A Midnight Dance (20 page)

Seeing she was about to protest, he placed his finger over her lips. “I want to show you something.”

He retrieved the velvet pouch and returned to the bed and stretched out beside her. Dangling the pouch above her by its satin ties, he asked, “Can you guess what this is?”

She glanced at the pouch and then at him. “No.”

With a lazy smile, he gave a shrug. “Then I suppose you’ll have to open it and see inside.” He placed it before her.

Bewildered, she sat up. Tucking her blond hair behind her ear, she picked up the pouch and opened it.

Her eyes widened as she pulled out the item.

“It’s for you,” he explained, lest there was any confusion.

“Me?”
The word rushed past her lips in a breathy whisper.

“Yes, I sent Raymond to purchase it. I thought it was the perfect gift for you.” He touched the end of one of her long tresses and curled it around his finger. “A comb for your beautiful hair.”

“But—But it’s . . . made of
silver
.”

He hadn’t purchased a gift for a woman in a long time. It felt good. Especially since the gift was for her.

“A silver comb for a silver-eyed beauty,” he said.

The stunned look on her face was priceless. He knew she’d never owned anything so costly.

She placed it back in the pouch and held it out to him. “I cannot accept this.”

It was his turn to be stunned. His brows shot up. “Pardon?”

“Please take this back.” Her hand trembled.

His gifts had never been refused. Reaching for her, he pulled her back down onto the bed, partially covering her with his body, the pouch still in her hand.

“I want you to have it.”

She shook her head. “No. I can’t. It’s too much.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t deserve it, really.”

He smiled down at her. “I’ll not take no for an answer. Now then, tell me you’ll accept the gift.”

“No.”

He dipped his head and brushed his lips just under her ear. She gasped. “Say yes,” he murmured against her skin. “Tell me you’ll accept it.” He trailed his lips down her neck all the way to one pert pink nipple, then closed his mouth over it. She cried out and instinctively arched to him. He suckled her until he had her writhing beneath him and then released the hardened bud. She whimpered in protest. “Do you want more,
ma belle
?”

She was breathless again. “Yes.”

“Then say it. Say you’ll accept my silver gift.”

It amazed him that she was actually hesitating. Someone of her station would normally leap at the opportunity to own such a luxurious item.

He lowered his head so that his mouth hovered over her other nipple. She arched to him, but he pulled back slightly.

He was not one to be denied or turned down. “Well?” he asked. “I can go no further until I have your acceptance.”

“Jules . . .
please . . .
”

“Not the correct answer,
chère
.” He gave her nipple a teasing lick. She shivered with pleasure. He waited, his cock growing stiffer by the moment. She panted, stubbornly trying to deny him while battling her own mounting arousal.

“Say it,” he prompted.

She swallowed hard. “I’ll accept your silver . . . gift.”

Lying beneath him in the aftermath of yet another intense release, Sabine tightened her arms around Jules and returned each of his irresistible kisses. How did he do it? How did he make her so feverish? Wipe away everything with his magical touch?

His skillful mouth moved to her shoulder.

She closed her eyes, feeling wonderful. Years ago, when she still used to write, and would devote countless entries in her journal to speculating about how divine a single kiss from him would be, in her wildest dreams, she’d never envisioned anything like this. Being with him was far better than she’d ever envisioned.

She stretched an arm, her hand hitting something on the bed. Glancing at the item, she saw it was the velvet pouch.

His gift.

A stab of conscience speared her. Proficient at deferring pain and distress, she wrestled it down. Determined to stave off reality as long as she could, she fought to hold on to the final few moments before all this would end.

Who knew when she’d feel like this again? If she’d ever feel like this again?

There was a sharp knock at the door. She started, her head colliding with his nose.

He let out a grunt.
“Merde,”
he said, holding his nose.

“I’m sorry!” She tossed a quick glance at the door, her heart thudding wildly. “Are you all right?” Her family had arrived. The spell was shattered. Knowing them, they were likely to burst in. She prayed Jules had locked the door.

A second knock rapped against the door. Frantic, she turned to leap from the bed, but he caught her arm, keeping her from her flight.

“What is it?” he barked at those in the hall.

“Sir?” Sabine heard Louise say, her voice slightly muffled by the wooden barrier. “Your meal is ready.”

“Not now. Return later.”

“It’s been prepared to perfection, for you and your lady.” That was Agnes’s distinct voice. “If left, it will get cold.”

Jules softly swore. “Ten minutes. Return not a moment before,” he ordered.

Sabine tensed, fully expecting Agnes to argue, as was her nature. To her relief and surprise, she heard Agnes respond, “As you wish.”

Returning his attention to her, he said, “Relax, Elise. They won’t set a foot in this room until I bid them enter.”

Clearly, he knew little of her family’s errant ways.

“Now then, where were we? Ah, yes. I believe I was about to kiss you.” A smile teased the corners of his mouth. “We’ve enough time to make you come again.”

Despite his delicious words, all she could think about was that her family would be returning in ten minutes. He leaned in. She rolled and jumped from the bed. He almost kissed the mattress.

“
Merde
. What are you doing?”

She raced about the room, trying to locate her clothing. “They’ll be back soon.”

“So?”

“So, we must dress.” She scooped up her chemise, then her skirt. Her thoughts were frenzied. Her chest tight. There would be no more stalling. Reality had just knocked at the door. Spinning around, she sought her bodice and noticed that he was still on the bed on his side.

Arm bent, his cheek resting against his palm, he was grinning. With a wave of his hand, he said, “Continue. I’m enjoying the entertainment.”

“Entertainment?”

“Mmm, yes. It’s quite enthralling. The sweet jiggle of your pretty breasts, and of course, there’s that perfectly gorgeous derrière of yours. It’s inspiring a variety of lustful thoughts.”

His words unbalanced her and warmed her body. “They’ll return shortly,” she forced herself to say. Picking up his breeches, she tossed them at him. “You should dress.”

He caught the article but didn’t look as though he was inclined to comply with her request. “Come here. I want a kiss.”

Dear God, he had that look in his eyes. The one that told her he wouldn’t proceed until she relented.

She wanted nothing more than to climb onto the bed and back into his arms, to hell with the world beyond their door, but she couldn’t do that. Her problems wouldn’t simply vanish on their own. To solve them required a serious amount of coin. And drastic action. The kind she was about to take.

She only prayed she had the strength to go through with it.

He was far too distracting at the best of times. In all his natural splendor, he was tempting beyond what she could resist. She simply had to have him clothed just so she could regain some semblance of her sanity.

“I’m waiting.” He smiled.

With little choice, she walked over to the bed and leaned down to give him a kiss, pushing from her mind the painful thought that this was likely to be their last.

He grabbed her arm and yanked her down. She tumbled onto the bed with a surprised cry, falling across his lap.

Releasing the clothing she’d been clutching in her hands, she twisted around. “Jules, what are you doing? You said you wanted a kiss.”

He sat up. “I do. I just never said where.” He stroked a warm hand over her derrière, then leaned over her. He lightly bit her bottom. She yelped, the sensation both tickling and stirring. Then he pressed his lips to the same spot and kissed it.

“I think,” he said, caressing where he’d just kissed, “that after our meal, I’ll take you from behind, where I can admire this charming part of your anatomy—while you’re tied and bound for my pleasure.”

His words stopped her breathing for a moment, and sent her up in flames. Her sex responded with a hungry clench. What shocked and frightened her most was just how appealing she found the notion.

“But that’s later,” he added. “As for now, we have to dress.” He gave her bottom a playful swat, moved her off his lap, and rose from the bed. With a wink, he put on his breeches.

It took her a moment to collect her wits. She sat up and slipped on her chemise. Rising from the bed, refusing to look at him, knowing it would only make it more difficult if she did, she hastily finished dressing. Just as she was tying the lacing on her bodice, there was a knock at the door.

Her heart lurched. Terror-struck, she looked at Jules. He wore his shirt untucked and stepped toward the door.

She turned away. Desperate to distract herself, fearing she’d do something to sabotage their well-laid plans, she began straightening and smoothing the counterpane on the bed.

“Elise, what are you doing?”

She froze mid-stroke and looked up at him. His hand on the door latch, looking perplexed, he awaited her answer.

Mentally she groaned. She was behaving bizarrely.

Forcing a smile, she straightened and smoothed her fidgety hands down her skirt. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she folded them on her lap and answered, “Nothing. Aren’t . . . you going to let them in?”

With a smile he shook his head—no doubt at her foolish antics—and unlocked the door.

“Sir,” Louise and Agnes said with respectful nods, and entered balancing heavy trays of steaming food.

Vincent carried a tray of decanters, goblets, and dinnerware. “Sir, we have a fine meal for you and the lady,” he said and placed his tray down on the side table near the window.

“We have pheasant and a wonderful stew I’m certain you’ll enjoy,” Louise added. “And, of course, you’ll not find any mutton among the dishes.” She smiled.

He gave a nod. “Be quick about your duty,” Jules said, still near the door. He didn’t care to have her family there any more than she did.

“Of course.” Louise handed her tray to Vincent. “We’ll allow you to enjoy your food momentarily.”

Sabine struggled to keep her breathing normal, dreading the impending events. None of her family glanced her way. And she was grateful. Their presence unnerved her.

While Vincent lit the sconces to add to the dying light of day, Agnes and Louise worked diligently at covering the dining table with linen and setting down the ceramic service.

A clap of thunder startled Sabine. Rain began to strike the windowpane. Like tears, it ran down the glass.

Looking down at the counterpane, she blinked back her own tears and chastised herself for her emotional state. She was far better than this at keeping herself in check.

Needing something to keep herself busy, she took up the task of braiding her hair and securing it with her ribbon she’d spotted on the bed. Another clap of thunder boomed. She flinched.

Jules approached and stopped before her. She forced her gaze up his body to his face.

He slipped his fingers beneath her chin. “You don’t like storms?” Clearly he’d been observing her and noted her distress.

“No.” She uttered what felt like her thousandth lie.

He helped her to her feet, then whispered in her ear, “After our meal, I’ll make you forget about whatever rages outside, Elise.”

If only he could quell what was raging inside her right now. It would be as wonderful as hearing, just once, her real name from his lips.

“There we are,” Louise announced. The table was set.

And so, too, was the stage for this foul undertaking.

Taking her elbow, he led her to the table; she forced each foot forward.

Only when Sabine was seated directly across from Jules did she glance at Louise, who returned her gaze ever so briefly before turning her attention to Jules. “Sir, I trust you’ll find the food to your satisfaction. We’ve taken the liberty of bringing our finest burgundy and brandy for your pleasure. May we pour the wine?”

“You may,” Jules responded.

Watching the burgundy filling his goblet, sensing it was laced, Sabine felt nauseous.

Agnes placed bowls of poached egg soup before them.

Turning to Sabine, Louise said, “Brandy and burgundy don’t usually appeal to women. Do you wish some?”