A Midnight Dance (17 page)

Jules brushed one of her locks off her shoulder. “What sort of entertainment did your family enjoy?”

She propped herself up onto her elbow. He didn’t recognize her. And there was no way he’d ever find her again. She decided it was safe to reveal a bit more. “We would invent tales and act them out. A sort of mock theater, you could say.”

“Really?” he said with interest. “How often?”

“All the time. It would leaven the days.” A way to stay connected with an old life they once knew in Paris.

Jules was genuinely surprised. She was anything but ordinary. And by far the most interesting and exciting woman he’d met in a long time. “Whom did you perform for?”

She ducked her chin in the most adorable manner. “Well, no one would come to watch. So, we performed for . . .”

“Yes?” he said anxious for her answer, unable to guess at her next words.

“The chickens.”

He burst into laughter.

She joined in.

The sound of her laugh was as delicate and appealing as the rest of her. He was enjoying himself immensely.

“Of course, they weren’t a very quiet audience,” she related.

“No.” He couldn’t help chuckling again. “I don’t suppose they were.”

“I told you, we were odd.” She gave him one of her pretty blushes.

“I find your eccentricity charming.”

Her smile faded. “You do?”

He leaned in. “I do.” Lightly, he kissed her mouth.

To his delight, she slipped her fingers into his hair and deepened the kiss. He parted his lips, a silent demand for her to slip her tongue inside his mouth. Pleased that she complied in an instant, lavishing his tongue with soft swirling caresses.

His cock swelled to life.
Jésus
, he could make no sense of it. Having fucked his way through the French court, he’d always favored women with a certain social standing who were experienced in recreational sex. The last woman on earth he ever imagined would capture his carnal interest would be a virgin of inferior birth. And yet he wanted her again—eager for another mindbending sexual experience with her.

She pressed more firmly against his mouth, her kiss becoming more impatient, her tongue no longer as playful, more urgent. He ran his hand over the sweet curve of her hip and down her thigh. A shiver of excitement rippled through her. He liked how sensual she was. In fact, he liked everything about her. He even liked the way she caressed the nape of his neck during sex. He didn’t know what to make of it, but no matter how heated she became, she’d tenderly stroked him there each time.

And he was never certain whether she was aware she was even doing it.

Normally he wouldn’t have changed his travel plans, but the thought of having her on a bed, fucking her to ecstasy and back, was too much to turn down.

Breaking the kiss, he rose. “Delatour awaits. As does our bed.”

“That is Delatour,” Jules said in her ear, tightening his arm around her waist ever so slightly.

Just ahead was the stone wall that surrounded the market town.

Sabine’s stomach clenched.

The men slowed the horses as they neared its entrance. Only about two hundred feet of dirt road separated them from the town.

During the journey he’d repeatedly dropped hot kisses on her shoulder and neck, melting her insides a little with each one. In fact, throughout the day he’d been devilishly charming.

A day that had been the most incredible one she’d ever had.

Sublime carnal encounters aside, she’d lain with him afterward talking, enjoying an easy rapport. Before leaving for Delatour, she’d bathed with him in the river. He was the first man she’d ever bathed with. He was her first for many things, and she’d been unable to keep from touching him, tasting his mouth. It was exhilarating. Around him she was different, somehow transformed. He made her feel beautiful. Desirable. And even worse—happy.

He’d been altogether perfect.

As perfect as she’d once imagined her Dark Prince to be. He wasn’t supposed to be like this
now
.

She had every confidence her cousins had set their plan in motion at the inn.

Only now it no longer felt right to do to him what she had planned.

In fact, it felt very wrong.

She was practically choking on the turmoil inside her.

The sky reflected her disquiet. Gray clouds loomed overhead, blocking out the late-day sun. It only served to elevate her sense of gloom and dread.

“Our bed nears.” He smiled. The appeal of those three words, the promise of luscious pleasures, tormented her further. There’d be no further intimate encounters.

She was about to drug him and steal from him.

After what they’d shared together, in the end, he’d despise her. And she had no idea why the notion bothered her as much as it did.

You have no choice
. It was that simple. Yet it wasn’t.

He brushed his thumb along the curve of her breast. A soft gasp shot up her throat, sensations spiking from his touch to every sensitized nerve ending in her body. He was making this so difficult for her. He’d purposely fanned the fire inside her all afternoon during the ride to Delatour, inflaming her senses to a fiery pitch, in anticipation of their arrival at the inn.

“Your heart is racing again. Does this mean you’re anxious to reach the inn?” He repeated his caress. Pleasure rippled through her.

Stay focused
. She had to start distancing herself from him.

Think of the huge debt. What she had left of her family.
Think of Isabelle
.

Sabine covered his hand and gently squeezed it, needing to still those decadent strokes. Mustering a small smile, she looked over her shoulder. “Yes. I’m most anxious.”
That was mildly put
. She’d never felt more inner torment in her life.

Horses’ hooves clattered over cobblestones.

She snapped her head around.

Delatour
. They were inside the wall. The sight was like a fist to her belly. Jules led their party through the town. Lined with threestory white-and-timber buildings, its busy streets were noisy. Chaotic.

She felt swallowed up in the confusion. Heated haggling between merchants and customers, the incessant clucking of chickens, the shouts and laughter of children as they darted about assailed her ears. Carts rattled by. People moved past. The clamor and bustle escalated her distress.

It was all too loud for her frayed nerves.

A number of onlookers cast curious glances their way—their focus was Jules. It was then Sabine realized he was keeping to the middle of the road—just as any Aristo would—forcing others to either side. Only the upper class rode down the center of the street, and they were the only ones permitted to walk under the protective canopy-like jetties that jutted from the buildings. The rest of the population had to occupy the other spaces that put them at risk for a dousing from the chamber pots emptied out of the windows above.

From the corner of her eye, she could see that he gazed straight ahead and didn’t seem to notice the stares. His repeated defiance of society’s mores surprised her. He rode on, acting as if he were still privileged.

Jules negotiated a right turn. There it was. Located at the end of the road, made of gray stone, it stood three floors high—the inn.

A fresh wave of uncertainty hit her hard. She fought to reassert her resolve.

Jules stopped the horse and dismounted.

He reached up to help her down. The moment her feet touched the ground, he slipped his fingers beneath her chin and tilted it up. He pressed his warm mouth to hers, instantly kindling a seemingly insatiable need for him. His scent, his taste filled her senses and for a moment quelled her agitation. Unable to resist the seductive pull of his kiss, she parted her lips for him, encouraging him into her mouth—uninhibited at the public display. But he lifted his head, denying her time to bask in the splendor of his mouth.

“Wait here,” he said with a wink.

Somehow she stopped herself from dragging him back for one last kiss.

With her heart in her throat, she simply nodded and watched him walk away, leading his horse toward his men. They stood in a group near the cart and horses in front of the inn.

It was then she noticed Raymond was missing.

Sabine looked about, yet couldn’t spot Jules’s loyal servant. He was never far from Jules’s side.

Where was he? He had to partake in the tainted meal her cousins had prepared. Good Lord, she couldn’t take one more complication.

Speaking to his men, Jules didn’t appear concerned about Raymond’s disappearance.

She watched the early evening breeze caressed his dark hair, his tall strong body, blowing his linen shirt against his sculpted chest. He looked princely.

He looked so good, it hurt.

She pulled her gaze away.

This was the stuff her father’s comedies and tragedies were about. A woman finds a modicum of bliss in the arms of her enemy, only to have to destroy it by her own hand. Ironic. Tragic.

Pathetic.

She kicked a small stone on the ground, all too aware of the knot in her throat. Had fate not intervened, she’d have never known this incomparable experience with him. She wouldn’t have stood any more of a chance to be with him than those women on the streets today.

Footsteps approached.

She looked up just as Jules reached her side. With one of his devastating smiles, he linked his fingers with hers, and bringing the back of her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to it. “Ready?”

Briefly glancing past him, she saw the men, cart, and horses heading to the stables at the side of the inn. She gazed back into his deep dark eyes and had to swallow before she could say, “Yes.”

He led her inside.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room. There were a number of wooden tables and chairs with a few patrons seated at them. A stone hearth was to their left.

“
Good evening
. Welcome!” the female voice behind them said.

Sabine stiffened.
That voice sounded too much like
. . . She turned. Her heart lost a beat.

Beneath the familiar matronly dress from their chests of costumes, her hair powdered to look older and her slim body padded to appear fuller, was
Louise
, her father’s longtime mistress and star actress from his troupe.

What on earth was she doing here?

It was impossible for her cousins to have reached home and returned with her in time.

Jules frowned. “Where is the owner?”

Dear God, he knew Joseph
.

Louise’s years on the stage shone through as she held her perfect unwavering smile. “Why, you know my cousin Joseph? How delightful! Come have a seat. I’ll have my husband bring you and your lady something to drink.”

Husband?

“Did I hear you mention me,
chérie
?” Vincent, Louise’s older brother, also from her father’s former troupe, approached. He, too, was dressed to appear older than his years.

Was her
entire
family here? Where were her cousins?

Just then she took a closer look at the people seated at the tables. She all but groaned out loud. Clearly, Robert was no longer under the influence of the tainted wine. He was at one of the far tables—dressed as a woman—with Gerard, who looked old enough to be his,
or her
, father.

What were they thinking, sitting out here in the open?

If Jules were to recognize them
. . .

“Why yes,” Louise said to Vincent. “This lovely couple has just arrived. What can I get for you, sir?” she asked Jules, her tone most cordial.

“The owner.” It was an unmistakable command, distinctly weighted with authority.

Louise’s eyes immediately filled with tears. She pulled out a handkerchief from her bodice and dabbed her cheeks as two teardrops gently rolled down her face on cue. “I would love nothing more than to do that, but alas, I cannot.” She lowered her head, muffling a soft sob with the handkerchief. Vincent, seasoned actor that he was, placed a consoling arm around his “wife’s” shoulders while looking every bit as stricken as she.

“Please forgive my wife’s emotional state. I’m afraid Joseph’s dear wife, Anne, has become ill,” Vincent explained. “Joseph has taken her to an apothecary who saved her life once before. We are quite concerned about her. We pray the woman can help her.”

Louise pulled away from Vincent and composed herself. “Yes.” She dried her cheeks. “It was lucky we were here visiting when she became ill.”

“She’ll be fine.” Another familiar voice came from across the room. Sabine shot her gaze to the left and briefly closed her eyes.

“I’ve heard incredible things about that apothecary. She
is
gifted,” Agnes said as she approached. Stopping in front of Jules, she grinned up at him.