Holding out her hand, she took Perrine's cup from him and refilled it, then passed it back to him. "I suppose the method of Wolverton's demise doesn't really matter. It doesn't have to be bandits. He could meet with an accident on the Paris streets."

Perrine was silent for a moment longer. "I'm sorry, Miss Laurent. I don't know this Caliban you speak of."

Her shoulders slumped in discouragement. "Even so… do you think you might help me? As a man, you can make discreet inquiries with much more freedom than I." She gave him a pleading look. "I understand your purse is not as full as you would like, Mr. Perrine. I would be willing to pay you well. Wolverton has given me several costly pieces of jewelry recently. You can have those, or whatever else you ask."

"I am not a murderer, Miss Laurent."

"No, of course not. But I hoped…" She looked crestfallen. "Then you won't help me?"

"I didn't say that. I might be able to put you in contact with someone who could meet your needs. I will make some inquiries if you like."

Julienne's smile turned brilliant. "Thank you, Mr. Perrine. I would be very grateful."

After a few moments more of inconsequential conversation, Perrine rose and took his leave. Julienne watched from the parlor window as he mounted his horse in the yard below. Then she went to the connecting door and admitted Dare and Philip Barton.

"I'm not certain I made any progress," Julienne said after telling them the details of her discussion with Perrine. "He repeatedly denied even knowing Caliban. Certainly he didn't trust me enough to confide any secrets to me. But I think I convinced him that I want you out of the way. He said he could perhaps find someone to help me and that he would contact me in a few days."

A muscle flexed in Dare's jaw. "Then we will just have to wait," he said, visibly clamping down on his impatience.

It was the following day that the First Peace of Paris was signed between the Allied Powers and France. The terms of the treaty were exceedingly lenient. The boundaries of France were to be returned to those before the Revolution. And France would not be required to pay restitution for the vast sums it had cost the countries of Europe to prosecute all the years of war.

The Bourbon restoration was to begin officially the following week, on June fourth, with a public celebration planned to commemorate the event. Dare and Solange both received invitations to watch Louis XVIII resume the throne.

They heard nothing from Perrine until the day before the celebration. His brief note to Julienne said merely: I made the inquires you requested of me. Meet me at the Tuileries Palace tomorrow during the festivities if you wish to discuss further.

"Tomorrow is a likely time for Caliban to strike," Dare observed during their daily consultation with Philip Barton. "Until now, Castlereagh has been carefully guarded, but he will be more vulnerable during a public event."

Philip concurred. "Caliban could be planning to use the crowds to create a distraction. And if Perrine is the traitor, he is no doubt counting on his friend Lord Aberdeen to help him gain entree to Castlereagh's inner circle. We will have to make certain the foreign secretary is closely protected tomorrow."

"And yet we want Caliban to show his hand. Our best hope is to catch him in the act while keeping Castlereagh safe."

"I will ensure," Philip said, "that his lordship is surrounded with an additional score of guards in disguise, the better to fool Caliban."

Julienne asked a question that had been bothering her. "Why do you suppose Perrine wants to see me specifically at the festivities? He must know I will accompany you, Dare. If he is planning an assassination, he would not want you present to witness it."

"I don't know," Dare replied. "But I don't like it."

"Perhaps," Philip said, "he truly isn't Caliban, and tomorrow's celebration will simply provide him a convenient place to meet with Miss Laurent."

They all three fell silent, thinking similar thoughts, Julienne suspected. By this time tomorrow, it might all be over. They could have brought a criminal mastermind to justice. Or they could have witnessed the assassination of one of Europe's greatest men. Either way, the situation was fraught with danger.

When Barton had gone, Dare gave Julienne a brooding look. "I will come to you tonight."

She lowered her gaze, and yet she nodded. They had not been intimate since the night Dare had learned the dark truth about her past and taken his revenge on Ivers. But this could be their last chance. Caliban's deadliness was unquestioned, with murder a chief weapon in his cunning arsenal of tricks. It was possible that she or Dare would not survive the morrow.

She didn't want to go to her grave without being with Dare once more, without feeling his touch, the ecstasy of his caresses. After that, however…

Regardless of what happened, Julienne was determined that tonight would be their last night together. If they survived, she intended to find a way to say good-bye.

When he came to her that night, she was waiting by the window, gazing out at the moonlit streets of Paris, the heaviness in her chest a tangle of sorrow and fear. She felt Dare move silently behind her, felt his arms slip around her waist.

Julienne leaned back full against him. She didn't want tomorrow to come. Didn't want to face the future. When they parted, she would be left alone, nursing her terrible ache for him. Her breath caught on a surge of yearning so intense it felt like pain.

His hushed whisper brushed her ear: "I want this night to last."

So did she. She needed this final night with him. She would take the memory with her, to sustain her during the long, empty years that she would have to live without him. The thought brought scalding tears to the inside of her eyelids.

She swallowed hard, refusing to surrender to despair. Tonight she would pretend they were young lovers again, that the enchantment of their love had never ended. Their passion would be just like it once was: simple, pure, intense.

As if he shared the same feeling, Dare pressed his lips to the exposed curve of her neck, his touch hot and tender. It wasn't the fiery caress he usually used to seduce and inflame her; this had a poignancy that went directly to her heart. Julienne arched backward in mute appeal. She wanted Dare so desperately. She wanted to fill herself with him.

His long fingers cupped her jaw and slowly turned her face to his. His features were tight with emotion, as she knew hers were.

Julienne drank in the sight of him, committing him to memory. The moonlight illuminated the flaring elegance of his cheekbones, gilded his hair. He was such a beautiful man, she thought, surveying the aristocratic angles of his face.

"Julienne…"

He started to speak but she pressed her fingers to his sensual lips. "Just make love to me."

He obliged her at once. His mouth descended to hers with throat-tightening gentleness, dredging a sigh from deep in Julienne. For this moment, there was no past, no future.

They undressed each other without haste, taking their time, their hands searching each other with silent hunger. Her heart beat in a slow, heavy cadence when they both stood naked.

Then Dare kissed her again. He drank from her mouth as if he could absorb her, and the knot of tension in her stomach pressed up into her chest and turned searing. She arched against him, craving for his hands to soothe the aching fullness of her breasts.

His drugging, demanding kiss continued while the rhythm of his hands became urgent. Julienne felt passion rising powerfully from deep inside her as he roused her.

"Please," she whispered as his mouth left hers to trace a burning path down the side of her throat.

Needing no further invitation, he took her hand and led her to the bed. Laying her down, he followed with his body, his manhood, rigid and needy, settling intimately in the cradle of her femininity.

Julienne met his wantonly ardent gaze as he remained poised above her. Dare had made love to her many times, but never with such graveness.

Reaching up, she drew his head down to her, tasting his breath, feeling his hands cherishing her body as his thighs pressed hers wide.

He entered her with a sureness that kindled a soft cry from her, but she welcomed him eagerly, sliding her legs around his hips. Suddenly fierce, he withdrew only to surge into her again, then again. His relentless claiming threw her breathing into a series of sharp gasps, yet she responded with his same intensity.

Their lips met bruisingly in a fevered urgency as his body enveloped her, covered her. They clung to each other as the burning need built, holding on with a tight, quiet desperation. Their bodies twisted together, entwined, mating savagely, striving to become one with each other, fighting to deny anything but the primal moment.

The explosive conflagration came without warning. Julienne cried into the hollow of his shoulder as shudder after shudder shook her and swept Dare along with her.

When it was over, they lay gasping for breath, the sweat cooling on their overheated bodies. Julienne felt her eyes sting with fresh tears. That had been their deepest bonding, and the power of it made her heart ache. She wondered if Dare had felt the same way.

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing away the wrenching thought, vowing not to cry.

It was a long moment before Dare eased his weight from her and gazed down at Julienne's passion-flushed face. She lay naked, shimmering with moonlight, her hair spread upon the pillow, flowing like dark silk.