England's Assassin (13 page)

“I must admit that I’m rather impressed. These are quite good seats.” Nicole smiled up a Joseph LeCoeur both of them knowing that their boxed seats were the best in the house.

Her escort seated Nicole closest to the stage and then sat on her left, saying, “Yes, they’re not at all bad.”

“And what production will we be seeing this evening, Minister LeCoeur?”

The man shrugged, his slashing lips pulling into a subtle grin. “I’ve no idea.”

Nicole laughed, staring into his grey eyes as she said, “Not an aficionado of the theater, I take it?”

Minister LeCoeur leaned forward. “Then you would be wrong,
mon cherie
. I very much enjoy the theater, but at the moment I am much more interested in you.”

A bell sounded three times, indicating that theater goers should take to their seats. Nicole turned her head and watched the crème de la crème of Parisian society sit in the beautiful theater as if there were not a care in the world.

As if there were not a war raging throughout Europe.

The candle light began to dim, but just before it faded completely movement from the box across the theater drew her attention. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she watched Daniel Damont lead a beautiful brunette to one of the four glided chairs.

His smile was devastating and the woman with him was completely charmed. The gentleman sat in his chair and turned toward his lady… and her. He bent his head and whispered in the woman’s ear and just before the last of the lights was extinguished his striking eyes met Nicole’s.

She leaned heavily against her chair for support and then felt the heat of Joseph LeCoeur’s thumb as it made a sensual arc on her bare shoulder.

“Would you care for a glass of champagne?”

Nicole turned toward him, but allowed his hand to remain resting on the back of her chair. “That would depend on the quality of the champagne.”

Joseph LeCoeur smiled his hollow cheeks, filling with amusement as he turned to pour from a bottle that had been left to chill by one of the minister’s many footmen.

“My men have been order to supply champagne equal to the quality of the woman who drinks it,” he explained, handing her a glass. “And for you, my dear, they have been asked to supply the best France has to offer.”

“Merci,” she replied, thanking him more for the compliment than the exceptional champagne. Nicole held his eyes as she tipped back her head, swallowing the airy alcohol as if it were him. “Mmm, a very high quality.”

Joseph LeCoeur threw back some champagne to quench his thirst and Nicole turned her attention to the actor whom had just entered stage left. But from their prime position, Nicole was able to observe Daniel Damont, yet look as though she were engrossed entirely by the production and not the alluring man in the box to her right.

Monsieur Damont bent over to whisper in the worldly woman’s ear and his lips pulled back into that contagious smile. Her stomach flipped as she remembered the feel of those beautiful lips on her neck, her breast as if they were on her still.

Her eyes flicked back to the stage and she smiled, knowing that last night, Daniel Damont had wanted her, that Daniel Damont had followed her to the theater because he was concerned for her safety.

Nicole sniggered, realizing that the man had acquired a companion in less than an hour all because he feared Britain’s most successful assassin incapable of ensuring her own safety.

“You are enjoying the play?”

She felt the heat of Joseph LeCoeur’s question down her neck and Nicole turned to look up at him with a genuine grin, saying truthfully, “Oui, I am enjoying the evening very much,” before glancing back toward the stage.

Nicole spent the remainder of the first act enthralled in the production and ignoring the periodic stares from both men. Monsieur Damont was easier to disregard from shear proximity so when the lights blazed at intermission she turned her back to him entirely, giving her full attention to Minister LeCoeur and the commission for which she had been created.

“So, what did you think?” Nicole asked, playfully.

The elegant man raised his left brow and Nicole could see why women found his confident continence so alluring.

“Of the play?”

Nicole leaned toward him, her eyes aglow. “Oh, you were not thinking of the production? Now you simply must tell me what you are thinking or I shall expire from curiosity.”

Minister LeCoeur bent his head and whispered, “This is neither the place nor the time to tell you what I have been thinking, indeed, envisioning since the moment I laid eyes on you, Mademoiselle Beauvoire.”

Nicole sucked in a breath, wondering what this dangerous man would ‘envision’ if he had the slightest indication that she was Scorpion.

“I can only imagine,” she said, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

“I very much doubt that,
mon cherie
.” However, his lust faded, replaced by irritation as his dark brows pulled together. “Who is the man which follows you with such determination?” He indicated Monsieur Damont with a slight toss of his head.

Nicole glanced at Daniel Damont as he flirted outrageously with the brunette in his box, while keeping his turquoise eyes fixed firmly on her.

“That,” she rolled her eyes, “is my cousin. My stepfather’s nephew to be precise.”

“You were lover?”

“Oui,” Nicole nodded, knowing better than to lie. “A long time ago and before I understood.”

“Before you understood what?”

Nicole shifted under his scrutiny, laughing as she said, “Men.”

He gave an elegant exhalation of laughter. “And what did this step-cousin teach you of men?”

Nicole turned and held his eyes, making sure that he understood her meaning. “My cousin taught me that a man who appears quite capable, might very well be a fumbling fool.”

“And how do I appear to you, Mademoiselle Beauvoire?” the minister grinned, delighted that a man as handsome as Daniel Damont had been maligned as an incompetent lover.

“You, Minster LeCoeur, strike me as a man whom savors the subtle nuances of lovemaking, a man who savors the curve of a woman’s breast.” His gaze dropped to her décolletage as she leaned increasingly closer to his ear.

“A man whom savors the heat of a woman’s mouth, the silky flesh of woman’s inner thigh, the heady taste…” Nicole ran her tongue, ever so slowly, ever so lightly, around the outer edge of his right ear. “Of a woman’s flesh.”

The tip of her nose nuzzled his temple as her heated words penetrated his mind, “the sound of a woman’s voice as she begs ‘yes’ just before trembling with ecstasy while you plunge, headlong, to find your own. ”

The lights of the theater dimmed and Nicole caressed his thigh with the white satin glove that insulated her, to some degree, from the intimacy of touching him.

“That is the sort of man, the type of lover, I envision you to be, Minister LeCoeur.”

The minister’s left hand stilled hers on his upper thigh, his gloveless fingers curling between her own.

“If we were not in this theater,
mon cherie
,” his eyes met hers, “you would not have to envision at all as I would already have you pressed against the wall.”

He had meant to shock, she could in his eyes, but she knew also that he had rarely himself been surprised.

“Promises, promises, Minister LeCoeur,” she whispered, sliding her hand from beneath his but not before feeling the lean muscles of his thigh go instantly rigid.

The remainder of the production went by in one continuous blur of color and sound. Nicole attempted to concentrate on the play, but it was difficult to be attentive when under such scrutiny.

Daniel Damont continued to watch her progress with Minister LeCoeur while she witnessed his obvious success with the brunette, a countess if she remembered correctly.

The woman was taking every opportunity to touch Monsieur Damont. Not that Nicole blamed her, any woman, for wanting to touch such male perfection.

Just once
.

But must the countess be so obvious and must Monsieur Damont be so responsive? They were making a spectacle of themselves, and no doubt, distracting other patrons from the production as much as they were disturbing her.

Thankfully, the production ended and she and Minister LeCoeur rose to exit their box. Nicole felt a hand at the small of her back as the minister guided her out.

“Oh, my reticule.” She bent down to retrieve the silk bag and when Nicole looked up her mouth fell open as she glimpsed the countess leaving her box with her hand on Monsieur Damont’s backside.

Her jaw set and Nicole said, “Found it,” convinced that Daniel Damont would not be returning to the apartment while she risked her life for crown and country.

“Are you alright?” Joseph LeCoeur glanced back at the empty box and then to her face, speculation dancing in his eyes.

“I’m a touch heated, I’m afraid.”

“Ah,” he smiled, reassured. “Then let us get you outside so that you might become more comfortable.”

***

Joseph LeCoeur smiled to himself as they descended the front steps of
Le Royale
.

The woman on his arm had proven to be as stimulating he had hoped and he was enjoying the anticipation before he took her to his home and his bed.

His most extravagant carriage was waiting, as ordered, directly outside the entrance to the prestigious theatre. Joseph grasped Mademoiselle Beauvoire by the upper arm and guided them toward his conveyance but ten feet from their goal the provocative woman stopped cold.

She turned to face him and smiled pleasantly, saying, “Thank you for a most enjoyable evening, Minister LeCoeur.”

“Surely,” he chuckled. “Our farewells can wait until I escort you home, Mademoiselle Beauvoire?”

“Ah, but to whose home?” The girl smiled broadly, knowingly, as her enticing lips pulled up provocatively at one corner. “Furthermore, Minister LeCoeur, I never tolerate an audience unless I have invited them to watch.”

“I’m afraid you have completely lost me,
mon cherie
.”

“Have I?” The woman walked away and he felt unbalanced, confused until she stopped in front of his bodyguards, saying, “Good evening.”

His eyes narrowed and his interest peaked. The girl was not only stunning, she was intelligent. Joseph’s pride had required that his guards remain on the periphery of any function that his men remain in the shadows, unseen.

But she had seen them.

Mademoiselle Beauvoire had looked passed the footmen and servants and identified the two most dangerous men in the theatre. Surmising, correctly, that his guards would also be present when he made love to her in his bed, in his own home.

No, Nicole Beauvoire was no simple conquest. She was beautiful, intelligent and rich, a lethal combination to any man, a combination that could prove quiet useful to a minister’s wife.

Joseph chuckled, thinking how ironic to consider the one woman in Paris that would surely turn down his proposal of marriage. But of course, that was the allure. At this moment, he was not entirely sure that lady would bed him, but Joseph had the distinct feeling that once she did, he would want her again and again.

Flesh to flesh, mind to mind.

He buttoned up his lust behind his black silk jacket then looked at the more senior of his guards.

Captain Turgeon walked discreetly to his side and the minister whispered, “I would like the preliminary report on Mademoiselle Beauvoire,” as he watched her carriage ramble down the crowded cobblestone street.

“Now?” The captain’s blue eyes widened with alarm and Joseph turned his attention away from the enticing subject being discussed.

“Oui.”

Captain Turgeon inclined his flaxen head, making no further protest. “Mademoiselle Beauvoire has been in Paris for two weeks only. She acquired her apartment through a leasing agent…” The captain reached into his breast pocket, referencing a small pad of parchment. “Monsieur Pinoche. After considering three other apartment of comparable value, Mademoiselle Beauvoire settled upon her current residence because she enjoyed ‘the view of Place Vendome’.”

“She is wealthy?” Joseph asked, his mind relegating her to mistress if she were not.

Captain Turgeon looked down. “Mademoiselle Beauvoire paid cash for the first three months of her lease and her clothing and--“

“You tell me nothing.” The minister dismissed the Captain’s answer with a wave of his hand. “Her family? I wish to know of Mademoiselle Beauvoire’s holdings.”

The captain paled and Joseph reminded himself that the man had gathered a great deal of information in a short amount of time.

“The leasing agent did say that he thought her from a large city in Northern France.”

“What made him believe this?”

“A gentleman arrived as she was signing the lease. Tall, auburn hair and from his clothing, equally wealthy.”

“Yes, I know this man. Daniel Damont,” Minister LeCoeur said coolly.