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“I don’t kn—yes!” Jean Marc ducked away from the door as a beam of light played on the glass illuminating the interior of the pavilion. He dragged Juliette to the right of the door, pressing her against the wall.

She could hear voices outside, then the crunch of booted feet on the steps. The door beside them was flung open.

Juliette was afraid to breathe. A huge figure appeared in the doorway. Light played on the glittering panes of the door directly across the room. She could see the flame of the lantern reflecting on the glass.

And Jean Marc’s and her own reflection barely discernible in the shadows .

Juliette could feel Jean Marc’s muscles tense as he readied to spring.

“All secure, Corporal?”

“All secure, sir.” The soldier stepped back and shut the door. His boots clattered on the steps as he rejoined the patrol.

Juliette’s heart was beating so hard she marveled the men outside didn’t hear it.

Jean Marc peered carefully through the glass of the window to their right. “They’re going away.”

“Toward the palace?”

“No, toward Le Hameau. We’ll wait a minute until they move farther away and then we’ll have to be quick. We don’t want to run into them on our way back to the gates.”

“I thought for sure he’d seen us.”

“He wasn’t looking hard. He saw only what he expected to see.”

Juliette sank to the floor and leaned back against the wall, trying to steady her breathing.

She was shaking and the icy cold of the mosaic marble floor seemed to pierce through her woolen gown to her bones.

She wondered if Jean Marc could see how frightened she was as he stared so intently at her.

She moistened her lips. “It’s the same.”

“What?”

“This pavilion. Versailles. Even the gardens are still well cared for.” She gestured to the exquisite arabesques painted on the wall, the clear blue sky drifting with fleeting clouds on the cupola above them.

“I expected it to be defaced. Paris has changed so much. The queen used to have wonderful parties in the gardens of the Trianon and she had a concealed trench dug around this pavilion. Faggots were lit so that it looked as if it were floating on a cloud of light.” She wished he would stop staring at her.

He mustn’t see how weak she felt. It was dangerous to show anyone her weaknesses but most of all Jean Marc.

“I tried to paint it once, but I’m not good at fire. ”

“I’d say your incendiary capabilities are extraordinary.” To her relief, Jean Marc finally shifted his gaze. “Do I detect a hint of sentiment?”

She shook her head. “It’s very beautiful here, but I liked the abbey better.” She was silent a moment. “Why did you intercede with the queen to have me sent there?”

“Why do you think?”

“Because of Catherine.”

“It was partly Catherine.” His voice was suddenly rough as his gaze returned to her face. “Stop chattering. It doesn’t matter if you’re frightened.”

She should have realized she couldn’t deceive him. “I’m only a little frightened.”

“But you won’t give in to it. You won’t let anyone see.” He knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. “Christ, stop trying to hide it.”

He felt hard and strong and smelled of spice and the night. She buried her face in his shoulder. “You told me not to let you see any weakness.”

“Did I?” His hand gently stroked her hair. “Ah, yes, I’d forgotten. I’m not usually so generous as to give warnings. Never mind, this isn’t the kind of battleground I was speaking about.”

“I’ll be all right soon. It was the surprise…”

“I was scared out of my wits too.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “You were? You didn’t show it.”

“I’ve had a few more years of practice hiding my feelings than you have.”

She didn’t know any other man who would have admitted to fear, but he had never been like other men. He had always been only Jean Marc, and the gift he was giving her tonight was as unique as the man himself. He had saved her pride by his simple admission of fear. “You’re a strange man.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“Because it’s true.” She nestled closer into his arms. “I never know what you’re going to do next.”

“Nothing at the moment. Hush.”

She fell silent for a moment, absorbing his comfort and strength. Warmth flowed through her, not the tingling heat of lust but something deeper, cozier. She suddenly chuckled. “I feel very foolish kneeling here like this. We must look like two porcelain figures in a music box.”

“You must be feeling better if you’re thinking in pictures.” Jean Marc cast a glance out the window and then rose to his feet and opened the door. “I believe it’s safe to leave now.”

Juliette scrambled to her feet and grabbed the lantern. “Shall I light it?”

Jean Marc was already going down the steps. “Not if we can avoid it. It might be seen.” Jean Marc knelt by the sphinx again, examining it closely. “I see no levers.” He pushed at the base. “The foundation is solid.” He pushed sideways on the body of the sphinx.

It moved!

He pushed again, harder.

The statue swung to the side at a right angle, revealing a deep cavity measuring a good two feet square.

“I can’t see. Light the lantern.”

Juliette’s hands were trembling as she obeyed him. She drew closer to the sphinx, blocking the light with her body as she held the lantern directly over the dark cavity.

She heard Jean Marc mutter a curse but she was too shocked to speak.

The cache was empty.

Jean Marc smiled and waved at the guard at the front gate as the wagon passed under the Sun King’s golden emblem.

He snapped the whip and the horses picked up speed. As the wagon began to rumble through the streets of the town Jean Marc’s smile vanished. “So where is it?”

“I don’t know. She said it was at the Belvedere.”

“Then you’re evidently mistaken about her trusting you. She sent you on a fool’s errand.”

“I don’t think so.”

Jean Marc shot her an impatient glance. “The Wind Dancer wasn’t there, Juliette.”

“But I’m certain she didn’t realize it wasn’t still where she put—” Juliette stopped, her eyes widening as she remembered the queen’s exact wording. “But she didn’t put it in the cache herself.”

“No?”

Juliette shook her head. “She said, ‘I had it hidden in the Belvedere.’ Someone else must have hidden it for her.”

“And then taken it out unbeknownst to her. Who?”

“Someone she trusted.” Juliette shrugged. “It could have been anyone. The queen’s never been overly shrewd and trusted almost everyone at court. Her ladies-in-waiting, a servant, her family. We’ll have to ask her.”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

“I’ll go back to the Temple.”

“No.” Jean Marc’s tone was sharp as a scythe. “You most certainly will not.”

“But I’ll have to ask—” She stopped. “But Francois said he wouldn’t help me another time. I suppose you’re right. I won’t be able to visit her again, but there must be another way to find out.” She frowned. “William Darrell quite likely has access to Her Majesty.”

“Who in perdition is William Darrell?”

“I’m not sure. The name sounds English, doesn’t it? The queen told me to give him the money I received from you. If he’s trying to help her escape, he must be able to get a message to her.”

“Perhaps. Did she tell you where to reach him?”

Juliette nodded. “I’m to ask for him at a café on the Pont Neuf. I’ll go there tomorrow.”

Jean Marc smiled sardonically. “In your chimneysweep disguise?”

“Of course not. That wouldn’t be at all suitable. I’ll have to think of something else.”

“I’m the one who’ll go.”

Juliette shook her head. “I won’t tell you where he can be found unless you promise to let me go too.”

“This place is no doubt a hotbed of royalist sympathizers with every agent of the Commune sniffing about.”

“You exaggerate. So far I’ve found the Commune to be composed of bumblers and lummoxes. Look how easily I got in to see the queen. And tonight we danced past that guard at the gate—”

“And were almost captured by the patrol,” Jean Marc finished. “They’re not all bumblers. You forget our friends Francois and Danton.”

“But they’re no threat to us. It’s worth the risk. You want the Wind Dancer and I want the two million livres.”

They reached the outskirts of the town and Jean Marc turned the wagon toward Paris. “I believe I’m going to regret this. I should leave you at an inn here with funds enough to take you to Vasaro on the coach.”

“I’d only follow you.”

“On foot?”

“Why not? I’m young and strong and—”

“Not a doddering man of thirty—”

“Thirty-two.”

“I was going to say that.”

“You needn’t snap at me.”

He glanced sidewise at her. “Why not? You’ve certainly recovered your equanimity and you’re clearly trying to annoy me. I should think it would offer you satisfaction.” He smiled crookedly. “Enjoy it, Juliette. When you realize why you are doing this, I think it will bring you little pleasure.”

She had already begun to suspect why drawing fire from him had brought her such a feeling of exhilaration.

But now she realized since that moment when he had held her in the pavilion the excitement and satisfaction of taunting him had entirely vanished.

She looked away from him. “It doesn’t matter.

I’m going back to Paris with you tonight, and tomorrow night I’m going to the café to see this William Darrell. The discussion is closed.”

“Not quite.”

Juliette gazed at him warily.

“It’s a long trip back to Paris. I wish to be amused. Tell me a few anecdotes of your interesting past at Versailles.”

“It wasn’t very interesting. All I did was paint.”

“But you had many fascinating acquaintances,” Jean Marc said softly. “For instance, I think it’s time you told me all about the ‘triviality.’ Who was the Duc de Gramont?”