“I already know who he is,” she said. “It’s only what he does I’m uncertain about.” A dismissive shrug. “As for my getting home, don’t worry too much about that. Chloe and I worked out a plan that will ensure I get back to my room, undetected. It’s far more important that you and I talk.” She lay a palm against his jaw. “And I do want to know everything. But first, you know this. Nothing you tell me will change my feelings for you. Nothing.” Ashford’s eyes darkened again, this time in wonder rather than passion. “I’m humbled by your faith,” he murmured, gathering handfuls of her hair. “I love you, tempête.” “And I love you.” Noelle settled herself comfortably against his chest, feeling dazed with happiness, sated by their lovemaking, and yes, extraordinarily curious—though not nearly as concerned as she’d anticipated—by what they were about to discuss. “Now tell me, why did you steal that painting? Who are you really? To whom is that money going?”
