"Then I will simply be foolish. My answer is no."
He took another step toward her. "I can see I will have to attempt to persuade you."
Julienne cast a wild glance over her shoulder, finding the corridor deserted. She could scarcely believe Ivers would be brazen enough to accost her at a crowded inn. But he was a villain with few scruples, one who followed his own sinister rules.
When he reached out and grasped her shoulder, she flinched in revulsion; his mere touch filled her with dread.
Yet she was no longer the young innocent he had tormented seven years ago. She knew how to fight back.
Frantically Julienne fumbled in her reticule and gripped the handle of her knife. Drawing the blade from its sheath, she brandished the sharp steel in his face.
"I don't think you will persuade me to anything, Lord Ivers," she said, her voice low and fierce. "I've learned how to defend myself from vermin like you."
His smile turned grim yet taunting. "You won't use that."
"No?"
Schooling her features, she let her contemptuous gaze flicker over his face, noting the faint scars on his jaw just below his left ear. Scars that her nails had made years ago. "You still have the marks I gave you, my lord. But I assure you, they will be nothing to the ones I will carve in you if you dare touch me again."
His amusement faded, his gaze narrowing in doubt.
"Back away," Julienne demanded. "Unless you want me to slit your gullet."
A wild laugh almost escaped her. She had abundant theatrical experience making such melodramatic declarations, but no lines from a play had ever given her as much satisfaction as now. And she wasn't acting. She would kill Ivers before she allowed him to hurt her again.
He seemed to believe her. "You will regret this, Miss Laurent," he warned.
"Not as much as I regret letting you go unscathed all these years. If you threaten me again, I promise I will remedy my error."
He stood in indecision for an endless moment while Julienne's heart drummed in her ears. Finally backed away, then spun on his heel and stalked off, disappearing down the stairs in an irate clatter.
When her knees began to buckle, Julienne leaned weakly against the wall. She was shaking with reaction and the aftershock of confronting her nemesis again.
Dear heaven…
A dry sob escaped her, and she curled a fist into her stomach to try to ease the churning nausea. She hated feeling so vulnerable, so helpless.
She forced herself to take deep, steadying breaths, but her hands shook deplorably as she returned her knife to its sheath. She might have to keep it strapped to her wrist for protection from now on, Julienne realized.
The reminder that she wasn't entirely defenseless gave her comfort. She refused to let Ivers take any more from her than he already had. Then another thought struck her, renewing her alarm. Could he make good his threat to expose her as a traitor?
Her mind whirled. It was possible he could bring more fabricated charges against her… But she was no longer a helpless girl. She had resources now, powerful friends… Dare.
A faint sense of relief washed over her. She had Dare. He would believe her, surely. He would protect her from an unscrupulous beast like Ivers.
She needed to find Dare. There was no place where she would feel safe except for his arms…
Blindly she turned to seek him out-and halted abruptly.
Dare stood at the end of the corridor, watching her.
"I thought to return the gloves Madame Brogard left in my carriage," he said finally. "Imagine my surprise to see the Earl of Ivers descending the stairway."
"It isn't what you think…"
"Isn't it?" Dare remained where he was, casually slapping the gloves against his thigh, but the glint in his eyes was as hard as steel. "I was a gullible fool once, never realizing that you were plotting with your lover behind my back. I'm not about to be taken in again, darling."
"No, Dare, it isn't like that."