A Midnight Dance (12 page)

“Excellent,” Jules said. “Then let’s complete this transaction once and for all and hand over the silver.”

“What about the woman, my lord?”

Jules glanced at her bundled form. After the delivery to Simon, Jules was going to meet Luc in the town after Maillard, and finally work to reclaim his life. But first, he was going to spend some decadent days and nights with the lovely Elise Marquette. After five long years, could it be that his luck was finally improving?

“Let her sleep. By the time she awakens, Simon will have his silver and be gone. We can then leave for Maillard.”

Simon Boulenger smiled as he surveyed the men transferring the chests of silver to his carts. “Well done. You keep this up, Jules, and I may allow you to do this indefinitely.”

The hell he would.

His hands on his hips, Jules scowled. He hated privateering. Hated it that his naval and battle skills were no longer required or welcomed in the King’s official Navy. “You know this is only temporary.”

Simon didn’t understand. He’d always been a commoner. He may have risen from his humble beginnings as the son of a fisherman to command a small fleet of privateer ships, but he’d no idea what it was like to have everything he identified with taken from him.

Jules had lost everything that made him who he was. His entire world had imploded on him.

He had no patience left. He wanted his life back. He wanted it now.

“With your skills, you and your brother are welcome to continue as long as you wish,” Simon said. “After I deliver the King’s share of this capture to the Superintendent of Finance and attend to a few matters, I’ll be returning to Marguerite.”

“With more peasants in tow?” Jules’s tone was dry. The island of Marguerite was located in the West Indies. Jules had been there many times during his employ with Simon, to attack Spanish ships and ports located there. Among the many islands, some still independent kingdoms and pirate domains, Simon and his men had laid claim to Marguerite. Over time, it had developed into a private settlement. At first it was simply a safe haven for those who worked and fought under Simon’s command, and their families. However, little by little, Simon brought over peasants, giving them employ in the cane fields, allowing them—according to Simon—to escape the oppression they faced here. He didn’t treat them as indentured servants, as many of the island governors in the area did, but gave them fair wages and decent accommodations.

Jules held his tongue out of courtesy, even though he didn’t agree with Simon’s practice of pulling tenants away from their lords and out of the realm. Nobles depended on the income from their tenants, and these peasants benefited from the protection of their lords while living on their land. To upset this balance wasn’t good for the stability of the nation. And the realm had been through enough upheaval.

“Of course,” Simon responded with a smile. “I’m trying to save as many of my kind from your kind as I can. You know there is plenty of room for you on Marguerite.”

Although Marguerite had been built up over the last eight years and was indeed a comfortable settlement, Jules’s life, his future, rested right here.

Before Jules could decline the offer, he saw the look on Simon’s face change as he stared at something past Jules’s shoulder, distinct male interest entering his eyes.

Without glancing behind him, Jules had a strong feeling he knew exactly what, or rather whom, Simon was looking at.

Jules turned around. Elise stood a few feet away. Her eyes were wide and fixed to the commotion around the carts.

Ensnared by the vision she made, Jules took in her pale blond hair, sensuously tousled, her comely face, and delicate body—all gloriously illuminated by the bright early morning sunlight.
Jésus-Christ
. She looked just as good as she had drenched in moonlight.

He approached her.

She looked up at him, delicate brows drawn together. Her eyes, the same color as Spanish silver, were utterly entrancing. He felt his prick stir.

He formed a smile. “Good morning.”

“Who are all these men? What’s happening?” Her eyes franticly scanned about.

She looked positively distraught.

He glanced over his shoulder at the men moving the chests from one cart to the other. He had no idea why such a sight would cause her such distress. He supposed the men looked menacing, especially to a petite woman, but last night she’d boldly walked into a camp of men she knew nothing about and attempted to steal while pretending to be a whore. She had more than her share of courage and fortitude. Why was she so nervous?

Slipping his fingers beneath her chin, he tilted it up, gaining her attention. Her skin was so warm and silky. “Everything is fine. There is nothing to be concerned about. The men will be gone soon.”

“Why are they here? What are they doing to the . . . things in your carts?”

Before Jules could fabricate some sort of explanation, Simon sauntered up.

“Well, who have we here?” Simon’s smile grew, his regard fixed on Elise—a little too intently for Jules’s liking. The fact that he noticed or even cared how Simon looked at her surprised him.

Simon waited for an introduction, then rolled his eyes. “Mademoiselle.” He reached out and took hold of Elise’s hand. “I’m told he”—Simon nodded at Jules—“has manners, but to date, I’ve seen no sign of them. I’m Simon Boulenger. Who might you be?”

“This is Elise Marquette,” Jules answered for her. The foreign emotion twisting in his gut was disconcerting and utterly absurd. So was his desire to rip Simon’s hand off Elise. One good fuck and he was reacting like this?

“Elise Marquette,” Simon repeated. “Lovely name.
Enchanté
.” He kissed Elise’s hand.

Jules gritted his teeth and had to look away.

“Tell me, Elise,” he heard Simon say, “are there other women in this forest as beautiful as you?”

“Why don’t you go search for one?” Jules suggested. “I believe there is a cliff in that direction.” He pointed left.

Simon shook his head, feigning dismay. “Ungracious, isn’t he? If he is this rude to you, mademoiselle, you need only advise me, and I’ll set him straight.”

Sabine had no idea who the attractive man holding her hand was, nor did she care.

Jules and his friend were both tall men. She wanted them to move so she could better see what was happening. So she could think of a way to stop them from taking the chests. She couldn’t lose the silver.

She just couldn’t.

“Elise?” The sound of Jules’s voice captured her attention. The stranger had released her hand, and Jules was now cupping her cheek. She didn’t need the distraction of his touch. She needed to think of something.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You’re flushed.”

No! She wasn’t all right! “I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache.”

Afraid Jules would force her to return to their private clearing, away from what was happening in the camp, she rushed around the two men to a fallen tree near the ashes of the campfire and sat down.

Surreptitiously, she watched what the men were doing from behind the veil of her hair while she massaged her temples, pretending to knead away the ache.

Stop
.
Stop taking the silver away!

Suddenly her view was obstructed by Jules’s body. He was down on his haunches before her, studying her silently. Further unnerving her.

“Are you certain it is only a headache that ails you?” he asked.

She had to collect herself. He was no fool. And he was questioning her behavior. She was making him suspicious.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she formed a smile. “I’m sorry. I realize I’m behaving foolishly. I woke up, and you were gone. Then I came here and saw all these men . . . I was simply taken by surprise and I overreacted. I don’t like surprises.” She glanced past his shoulder to the men near the carts. “In my experience, they’ve never been a good thing.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. The rendezvous wasn’t supposed to occur for another four days!

How had she gotten it wrong?

“My headache is only slight. I’ll be fine. I’ll sit here and cause you no trouble. I promise.”

She’d no idea what he was thinking as he observed her. He had an uncanny way of masking his thoughts, of making his expression difficult to decipher.

“You didn’t eat last night,” he finally said. “How long has it been since you’ve had a meal?”

She didn’t want his concern. She wanted him to move.

“Yesterday. Noon.” Unfortunately it was true, but she wasn’t hungry. Not with the knots in her stomach. The silver was
leaving
. How was she going to stop it?

Jules gave a signal to Raymond. Raymond walked up, handed Jules a goblet, then left.

“Here.” Jules offered it to her.

She took the goblet.

“Drink it,” he ordered. “It’s burgundy. We carry the untainted kind.”

She smiled, albeit weakly, at his jest and took a sip, not wishing to argue. “It’s good. Thank you.” She held the goblet out to him.
Go away!
He was too distracting.

“Finish it,
chère
. It fortifies the blood,” he said. Raymond returned then with pieces of bread in a bowl. Jules took a piece and dipped it into her goblet. “I’m told this is His Majesty’s favorite way to break the fast each morning. Bread dipped in diluted burgundy. But of course, you know this, having traveled with him,” he teased and brought the wine-soaked bread to her lips.

She had no choice. She took a bite and forced herself to chew with a frozen smile even though her stomach balked at the thought of food.

His usual sensuous smile tilted the corner of his mouth. He placed the bowl on her lap. “I’ll leave you to your morning meal. We’ll be leaving for Maillard soon.”

He rose and walked away, toward the group of men.

Thank God. Now at least she could think without his scrutiny. Or his presence clouding her mind. The silver couldn’t leave. Not without her. She’d not gone through all this for
nothing
.

Helplessly she watched, sickened by the fact that one of Jules’s carts was now empty.

Feeling someone watching her, she glanced to her left and noticed Raymond observing her a few feet away. Fear fisted in her belly. Had the horror she felt inside reflected in her eyes? About ten years Jules’s senior, Raymond appeared to be a perceptive man. His hazel eyes looked sharp. And he was loyal to his commander. He wouldn’t hesitate to report any peculiar behavior to Jules.

Carefully schooling her features, she offered him a small smile, dunked another piece of bread into the wine, and placed it in her mouth.

Somehow she forced her gaze to the bowl of bread on her lap, focusing on her meal instead of the goings-on near the carts.

What was she going to do now?

Three chests of silver.

By the time Sabine had finished forcing the food down her throat, the men had removed the chests from Jules’s last cart and were now loading provisions onto it. From her furtive glances, she was sure there were three chests still on one of Jules’s carts.

Three chests of silver would be enough to live like royalty. An immense fortune. Her family would be safe. They’d want for nothing. She’d have everything she once had.

Except Isabelle.

With her ’Sabelle, she’d feel whole again. And alive.

All she had left of her sister were memories she couldn’t bring herself to dwell upon, the stories they’d written together, and Isabelle’s precious journals. She’d left the journals behind when she’d gone to work at one of the Moutiers’ country mansions. She’d asked Sabine to hold on to the journals for her, promising she’d return one day, for she’d never abandon Sabine or her treasured journals for good.

But seemingly, she had.

Logic told her that after all these years, if Isabelle was alive, she’d have contacted her.