A Midnight Dance Read online

  “I . . . um . . .” Think. Think! “In our town we had a widow who took in unwed men and widowers. I overheard her at times . . .” Many towns had such women. It was a believable tale.

  Once again, she found herself under his silent scrutiny.

  Once again, she prayed he didn’t see through her ruse.

  He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, leaving a tingling on her skin in its wake. “Far too venturesome . . . And desirable.” Capturing her chin and her undivided attention, he lowered his head and brushed his mouth against hers. Her lips parted for him. “My forest fairy . . . so highly arousable. We are going to have a memorable time together between here and Maillard, aren’t we?”

  “Yes . . .” But not in the way he thought.

  He crushed his mouth to hers, and drove his tongue past her lips, kissing her with mind-spinning intensity. Inebriating her instantly with his taste. A rush of arousal flooded her body, her nipples straining hard for his attention. All right. She’d allow him to give Elise a kiss or two. Then she’d come down with a malady, put on a convincing performance, and reject him. The next thing she knew her fingers were tangled in his soft hair, and she was returning each kiss, her tongue matching his, stroke for stroke.

  He stopped abruptly.

  Stunned, her eyes snapped open. She realized he’d pressed her back onto the blankets and was stretched out partially on top of her.

  “Why did you stop?” Mentally she cringed at her question and the slight desperation in her tone.

  “Because we aren’t going to have sex.”

  “We aren’t?”

  “No.” Rolling onto his side, he propped himself up on his elbow and played with a lock of her hair between his fingers. “I rode you hard. Too hard for a virgin.” He ran the lock of her hair lightly down her throat. “But starting tomorrow, you’re all mine.”

  He wasn’t going to take advantage of the situation?

  She should be elated. He was solving her dilemma for her—at least for tonight—yet he left her wanting. Unsated passion hummed through her veins.

  He sat up, grabbed the folded blanket near his feet, and covered them both as he lay back down.

  Nudging her onto her side, he pulled her tightly against his front, her bottom cradled in his groin. She couldn’t miss the bulge in his breeches, his hard generous sex pressing against her lower back. Her sex responded with a warm gush.

  It took everything she had not to wriggle against him. The urge to create any type of friction between their bodies was so great.

  His strong arms wrapped around her. “Good night, Elise.”

  She closed her eyes, but not because of fatigue. Thanks to him, her body was fully awake, a tormenting need rioting inside her.

  How, by all that was holy, was she to sleep like this?

  “Good night,” she murmured.

  What poetic justice this was. She’d been intent on denying him, yet he’d denied her. And made her want him, nonetheless. Worse, she’d have to sleep with his muscled body curled around her.

  One more day. That’s all that stood between her and the silver. Well, actually, that wasn’t all. There was also a camp full of men. And their leader—the most sinfully seductive rake ever to grace the King’s court.

  The first thing Jules became aware of upon rising out of sleep was the cool temperature. His arms and chest were chilled. Eyes closed, he reached for the blanket only to find none anywhere on his body. Softly, he cursed and opened his eyes.

  The day’s first light had only just appeared. The trees overhead were still darkened in shadow, looking blackened against the cloudless indigo sky.

  Lying on his back, Jules scrubbed a hand over his face. Dieu, he was cold. Looking around, he easily solved the mystery of his missing blanket.

  It was to his left, wrapped around the woman next to him. Warmly cocooned within it, she lay on her side deep in slumber, her hands tucked beneath her cheek, the few flaxen tresses spilling out of the blanket looking as silky as he knew they felt.

  His pretty forest fairy.

  Propping himself up on his elbow, he took in her lovely face in the dim early morning light. Memories of her naked form, her sweet tits and the firm grip of her wet sex around his buried cock heated his blood. Currents of delicious lust coursed through his body. He couldn’t believe she still held his interest the next morning. Or how much he was looking forward to having her again. Nothing would give him more pleasure than broadening her sexual repertoire.

  She was deliciously hot-blooded. All this pent-up passion just waiting to be released. All his for the unleashing. The mere thought made his heart race. He shifted to accommodate his erection.

  He hadn’t had the pleasure of seducing a woman in a very long time. And he had a slow, sensuous seduction in mind for her. He’d have her very hot and very wet before he’d finally rock her beautiful body with another hot orgasm.

  Jules slid close to her and pressed against her warm form. It hadn’t escaped his notice that being with her leavened his mood. The bitterness that enveloped his soul seemed to recede just enough for him to catch glimpses of his old self.

  “Elise,” he said softly into her sleeping face. “You are a little thief. You’ve stolen the blanket.”

  She rolled over onto her other side, her shapely derrière now snug against his straining prick. “More sleep . . .” she murmured, clearly not inclined to awaken just yet.

  A smile tugged at his lips.

  It took everything he had not to unwrap her, wake her with long languorous kisses, and sink his hard cock into her moist heat. Was there a finer way to start the day than having a beautiful, sensuous woman?

  Jules ran a lock of her soft hair between his fingers. Regrettably, since it was daybreak, he had to leave her side. A matter of utmost importance required his attention.

  He sat up.

  The cloudless sky promised a sunny day. He couldn’t wait to discover the color of her eyes and see her edible little form in the sunlight.

  “My lord?”

  Jules looked up and saw Raymond, ever loyal and discreet, standing with his back to him at the tree line of the clearing.

  With a sigh, Jules rose and walked over to him. Sensing his approach, Raymond held out a fresh shirt.

  Jules took the article of clothing. “Thank you. You may face me.” He quickly donned it, consciously aware of the chill in the air again now that he was away from Elise.

  “Of course, my lord.” Raymond turned around. He handed Jules his baldric and rapier. “I hope you had a good night’s rest.”

  He hadn’t, really. With the blond forest fairy near, he’d been hard most of the night. It was the first time he’d been alone with a desirable, passionate female and not acted on the powerful urges she inspired. But then it was his first time deflowering a virgin.

  Jules slipped on the baldric then sheathed his sword. “Is Simon here?”

  “Yes, the captain and his party have only just arrived.”

  Simon Boulenger was the French Crown’s most successful privateer and the captain of its privateer fleet. A second-rate supplement to the King’s Navy during the realm’s ongoing war with Spain, the privateer fleet attacked Spanish treasure ships returning from New Spain, weighted with precious metals. The two men, of similar age, had developed a friendship.

  Jules owed Simon his life.

  After his family’s disgrace, it was Simon who’d entrusted the command of two of his ships, one to him and the other to his brother, Luc, at a time when it seemed no one in the entire realm would have anything to do with a Moutier. Thanks to Simon, Jules had a purpose, and a means to regain the wealth he’d lost.

  He and Luc had worked independently, utilizing their naval skills with a vengeance, and had amassed a small fortune between them.

  “Excellent,” Jules said. “Then let’s complete this transaction once and for all and hand over the silver.”

  “What about the woman, my lord?”

  Jules glanced a
t her bundled form. After the delivery to Simon, Jules was going to meet Luc in the town after Maillard, and finally work to reclaim his life. But first, he was going to spend some decadent days and nights with the lovely Elise Marquette. After five long years, could it be that his luck was finally improving?

  “Let her sleep. By the time she awakens, Simon will have his silver and be gone. We can then leave for Maillard.”

  7

  Simon Boulenger smiled as he surveyed the men transferring the chests of silver to his carts. “Well done. You keep this up, Jules, and I may allow you to do this indefinitely.”

  The hell he would.

  His hands on his hips, Jules scowled. He hated privateering. Hated it that his naval and battle skills were no longer required or welcomed in the King’s official Navy. “You know this is only temporary.”

  Simon didn’t understand. He’d always been a commoner. He may have risen from his humble beginnings as the son of a fisherman to command a small fleet of privateer ships, but he’d no idea what it was like to have everything he identified with taken from him.

  Jules had lost everything that made him who he was. His entire world had imploded on him.

  He had no patience left. He wanted his life back. He wanted it now.

  “With your skills, you and your brother are welcome to continue as long as you wish,” Simon said. “After I deliver the King’s share of this capture to the Superintendent of Finance and attend to a few matters, I’ll be returning to Marguerite.”

  “With more peasants in tow?” Jules’s tone was dry. The island of Marguerite was located in the West Indies. Jules had been there many times during his employ with Simon, to attack Spanish ships and ports located there. Among the many islands, some still independent kingdoms and pirate domains, Simon and his men had laid claim to Marguerite. Over time, it had developed into a private settlement. At first it was simply a safe haven for those who worked and fought under Simon’s command, and their families. However, little by little, Simon brought over peasants, giving them employ in the cane fields, allowing them—according to Simon—to escape the oppression they faced here. He didn’t treat them as indentured servants, as many of the island governors in the area did, but gave them fair wages and decent accommodations.

  Jules held his tongue out of courtesy, even though he didn’t agree with Simon’s practice of pulling tenants away from their lords and out of the realm. Nobles depended on the income from their tenants, and these peasants benefited from the protection of their lords while living on their land. To upset this balance wasn’t good for the stability of the nation. And the realm had been through enough upheaval.

  “Of course,” Simon responded with a smile. “I’m trying to save as many of my kind from your kind as I can. You know there is plenty of room for you on Marguerite.”

  Although Marguerite had been built up over the last eight years and was indeed a comfortable settlement, Jules’s life, his future, rested right here.

  Before Jules could decline the offer, he saw the look on Simon’s face change as he stared at something past Jules’s shoulder, distinct male interest entering his eyes.

  Without glancing behind him, Jules had a strong feeling he knew exactly what, or rather whom, Simon was looking at.

  Jules turned around. Elise stood a few feet away. Her eyes were wide and fixed to the commotion around the carts.

  Ensnared by the vision she made, Jules took in her pale blond hair, sensuously tousled, her comely face, and delicate body—all gloriously illuminated by the bright early morning sunlight. Jésus-Christ . She looked just as good as she had drenched in moonlight.

  He approached her.

  She looked up at him, delicate brows drawn together. Her eyes, the same color as Spanish silver, were utterly entrancing. He felt his prick stir.

  He formed a smile. “Good morning.”

  “Who are all these men? What’s happening?” Her eyes franticly scanned about.

  She looked positively distraught.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the men moving the chests from one cart to the other. He had no idea why such a sight would cause her such distress. He supposed the men looked menacing, especially to a petite woman, but last night she’d boldly walked into a camp of men she knew nothing about and attempted to steal while pretending to be a whore. She had more than her share of courage and fortitude. Why was she so nervous?

  Slipping his fingers beneath her chin, he tilted it up, gaining her attention. Her skin was so warm and silky. “Everything is fine. There is nothing to be concerned about. The men will be gone soon.”

  “Why are they here? What are they doing to the . . . things in your carts?”

  Before Jules could fabricate some sort of explanation, Simon sauntered up.

  “Well, who have we here?” Simon’s smile grew, his regard fixed on Elise—a little too intently for Jules’s liking. The fact that he noticed or even cared how Simon looked at her surprised him.

  Simon waited for an introduction, then rolled his eyes. “Mademoiselle.” He reached out and took hold of Elise’s hand. “I’m told he”—Simon nodded at Jules—“has manners, but to date, I’ve seen no sign of them. I’m Simon Boulenger. Who might you be?”

  “This is Elise Marquette,” Jules answered for her. The foreign emotion twisting in his gut was disconcerting and utterly absurd. So was his desire to rip Simon’s hand off Elise. One good fuck and he was reacting like this?

  “Elise Marquette,” Simon repeated. “Lovely name. Enchanté.” He kissed Elise’s hand.

  Jules gritted his teeth and had to look away.

  “Tell me, Elise,” he heard Simon say, “are there other women in this forest as beautiful as you?”

  “Why don’t you go search for one?” Jules suggested. “I believe there is a cliff in that direction.” He pointed left.

  Simon shook his head, feigning dismay. “Ungracious, isn’t he? If he is this rude to you, mademoiselle, you need only advise me, and I’ll set him straight.”

  Sabine had no idea who the attractive man holding her hand was, nor did she care.

  They’re taking the silver!

  Jules and his friend were both tall men. She wanted them to move so she could better see what was happening. So she could think of a way to stop them from taking the chests. She couldn’t lose the silver.

  She just couldn’t.

  “Elise?” The sound of Jules’s voice captured her attention. The stranger had released her hand, and Jules was now cupping her cheek. She didn’t need the distraction of his touch. She needed to think of something.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “You’re flushed.”

  No! She wasn’t all right! “I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache.”

  Afraid Jules would force her to return to their private clearing, away from what was happening in the camp, she rushed around the two men to a fallen tree near the ashes of the campfire and sat down.

  Surreptitiously, she watched what the men were doing from behind the veil of her hair while she massaged her temples, pretending to knead away the ache.

  Stop. Stop taking the silver away!

  Suddenly her view was obstructed by Jules’s body. He was down on his haunches before her, studying her silently. Further unnerving her.

  “Are you certain it is only a headache that ails you?” he asked.

  She had to collect herself. He was no fool. And he was questioning her behavior. She was making him suspicious.

  Tucking her hair behind her ear, she formed a smile. “I’m sorry. I realize I’m behaving foolishly. I woke up, and you were gone. Then I came here and saw all these men . . . I was simply taken by surprise and I overreacted. I don’t like surprises.” She glanced past his shoulder to the men near the carts. “In my experience, they’ve never been a good thing.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. The rendezvous wasn’t supposed to occur for another four days!

  How had she gotten it wrong?

  “My headache is only slight. I’ll
be fine. I’ll sit here and cause you no trouble. I promise.”

  She’d no idea what he was thinking as he observed her. He had an uncanny way of masking his thoughts, of making his expression difficult to decipher.

  “You didn’t eat last night,” he finally said. “How long has it been since you’ve had a meal?”

  She didn’t want his concern. She wanted him to move.

  “Yesterday. Noon.” Unfortunately it was true, but she wasn’t hungry. Not with the knots in her stomach. The silver was leaving. How was she going to stop it?

  Jules gave a signal to Raymond. Raymond walked up, handed Jules a goblet, then left.

  “Here.” Jules offered it to her.

  She took the goblet.

  “Drink it,” he ordered. “It’s burgundy. We carry the untainted kind.”

  She smiled, albeit weakly, at his jest and took a sip, not wishing to argue. “It’s good. Thank you.” She held the goblet out to him. Go away! He was too distracting.

  “Finish it, chère. It fortifies the blood,” he said. Raymond returned then with pieces of bread in a bowl. Jules took a piece and dipped it into her goblet. “I’m told this is His Majesty’s favorite way to break the fast each morning. Bread dipped in diluted burgundy. But of course, you know this, having traveled with him,” he teased and brought the wine-soaked bread to her lips.

  She had no choice. She took a bite and forced herself to chew with a frozen smile even though her stomach balked at the thought of food.

  His usual sensuous smile tilted the corner of his mouth. He placed the bowl on her lap. “I’ll leave you to your morning meal. We’ll be leaving for Maillard soon.”

  He rose and walked away, toward the group of men.

  Thank God. Now at least she could think without his scrutiny. Or his presence clouding her mind. The silver couldn’t leave. Not without her. She’d not gone through all this for nothing.

  Helplessly she watched, sickened by the fact that one of Jules’s carts was now empty.

  Feeling someone watching her, she glanced to her left and noticed Raymond observing her a few feet away. Fear fisted in her belly. Had the horror she felt inside reflected in her eyes? About ten years Jules’s senior, Raymond appeared to be a perceptive man. His hazel eyes looked sharp. And he was loyal to his commander. He wouldn’t hesitate to report any peculiar behavior to Jules.