A Midnight Dance (31 page)

She looked down. For a moment, he thought she’d refuse to answer. But then those gorgeous silvery eyes swept up and met his gaze.

“You.”

He jerked back.
“Me?”

“Don’t let it swell your arrogant head. I was young. And I erred in the name. I shouldn’t have called you ‘the Dark Prince.’ ‘The Prince of Darkness’ suits you better.”

Jules was too stunned to be angered by her remark. “But . . . you wrote that we met once. Outside the theater. Something about
a glass slipper
?”

She laughed without mirth. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Why would someone of your exalted station remember such an insignificant occurrence?”

But it hadn’t been insignificant to her. It had been of great importance. A cherished moment she’d referred to repeatedly in her journal.

She often said he noticed no one outside his class. For the most part that was true. But
Dieu
. . . how could he have utterly missed a pretty girl who’d watched his every move with such touching adoration?

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know what to say.”
Jésus-Christ
. It was truly him. This shed a whole new light on what had transpired between them. His thoughts were spinning.

“Don’t say anything. Things are very different now. I don’t feel that way about you any longer. I was mistaken about your character.”

Oh, no. She wasn’t going to resort to her usual ploys. She was trying to anger him. To distract him and distance herself from this revelation. He couldn’t understand it, but knowing he was the Dark Prince actually . . .
pleased him
. His lips twitched as he fought back a smile. A lot.

His lovely little schemer was about to be deliciously cornered.

He wasn’t going to let her squirm her way out of this one.

She was going to own up to some tantalizing truths. Those sweet caresses she gave him on the back of his neck every time he took her had just taken on a whole new meaning. Caresses he was sure she wasn’t even aware she gave.

Sabine was mortified.

No one had ever read her journals. Not even Isabelle. He’d read her emotional outpouring. Knew how she’d felt about him. Her silly girlhood dreams.

Pressing his palms against the door again, he leaned his powerful body toward her.

Awareness rippled through her.

“Just because we had sex doesn’t mean you know me or my character,” he said.

She wished he’d step back. His proximity incited her senses. Just having him this near made her heart race and her nipples tighten. “I knew about your poor character long before that.”

He lifted a skeptical brow. “Really? Isn’t it interesting that you showed a man of ‘poor character’ such heated enthusiasm in bed?”

The heat in her cheeks crept down her neck. “It was all part of my plan to take the silver. I had to maintain your interest . . .”

He captured her chin and caressed her cheek lightly with his thumb. Hot tingles radiated from his touch. “I gave you a choice at the inn,” he said. “We could have had our meal downstairs in the common room, which, given your plan, would have ended matters between us much sooner. But instead you chose to prolong our time together. You let me take you upstairs, strip the clothes off your body, and fuck you twice more.”

Oh, God.
“My family awaits me.” She made to leave.

“Not so fast.” He gripped her shoulders and held her in place. “Some honesty from you is long overdue.”

“Don’t let your arrogance delude your thinking,” she said, hoping her voice sounded strong. “That you’re the Dark Prince is irrelevant. I told you before—I enjoy your carnal talents. I decided to indulge.”

He gave a short laugh. “You’ve not had enough sexual experience to be that nonchalant. I’ve read enough of your journal to know that, deep inside, you’re a romantic.”

She didn’t know what she hated more, having her family accuse her of being too practical, or having Jules, privy to her fanciful ramblings, discover otherwise.

“I’ve changed,” she insisted, desperate to regain the ground she’d lost. Though, even to her own ears, her remark lacked conviction.

“Is that so?” Resting a palm against the door, he slipped one of her tresses between the fingers of his other hand and played with a strand of her hair. “That first night in the forest, I asked you to name your pleasure, whatever sexual indulgence you wanted. Do you remember what you asked for?”

Yes
. “No.”

A devilish gleam entered his eyes. “A kiss . . . ‘
Oh, heaven would be a kiss from his lips
,’” he recited. “‘
Nothing on this side of the stars would be finer
.’” Recognizing her words from her journal, she cringed. “You wrote that. You wanted that from the Dark Prince. I had you multiple times, Sabine. Each time you were keen, impassioned, highly responsive, and surrendered completely. You got caught up in your own game and fantasy.” He dipped his head and whispered in her ear, “Admit it.” Her belly fluttered.

She’d sooner cut out her own tongue before she’d admit to that.

He brushed his lips over that tantalizing spot under her ear. She gasped. Her sex answered with a warm gush. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you this quiet.” She could hear the smile in his tone. He was thoroughly enjoying this. Both the truth about the Dark Prince and her weakness for him. Damn her for the untamable desire she had for this man. “We both know you’ve kissed Leon, likely on more than one occasion. For a woman who claims she dislikes nobles, it’s curious how you’ve only engaged in amorous encounters with highborn men.”

He straightened. Softly panting, she forced herself to meet his eyes, so dark and devastating.

He smiled, looking smug.

She wanted to wipe that smile from his face, but couldn’t muster a defense. She wasn’t about to admit she’d only kissed Leon to forget “the Dark Prince.”

He replaced both palms against the door and angled his head. With his mouth so near, his breath warmed her lips. She felt its heat flow through her veins.

Caught between the wood door and his hard body, she was as trapped as she was transfixed, acutely aware of the mortifying hunger, all the signs of her feminine weakness to his masculine appeal.

“Poor
Leon.
He doesn’t stand a chance at ever having you, does he?” Slowly, he lowered his mouth. Anticipating a kiss, her heart skipped a beat. But he stopped short. “And you are definitely worth having.”

He skimmed his lips across hers, sending her thoughts scattering and her body rioting for more. His hot mouth was again pressed to the sensitive spot below her ear. Lightly, he drew on her neck. She closed her eyes and bit back her moan. Liquid heat pooled between her legs.
Damn him
. He had the upper hand and he knew it. She couldn’t locate the will in her bereft body to stop him. Not when he was creating the most delicious sensations with his expert mouth. Not when she grew more and more desperate for him.

The pulsing between her legs was a terrible distraction, her body too attuned to this man, reacting to every little thing he did.

He burned a path to her jaw and up to the corner of her mouth. Her lips parted once more, needing to be kissed. Yet he still denied her.

“Did I fulfill your fantasy,
chère
? Did I live up to your expectations of the Dark Prince?”

More than she could ever comfortably admit.

“Tell me, pretty forest fairy, do you ever think about our time together? Do you ever lie in bed and remember the feel of my hands and mouth on your body? The feel of me inside you?”

Her breaths quick, ragged, shallow, she couldn’t push words—another lie—up her throat.

One of his irresistible smiles appeared on his face, beautiful dimples and all. “This is a novelty. I don’t think I’ve ever seen fiery Sabine Laurent so quiet. Do I take your silence to mean you want me to answer for you?”

No, say something
. But she couldn’t think beyond the tormenting need throbbing through her feminine sex. She could barely contain the urge to reach for him.

“Very well, Sabine.” He cupped her breast. His thumb was so close to her beaded nipple. Her body railed. She wanted him to stroke it with shocking desperation. “I believe you think about it, though you don’t wish to. We made a strong carnal connection. The sex was intense and very good. You wanted me to fuck you. So much so, you kept coming back for more. In fact, you want to be taken right now, don’t you, Sabine?”

He grazed his thumb across her nipple. She sucked in a sharp breath. But she didn’t push his hand away. And he noted it.

“You don’t despise me as much as you say you do,
chère
.” He repeated the stroke over the sensitive tip. A soft whimper quivered up her throat. “What you dislike is the desire you feel for me. You don’t know what to do about it . . . Shall I refresh your memory?” He leaned in and licked her bottom lip. His thumb flicked her sensitized nipple. Her knees almost gave out. “Shall I give you what your body is begging for?”

Dear God . . .

He gently pinched her nipple. With a cry, she lurched forward, sealing her lips to his with a moan, long and low, a sound she couldn’t hold back.

Snaking an arm around her waist, he hauled her up against him. Delving a hand into her hair at the back of her skull, he kissed her with savage hunger. She matched his fervor. She had no idea why she came to life whenever he touched her, but she reveled in it, in the feel of his beautiful body against hers, in his firm embrace, in his delectable taste.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him harder, vanquishing all reason, the kiss demanding, ravenous. Their tongues parried, the effect a heady rush.

She matched his intensity stroke for stroke. Her fever mounting by the moment. She feasted on his mouth as if he were her only nourishment in days.
Weeks
was more accurate. That’s how long it had been since he’d fed her senses this way.

She arched into him, the pull so strong, pressing herself against his stiffened sex.

He growled with approval, slid his hands down her back, and gripping her bottom, ground her against him. Her delight erupted from her throat.

It wasn’t enough. She needed more.

She needed skin—his against hers. She needed his hands touching her, touching all the places on her body that ached for him. She needed the fulfillment she knew he could give.

She needed
him
. Now.

Sliding her hands down his solid back to his waist, she fisted his shirt.

He stopped, his mouth suddenly gone.

Her eyes flew open. She was panting, bewildered. Her body beseeching.

He was frowning, staring at the door behind her. With a low growl, he let his arms drop, releasing her from his embrace.

No.
Why?

Then she heard it. Pounding. Only it wasn’t from her wild heart. It came from the other side of the wooden barrier.

“Commander?” It was Raymond.

Jules took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What is it?” he demanded.

“Your brother has arrived with a team of men.”

“What the devil is going on?” Luc de Moutier asked, standing in the common room of the Laurent home. Though he was of similar build and height to Jules, that’s where the similarities ended. Luc’s blond hair and light green eyes were a sharp contrast to Jules’s dark coloring.

Luc was damned sensitive about it, especially since he had a father he bore no physical resemblance to. Anyone who dared to mention it soon found himself at the sharp end of Luc’s sword on a dueling field. Most treaded lightly around this hotheaded younger brother. Jules had defused many a situation. The irony was that it was now Jules who was quick to storm, and Luc who quelled him.

“What is this I hear about you being injured, about Paul Laurent’s daughter—who the hell knew he had one—and a generous capture lost—”

“Paul Laurent had twin daughters, and I have men working on finding the silver. It will be recaptured soon. We will proceed as planned. This nightmare is going to end for us.” The sooner the better.

Luc shook his head. “Well, at least you don’t look terribly injured, so I’ll take solace in that. I don’t suppose you want to explain what Vittry is doing outside?”

“He and Laurent were friends. He’s well acquainted with the theater troupe.”
And he’s eager to better acquaint himself with Sabine’s lush form
. The possessive emotions that single thought incited stunned him. In fact, he couldn’t stomach the notion of Vittry’s hands on her. Especially now that he knew he was the Dark Prince. The endearing words from her journal had swirled through his head the entire time he’d been kissing her. And when she—unknowingly—began her usual tender caresses on the back of his neck, it inspired soft sentiments, the likes of which he’d never experienced during a carnal encounter. “He’s the Baron de Lor now. Sébastien . . . died three years ago.” It felt terrible to say. It felt even worse that Sébastien was gone for good.