A Midnight Dance (26 page)

Sabine, balancing a tray with one hand, locked the door quickly with the other and turned to face him. Her eyes immediately narrowed on the massive discoloration across his ribs. Jerking her gaze up, she met his stunned regard with her own.

Rapid footsteps approached the door. Someone attempted to turn the locked latch, then pounded at the portal.

“Mademoiselle!” Marc called out. “Out of there!”

She glanced back toward the commotion. Raymond stepped toward her, the key visibly vulnerable in her hand. But she turned around before he could grab it and dropped the key down the front of her chemise, tossing him a “Don’t you dare” look.

Raymond froze, then glanced at Jules for direction.

Jules placed a palm over his eyes, wrestling down the expletives bellowing in his brain. Clearly, he wasn’t finished being tortured this night.

“Mademoiselle!” Marc continued to strike his fist against the door. “Commander?”

“Commander?” Raymond said. “What do you wish me to do? Um . . . fetch the key?”

Jules lowered his hand and slanted Raymond a look. Raymond had the good grace to blush.

“No,” he managed to say calmly for the sake of his ribs, though it took considerable effort to tamp down the vexation boiling in his blood. “But you can tell Marc to cease his incessant pounding.”

“Of course, Commander. MARC! ENOUGH!”

There was silence followed by footsteps retreating from the opposite side of the door.

Raymond smiled. “There you are, Commander.”

Jules turned to the woman before him, astounded by her errant ways.

“Tell me, Sabine, when it’s obvious I’d find nothing more enjoyable than to strangle you, why exactly would you lock yourself in a room with me?”

Sabine placed her tray on the table beside the bed, then smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt. “I don’t know where the silver is. I wish to God I did. I know you don’t believe me. However, that’s not the reason I’m here. I’m here because I have a question.”

“Ah, how wonderful. You have ‘
a question
.’” Jules formed a false smile, his tone caustic. “I can’t wait to hear it. It must be one of utmost importance and urgency for you to sweep in here, without so much as seeking permission before entering.”

She frowned. “I’m not a servant in this home. There is no reason for me to seek permission to enter here. This is my room. And that is my bed. What are you so concerned about? That I might happen upon you in your natural state? You haven’t suddenly become bashful, have you?”

He dug his fingers into the mattress.
Calm
. . . “What is your question?” he responded through clenched teeth. “The one you risk life and limb for.”

She glanced at Raymond. “My question is,” her voice softened, “since it obvious that you are injured . . . Were you injured at the inn?”

“Why do you wish to know? So you can gloat? Rejoice with your criminal lot that your witch’s brew had results greater than anticipated?”

“No. I don’t wish to gloat. I am not as he says.” She pointed to Raymond. “I
do
have a conscience.” Jules glanced at Raymond, who immediately lowered his gaze, suddenly fascinated with a spot on his boot.

“I’ll admit it; I have in the past and present wished every ill upon you,” she continued. “I thought I’d find no greater joy than to see you suffer. But the reality is . . . seeing you hurt does not ease my pain.
I
am not indifferent to the suffering of others. If I were, it would make me like you and your class. And I am better than that.”

He wasn’t in any state to spar with her. Not when pain was knifing through him. Before he could order her out, she picked his binding up off the bed and threw it over a chair.

“That needs laundering.”

Walking over to the pile of clothing his men had tossed out of her trunks and onto the floor, she picked up linen from the top of the heap.

“Take this.” She handed it to Raymond. “It may be worn, but it’s clean. Cut what he needs from it.”

Surprised, he watched as she poured water into the water basin then soaked a cloth in it.

She knelt before him and stroked its cool wetness across his chest.

He seized her wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m bathing you. I’ll be gentle.” She glanced at Raymond, who was busy tearing a strip off the linen she’d given him, then leaned toward Jules and whispered, “You’ve done it for me. I’m returning the favor.”

Her words sent a rush of heated memories through his mind. A different kind of ache immediately rose up, this time from his stiffening prick.
Jésus-Christ
, the very last thing he needed was a hard cock to add to his physical torment. He couldn’t believe his body was reacting to her—after all her transgressions.

“Heed this warning and heed it well.” He gave her wrist a squeeze to punctuate his words. “Don’t
ever
mention our time together again. Understood?” He released her.

“Jules—”

“And don’t address me by my Christian name! That is to be used by friends. Lovers. Or those in my social class. You are none of those things. You will, whenever you speak to me, remember your place.” He gave her a look daring her to mention his ignoble status. Regardless of how the court temporarily viewed him, he was still an Aristo by blood, untainted by a single commoner in his pedigree for more than five generations in all four of his bloodlines.

She returned his glare, then rose and tossed the cloth into the basin.

“Fine. Have it your way,
my lord
.” She picked up the wooden goblet from the tray. “Agnes is known for her talents in healing. I convinced her to help you, even though you don’t deserve it. This is a mixture of boiled poppy seed and herbs. It will aid with your pain and help you to sleep.” She held the goblet out to him.

A mirthless laugh shot out of him. He snatched the goblet out of her hand, and peered at the brown liquid. “Raymond, the witch has prepared yet another elixir to induce sleep.”

Frowning, Raymond shook his head.

Turning to Sabine, Jules said, “Why, thank you, Sabine. I so enjoyed the first one. Naturally I’d be interested in trying another. Do tell, what sort of sleep will this one induce?
Eternal?
” He whipped it across the room, sending the contents spraying out. The goblet bounced off the wall and landed on the ground.

Grabbing his side, he growled, “You, your witch, and your potions can go to hell.”

“I am trying to help you!”

“You want to help me? Then get out of my sight!”

“From your movements and your breathing, Agnes says it’s likely you have broken ribs. Your bruising convinces me she’s right. You wish to suffer pain, fine. But at least use this.” She snatched up a small wooden bowl. “This is a balm. I’ve seen it work. It will heal your ribs quickly. It takes
two
days to prepare. Agnes made it for someone else, but I convinced her to allow you to have it instead. You merely spread it over the skin where the injury is—”

“Get out!”

“You’re willing to risk
lung fever
?” She looked incredulous. “You won’t even try it?”

“If it comes from you or your lot, NO!”

She slammed the bowl down on the tray and began unlacing her bodice.

His brows shot up. “What are you doing?”

“Proving a point to the most foolish mule-headed man in the realm.” She tossed the bodice down on the bed and yanked on her chemise, pulling the knee-length garment out of her skirt. The key slipped out, landing on the floor. She scooped it up. Then, with her other hand, she gathered the fabric of her chemise and bunched it just under her breast.

Beautiful soft skin he knew all too intimately was exposed before him, snaring not only his attention but that of his hard straining cock.

Transferring the key to her opposite hand, she then dipped her fingers into the balm. “This is the approximate spot where your injury is,” she said and smoothed the slick substance over her skin, making it glisten.

His mouth went dry.

She dipped into the salve again, then glided her moistened fingers along her side once more from the undercurve of her breast down to the waistband of her skirts. Then back up. And
Dieu
, back down. He watched, unable to tear his eyes away as she caressed herself, smoothing on the balm—her body now so sensuously glossy.

“There.” She released the hem of her chemise. Like a curtain, it dropped down, covering the provocative sight, leaving him bereft and heated.

She tucked her undergarment back in her skirt. “You see? The balm is perfectly safe to use.” She grabbed the bodice off the bed and laced it up. “If you’re wise, you won’t waste it like you did the pain tonic.”

She marched over to the door, key in hand, unlocked it, and left with an abrupt slam.

Jules glanced at Raymond, who stared at the door, mouth agape.

“Are you done gawking, Raymond?”

His servant clamped his mouth shut. “Forgive me, my lord. The lady is, well, full of surprises.”

“What the hell did you say to her?”

“Nothing! During my interrogation I merely mentioned that she shouldn’t be so quick to judge others. She’s rather an unpredictable woman. I certainly did not expected her to enter here and expose her—”

Jules lifted a brow.

“Um, may I help you lie down, my lord?”

“No. But you can go into the other room and tell Marc and Bruno to bring the sister’s trunks. They’ll be kept here near me. In fact, have all our supplies brought to this room. Also, I want you to explain to our band of thieves that they’ll be having guests for a while and there will be new rules from now on. No one is permitted to leave this house without permission. No one is permitted to be out of plain sight. And for the love of God, get me that key
without
fishing your hand down the front of her bodice.”

Raymond cleared his throat. “Of course, my lord.”

The moment Raymond closed the door, Jules carefully placed his legs on the bed and slowly reclined, unable to hold down the fierce groan that quivered up his throat.

Once his back rested against the soft mattress, he closed his eyes. His chest hurt, his cock was still hard, and to add to his misery, Sabine’s scent was emanating from her sheets, filling his senses with each and every breath he took.

Surely, no more havoc could be wreaked upon him.

The heavens responded with a thunderclap.

Sabine jerked the weeds out of the herb garden.

“Insufferable.” Yank. “Overbearing.” Yank, yank. “I curse the day I ever met him! Ever laid eyes on him!” She tossed the weeds toward the pile she’d made and jerked out more.

Agnes blinked as she watched Sabine, down on her knees, venting her fury on the vegetation.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you this incensed,” Agnes remarked, holding a basket of carrots, radishes, and leeks.

Sabine shot to her feet. “I cannot believe our cursed luck! It’s bad enough that the silver is missing—and I’ve been racking my mind trying to figure out when it was stolen and who could have taken it—and now we must deal with
him
!” Agnes knew full well she was talking about Jules. “He holds us prisoner and then acts as though he’s our master, taking
our
eggs, cheese, all the best foods we have for himself! The very foods we use to sell for a few meager coins. What does he leave us? Some stale bread to dunk in soup made from that!” She pointed to Agnes’s basket. “It’s bad enough that Louise and her lazy daughters never do their share around here. Now we have His Majesty to contend with!” Sabine cleaned her hands on her apron with an angry swipe. “He even has Raymond pull furniture out of the house for his comfort outside. Awaiting the return of his silver, he sits on his throne. For
two
days he’s dictated to us while you, Olivier, and I kill ourselves trying to scrape together enough to eat and toil in the fields!” So scorching was her fury, she was amazed her eyebrows hadn’t been singed off.

Sabine curled her fingers into a fist. “I should march in there and break another of his ribs!”

“Sabine, he’s injured, we took his treasure, and he’s an Aristo by blood. You can hardly expect he’ll help us in the fields,” Agnes responded.

“His ignoble status makes him no more important in society than we are. I am sick and tired of this poverty. And his highhandedness. We’re going to get our hands on his silver. We’re going to climb out of this dark hole we have sunk into. I’m going to find my sister. And as for
the mighty
Jules de Moutier, he needs to be knocked off his perch. And I am just the woman to do it.” She stalked toward the house, stopping abruptly when Agnes called out her name.

She turned back around, itching to give Jules a piece of her mind. “What is it?”

Agnes was smiling. “I do like one thing about the Aristo.”

Sabine frowned. “What is that?”