Free Beloved Counterfeit by Kathleen Y'Barbo Page B

to womanhood under her protection. Harmless then. The opposite now.
    “I see,” she managed, angling away from the window and toward the kitchen door. Likely Jean Luc was merely doing the bidding of the man who would be more than happy to see her dead. “You’re here upon whose orders?”
    “Claire, Claire.” The voice deceptively sweet and tender; the man anything but. “He’d have my hide, and you know it.”
    She braved the slightest glance and found that Jean Luc had changed little in the months since she’d last seen him near the docks. Features that set him apart from others of his ilk were better suited to some silk-covered drawing room. He’d certainly used his charm to find more than one comfortable bed for a night or a week of nights.
    Rumor held that Jean Luc had a wife comfortably ensconced in a chateau near Gouvieux, where she believed her oft-absent husband to be traveling the world mapping uncharted lands and garnering large sums of money. Wherever the truth might lie, Jean Luc Rabelais had never seemed much concerned with the bonds of matrimony.
    “Might I ask the reason for this visit?”
    “You’ve got something I want.” He moved closer. “And something Hawk wants.” Jean Luc practically fitted himself against her. “I’ve considered this dilemma at some length and have come to a conclusion.”
    His right hand snaked around her neck and cupped her jaw. A braver woman might have bit him and run or at least thrown open the curtains and screamed for help.
    Their shared past, however, gave Ruby a third option.
    With care, Ruby ducked out of Jean Luc’s vile embrace and, backbone stiff, walked toward the kitchen as if she hadn’t just been confronted with evidence of her past. While her hands shook, Ruby held her head high. With luck, she just might be able to bluff her way out of this.
    Then she’d somehow fetch the girls and leave Fairweather Key behind for good. How this would happen, she’d figure out as she went.
    Jean Luc was upon her before she’d taken three steps. He whirled her around to face him, and Ruby lost her balance. As she tilted, the floor rose to meet her with a thud that sent stars dancing before her eyes. Jean Luc lunged to grasp her hand but missed. Lurching forward with skirts tangled about her legs, Ruby crawled toward the kitchen.
    This morning’s careful braid had loosened and covered her face, rendering her unable to see. He’d turned her around, this much she could tell, and they’d left the kitchen, though she was far too disoriented to know in what direction.
    Boot heels stomped a noisy symphony as she swiped at her face and scooped a handful of hair from her eyes. A door slammed, and darkness fell. The parlor. It was the only room that could be put in near darkness though the sun shone brightly outside. Slowly, tiny shafts of light from the edges of the drapes brought the room into focus, and Ruby’s mind worked frantically to find a solution.
    Long ago, the window frame had been painted shut, a state of affairs she’d vowed to remedy the next time she found a handyman to help. Now her lapse was Jean Luc’s gain. A key turned in the lock, and without warning, he released her.
    Much as she hated it, Ruby held tight to his hand until she could guarantee her ability to remain upright. As her eyes began to adjust to the dim light, so did her mind adjust to the situation.
    “Jean Luc,” she said in what she hoped was a firm and disinterested tone, “might we discuss this? I’m a woman of considerable means.” A lie, of course. “Perhaps we could discuss terms of whatever it is you believe I owe you.”

Chapter 10

    The smuggler moved toward Ruby; this she felt more than saw. When Jean Luc reached to touch her, he did so gently. “I’d marry you tonight,” he whispered as his lips found her ear.
    Ruby pressed her palms against his chest, and for a moment, he allowed it. “Last I checked, a man only gets one wife,” she said as she gave him a