Page 100 of The Boxing Baroness

Would she go to him—importune him?

Honestly, she didn’t know.

* * *

They stayed in Lille for five more days. They might have stayed longer if the allied coalition had not declared war on France. But after that happened, the townsfolk—even the friendly innkeepers—chilled toward them.

Sin had not returned to Marianne’s room and she had not come to his.

He had waited in vain for her every night.

During the day she behaved as if nothing had ever happened between them. Sin told himself he should be grateful for her sophisticated attitude.

Instead, he felt as if he were slowly being eaten away from the inside out.

He wanted her. That one night had done nothing to assuage his desire for her. It had only made things worse now that he knew she was a sensual, bold, and demanding lover. He wasn’t surprised that he’d never had another woman like her. There was no other woman like her.

He should never have given his word that he’d leave her alone.

Yes, you should have.

Sin sighed. Yes, he should have. He’d already behaved in a way that brought him shame—although he couldn’t regret his time with her.

But to continue such a relationship—to deepen it and explore it—would only make the inevitable ending all the more painful. He would not tire of her in a week, a month, or even a year.

And he did not have a year. He’d already left marriage and children too late. A year from now, he’d be courting some woman, planning his life with a stranger.

The thought left him empty inside.

“Sin.”

He turned at the urgent voice, frowning up at Guy, who sank into the chair beside him. He’d been sitting in the taproom, drinking a pint of French ale while going over the route they would be taking.

“What is it?” he asked.

“We need to leave. Now.”

“We’re leaving in the morning.”

“No, that’s not soon enough.” Guy’s gaze slid to the doorway between the taproom and dining room. The innkeeper, one of his ostlers—the biggest one—and a stranger were staring at them. And their looks weren’t friendly.

Sin and Guy stood up as the stranger came toward them, the other two men in his wake. “You need to leave,” the man said before he’d even come to a stop.

Sin glanced at the innkeeper, who wouldn’t meet his gaze. “We’re paid until tomorrow.”

“If you don’t leave within the next hour, you won’t be leaving at all.”

“Who are you to tell us what to do?” Sin demanded, stepping closer, looming over the man, who was a good five inches shorter than he.

“I’m the mayor, Etienne DuBois,” he said, taking a slight step back and swallowing hard, his eyes jumping from Sin to Guy to Sin. “And by speaking to you I am putting my own life in jeopardy. We have groups here—I suppose you would call them militias—who have power over us, like the army or constabulary. Some are legitimate groups that report to the army, but others . . . Well, these particular men take orders from no one. They are called the Red Cats and they are over one hundred men strong. They consider this area their territory. It is unlikely you would have run afoul of them before, er, well, before the current hostilities, but now they have no reason not to apprehend you if they see you. You are the enemy.”

Sin and Guy exchanged looks. “I’ve heard a few stories about them,” Guy said quietly. “They’re led by an ugly character named Garnier. The woman who warned me about them said they’ve been pillaging the area with impunity for years. Only recently, with the end of the war, have townsfolk dared to deny them whatever they wanted. But now—”

Guy didn’t need to explain. Now, with order breaking down, there would be nobody to hold them in check.

Sin nodded and turned to the Frenchman. “We will go. How long do we have?”

DuBois looked almost faint with relief. “Two hours, maybe three—no more. You must go south from town because they are coming from the north.”