The Bard Speaks Read Online Free PDF Page B

him until he broke the silence.
    “Why are you following me?” he asked.
    “Because I can,” she said.
    “As refreshing as it is to have a woman giving chase, I would prefer you stop.”
    “Would you, now?”
    Her command of his language was impressive, her accent so light he wasn’t certain which country she came from. Her face made that impossible to discern. The Rogue couldn’t stop staring at her. She brought to mind adventures he’d had in seaside towns when he visited pubs filled with angry ruffians, meeting the kind of men who had no use for charm. These were men who spoke with their fists and who felt more at ease in war than peace. If such a man were to be made into a woman, she would be this girl with her brutal features. Her figure was too slender to be fashionable, but her form appealed to him nonetheless. There was strength in her subtle curves— the shadow of breasts teasing behind the cream of her blouse, her long, muscular thighs hugging the flanks of her mount.
    When he met her gaze again, he was embarrassed to see the return of her insolent smile.
    “Do you like what you see?” she asked.
    He was startled at first, but shrugged it off.
    “I do. But to be honest, you’re not my taste.”
    She smiled and looked into the windows of the hotel. When she spoke again, her voice was taunting.
    “That which is savory today,” she said, “will taste bitter tomorrow.”
    “What?”
    “Do you really believe you’re the first?”
    The meaning behind her hint sunk its claws into the Rogue, and he was relieved to feel wrath surging within him. Ire liberated the Rogue from the fear that had gripped him on his approach.
    “What are you trying to say?”
    “What do you think?” she replied, and nodded to the apartments he just left. “Her husband knows all about you, just like he’s known about the others.”
    “You filthy liar!”
    “Don’t pretend to be such a naïf, or were you so easily duped? A man like you!”
    The Rogue found it impossible to believe such a girl could have any information about the Duchess.
    “How do you know?” he asked.
    “I was acquainted with one of her former lovers.”
    “And how did you manage a connection like that?”
    “The same way I made yours.”
    For months, her presence was a torment. Every time he saw that girl after a rendezvous, the Rogue was reminded he had lost his freedom.
    “What do you want from me?”
    “Nothing you’ve ever made good use of, ” the girl chuckled. “But that’s not my point, Rogue. It is I who has what you want, and I’m here for you.”
    “I want you to stop following me,” he said. “If I ever see you again I will report you to the asylum. And I’ll make certain you stay locked up.”
    “As you wish,” she said. “But you will want to see me again.”
    The girl kicked her mount into a canter and left. The Rogue stared down the avenue long after she disappeared from view.
    He met with his mistress once more after that day. He started avoiding places where it was likely he would see the Duke and his wife. For the first time, the Duchess had to call for her lover, sending a note on rose-colored paper with her perfume as signature. The Rogue came to her. But he looked into her sparkling brown eyes and remembered that she loved theatre more than opera. Then all he saw was a gifted actress playing her favorite role. He looked around the suite of a hotel that accommodated the indiscretions of the noble, and knew the Duchess had taken other lovers in these rooms. He could almost hear her crying the same words to another in the same anguished rapture that had overcome his better sense. He realized he’d been seduced into a fantasy of love in much the same manner he lured his debutantes hungry for an intrigue.
    The Rogue was appalled to recognize how much the Duchess was his kindred spirit. His refined sense of irony made it possible to leave the room with dignity, but he turned back when he opened the door. The Duchess was