A Midnight Dance (18 page)

Agnes was no actress. She was an apothecary, the very one who’d helped Sabine by tainting the wine, and yet another member of her blended eclectic family. Agnes rarely held her tongue when her short temper flared. How was she to put on a believable performance?

Sabine peeked up at Jules. He looked serious. Too serious. Frantically she searched for recognition in his eyes, praying there would be none. Her father had had only one strict rule: She and Isabelle were to be invisible whenever they were at the theater. However, Jules had seen Louise and Vincent perform many times. She hoped for once his aristocratic attitude worked in their favor—that his inherent disinterest in the lower class would keep him from looking too closely at the “couple” before him.

“Your names are?” he asked. She couldn’t read much into those three curt words.

“Oh! What terrible manners. My apologies,” said Vincent. “I’m Gilbert and this is my wife, Bernadette.”

Louise walked over to Agnes and placed her arm around the older woman’s shoulders. “This is my sister, Claire.”

Since Jules wouldn’t know Agnes, she didn’t need a disguise. Nor did she need to sport that ridiculous grin affixed to her face. She was trying too hard, overcompensating for her dislike of nobles—including all Moutiers.

Instead of appearing genial, she looked daft.

“Really?” Jules responded, glancing at Agnes and her imbecilic expression. “I’m afraid I don’t see a family resemblance.”

Agnes opened her mouth to respond. Louise gave her a quick squeeze, cutting off her words by saying, “We had different fathers. Claire’s father died tragically young. Our mother remarried my father.”

Agnes shot a disapproving look, clearly displeased at being silenced. Especially by Louise. She had very little patience for Louise’s grandstanding ways.

Agnes had very little patience. Period.

Afraid she’d begin bickering, Sabine cleared her throat.

The distraction worked. Agnes turned her hazel eyes on Sabine.

Her idiotic grin returned.

“Oh, sir, my compliments! Your lady is
lovely
,” Agnes exclaimed with a tad too much exuberance. “
So
lovely! Let me take a closer look.” Agnes walked up to Sabine, then scrutinized her from head to toe.

What on earth was she doing?

“She has lovely features, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Agnes said. “But I fear she’s a bit”—she clamped her hands on Sabine’s hips—“thin. Some of my mutton will do the trick. We’ll have these hips and breasts filled out and then you’ll have something to hold on to!”

Sabine felt heat rush to her face.

If God was looking to punish her, she preferred the lightning bolt to this
.

Louise pulled Agnes back. “Please forgive my sister,” she said to Jules. Lowering her voice to a loud whisper, she added, “She hasn’t been the same since her fall last winter.” Louise tapped her temple.

Agnes crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “Fall . . .
humph
. . . I do have
my hearing
,” she shot back. “And my memory works just fine. Trust me, I will remember that comment later.”

“Easy, now,” Vincent said. “Claire is right about hips and breasts.” He gave Jules a wolfish grin. “Sir, I ask you, is there anything finer than the curve of a woman’s hips? Or a perfect plump breast? Heaven, no?”

Jules placed a hand on her elbow; his touch immediately made her insides flutter. “You seem to have done a good job maintaining the inn.” To his credit, he chose to ignore the mortifying comments of her absurd lot before him. She wanted to kiss him for that.

“Why, thank you.” Louise was quick to take the praise. “We’ve maintained it to impeccable standards, for Joseph and dear Anne.”

Jules glanced around. Sabine held her breath, feverishly hoping that he didn’t recognize Robert and Gerard. “It’s very quiet. Not normal for this inn.”

“Well, yes, it is a bit quiet . . .” Vincent agreed. Sabine sensed that somehow they’d managed to clear out the inn.

“Then I’m certain there’s no problem with room selections. I’ll take the largest room on the second floor. The one at the end of the hall,” Jules advised, and began escorting Sabine toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Louise exclaimed and rushed to them. Fixing a smile back on her face, she said, “Why not sit down for some nourishment, and then proceed upstairs to the room you desire?”

He paused at the foot of the stairs. “I think not. We will have our meal in our room.”

“But your lady, lovely as she is, looks quite tired. Perhaps a small rest and some food first . . . then you won’t have to be
interrupted
with your meal.”

The door opened, grabbing Sabine’s attention. Raymond entered the inn.

“I’ll be right back,” Jules said to her, ignoring Louise, and stalked toward Raymond.

Louise linked arms with Sabine. “Allow me to escort you to a chair,” she said loudly, for Jules’s benefit. They began to walk.

“What are you doing here?” Sabine whispered.

“Agnes, in a rare moment of good sense, confessed that she’d tainted wine for you and what you intended to do with it. Fearing for your safety, we rushed to find you. Fortunately, when we reached Delatour, we happened to see Gerard and Robert. Gerard filled in the rest.”

Louise continued with a tight smile on her face. “Although I do approve of stealing from the Aristo—after what the Moutiers have done, he deserves what we’re about to do to him—you haven’t exactly handled this well. I can’t believe you gave yourself to him. Sans a maidenhead, it will take a greater dowry to marry you off. How could you do this, Sabine? I swore to your father on his deathbed I would take care of you, and you do something like this.”

Livid, Sabine stopped dead in her tracks and cast a quick glance at Jules. He and Raymond were engrossed in conversation. “No one in this family has come up with a solution to our dire situation. So I took the matter into my own hands, as I’ve been forced to do so many times before. I’m trying to keep us alive. A fortune in silver sits in the stables with five of Jules’s men. I’ve managed to come this far. On my own. And I’ll see this through to its successful conclusion.” The knots in her stomach had tightened with each word. “Further, my body is my own. What I choose to do with it is none of your concern. Neither is it your responsibility to ‘marry me off.’ ” Marriage was the last thing on her mind.

There had only been one man she’d ever thought to marry.

And he was across the room. About to be drugged and robbed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll use the funds to purchase a new life for ourselves, and for dowries . . . especially for Josette and Pauline. Oh, and they need new gowns . . . a whole new wardrobe, in fact. My poor girls have been in rags long enough. As have I.”

At the mention of Louise’s spoiled daughters, her ire spiked. She was not her father. She didn’t need to placate and indulge them the way he had, simply to keep his mistress happy and from leaving his troupe. Pauline and Josette were not his children and yet they, together with Louise, had done their share of draining Sabine’s family’s funds dry. Sabine had allowed them to remain after her father’s death because her conscience wouldn’t permit her to toss them out.

Knowing what would befall them if she did.

But she hadn’t done all this just so Louise and her daughters could attain status and new gowns.

The wealth wasn’t Louise’s to spend.

“I’ll decide how the silver is spent. After the debts are cleared, I’m searching for Isabelle.”

“Oh, Lord. Not this again. Isabelle is gone—”

“Stop. I’ll not hear talk of her being dead.” Perhaps it was because of Jules and old memories he stirred, but the feeling that Isabelle was still alive was stronger than ever.

“Sabine, sooner or later you’re going to have to accept the truth. It’s been five years—”

“I
will
find her. With the silver, I’ll have plenty of wealth to search.” She knew it sounded mad. They knew where Isabelle had been buried.

She hadn’t been able to bring herself to visit the humble grave. Too many conflicting thoughts and emotions paralyzed her.

“This is no place to discuss this,” Louise said, casting a furtive glance at Jules. “We are putting an end to this scheme. Quickly.” She urged Sabine down onto a chair. “Tell him you’re tired and hungry. Encourage him to eat here and not upstairs, where he seeks to satisfy
other
appetites. Whatever he orders will be sufficiently laced. His men will meet a similar fate.” Louise’s smile turned genuine. “This is all very sweet, indeed.”

“Enough. He approaches,” Sabine said, relieved to silence Louise.

Sabine watched as he moved toward her, his movements confident and sinfully riveting.

She’d shared Louise’s contempt. Her perfect Dark Prince, the Aristo she’d been so smitten by, had over time turned into a soulless villain. And now he was her lover. It was becoming increasingly difficult to define her feelings toward him.

Jules held out his hand and helped her to her feet. “Come.” That single word held such wicked promise. It left her feeling warmed and wet.

“The mutton is ready right now,” Louise said.

“I detest mutton. And I like the lady the way she is. She doesn’t need any.” His endearing compliment wrapped around her heart. Jules leaned in and near her ear he said, “For the next hour, I’ll make you forget about food and fatigue. Afterward, I’ll have a meal fit for royalty brought to us.” He pulled back. The devilish look in his eyes caused her insides to dance. “What say you? Do we stay down here and dine? Or do we proceed upstairs?”

Vincent and Agnes moved closer to Louise. They awaited Sabine’s reply.

If she chose to dine with him here, their laced meal would soon see Jules unconscious. This ordeal would finally be over. Proceeding upstairs would only prolong the inevitable.
An hour alone with him
. . . That would only make matters worse. No?

Feeling her family’s gaze bearing down on her, aware they were confident of what responsible,
sensible Sabine’s
answer would be, her decision suddenly became clear.

She smiled into his handsome face. “Why would I want food, when I can have you?” she said.

He grinned.

Her family’s jaws dropped.

Jules placed her hand on the crook of his arm and escorted her toward the stairs.

“But—But . . . are you certain you wouldn’t rather eat
here
?” Louise asked, her tone tinged with a measure of alarm.

“Quite certain,” Sabine responded coolly. Without a backward glance, she kept walking. She couldn’t stop smiling. For once she wasn’t self-sacrificing. She was doing something solely for her. What she wanted to do, and what she wanted more than anything was to enjoy him one final time.

Why hasten back to reality when she could linger awhile longer in the realm of dreams?

The moment Jules closed the door and removed his baldric, she launched herself at him and flung her arms around his neck.

Unprepared, his back hit the wall. He grunted on impact. She sealed her lips to his and devoured his mouth, starved for his taste. He trapped her face between his hands, angled her head, and possessed her mouth, kissing her with inebriating intensity, making her sex leak and ache. Each tantalizing stroke of his tongue spiked her fever. Her clit pulsed harder. He was more potent than any of Agnes’s aphrodisiacs could ever be.

She had an hour to enjoy her Dark Prince, to lose herself in the fantasy, and nothing was going to distract her from that.

Not even her meddling family.

She’d locked herself in a prison of numbness and hadn’t realized how badly she needed to escape until he’d touched her.

Blindly, she reached for the closure on his breeches, desperate to touch his skin, to run her hands over his solid chest and muscled abdomen. Her shaky hands fumbled. Just as she was about to tear them open, he spun her around and shoved her hard against the wall. Her gasp was muted by his mouth.

Gripping her hips, he lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist.

His hands were on her bottom. The hard bulge in his breeches was now pressed against her needy sex. He rolled his hips, grinding himself slowly against her private flesh. She whimpered, her head falling back against the wall, overwhelmed by the physical yearnings coursing through her blood. She’d never felt so out of control. So consumed with desire.

“Tell me what you want.” His voice stroked her overstimulated nerve endings. “Let me hear you say it.”

What she wanted
. . . She wanted to forget and pretend. She was a great pretender. She pretended she held out hope for a better day. She pretended to have strength and the desire to carry on as one misery-filled year without Isabelle bled into the next. And at this very moment, she pretended he was her Dark Prince. That she was his. And the past had never happened.