"Sure you do. You're paler than I am." He smiled up at her. "Works every time."

She was beginning to feel sick, suffocated. "You obviously don't need my help." She threw the towel down. "And I need some air."

She slammed the door shut behind her, then stopped to take a deep breath. The air was cold and she welcomed its bite.

"You've chosen the wrong place to be if blood makes you sick." Nicholas came toward her.

She took a step back. "I just needed some air. Blood doesn't make me sick."

"You could have fooled me."

"I thought you said you were safe from Gardeaux."

"It appears I was mistaken."

"Why were you attacked? What happened to that fine insurance policy?"

"Maybe someone canceled it."

"You mean Sandequez is dead."

"It's the logical conclusion."

"Why are you so calm about it? Gardeaux tried to kill you tonight." She started walking faster. "And he'll try again, won't he?"

"At every opportunity."

"You'll never be safe again."

"That's not necessarily true. It just means that I have to be careful until I solidify my position."

"If you live that long."

"I stand corrected. There's always that qualification."

"Stop smiling," she said fiercely. "I don't see anything funny about this."

"Neither do I. But you're being serious enough for both of us."

She wanted to strike him. "That's right. You believe in enjoying every minute to the fullest. Dammit, don't you realize they've just blown up all your blasted gates and they're going to roll right over you?"

He was studying her. "I realize you're very upset at the thought of my demise. I like it."

She didn't like it. She didn't want to feel the panic that had torn through her when she had first seen Nicholas that night. "What are you going to do?"

"The same as before. But with a great deal more care."

"You shouldn't even be in the same country with him." She looked away from him. "It's not-I don't mind-if you don't go through with it."

His smile vanished. "Have you forgotten I didn't start this to help you? I have no intention of opting out."

She didn't know if she was more frightened or relieved. "I just wanted you to know." She paused. "Of course, you wouldn't want to-"

"Nell," he said quietly. "It's going to be all right. I just have to do some damage control."

Damage control. That was what Kabler had said as he looked at the burning house. Death and destruction and the ever-popular damage control.

"Whatever you say." She moistened her lips. "But under the circumstances I don't think we'll move forward as quickly as I'd like. We'd better wait for New Year's Eve."

A slow smile lit his face. "If that's what you want."

"It's not what I want at all." She turned her back on him and moved toward the cottage. "It's what we have to do to keep you from getting killed."

Jamie showed up the next morning with fresh croissants and a newspaper. He gave the croissants to Nell and tossed the paper down on the table in front of Nicholas. "I told you that you were in trouble."

"Sandequez?"

"Dead as a doornail. He was killed at his hacienda in the hills by the Colombian drug enforcement forces. The entire compound was wiped out."

"When?"

"About three hours before we left Pardeau's. Since there was no public news release for another eight hours, I'd say Gardeaux had advance information."

"Or furnished it to the authorities. Sandequez was well guarded. The police have been trying to get him for years."

Jamie whistled. "You mean Gardeaux served Sandequez up to them. My, my, what a nasty man."

"Why would he do that?" Nell asked. "Didn't you say that Sandequez was one of the men Gardeaux works for?"

"But I've been a thorn in Gardeaux's side for a long time, and Sandequez's removal might serve him in other ways."

Jamie nodded. "He might move up on the corporate ladder, so to speak, and the Colombian government had put a five-million-dollar bounty on Sandequez. That would nicely pad one of Gardeaux's Swiss bank accounts. You think he tipped off the Colombian authorities?"

"Possibly." Nicholas shrugged. "At any rate, it's a moot point. Sandequez is dead. Which means I'll have to stay out of sight with Nell until we're ready to move."

Nell felt a rush of relief, which she quickly tried to hide. "Remarkably sensible of you." She carried the croissants to the microwave. "But I've no intention of staying out of sight. As you've pointed out, no one can recognize me."

She could feel Nicholas's gaze on her back.

"May I ask where you intend to go?"

"Paris."

"And what do you intend to do there?"

"Work."

"Where?"

"I'm not sure. You'll have to tell me." She turned to face him. "Which modeling agency does Gardeaux's mistress work for?"

"Chez Molambre." Nicholas was studying her face. "What do you have in mind?"

"I need to get into the Renaissance Fest. I doubt if Gardeaux is going to issue me an invitation, and it would be risky for you to steal or forge them. The Sports Illustrated story said that there's a fashion show every year as part of the festivities. Jacques Dumoit does a special collection, and it's almost a certainty Gardeaux would ask him to use his mistress's agency to furnish the models."

"He does."

"And you intend to apply at the agency." Jamie smiled. "Ah, bright girl. We could have used her in the old days, Nick."

"You have no experience," Nicholas said.

"I've been to dozens of fashion shows. I'll fake it." She turned to Jamie. "If you can fake my credentials and arrange to have photographs taken for a portfolio."

"I know a photographer in Nice I can trust," Jamie said. "Give me three days."

"I don't like it," Nicholas said.

"I didn't expect you to like it." She met his gaze. "But will they hire me?"

"You know damn well they will." His smile was grim. "Who wouldn't hire Helen of Troy?"

"Good. I thought it would work. And I like the idea. There's a sort of ... justice to it."

"Justice?" Jamie asked.

"She means that she got that exceptional face courtesy of Maritz and Gardeaux, and it's only fair that she use it to gut them."

She should have realized that Nicholas would know exactly what she meant. Nicholas knew her so well. Too well. She took the croissants out of the oven and put them on the table. "I'm not as tall and thin as most runway models. You'll have to make those credentials impeccable, Jamie."

"Trust me. Besides, they'll be so in love with your face, I'll bet they'll never notice."

She wasn't so sure. "We'll see."

"You must have been thinking about this for a while," Nicholas said quietly.

"You left me alone for two days. What was I supposed to do? Twiddle my thumbs?"

"Heaven forbid." He stood up and moved toward the door. "Remind me not to leave you alone again."

The Charlemagne sword was hand-delivered the next morning by a dark-haired young man who looked little older than Peter. He wore a black leather jacket, arrived on a motorcycle, and his smile was supremely confident.

He presented the leather-wrapped package to Nicholas with a flourish. "Here it is, Senor. The finest piece of work my father has ever done."

"Thank you, Tomas." When he remained standing there, staring at Nell, Nicholas added, "Tomas Armandariz, Eve Billings."

Tomas beamed at her. "I am also a great craftsman. I will someday be very famous."

"That's nice," she said absently as she followed Nicholas back into the cottage.

The boy followed her. "I did a great deal of work on the sword myself."

Nicholas was drawing the sword from its leather sheath.

"As a reward for my work, my father says I can go on to Paris for a few days' holiday." Tomas smiled beguilingly at Nell. "I don't suppose you would want to go with-"

"Good-bye, Tomas," Nicholas said, his gaze on the sword.

Tomas didn't seem to hear. "I attended school at the Sorbonne, and I know many cafes that-"

Nicholas pointed the sword at the boy. "Good-bye."

Tomas blinked and began backing toward the door.

Nell didn't blame him. She had not seen this Nicholas since that moment in Florida when he had struck down Sergeant Wilkins.

Tomas said, "Only a small joke, Senor Tanek."

"I thought as much." Nicholas smiled gently. "Tell your father I'm very pleased with the sword. And now you have to be on your way to Paris, don't you?"

"Yes, yes. At once." He bolted out of the cottage.

"You didn't have to frighten him," Nell said. "All I had to do was say no."

"He was cocky." He was looking at the hilt of the sword again. "And he annoyed me."

She dismissed the subject and looked at the sword. She had seen the genuine sword only once, but this forgery seemed amazingly similar. "Is it close enough?"

He nodded. "It's a work of art."

"You're still going to use it?"

"With Sandequez dead, it's literally and figuratively the only weapon I have."

"You'll be walking into the lion's den." She hesitated. "I've been thinking. If I can get into Bellevigne undetected, why don't you stay here and let me handle everything?"

He stared at her, waiting.

She rushed on. "It's only sensible. Forget the sword. You'd be recognized and there's no way you'll get out alive."

"Has it occurred to you that you're trying to close me out?" he asked quietly. "That you're robbing me."

The words were familiar, the ones she had used to him. "This is different."

"It's always different when applied to yourself." He smiled. "I understand perfectly. But have you stopped to wonder why I was so determined to keep you at the ranch and protect you?"

"Because you're an arrogant man and think you're the only one in the world who-"

"I think you know that's not the reason." He met her gaze. "But maybe you're not ready to take your head out of the sand yet."