“Ah, good lad.” Tamsyn pushed back her chair.

“Where is the colonel?”

“Eating at headquarters, senhorita. He went there and hasn't come out since. Didn't take my eyes off the door for a minute.”

“Good.” Tamsyn nodded. “Gabriel, do you have a cruzado?”

Gabriel reached into his pocket and tossed the silver coin to the boy at the door. “Now what are you up to, little girl?”

Tamsyn smiled and popped an olive into her mouth.

“Just a notion I had. In about half an hour will you go to headquarters and tell the colonel I need to speak with him on a matter of the utmost urgency?”

Gabriel tore a drumstick off the chicken in front of him. “If that's what you want.” He bit into the meat.

Tamsyn nodded, removed the olive pit from her mouth, and tossed it into the garden. “I have some preparations to make. In half an hour, mind. They should be circulating the port by then.”

She disappeared upstairs, leaving the others to finish their meal. No one seemed to find anything in the least strange in her instructions or her disappearance, and the three of them continued eating with stolid application.

Half an hour later at headquarters, Gabriel ascended the stairs to the landing and greeted the brigade-major with a curt nod. “Colonel St. Simon in there?” He gestured to the door behind the lieutenant.

“Yes, but he's at dinner,” Sanderson said haughtily, staring at the massive, ruffianly figure of his visitor, clad in leather britches and jerkin, with a rough homespun shirt, a none-too-clean bandanna at his neck, gray hair caught in a queue at its nape. “And just who might you be?”

“None of your business, laddie,” Gabriel said amiably. “I'll fetch out the colonel.”

“No!” Sanderson leaped to his feet as the visitor moved to the door. “You can't go in there.”

“Oh, yes, I can, laddie.” Gabriel caught the unfortunate lieutenant by the collar and lifted him onto his toes. “Let's not argue about it, now. Do you want to run along in there and announce me, or shall I announce myself?”

Sanderson opened his mouth on a bellow for reinforcements, and Gabriel dropped him back into his chair, saying pleasantly, “I'll announce myself, then.”

By the time two infantrymen appeared, breathless, on the stairs, Gabriel was inside the commander in chief s sanctum.

The men around the table looked up in astonishment. Julian closed his eyes briefly with a resigned sigh. Sanderson and reinforcements stumbled into the room on the giant's heels.

“I beg your pardon, sir. I couldn't stop him.” Wellington raised his eyeglass and examined the newcomer, saying caustically, “No, I can see that might be difficult. And just whom do I have the honor of addressing?”

Gabriel offered no introduction, merely saying, “Sorry to disturb your dinner, gentlemen. But I've come for Colonel St. Simon. The bairn wants him urgently.”

“He's referring to La Violette,” Julian drawled, leaning back in his chair, toying idly with his port glass. “What does she want now, Gabriel?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Couldn't say, Colonel. Just told me to fetch you.”

Julian drained his glass and pushed back his chair.

“You'll excuse me, gentlemen. Mustn't keep a lady waiting.” His tone was sarcastic, and Gabriel frowned.

“You wouldn't be insulting the bairn, now, would you, Colonel?”

“That creature you persist upon calling 'little girl,' Gabriel, is a devious little devil,” Julian declared roundly. “And if you want to pick a fight with me over that description, then I suggest we go outside.”

There was a tense moment of silence; then Gabriel's laugh boomed through the room, setting the china shivering. “Och, I don't think I'll be quarrelling with you, man. Shall we be off now?”

Julian nodded, sketched a bow to his dinner companions, and followed Gabriel out of the room, Sanderson and his cohorts falling in behind them.

“So has she explained this mad scheme to you as yet?” Julian asked as they strode through the lamplit streets of Elvas.

“Not yet,” Gabriel replied placidly. “She'll tell me in her own sweet time.”

“And you're not curious?”

Gabriel shook his head. “I go where she goes.” They reached the cottage, and Julian hesitated in the tiny hall, hearing the chatter of the older women from the kitchen. “So where is she?”

“Upstairs, I believe,” Gabriel replied. “I'm off to smoke my pipe in the garden.” He disappeared through the kitchen door, closing it firmly behind him.

Julian swore softly. Tamsyn was up to her tricks again, he was sure of it. He looked up the narrow wooden staircase, then, with an impatient shake of his head, strode up, knocking sharply on the door at the top. A low voice bade him enter, and he pushed the door open.

He stopped on the threshold, stunned and disbelieving. Milky starlight fell from the small round window onto an Aladdin's cave. Chests stood open on the floor, spilling their contents: glowing silks, rich velvets, the deep green of emeralds, the bright white of diamonds, the dark, luminous red of rubies, sea-green aquamarines, brilliant turquoises.

As he stood and stared incredulously, a low laugh came from the narrow cot. He swung his head slowly toward the bed and for a moment thought he was in the middle of some crazy dream worthy of a bedlamite.

Gold covered the cot, but not just the cot. It covered the body of La Violette. Gold coins of every currency, glittering in the moonlight, shifting against her pale skin as she breathed.

''Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he whispered. “What in the name of grace are you doing?”

“Choose something,” she said, without moving from the bed. “You're entitled to compensation for the arduous task I've inflicted upon you.”

Anger flashed through him, a crimson surge. “You're offering me payment?” he demanded, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“Compensation,” Tamsyn murmured. “Look around. See what takes your fancy.” Her body moved slightly, and the gold coins that clothed her chinked faintly.

“You dare to offer me robber's gold?” He strode to the bed, his eyes black with anger. “Of all the insulting-”

“Don't jump to conclusions,” she interrupted, smiling, her eyes as luminous as any of the jewels in the caskets. Only her face remained uncovered, and he found his eyes slowly traveling down her body, fascinated by the hillocks of gold shaped by her breasts, by the small rosy crowns peeping through their covering. Gold clustered in the concave hollow of her belly, an emerald peeped shyly from her navel, ducats lay in overlapping circles along her thighs, and each toenail carried a burnished doubloon.

“There's more than one kind of treasure on offer,” she murmured. “Reject the gold and see what's below it. Maybe something there will appeal.” Very delicately she moved her legs apart and the bright fire of a diamond flashed in the starlight, brilliant against the dull glister of gold.

“You… you…” There were no words. He gazed down into the dark, rich furrow of her body where diamonds beckoned in mischievous, wicked invitation.

Slowly, he dropped to his knees beside the bed and carefully brushed coins off her breasts with a delicate fingertip, revealing the soft, pale swell. He bent his head, flicking the erect nipples with his tongue, tasting the warm sweetness of her skin mingling with the faintly metallic residue of gold.

Tamsyn lay perfectly still as, in silence, he revealed her body with slow deliberation, coin by coin, arranging them in neat piles on the floor beside him. And as he bared each circle of skin, his lips branded the flesh.

Lying still became increasingly difficult. She'd expected him to sweep the coins from her body in a surge of passion, half-angry, half-desirous. But this exquisitely slow exposure set every nerve ending a tingle, brought a soft flush to her skin in the wake of his burning kisses, sent the blood racing through her veins.