He set down Fabien's letter and picked up the other. "You received these letters after you arrived here." It wasn't a question. "From whom?"

Helena hesitated, then replied, "Louis."

The confusion in her tone made him smile, even though he knew she couldn't see. She still didn't believe, still did not understand.

No matter-eventually she would.

He read through the letter from her sister-read every word. It was important he glean every bit of information; anything could be important in what was to come.

Finishing the first letter, he opened the second. The threat from Fabien. Even knowing what it would contain, even having guessed from the note Ariele had added at Fabien's request what the nature of the threat would be, he still saw red. His hands shook. He had to look away-stare into the lamp flame until he had his rage under control again. Fabien wasn't here for him to take apart with his bare hands. That could come later.

When he'd regained control, regained the ability to deal with his reaction to what Helena had been put through-all for a ridiculous dagger!-he finished the letter, then laid it down.

Paused for an instant to get all the facts straight in his mind. To see the whys behind her reactions, to draw comfort, rea.s.surance, from her internal strife-from the fact that she'd dragged her heels, put off the moment of betrayal, clung to him for as long as she could. Even though it had been her sister, the one person she held most dear in her life, whose well-being had been set so deliberately on the other half of the scale.

Helena had guarded Ariele for many years; her reaction to any threat to her sister was instinctive, deeply ingrained. Fabien, as always, had chosen well.

Unfortunately for him, a higher power had been dealt into the hand.

Quickly, with the facility that had been his from birth, honed to excellence by the world in which he'd played for so many years, he a.s.sembled the basics of a plan. Noted the important facts, the essential elements.

Absentmindedly refolding the letters, he put them back by Helena's jewel case, then turned and walked to the bed. Picked up his robe from the floor beside it and shrugged into it.

Met Helena's gaze.

After a moment she asked, "Will you give me the dagger?"

He hesitated, wondered how much to tell her. If he declared that Ariele was safe, that Fabien's threat was all bluff, designed and executed with an exquisite touch purely to force Helena to do his bidding, would either Helena or Phillipe believe him? He hadn't met Fabien for over half a decade, but he doubted men changed-not in that regard. He and Fabien had always shared the same tastes, which was in large part the cause of their rivalry.

It was also the reason Fabien had sent Helena-he'd known how to bait his trap. Unfortunately, in this case, the prey was going to bite the trapper; Sebastian did not feel the least bit sad.

However, quite aside from triumphing yet again over his old adversary, there was another, much more important, issue to consider. Unless Helena believed he could defeat Fabien, she would never, ever, feel totally sure, completely and absolutely free.

She might even remain, in the future, a prey for Fabien-and that he would not, could not, allow.

"No." He belted his robe, cinched it tight. "I will not give you the dagger. That is not the way the game will be played." He saw Helena's face fall, sensed the dimming of her gaze. "We will go to Le Roc and rescue Ariele."

The sudden reversal of her expression, the hope that flooded her face, made him smile.

"Vraiment?"She leaned forward, eagerly scanning his face, his eyes.

"You are in earnest?" Phillipe had started up at his refusal; now he stared at him with a painful intensity Sebastian didn't like to see. Didn't like to be reminded existed. Would he have looked the same if it had been Helena at Le Roc?

"Indeed." Turning back to Helena, he continued, "If I give you the dagger and you take it back to Fabien, what will you gain?"

She frowned at him. "Ariele."

He sat on the bed, leaned back against the corner post. Watched her. "But you would still be under Fabien's rule-both of you." He glanced at Phillipe. "All of you. Still his puppets, dancing to his tune."

Phillipe frowned, sat down, then nodded. "What you say is true, yet . . ." He looked up. "What is the alternative? You do not know Fabien."

Sebastian smiled his predator's smile. "Actually, I do-in fact, I know him rather better than either of you. I know how he thinks, I know how he'll react." He looked at Helena. "As you so elegantly phrased it,mignonne, I know well the games powerful men play."

She studied him, c.o.c.ked her head. Waited.

Sebastian smiled again, this time indulgently. "Gather around,mes enfants . You are about to have an education in the games of powerful men."

He glanced at Phillipe, confirmed he had his attention. "First rule: He who seizes the initiative has the advantage. We're about to take it. Fabien believes Helena will return on Christmas Eve with the dagger. He won't look for her before that." He glanced at Helena. "Regardless of any feelings you may or may not have developed for me, he'll expect you to defy him that much and dally to the last day. As Louis is with you, Fabien will feel certain that nothing unexpected will occur without his being informed of it-in good time to take any necessary measures."

Sebastian glanced at Phillipe, wondered if he should tell him he'd been manipulated by a master, that his presence here was simply another of Fabien's little touches-decided against it. He looked back at Helena. "So, at present, monsieur le comte is feeling rather smug, fully expecting that his plans are proceeding exactly as predicted and all will fall out as he wishes."

She was watching him intently. He smiled. "Instead . . . let's see. It's the seventeenth today. We can be in France by tomorrow morning if the wind blows fair. Le Roc is-correct me if I err-less than a day's fast travel from the coast, say, from Saint-Malo. We will arrive on Fabien's doorstep long before he expects us. Who knows? He might not even be in residence."

"What then?" Helena asked.

"Then we'll discover some means of removing Ariele from the fortress-you really cannot expect me to give you a detailed plan before I see the fortifications-and then we leave at an even faster pace than that at which we arrived."

Helena stared at him, then asked, "Do you truly think it's possible?"

Looking into her eyes, he knew she wasn't referring simply to the rescue of Ariele. Reaching out, he clasped her hand, gently squeezed. "Believe me,mignonne, it is."

He would free her, and her sister, and Phillipe as well, from Fabien's coils. He could understand that after all these years she would find that hard to imagine.

She eased back a little but left her hand in his.

The chiming of clocks throughout the house distracted them all. Three chimes-three o'clock. Sebastian stirred. "Bien,there is much we have to do if we wish to be in France by tomorrow morning."

They both looked to him. Quickly, concisely, he outlined the specific points they needed to know. His tone was patient-blatantly paternalistic; for once Helena did not take umbrage. Along with Phillipe, she hung on his every word, followed where his mind led, saw the victory he painted.

"With Louis thus kept in ignorance, Phillipe and I will leave and drive to Newhaven-"

Helena jerked upright. "I am coming, too!"

Sebastian met her outraged gaze. "Mignonne,it will be better if you remain here." Safe.

"No! Ariele ismy responsibility-and you do not know Le Roc as I do."

"Phillipe, however, does . . ." Sebastian glanced at Phillipe to find the young man shaking his head.

"Non. I do not know the fortress well. Louis has spent years there, but I've only recently joined my uncle's service."

Sebastian grimaced.

"And," Phillipe tentatively added, "there is a further problem. Ariele. She does not know what we know. I do not think, were I to appear to her in the dead of night, or any other time, that she would come with me. But Helena-she will always do exactly as Helena says."

Helena pounced on the point. "Vraiment. He speaks the truth. Ariele is sweet but not stupid-she won't leave the safety of Le Roc except for good reason. And she knows nothing of Fabien's schemes."

She considered Sebastian's hard face, read his opposition very clearly. She leaned closer, curling her fingers, gripping his. "And it's likely you will wish to leave without any fuss, any noise-and without too much baggage,n'est-ce pas? "