A Midnight Dance (11 page)

Jules cocked a brow, waiting for her compliance.
You’re supposed to want this
.
It’s what you asked for, you fool.

Sabine lay back, her mind working as fast as her heart.

For the second time that night, his hands were sliding her skirts up. She could perhaps feign a malady to keep him at bay. Nothing too severe, or he might cast her out.

“About your obvious intentions . . . I . . . well, I mean to say . . .” she began.

His hands slipped between her thighs. She gasped, her sex already feeling slick. Slowly, he eased her legs apart. A lopsided smile appeared on his mouth. “Jules.”

“Pardon?”

“I think we’re intimate enough for you to call me Jules. Now, relax. I’m trying to make you more comfortable.”

This
was supposed to make her more comfortable? Did he jest? It didn’t relax her. It incited every fiber of her being.

He reached toward the pail of water someone had placed near the fire.

“J-Jules . . . I’m afraid I’m not feeling—OH!” She jerked when she felt a cool wet cloth against her inner thigh.

“Easy. Allow me to wash this off.”

“Wash what off?” She sat up immediately and saw a light stain on the linen cloth in his hand.
Blood
. Alarm shot through her. “I’m bleeding?”

Dropping the cloth back in the water, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pressed her back down. “You’re fine. It’s normal. There is a bit on your thigh. Nothing more.”

Dear God, how could she have forgotten what happens when a maidenhead breaks?

Lightly, he passed the linen against the inside of her leg again. What he was doing was so unexpected, so astounding, it completely threw her off balance. Jules de Moutier, indifferent to the plight of the lower classes, was bathing her—with tender care.

She turned her face away, looking into the darkness, uncertain what to make of the consideration he was showing her.

He moved the cool cloth against her sex—the gentlest touch—gliding along the folds. She bit down on her lip. The linen repeatedly grazed over her sensitive sex, sending luscious sensations swirling through her body, tightening her nipples. She was fighting a losing battle; retaining control over herself was futile. He was decimating her resolve in delicious degrees. She couldn’t hold back the soft moan that slipped past her lips.

“Does this hurt?” he asked.

Keeping her head averted, she said, “No,” fully aware of how breathless she sounded.

Dipping the cloth in the pail, he pressed the damp linen more firmly against her sex. She closed her eyes. Every stroke of the cool cloth made her body hotter. Made her clit pulse harder.
The only thing I want from him is his silver
, she tried telling herself, a weak effort to do what she usually did—disconnect. But all it took was another light brush of the cloth against her greedy flesh for her body to contradict the notion.

“Are you sore, Elise?”

“No . . .”
No, wait. She should have answered yes.

Turning her head, she met his gaze. He was smiling.

Her face grew hot. She sat up and pushed her skirts back down. “I think we’ve finished the bath, no?”

Still smiling. “I was finished a long time ago. I was simply enjoying your reactions.”

She was thankful for the darkness, for she was certain her blush reached all the way down to her toes.

He tossed the cloth into the pail. “Where are you from?”

Mentally she groaned. She was too tired, her senses too overwrought. The last thing she felt like doing was weaving more lies. “A town, far away.”

“What is this faraway town called?”

“What is it called? Oh, my town is called . . . Fillon. It’s to the south.”

“I’ve never heard of Fillon.”

That is because I made it up
. She gave him a shrug.

“Where are your personal effects, Elise? You’ve only the clothes on your back. Don’t you own
anything
?”

She glanced down at her attire. “Oh. My things . . .” She scrambled for a believable explanation. “I didn’t have many. What little I had . . . was stolen two days ago.”

He silently studied her in that unnerving way he had. “How long have you been traveling?”

Hadn’t she given him this information already? Was he testing her? “Two weeks?” she answered, hoping it sounded plausible.

“Well, no, the King escorted me part of the way, but then His Majesty had to return to the palace.” She frowned. “Of course
alone
.”

“Merde.
You are beyond reckless. What would you have done if you’d encountered a band of criminals? What is one woman alone going to do against a group of men?”

Just wait and see
. . .

“I’ve told you, I couldn’t stay where I was. My lord is of the belief that paying his taxes takes precedence over my well-being. Besides, I can take care of myself. I have been doing so for a long time.”

“Yes. It would seem you’re quite a resourceful woman. You put on a commanding performance as a whore. Since no man has ever had you before tonight, tell me, how did you manage it?”

“I . . . um . . .”
Think. Think!
“In our town we had a widow who took in unwed men and widowers. I overheard her at times . . .” Many towns had such women. It was a believable tale.

Once again, she found herself under his silent scrutiny.

Once again, she prayed he didn’t see through her ruse.

He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, leaving a tingling on her skin in its wake. “Far too venturesome . . . And desirable.” Capturing her chin and her undivided attention, he lowered his head and brushed his mouth against hers. Her lips parted for him. “My forest fairy . . . so highly arousable. We are going to have a memorable time together between here and Maillard, aren’t we?”

“Yes . . .” But not in the way he thought.

He crushed his mouth to hers, and drove his tongue past her lips, kissing her with mind-spinning intensity. Inebriating her instantly with his taste. A rush of arousal flooded her body, her nipples straining hard for his attention. All right. She’d allow him to give Elise a kiss or two. Then she’d come down with a malady, put on a convincing performance, and reject him. The next thing she knew her fingers were tangled in his soft hair, and she was returning each kiss, her tongue matching his, stroke for stroke.

He stopped abruptly.

Stunned, her eyes snapped open. She realized he’d pressed her back onto the blankets and was stretched out partially on top of her.

“Why did you stop?” Mentally she cringed at her question and the slight desperation in her tone.

“Because we aren’t going to have sex.”

“We aren’t?”

“No.” Rolling onto his side, he propped himself up on his elbow and played with a lock of her hair between his fingers. “I rode you hard. Too hard for a virgin.” He ran the lock of her hair lightly down her throat. “But starting tomorrow, you’re all mine.”

He wasn’t going to take advantage of the situation?

She should be elated. He was solving her dilemma for her—at least for tonight—yet he left her wanting. Unsated passion hummed through her veins.

He sat up, grabbed the folded blanket near his feet, and covered them both as he lay back down.

Nudging her onto her side, he pulled her tightly against his front, her bottom cradled in his groin. She couldn’t miss the bulge in his breeches, his hard generous sex pressing against her lower back. Her sex responded with a warm gush.

It took everything she had not to wriggle against him. The urge to create any type of friction between their bodies was so great.

His strong arms wrapped around her. “Good night, Elise.”

She closed her eyes, but not because of fatigue. Thanks to him, her body was fully awake, a tormenting need rioting inside her.

How, by all that was holy, was she to sleep like this?

“Good night,” she murmured.

What poetic justice this was. She’d been intent on denying him, yet he’d denied her. And made her want him, nonetheless. Worse, she’d have to sleep with his muscled body curled around her.

One more day. That’s all that stood between her and the silver. Well, actually, that wasn’t all. There was also a camp full of men. And their leader—the most sinfully seductive rake ever to grace the King’s court.

The first thing Jules became aware of upon rising out of sleep was the cool temperature. His arms and chest were chilled. Eyes closed, he reached for the blanket only to find none anywhere on his body. Softly, he cursed and opened his eyes.

The day’s first light had only just appeared. The trees overhead were still darkened in shadow, looking blackened against the cloudless indigo sky.

Lying on his back, Jules scrubbed a hand over his face.
Dieu
, he was cold. Looking around, he easily solved the mystery of his missing blanket.

It was to his left, wrapped around the woman next to him. Warmly cocooned within it, she lay on her side deep in slumber, her hands tucked beneath her cheek, the few flaxen tresses spilling out of the blanket looking as silky as he knew they felt.

His pretty forest fairy.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he took in her lovely face in the dim early morning light. Memories of her naked form, her sweet tits and the firm grip of her wet sex around his buried cock heated his blood. Currents of delicious lust coursed through his body. He couldn’t believe she still held his interest the next morning. Or how much he was looking forward to having her again. Nothing would give him more pleasure than broadening her sexual repertoire.

She was deliciously hot-blooded. All this pent-up passion just waiting to be released. All his for the unleashing. The mere thought made his heart race. He shifted to accommodate his erection.

He hadn’t had the pleasure of seducing a woman in a very long time. And he had a slow, sensuous seduction in mind for her. He’d have her very hot and very wet before he’d finally rock her beautiful body with another hot orgasm.

Jules slid close to her and pressed against her warm form. It hadn’t escaped his notice that being with her leavened his mood. The bitterness that enveloped his soul seemed to recede just enough for him to catch glimpses of his old self.

“Elise,” he said softly into her sleeping face. “You
are
a little thief. You’ve stolen the blanket.”

She rolled over onto her other side, her shapely derrière now snug against his straining prick. “More sleep . . .” she murmured, clearly not inclined to awaken just yet.

A smile tugged at his lips.

It took everything he had not to unwrap her, wake her with long languorous kisses, and sink his hard cock into her moist heat. Was there a finer way to start the day than having a beautiful, sensuous woman?

Jules ran a lock of her soft hair between his fingers. Regrettably, since it was daybreak, he had to leave her side. A matter of utmost importance required his attention.

He sat up.

The cloudless sky promised a sunny day. He couldn’t wait to discover the color of her eyes and see her edible little form in the sunlight.

“My lord?”

Jules looked up and saw Raymond, ever loyal and discreet, standing with his back to him at the tree line of the clearing.

With a sigh, Jules rose and walked over to him. Sensing his approach, Raymond held out a fresh shirt.

Jules took the article of clothing. “Thank you. You may face me.” He quickly donned it, consciously aware of the chill in the air again now that he was away from Elise.

“Of course, my lord.” Raymond turned around. He handed Jules his baldric and rapier. “I hope you had a good night’s rest.”

He hadn’t, really. With the blond forest fairy near, he’d been hard most of the night. It was the first time he’d been alone with a desirable, passionate female and not acted on the powerful urges she inspired. But then it was his first time deflowering a virgin.

Jules slipped on the baldric then sheathed his sword. “Is Simon here?”

“Yes, the captain and his party have only just arrived.”

Simon Boulenger was the French Crown’s most successful privateer and the captain of its privateer fleet. A second-rate supplement to the King’s Navy during the realm’s ongoing war with Spain, the privateer fleet attacked Spanish treasure ships returning from New Spain, weighted with precious metals. The two men, of similar age, had developed a friendship.

Jules owed Simon his life.

After his family’s disgrace, it was Simon who’d entrusted the command of two of his ships, one to him and the other to his brother, Luc, at a time when it seemed no one in the entire realm would have anything to do with a Moutier. Thanks to Simon, Jules had a purpose, and a means to regain the wealth he’d lost.

He and Luc had worked independently, utilizing their naval skills with a vengeance, and had amassed a small fortune between them.