She vowed to make every revolutionary her mortal enemy, but hers was vow destined to be broken.
After bloodthirsty revolutionaries murder her family, Françoise Despres vows to avenge their deaths and fight the violent mob destroying her beloved France by becoming a spy for the counter-revolutionary cause. She knows great success, silently slipping between the shadows to carry secret messages that thwart her foes. But she never expected to come up against Sebastien de Bréze, a daring, clever cavalry officer in the revolutionary army and master spy hunter.
Who will win this dangerous game of cat and mouse?
When Sebastien discovers the spy he has captured is actually a wily, elusive young woman cloaked in men’s garb and shrouded in secrets, he finds himself intrigued and titillated. But the crafty woman slips through his grasp and soon he finds himself chasing her through France. Undaunted, he makes it his mission to recapture Françoise Despres, body and soul.
Sebastien inched closer. His warm, hard leg pressed against her. She remembered riding on Esmeralda with him, the way it felt to have other warmer, harder places on his muscled body pressed against her. He was so close she could smell the woodsy scent emanating from his heated skin.
Sacré Mère, but he smells good.
She tried to scoot away but he was sitting on the tail of her greatcoat, holding her captive once again. Her blood surged through her body until she was certain she could hear it rushing through her veins.
She tugged on her greatcoat but his muscular thigh was as heavy as a boulder.
“Pardonner moi, Colonel,” she said, glancing sideways at him through the curtain of her hair.
His bright gaze snapped on her instantly, robbing her of breath and thought.
“Oui?” He said, tilting his head to stare at her partially shrouded face.
He was so close now she could see the dark stubble dotting his jaw. The coarse black hairs gave him a rakish, virile appearance, while accentuating his sensual mouth.
“You have me...”
She had meant to say “trapped,” but the word stuck in her throat.
“Not yet, but I mean to.”