, as if in deep consideration. He laid the palm of one hand down on the table. ‘I think we should be honest with each other, Mistress Fletcher. We share one thing in common … a mutual … shall we say, dislike … of Colonel Tobias Ashby. I have long-outstanding business with him and you wish to have the children restored to you. We have a common cause … a common enemy.’
    The grey eyes took on the