A Midnight Dance Page 7

  “Robert, sir.”

  “Well, Robert, that’s not enough. Down all of it.”

  “Is that really necessary?” Elise asked. “If he’d poisoned it, would he have offered to drink it?”

  “I’m willing to be lenient about petty theft. But not about attempted mass murder. If he is willing to drink the entire goblet, then they are free to go.”

  Jules leveled Robert with the full weight of his regard. “Finish it.”

  Robert cast his accomplices an uneasy look. “If I drink it all, I’ll simply fall asleep, correct?”

  “Yes, you’ll wake up in a few hours,” the other male said.

  Elise nodded. “You’ll be fine, Robert.”

  Appearing assured, his smile returned. He lifted his goblet. “Well then, here’s to all of you, and to a good night’s rest.” He downed the wine.

  Jules waited and watched for any ill-effects. Silent moments slipped by. He looked at Raymond. Raymond simply raised a brow.

  “Go,” Jules ordered the young men, satisfied, wanting them out of his sight. “If I ever catch you near my camp again, you’ll rue the day.”

  “We won’t ever bother you again,” Robert promised and walked toward their cart, still moving with a normal gait.

  Jules gave his men a nod, dismissing them. They began to disperse, resuming their previous activities, but Raymond remained by his side.

  It was then Jules noticed that the older male thief was still fixed to his spot. With a defiant tilt of his head, he glared at Jules.

  Jules stabbed the tip of his sword into the earth between his boots and held the hilt with both hands. He narrowed his eyes. “You have something you wish to say to me?”

  “Yes. I do,” he said. “I will see you again.”

  Jules could feel ire prickling his skin, growing rapidly irritated by the young man’s insolence and his stupidity. “Oh? Where?”

  “In hell.”

  “Gerard!” Elise exclaimed.

  Jules pulled his sword out of the ground. Gripping the hilt fiercely in his right hand, he took a step toward the brash youth. “And what makes you think you’ll see me there?”

  Gerard glanced at Elise. “After what you and I have done to this woman tonight, our souls will be damned.”

  Jules tightened his jaw. “Now you are contrite? Where was your conscience when you were trying to sell her? You’ve got to be the greatest of fools to linger in my presence a moment longer than necessary. Unless”—Jules raised his sword to Gerard’s throat—“you wish to appear before your Maker for your Judgment now.”

  “No!” Elise’s hand shot out. She shoved at Gerard’s chest. “Go! Get on the cart. Leave now.”

  “My pleasure,” Gerard said between gritted teeth. “Let’s go.”

  “I am staying.”

  “Pardon?” Gerard looked aghast.

  “I am staying with him.” She moved closer to Jules. “If you’ll allow me to?” Her comely face was turned upward, awaiting his answer. “Will you take me to my cousin in Maillard?”

  “Your WHAT?” Gerard spat out. “Are you mad? You are not staying with him! Or them.” He pointed to Jules’s men around the campfire.

  Jules grabbed him by the throat. “Gerard, is it?” Gerard’s eyes widened in horrified astonishment, as his throat was in the clench of Jules’s grip, his toes barely touching the earth. “You are leaving. Now.” He easily tossed him back, sending him stumbling backward, coughing.

  Jules turned to his loyal servant. “Raymond, have them escorted from the camp.”

  “Immediately, Commander. What about the woman?”

  Jules met her gaze. She stood quietly beside him, her eyes silently beseeching him.

  “She’s going with us to Maillard.” She slipped a hand in his and smiled. Her delicate hand felt warm and right in his. A perfect fit. Just as their bodies had been.

  Within moments, Gerard was being dragged to his cart.

  “S-Elise!” Gerard called out. “You cannot stay alone with these men! I’ll not leave you here!”

  “You don’t dictate to me. I’ll be fine,” she said, her body now rigid.

  Jules concurred. She was better off with him. He couldn’t bring himself to place her back in the hands of the two she’d arrived with. Boys or no, what if they became desperate enough to attempt this scheme again? He was shocked by just how abhorrent the notion was to him.

  “You’ll not be fine! You’ll be carnal amusement for him and his lot!” Gerard shouted back, struggling against the man hauling him to the cart.

  Jules swore. How dare he suggest Elise would be treated worse than he’d treated her. “I’m going to teach him a lesson once and for all . . .” He took a step toward Gerard.

  She jumped in his path and shoved her hands against his chest. “Don’t!” He glanced down at her, not in the least bit dissuaded from his intended action.

  Sabine flung her arms around his waist and buried her face in his shoulder. “Please,” was all that escaped her throat.

  She clung to Jules, her bravado fragmenting. The accumulation of all she’d been through tonight was beginning to take its toll on her. She looked up into his eyes. “He’s young. They both are, and they are perhaps a tad smitten with me, as well. Don’t punish him. Please. There’s been enough misery and suffering. Let me speak to him. I’ll make them leave promptly without you needing to do a thing.” The lies flowed out of her with ease.

  She’d do anything, say anything, that would keep Jules from hurting Gerard.

  Jules looked at her skeptically. “I don’t know about that . . .” There was mistrust in his tone.

  “I wish them gone. Not hurt. Surely you’re no longer concerned about them? Or me?” She wanted her cousins safe—away from the camp. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about them. They wouldn’t be at risk or suffer because of her mistakes. Sweet Robert, who always smiled and jested even when there was nothing to smile or jest about, had been drugged because of her. It didn’t escape her notice that he was conspicuously silent.

  She heard one of her cousins howl in pain. She spun around. Robert was in the grips of slumber, in the cart, just as she’d suspected. Another man held Gerard’s arms securely behind his back as he dragged Gerard, kicking and thrashing, back to the cart. Fabrice approached and slammed his fist into Gerard’s jaw, his head snapping to the left.

  “Stop!” she screamed. Frantically she turned to Jules. “Make them stop, please!”

  He stared over her head at Gerard and his men. “Fool. None of this would be happening if he’d left quietly.”

  “Allow me a brief moment. I will talk some sense into him.”

  His gaze fell to hers, his scrutiny unnerving. As he pondered her request, she prayed she’d been convincing enough to allay his fears.

  “Only because I want them out of my camp now, I’ll allow a brief moment. Say your good-byes.”

  Sabine could sense Jules and his men watching them from a short distance away.

  “Don’t do this, Sabine. Please come home,” Gerard pleaded in a hushed whisper. There was already a bruise on his jaw.

  “If I don’t do this, there will be no home.”

  “I forbid this.” Gerard growled. “You are not staying.”

  “You’ll cease your arguing this instant. I have only a brief moment. Listen well. You’ll take Robert and go. Jules is going to start to wonder at your protests for a woman you have only known one day. Your behavior is putting us all at risk,” she chastised.

  “Maillard is three days away. I refuse to leave you alone with him for three days!” Gerard raised his voice to an earnest whisper. “Especially after what he’s done—”

  “Enough.” What she and Jules had done wasn’t something she’d discuss with her cousins. Or anyone. She pierced Gerard with a fierce look. “We have no choice.”

  She knew she couldn’t show any weakness or he might not leave.

  “The town of Delatour is about a day’s ride,” she said. “If you travel
through the night, you will arrive there by midday tomorrow. I should reach there by late afternoon. The innkeeper, Joseph, and his wife, Anne, are indebted to our Agnes. Her tonic healed Anne’s stomach ailments. You know what Agnes put in the wine. Gather the ingredients. I will get Jules and his men to stop at the inn for the evening meal. Their tainted meal. Tell Joseph we’ll share the wealth. He’ll have enough to purchase a hundred inns.”

  From the corner of her eye she saw Jules approaching. He stopped behind her. “That is sufficient time to say farewell,” he announced. Though he wasn’t actually touching her body, she was strongly aware of his closeness. Of his beautiful muscled form. It caused her heart to quicken and a warmth to unfurl in her belly. To Gerard he said, “Go. Now. You won’t be asked again.”

  Gerard looked at her. She stood firm, despite the frenzy building inside her. Reluctantly, he turned and walked toward their cart. She swallowed down her panic as the reality of the moment hit her hard. They were actually leaving. Soon she was going to be alone with these men. With Jules de Moutier.

  The man she’d asked to be her lover.

  She watched Gerard climb up onto the cart. With a last look, he drove the cart away with Robert sprawled out unconscious in the back, moving farther and farther from her.

  She clenched her teeth to keep from calling out, “Don’t go!” She hated it that she was alone. That without Isabelle, she did everything alone.

  How she hated it that her father had taken Isabelle from her and sent her to work at one of the Moutiers’ châteaus for Charles de Moutier, Jules’s father.

  Even if she could interrogate Jules about what had happened to her sister, it would be a waste of time. He was never at the country estate while her sister was employed there.

  He’d never care what happened to a servant anyway.

  Jules slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against his solid form. “Elise,” he murmured in her ear. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her insides fluttered. Her traitorous body was bent on siding with the enemy.

  “Now that we have settled the matter of your request to be escorted to Maillard, I look forward to moving on to your other request.”

  6

  The night air had cooled.

  Sabine sat on fresh blankets near a small crackling fire. Back in the very spot where she’d given herself to Jules, awaiting his return. Tall oaks surrounding the clearing loomed over her, the rustling of leaves as the wind brushed past abrading her taut nerves, keeping her on edge.

  She wrapped her arms around her legs and gazed up at the stars twinkling in the blackened sky. Though it was a serene sight to behold, she didn’t derive any tranquility from it. How could she? He’d be back at any moment, and the man had the devil’s touch. He’d made her scream in ecstasy. Scream. Her. She was practical. Levelheaded.

  She could quash any emotion, control every reaction—except when he neared. Or when he touched her.

  Enough.

  She wasn’t going to torture herself about it. She did what had to be done. It hadn’t meant a thing. The only memory she’d allow herself to retain was how she’d bested him and how she’d made him pay—in a small way—for all the misery he and his family had inflicted. He, like his father, was a traitor to the Crown. The ruin of the realm. They’d put their ambitions above all else.

  She’d do the same in turn.

  She rested her forehead on her knees and looked up the moment she heard footsteps.

  Jules approached her, all muscle and sinew. With the slightest touch of arrogance to his stride that bespoke his exalted bloodlines. The light breeze that whispered through the forest pressed his shirt against his chest, allowing her to make out the sculpted lines of his chest.

  It was unjust that this man should be this physically appealing.

  He was fashioned into such mouth-watering perfection.

  Jules lowered himself onto his haunches before her, the firelight giving his handsome face a warm hue. “Are you all right?”

  His question took her by surprise. It was the very same question he’d asked her long ago, when she believed him to be a different kind of man. Why would he care if someone of her social class was all right when he’d proven to be indifferent to the suffering of those beneath his elevated birth?

  “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “We need to talk.” He slipped his hand under her chin. “What you attempted tonight was bold. There aren’t many men, much less women, who would have tried what you tried.”

  She kept silent, unsure where he was going with this.

  “I do admire your courage, Elise. But I’ll not tolerate any more deceit. Or any trouble. You’ll do as you’re told. Always. Is that understood?”

  “Yes.” She disliked his authority over her. She’d had enough of the Moutier authority to last several lifetimes.

  “Good. Now lie back.”

  She stiffened. Just like that? No kisses or caresses as he’d done before? As if she needed it. Just having him near caused a quickening low in her belly.

  Jules cocked a brow, waiting for her compliance. You’re supposed to want this. It’s what you asked for, you fool.

  Sabine lay back, her mind working as fast as her heart.

  For the second time that night, his hands were sliding her skirts up. She could perhaps feign a malady to keep him at bay. Nothing too severe, or he might cast her out.

  “About your obvious intentions . . . I . . . well, I mean to say . . .” she began.

  His hands slipped between her thighs. She gasped, her sex already feeling slick. Slowly, he eased her legs apart. A lopsided smile appeared on his mouth. “Jules.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I think we’re intimate enough for you to call me Jules. Now, relax. I’m trying to make you more comfortable.”

  This was supposed to make her more comfortable? Did he jest? It didn’t relax her. It incited every fiber of her being.

  He reached toward the pail of water someone had placed near the fire.

  “J-Jules . . . I’m afraid I’m not feeling—OH!” She jerked when she felt a cool wet cloth against her inner thigh.

  “Easy. Allow me to wash this off.”

  “Wash what off?” She sat up immediately and saw a light stain on the linen cloth in his hand. Blood. Alarm shot through her. “I’m bleeding?”

  Dropping the cloth back in the water, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pressed her back down. “You’re fine. It’s normal. There is a bit on your thigh. Nothing more.”

  Dear God, how could she have forgotten what happens when a maidenhead breaks?

  Lightly, he passed the linen against the inside of her leg again. What he was doing was so unexpected, so astounding, it completely threw her off balance. Jules de Moutier, indifferent to the plight of the lower classes, was bathing her—with tender care.

  She turned her face away, looking into the darkness, uncertain what to make of the consideration he was showing her.

  He moved the cool cloth against her sex—the gentlest touch—gliding along the folds. She bit down on her lip. The linen repeatedly grazed over her sensitive sex, sending luscious sensations swirling through her body, tightening her nipples. She was fighting a losing battle; retaining control over herself was futile. He was decimating her resolve in delicious degrees. She couldn’t hold back the soft moan that slipped past her lips.

  “Does this hurt?” he asked.

  Keeping her head averted, she said, “No,” fully aware of how breathless she sounded.

  Dipping the cloth in the pail, he pressed the damp linen more firmly against her sex. She closed her eyes. Every stroke of the cool cloth made her body hotter. Made her clit pulse harder. The only thing I want from him is his silver, she tried telling herself, a weak effort to do what she usually did—disconnect. But all it took was another light brush of the cloth against her greedy flesh for her body to contradict the notion.

  “Are you sore, Elise?”

 
“No . . .” No, wait. She should have answered yes.

  Turning her head, she met his gaze. He was smiling.

  Her face grew hot. She sat up and pushed her skirts back down. “I think we’ve finished the bath, no?”

  Still smiling. “I was finished a long time ago. I was simply enjoying your reactions.”

  She was thankful for the darkness, for she was certain her blush reached all the way down to her toes.

  He tossed the cloth into the pail. “Where are you from?”

  Mentally she groaned. She was too tired, her senses too overwrought. The last thing she felt like doing was weaving more lies. “A town, far away.”

  “What is this faraway town called?”

  “What is it called? Oh, my town is called . . . Fillon. It’s to the south.”

  “I’ve never heard of Fillon.”

  That is because I made it up. She gave him a shrug.

  “Where are your personal effects, Elise? You’ve only the clothes on your back. Don’t you own anything?”

  She glanced down at her attire. “Oh. My things . . .” She scrambled for a believable explanation. “I didn’t have many. What little I had . . . was stolen two days ago.”

  He silently studied her in that unnerving way he had. “How long have you been traveling?”

  Hadn’t she given him this information already? Was he testing her? “Two weeks?” she answered, hoping it sounded plausible.

  “Alone?”

  “Well, no, the King escorted me part of the way, but then His Majesty had to return to the palace.” She frowned. “Of course alone.”

  “Merde. You are beyond reckless. What would you have done if you’d encountered a band of criminals? What is one woman alone going to do against a group of men?”

  Just wait and see . . .

  “I’ve told you, I couldn’t stay where I was. My lord is of the belief that paying his taxes takes precedence over my well-being. Besides, I can take care of myself. I have been doing so for a long time.”

  “Yes. It would seem you’re quite a resourceful woman. You put on a commanding performance as a whore. Since no man has ever had you before tonight, tell me, how did you manage it?”