THE DUKE’S MATCH GIRL: A Christmas Fiery Tale Novella (Fiery Tales Series) Page 5

  For that act of loyalty alone, Suzanne wanted to throw her arms around her.

  Madame Sebron leisurely opened her coin purse, burrowed her gloved fingers inside, and began to root about for her money. The sheer slowness of her actions was maddening. Suzanne desperately hoped Gaspard was fast asleep behind her and wouldn’t pick this moment to stretch his legs and parade about the room.

  “Here you are.” Madame Sebron held out her payment.

  Finally…!

  Lucille took the coins from her hand swiftly yet thankfully.

  “Thank you, madame,” Suzanne added. “Please let me know if you need anything else. I’d be more than pleased to visit tomorrow to see how your husband is getting on, if you wish.”

  “Thank you. That would be very much appreciated.” She returned Suzanne’s smile. “Come, darling.” Madame Sebron held out a hand to her daughter. “Let’s return home to see how your father is feeling.”

  The child raced to her mother’s side, clasped her hand, and bid everyone a cheerful adieu.

  The door closed behind them.

  Elation and relief rushed through Suzanne. Thank God… She gave Rosalie and Lucille a grateful smile.

  The door crashed open.

  Colette shot past, a gust of cold wind and her flouncing blonde curls trailing her. “I forgot to say good-bye to Gaspard!”

  She dropped to her knees before him and gave him a loving stroke. “Good-bye, Gaspard. You’re the most handsome cat I know. Stay warm.” She petted his head, eliciting an appreciative purr, then shot back out the door, slamming it behind her.

  The room froze.

  As did Suzanne’s breathing.

  Her gaze darted to Lucille and Rosalie. While Rosalie was engrossed in the cracks on the ceiling, Lucille was looking down at the floor, utterly avoiding eye contact with Leo.

  He’s caught you in your lie. You’re going to have to look at him sooner or later, Suzanne. What were the chances that the floor would open and swallow her up? Or him?

  Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze over to Leo.

  His arms were crossed, and he was grinning from ear to ear. He lowered himself down onto his haunches, and beckoned Gaspard to him. A normally willful cat, Gaspard didn’t hesitate to stroll across the floor and obey.

  Leo scooped him up, then rose, lightly scratching Gaspard under his chin, a litany of contented purrs emanating from her pet.

  Traitor.

  “I must agree,” Leo said, still grinning. “Gaspard is definitely handsome with attractive blue eyes.”

  Mentally she cringed and was back to blushing, beyond embarrassed. Her lie was so pathetic. Could she make it any more plain how bare her life had become?

  Leo sauntered over to her and placed the cat in her arms. “But I can do much more for you than Gaspard ever could.”

  “There we agree, Your Grace. He’s never wreaked the havoc in my life that you have,” she pointed out.

  His smile faded. “You never deserved the pain I inflicted on you. Allow me the chance to make amends.”

  “There is no need. I no longer think of you as my closest friend. Or the love of my heart.”

  His voice dropped to the softest, most knee-weakening pitch as he said, “I still do.”

  That knocked her off guard.

  She quickly shook off the effect of that measured sentence, reminding herself that he knew just what to say, how to say it, and what to do to impact a woman’s senses. He was a master of seduction.

  “Your Grace, you are quite adept at applying your charm. But I’ve heard soft words from you before. And I am no longer gullible. I have no faith in your romantic utterances.”

  There was a ghost of a smile on his mouth. “That’s understandable. I’ll have to prove to you the depths of my sincerity. I’m going to show you just how contrite I am. I won’t leave Maillard without you. Make no mistake. I’ll be waiting for you outside until you decide to return to Montbrison with me.”

  She laughed. “Surely you aren’t serious, Your Grace. You risk freezing off a part of your male anatomy you’re rather fond of.” She immediately regretted her word choices the instant she saw him cock a brow in amusement.

  He leaned in, his dark hair lightly brushing her cheek. The tiny sensation rippled through her body. “I can’t tell you how delighted I am by your interest in my cock,” he said in her ear. She could hear the smile in his voice. “Since you brought up the subject, the part you refer to is at the moment eager and hard, just being near you again.”

  He pulled back, still smiling.

  Thanks to his cheeky comment, the urge to peek at the bulge in his breeches was suddenly overwhelming.

  Good God, don’t look…

  “It’s a relief to know you haven’t become burdened with any sort of modesty,” she said, trying to eradicate thoughts of his generous sex from her mind.

  He chuckled and shrugged. “You were the one who mentioned it. I was only trying to alleviate your concern.”

  Suzanne managed to keep her gaze fixed to his face, even while the unwanted memory of how incredible it felt to have his large, solid length inside her flooded her head. That delicious stretching sensation of her private muscles as he fed her every delectable inch of his cock was a memory she had long suppressed. Until now. He’d driven her wild. Not just because of his sexual expertise—though he was undoubtedly gifted in the carnal arts. But because she’d shared the experience with him.

  It was his mouth on hers.

  His hands on her body.

  Her Leo—or at least that was what she’d believed then.

  She reasserted herself. “I do believe you’ve taken this attempt at a tumble far enough. The past is best left in the past. We have both moved on, in opposite directions—in keeping with our different social standing. There are other women in your class you can chase. Please seek your amorous encounters there.”

  He glanced past her shoulder. “I think you’ve seen and heard enough,” he said to Lucille and Rosalie. “Please give us a private moment.”

  Before Suzanne could say a word, Lucille snatched Gaspard from her arms and rushed out the door with her sister, retreating to the back room. Leaving Suzanne stunned.

  And alone with Leo.

  Clearly, loyalty was short-lived around here.

  She turned to face him. Leo caught her cheeks between his palms and swooped in for a kiss, possessing her mouth on a gasp. Her sex clenched fiercely at the first stroke of his tongue. A jolt of heat rocked her so hard, she felt it reverberate all the way down to her toes.

  She jumped back, alarmed, breaking contact. Her breathing shallow and sharp. Her insides quivered in the aftermath. Worst of all, there was the lightest, most persistent ache pulsing in that bud between her legs.

  “Dieu. I knew it was still there,” he murmured with a smile. He slipped his fingers under her chin and tilted her head back, his mouth so close to her sensitized lips. Her breath froze in her throat. She was unsure if he was going to kiss her again. Unsure how she felt about another kiss while her long-dormant nerve endings hummed with life. “We had something very rare once. It would be a horrible shame not to see if we can recapture it. It isn’t the sort of connection that happens every day.” He brushed his lips against hers, a tantalizing feather-like stroke. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

  He released her and walked to the door.

  She immediately dismissed the flicker of disappointment that whispered through her. Placing his hand on the door handle, he turned to face her. “Oh, and you’re not getting another kiss until we get to Montbrison.”

  He gave her a wink and left.

  Chapter Four

  “HE IS STILL out there. It’s been two days!” Rosalie craned her neck as she and her sister peered out the window for what was likely the thousandth time since Leo had set up camp outside. A warm fire blazed right in the middle of the road, forcing everyone to reroute around him, as His Highness casually reclined in a settee—a mere portion of the furni
ture that had been brought out for his comfort from the inn across the street.

  “The weather could easily turn. He’s going to catch his death,” Lucille added, fretful.

  Not if Suzanne killed him first.

  As luck would have it, the weather was working against her. What little dusting of snow they’d had this unseasonably warm winter was completely gone. The last two days and nights had been the mildest she’d seen in weeks. Leo was bearing the warmer temperatures easily—without any distress at all. She, on the other hand, hadn’t slept since his arrival. If she wasn’t thinking about Leo’s inflaming kiss, she was plagued with concerns over this ludicrous situation he’d created.

  And the stir he’d made in the town.

  Was he ever going to leave? Surely, he was getting tired of being out there.

  No?

  As Leo’s men and the innkeeper catered to him throughout the day, making certain that he had a constant supply of food and drink, people from all over Maillard were descending on her shop just to catch a glimpse of one of the most powerful ducs in the realm. Most had never been in the proximity of a man from such elevated bloodlines. Yet, Leo seemed totally oblivious to the crowds as he sat comfortably reclined—hands laced behind his head and legs crossed at the ankles—with his attention fixed on her shop. And a contented smile on his face. It appeared he had no idea that he was causing townspeople to flock to her shop, interrupt her work, just to inquire why the duc was stationed outside her door.

  She was tempted to tell them she was treating him for excessive flatulence.

  Instead, she politely suggested they direct their questions to the Duc de Mont-Marly himself—knowing none would ever be so bold.

  Suzanne pulled a hard wooden bowl off the shelf, threw in a handful of almonds, and started on Madame Rideau’s indigestion remedy. Trying—needing—to keep busy. Using her pestle, she pulverized the almonds with great zeal, venting some frustration.

  “Oh, you simply must see what the duc is wearing today, Suzanne,” Rosalie said, all aflutter over this whole ordeal. “He is looking so very handsome. Princely, I’d say. I’ve never seen such costly material!”

  Oh no. Absolutely not.

  Suzanne wasn’t about to go anywhere near that front window. Leo had made it a habit to remain outside until well past midnight each night before retiring to his room at the inn.

  The man had caught her peeking at him from her second-floor bedroom window directly above her shop. Every time.

  Each time, he’d grin and wave.

  Or blow her a discreet kiss.

  He was driving her to distraction.

  “I’m certain his attire is wonderful,” she said, smashing more almonds. “Rosalie, would you please fetch me the mustard seeds? Lucille, kindly check on the roasting oats for Monsieur Marchey’s purgative.” Hopefully that would draw the two women away from the window. Leo didn’t need more people gawking at him.

  And she did not need any more recounts of how attractive he was.

  “I have the mustard seeds right here.” Rolland sported his usual cheery smile and held up the clay jar he’d just obtained from the back room. “And I’ve just checked on the roasting oats. They look almost ready.”

  She stopped pulverizing the almonds, took a deep breath, and schooled her features, knowing she was scowling. Neither Rolland nor her assistants should be at the receiving end of one of her scowls.

  That should be reserved strictly for the exasperating, single-minded duc living outside her door.

  “Thank you, Rolland. You’ve been an incredible help these past two days. It has been very much appreciated.” Having Rolland around again was both wonderful and painful. It brought back bittersweet memories of her father and his years of working with the young doctor. It only made her miss her sire more.

  And that, too, she blamed on Leo.

  If that weren’t enough, there was an entirely different issue currently eroding what little mental peace she had left. One that had invaded her thoughts in the wee hours of the morning.

  What in the world was the third reason?

  Leo had told her he’d come for three reasons. The first was to offer his condolences. The second was to convince her to return with him to Montbrison.

  But, after a second night void of any repose, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, it occurred to her he’d never told her the third.

  Why are you wasting a moment’s thought on any of this? In her mind’s eye, she could still see Leo’s impassive face as he told her that their night together had meant nothing to him and that he was marrying another.

  She had been doing her best to get on with her life—without her father—before Leo’s arrival. Leo was only making things more challenging for her. Her father’s death had been so sudden and unexpected. Leaving a gaping void in her life. And now that he was gone, she fought to live in the moment and not drown in sorrow. Or self-pity. Each morning she donned a mask of bravery and refused to anguish over the fact that she was alone.

  Leo was a formidable force to contend with. He could cause far too much damage to a woman’s heart if he was entrusted with it. He wasn’t going to sweep in and level her world again when she was already struggling to keep it from collapsing. All she had to do was stay strong and not give in to Leo’s seductive charms.

  She’d wait it out. Leo couldn’t remain outside indefinitely.

  Then she could return to her life, or what was left of it.

  She tossed more almonds into her bowl and crushed them, with little success in alleviating her distress.

  Finally, she dropped her pestle in the wooden bowl. “I’ll finish madame’s elixir later. I’m going to the market.”

  Some fresh air and spending time demonstrating and selling her new matchsticks would do her good.

  *****

  LEO SAW SUZANNE exit her shop, basket in hand. He was on his feet in an instant.

  Thank God … He was starting to go fucking mad with restlessness.

  He’d never waited for any woman the way he’d waited for her. Further proof of how far gone he was when it came to this one particular female. He’d never put in this much effort for a woman. He never had to.

  Suzanne was the only exception he’d ever made.

  He hadn’t followed her yesterday or the day before as she delivered her remedies and visited her patients. He’d given her some distance yet kept his presence known before her shop. But today, Dieu, today he was going to do something—anything—that would move matters along and speed up her decision to come with him.

  Before the weather changed and he bloody well froze his sac off.

  He wasn’t about to spend the entire winter living outside her shop—any more than he was going to give up and walk away without gaining a second chance.

  An unexpected gust of wind blew the hood off her brown cloak. Gorgeous long dark curls rustled on the breeze and brushed away from the sweetest face he’d ever known.

  His body ignited. Jésus-Christ, she made him ache. He was in love with her still. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it to make peace with it.

  Except win her back.

  She was part of the common class. Of ordinary origin. Yet, it was vastly apparent that even after being separated for years, he’d never recovered from the impact she’d made on him. He couldn’t even tell her how he felt. At least not yet.

  Voicing soft sentiment wasn’t typical for him. She’d been the only one he’d ever uttered the words to. And given her reaction to his endearment the other day, at the moment, she’d only deem any of his amorous declarations to be false.

  Suzanne cast him a glance, shook her head in dismay, then turned and walked off, her long cloak snapping sharply behind her.

  Looking far too saucy.

  His hungry prick pressed hard against the inside of his breeches.

  Leo couldn’t help but smile, despite the discomfort he was in. Only she could make saucy look tantalizing. Oh, the things he was going to do to
her sweet little form when she was his again… He was going to put all that fire inside her to such delicious use.

  He raced up and fell in step beside her. “Good morning, Suzanne.”

  She stared straight ahead, maintaining her rapid steps. “Please go away.” She rubbed her cloak near her shoulder.

  He took a brief moment to delight in the scent of jasmine emanating from her skin, and in the lines of her lovely profile. He’d always adored that endearing little nose.

  “I’d be delighted to leave Maillard. When shall we depart?”

  That arrested her steps. She turned and faced him squarely, her big brown eyes meeting his gaze firmly. “Your Grace, we are not departing. But I do hope you are.”

  “When are you going to start calling me Leo again?”

  “At the moment, there are a number of names I’d like to call you. Leo isn’t one of them,” she said and resumed her strides, walking away from him.

  He laughed. “Come with me to Montbrison, and you can tell me your favorites along the way,” he called out, then caught up to her again. “You’ve got your matchsticks, I see. I saw your demonstration yesterday to one of your patients outside your shop. Very impressive,” he said sincerely.

  “Thank you.” She reached up and rubbed her shoulder again.

  “Is there something the matter with your shoulder?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you keep rubbing it?”

  She stopped, and let out a sharp sigh before turning to face him again. “Because this is my lucky cloak. Good things happen to me when I rub it. Such as coming up with the much-needed solution of how to get the matchsticks to ignite by using a flour paste. But the cloak isn’t working anymore.”

  He battled back a smile. She was still assigning good fortune to inanimate objects. “It isn’t?”

  “No. You are still here.” Her voice was tinged with fatigue. He wondered if she was getting any more sleep than he was. Thoughts of her, of how near she was, had kept him up most of the night. “When are you going to give up this game?”