A Midnight Dance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  Praise for

  A Midnight Dance

  “A Midnight Dance is a fun, spicy historical romp that’s sure to delight! A lovely twist on Cinderella . . . [A] deliciously dark hero and a heroine who’s more than a match for him!”

  —Jennifer Ashley, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author

  “Wickedly passionate . . . [A] sensual treat.”

  —Sylvia Day, national bestselling author

  “Lila Dipasqua’s ‘Fiery Tale’ version of Cinderella sets the classic story ablaze . . . with a passionate, resourceful Cinderella and a wild and dashing Prince Charming.”

  —Anna Campbell, award-winning author

  The Princess in His Bed

  “Lila DiPasqua’s lushly erotic writing is sophisticated, sensuous, and deeply romantic. If you love historical romance, this is an author to watch!”

  —Elizabeth Hoyt, New York Times bestselling author

  Awakened by a Kiss

  “The most luscious, sexy take on classic fairy tales I’ve ever read! The three heroes are delicious!”

  —Cheryl Holt, New York Times bestselling author

  “An erotically charged retelling of classic stories. Steamy yet sweet, DiPasqua expertly melds emotionally charged erotica with fantasy, love, and hope, leaving no doubt as to the happily-ever-after. These are not your mother’s fairy tales!”

  —Kathryn Smith, USA Today bestselling author

  “Lila DiPasqua brilliantly pens three unique stories filled with mirth, passion, and sinfully charming heroes.”

  —Romance Junkies

  “A sinfully erotic collection of multilayered plots and characters that’s sure to please.”

  —Lovin’ Me Some Romance

  Berkley Sensation titles by Lila DiPasqua

  Awakened by a Kiss

  The Princess in His Bed

  A Midnight Dance

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

  Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2011 by Lila DiPasqua.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  BERKLEY® SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / August 2011

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  DiPasqua, Lila.

  A midnight dance / Lila DiPasqua.—Berkley Sensation trade paperback ed.

  p. cm.

  ISBN : 978-1-101-53549-3

  1. Fairy tales—Adaptations. I. Title. PS3604.I625M’.6—dc22

  2011014129

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  To my grandmother, Lila DiPasqua.

  I’m proud to be named after this amazing lady.

  She was a woman with great strength and sharp wit.

  The heroine in this book in many ways mirrors her.

  Had she been in Sabine Laurent’s shoes, she would have

  demonstrated the same loyalty, love, and courage.

  To my grandfather, Nicola DiPasqua—a decorated soldier,

  known for his bravery, strength, and kindness,

  and the greatest grandpa ever.

  Birthdays aren’t the same without having you there

  to share my cake with.

  Thank you both for being my guardian angels,

  aligning the heavens, and making this book possible.

  To my parents and brother, because you’re the best.

  And to Carm, Julia, Christian, and Olivia for making my life complete.

  A Historical Tidbit

  Long before Hans Christian Andersen and the Brothers Grimm, there was a French writer by the name of Charles Perrault. He was the author of The Tales of Mother Goose, and started the beloved genre of fairy tales. He lived in seventeenth-century France during the reign of the Sun King, Louis XIV. Louis was a lusty king. His glittering court was as salacious as it was elegant.

  During this most wicked time period, Perrault wrote stories that have delighted people for centuries: Sleeping Beauty, Little Red Riding Hood, Puss in Boots, and Bluebeard—to name a few.

  The following is based on his most famous fairy tale of all . . . Cinderella.

  Happy Reading!

  Lila

  Prologue

  May 1650—Paris

  “I have a plan!” Isabelle Laurent announced the moment she yanked Sabine inside the costume room at their father’s grand theater and slammed the door shut.

  Elaborate costumes and colorful plumes, wigs, and props for the latest comedy, The Foolish Wives, filled the space. The very play that could be heard faintly, the actors’ voices seeping into the silence.

  Sabine frowned. “What plan? What are we doing here?” Her ire was stirred. Mischief shone in her twin’s eyes. Sabine wanted no part of her sister’s scheme. Whatever it was. The play was almost over, and she wanted to spend the remaining time watching her dark-haired prince from behind the stage. The only place Father allowed them to be when at his comedies.

  Unseen and out of the way.

  Her Dark Prince was in attendance tonight. And it was all because of her lucky new shoes. Covered entirely in glass beading, Isabelle r
eferred to them as “the glass slippers.” The last three times Sabine wore them, her Dark Prince had attended the play, her father’s theater drawing royalty and aristocracy alike.

  Though he wasn’t really a prince, he was the firstborn son of the powerful and prominent Marquis de Blainville.

  Jules de Moutier. He was nineteen.

  And without a doubt, the finest male she’d ever seen in all her fifteen years. And oh how exceptional he looked . . . Tall. Beautiful. With dark hair. Mesmerizing dark eyes. And when he smiled or laughed—a rich masculine sound that was music to her ears—he had the most attractive dimples near his mouth that made her heart melt.

  Always the center of attention, he had such commanding presence, drawing all eyes in the room to him. But he never noticed her. Never glanced her way. Not with so many silly females vying for his attention, all but giddy when they captured it.

  Oh, but he’d definitely notice her next year, when she’d be introduced to society. And Sabine already knew what she’d wear—a golden-colored gown.

  And of course, her lucky glass slippers.

  She was counting the days. Had dreamed of their meeting at the ball. Their dance. The moment he’d declare his affections. And their first kiss. She was going to give him his best kiss ever! Better than any of the females she’d seen him kiss on those heart-sinking occasions, when he thought he wasn’t being observed.

  She could barely stand the wait.

  “I’m leaving.” Sabine turned, anxious to get back to Jules.

  “Fine. Go. I’ll get close to the handsome Moutier brothers all on my own.”

  That stopped Sabine dead in her tracks. Isabelle had a tendre for Jules’s younger brother, Luc. And a rash, impetuous nature. She adored her sister, loved her with all her heart. They couldn’t be any closer even though they were as different physically as they were in spirit.

  “How are you going to do that?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking, despite being much more levelheaded and less adventuresome.

  Isabelle smiled. “I’m going to slip out that door.” She pointed to the one at the opposite end of the room. “And run up the alley to the front of the theater. The audience is about to leave and I’m going to brush past Luc.”

  Sabine’s mouth fell agape. “You’re not!”

  Isabelle was now grinning. “I am.”

  “Father will be furious.”

  “Only if he finds out. You can stay, or you can come with me.” Isabelle blew her a kiss and bolted out the door.

  Sabine remained indecisive for all of two heartbeats before she tore out of the room and was on her sister’s heels, the thought of getting close to Jules quickening her steps. As she raced up the darkened alley, Isabelle’s laugh drifted back to her on the warm summer breeze, inspiring her own. Sabine emerged onto the main street near the front entrance of the theater. Her foot slid out from under her, her bottom colliding hard with the cobblestone road; a sharp pain shot up her spine and made her wince.

  The roar of laughter from the crowd exiting her father’s theater assailed her ears. Her left palm stung. Her derrière ached. And she blinked back the tears, mortified by the spectacle she’d just made of herself. Chin-down, she was too afraid to look up. Afraid that in the crowd she’d see her Dark Prince, or rather, see him laughing at her.

  Isabelle was at her side in an instant, falling to her knees and throwing a consoling arm around her shoulder. “Sabine . . .”

  A pair of black polished boots appeared next to her just then. She looked up. Her heart flip-flopped.

  It was he. The handsomest man in the realm. Her dark-haired prince. He lowered himself down on his haunches.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice caressing over her. She was lost in the vision he made, his most kissable mouth voicing words of concern for her.

  She blinked.

  He frowned slightly. “Is she mute?” he asked Isabelle.

  “No, my lord. She can speak.” Her sister pinched her back.

  Sabine flinched. “I—I am fine. Thank you.”

  Then it happened. He smiled. At her! And what a glorious smile it was.

  “You lost your slipper,” he said. Picking up her fallen shoe, he gently clasped her ankle and slipped it back on her foot. She forgot to breathe.

  He rose, and to her amazement, he held out his hand. Isabelle pinched her harder. Sabine jerked and quickly placed her hand in his. It was warm, strong, and felt so right. She knew he’d held the hand of many beauties from the finest families in the noble class, but at that moment his hand was all hers. His attention was hers. His melting smile was only for her.

  She rose with his help, ignoring the pain in her backside.

  “Do be careful.” Then he leaned in. The world shifted beneath her feet. Her breath lodged in her throat. “You have beautiful hair,” he whispered in her ear, and with a wink he walked away, enveloped back into the throng that had been waiting for him.

  “Oh, Sabine . . .” Isabelle stepped up behind her and, hugged her around the waist. Resting her chin on Sabine’s shoulder, she said, “Can you believe what just happened?”

  Her hand and ankle still tingled where he’d touched her. The glass slippers had more than worked their magic this night. And she knew right there and then, down to her very marrow, that the next time they’d meet, there would be more magic to come . . .

  1

  Once upon a time there was a woman whose life

  was in cinders. Her story has been retold many

  ways, many times, throughout the realm. Through-

  out time. Her family’s wealth was gone, as were

  their elegant home, their prestigious theater, and

  her lovely gowns. They were as lost to her as her

  girlhood dream of marrying a man she’d loved from

  afar. A man who was well beyond her reach.

  A man she’d dubbed her Dark Prince, for he was

  tall, dark, and oh so handsome.

  But her opinion of him had soured. No longer did

  she believe in a happily ever after.

  Yet one night, at the stroke of

  midnight, the stars aligned.

  Destiny stepped in.

  And she came face-to-face with her Dark Prince.

  But she didn’t arrive before him as she’d dreamed

  all those years ago. She was not in a golden-colored

  gown, but in humble attire, not in a gilded car-

  riage, but in a rickety cart, as worthless as a pump-

  kin, driven by two men, as meek as mice . . .

  carrying wine mixed with a special potion . . .

  August 1658—Just past the stroke of midnight . . .

  This was sheer madness.

  But what choice did she have?

  Sabine Laurent struggled to maintain a brave façade before her two younger cousins.

  The flickering flames of the campfire ahead drew closer and closer as her cousin Gerard drove their cart through the darkened forest. Her heart thundering in her ears, she could barely hear the crunching of twigs and leaves beneath the wooden wheels.

  Robert, Gerard’s younger brother, sat silently in the back with the flagons of wine, the very air around them thick with tension and trepidation.

  “Sabine, what if this goes terribly wrong?” Gerard whispered, his tone laced with dread.

  That was the very question tormenting her. She prayed she wasn’t leading them to their deaths. But then, if they didn’t have the funds they owed in two weeks, they were all dead anyway. Not just the three of them, but the balance of her family, who were at home, thankfully unaware of what she was about to do. Unaware that at the marketplace, mere hours ago, she’d stumbled upon the very miracle they needed.

  “You will call me Elise. Not Sabine. All will be well if we do not deviate from the plan,” she managed to say firmly, her tone belying her mounting fear. For the first time since her father’s death last month, there was a glimmer of hope. A way to clear their
debts and spare their lives.

  A means to more than restore her family’s fortune.

  A means to search for Isabelle . . . Her throat tightened instantly. She missed her sister more than she could allow herself to feel. The pain was too excruciating to bear.

  Isabelle was her other half. Her heart and soul now empty without her.

  Sabine took in a quiet breath and steeled her courage.

  Just ahead, in the heavily guarded camp, there was a wealth in silver.

  And by God, she was going to steal it.

  She couldn’t—wouldn’t—have anything else taken from her. Or lose anyone else she loved. Her losses in the last eight years had been too many. And too great.

  Fate had finally shone in their favor. That morning she’d chanced upon the most incredible conversation between two thieves-of-the-sea. Clearly, the two degenerates thought that in a town filled with ignorant French peasants, so far from the Italian border, it was safe to discuss in Italian their latest captured prize from Spanish ships and the route they were taking to rendezvous with more men of their ilk.

  But Sabine had understood every astounding word.

  There were many things she blamed her father for. There were many reasons she still harbored bitterness toward him, even after his death, but the education he’d provided his twin daughters with was better than what most women of the upper class received.