Page 32 of The Treasure House

“Listen, Marly. My intentions toward your cousin are only good. I like her. We have friends in common. I’m a decent guy—I’m not here to disgrace her.”

Marly had an abrupt realization. “You’re staying at Saint-Cyr, aren’t you?”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Are you allowed to have guests? Can you invite people to play tennis or to eat dessert or whatever?”

He blinked, frowning. “I don’t see what—”

“I’m open to bribery,” she said honestly.

“Bribery?” He seemed totally taken aback.

“Sure. You get me into the resort for the day and I won’t tell anyone I caught you coming to molest my cousin.”

“Stop staying the word molest.”

“Sure. If you let me into your resort.”

“It’s not my resort.”

“Fine. I’ll go get Aunt Bet and—”

“Stop!”

Marly stopped. In truth, she hadn’t really moved in the first place.

“How old are you?” he asked tightly.

“Almost fifteen.”

“Jesus. How did you become a hardened blackmailer at your age?”

“Natural talent.”

He shook his head. “I can’t let you loose at the resort unaccompanied; they’ve got a rule about kids under sixteen being under adult supervision.”

“Fine. You can supervise me.” Marly really wanted into that resort. It would sure beat sitting around here with a book.

Freddie de Marche didn’t seem to know whether to laugh or wring her neck. “All right, enough is enough. Go get your cousin.”

“No way. It would wake Sylvie too and she’d tell Aunt Bet on me for talking to you in my bedroom alone, even if it got Cilla into trouble too. Sylvie’s a goody two-shoes.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought Cilla was one as well.” Marly plucked an oak leaf from the tree and twirled it between her fingers. “And yet here she is, with a molester for a boyfriend.”

“Stop saying molest,” he warned her through gritted teeth.

“Have we got a deal, pretty boy?”

He glared.

Marly shrugged. “It’s no skin off my nose. I’ll just scream and everyone will come running. And they won’t get mad at me for screaming at a burglar, will they?”

He swore, but it was nothing she hadn’t heard before.

“I want a whole day at Saint-Cyr,” she told him firmly. “Breakfast through to supper. I want to play games on the lawn, maybe go out in a boat, and I want dessert.”

“Your aunt seemed like a reasonable woman. She might understand a little romance,” he mused. “Maybe I’ll just risk it…”

“She’s not reasonable at all. Not when it comes to her daughters. And did you know my uncle fought in the war? Marines. You think he’ll be happy about you creeping in to molest his baby girl?”