A Midnight Dance (5 page)

Clutching the wineskin and wooden goblets she’d retrieved from her cart, Sabine followed Jules’s man Martin to a small clearing. The spot was private. Secluded. Blankets had been laid out on the soft forest floor.

Martin walked over to add more kindling to the fire. Its lambent flames immediately increased.

“The commander will be with you momentarily,” Martin said and left.

Grateful for the solitude, she took a moment to settle her nerves. They’d made it into the camp.
Everything is going well
. Her cousins were eating and would soon be providing the men with the burgundy. Barely touching her food, her stomach in knots, she was glad to be away from them. The horror her cousins had felt with every salacious comment she’d uttered to Jules had been palpable.

Spotting a fallen tree near the edge of the blankets, she walked over to it and knelt down. She placed the wooden goblets on the log and poured the wine. Her friend Agnes, an apothecary of extraordinary skill, had advised her that one goblet of the burgundy would be enough to affect a full-grown man. But what about a man Jules’s size? Should she have him drink two cups?

One thing was certain: She had to get him to down the burgundy before he touched her again. The feel of his caress against her skin had all but buckled her knees. The way her body reacted to him was beyond maddening. And utterly unsettling.

Footsteps approached.

Drawing in a quiet breath, she let it out slowly and turned around, a smile fixed on her face.

Jules stood ten feet away, silently watching her, firelight and moonlight illuminating his masculine beauty.

Without a doubt, the man was pure male perfection . . . Did he have to look
that
good?

The corner of his attractive mouth lifted in a slight smile. “Shall we begin?” he said, his tone so sinfully sensuous.

She gulped quietly. “Of course.” Sabine looked away and picked up the goblets off the log.

Turning to face him again, she was in time to see him pull his shirt over his head and toss it casually onto the blanket.

Her mouth fell agape.

There before her was a feast for the eyes. Unable to help herself, she devoured every beautiful dip and ripple on his strong chest and muscled abdomen.

Gracious God
. . .

“Elise?”

She felt her cheeks grow hot. Her whole body warmed, yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his stunning physique.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his breeches. “We are going to have to be physically closer in order to have sex, no?” She heard amusement in his tone.

She jerked her gaze up to his and quickly clamped her gaping mouth shut. Giving herself a stern chastising, she forced herself to smile.

“Oh. Yes. Forgive me. I was simply admiring you.” Did she sound pathetic or provocative?
Get up and go to him
. Why didn’t her legs move?

With a lopsided grin, he approached her, his heated gaze fixing her to the spot.

He sat down before her on the fallen tree. His riveting halfnaked body was so close, his handsome face so near.
Stop gawking! You’ll make him suspicious
.
He’ll think you’re inexperienced
.

“Why don’t we drink?” she quickly suggested and held out one of the goblets to him. If he took anything else off, she’d expire on the spot. As it was, her heart was trying to burst out of her chest.

To her joy, he took the goblet. His other hand reached out and grasped her braid.

Quietly, he studied it, his thumb caressing it as he had before. Her insides danced.

“The burgundy is quite good,” she prompted.

“Undo the braid.”

Her heart lurched. Sabine managed to maintain her smile. “The braid?” she repeated like an idiot. There was nothing wrong with her hearing.

He took her goblet out of her hand and set it down beside him on the tree trunk. “Yes. The braid.”

She looked at her goblet—an arm’s length away—then back at him. Thankfully, he still held his goblet. He was watching her. Waiting for her to comply.

It’s simply a braid
. She could definitely do that.

“As you wish,” she said, amazed at how calm she sounded while on the brink of discomposure. Untying the worn ribbon, she unbraided her hair for him.

“Run your fingers through it,” he ordered. There was such hot desire in his eyes. It was intoxicating. And it amazed her. She still couldn’t believe he wanted her. Or that he was even looking at her when in the past she’d been practically invisible to him. How many times had she craved a glance. His touch. His kiss. That was so long ago, a different time, before his kith and kin turned the world black.

Threading her fingers in her hair, she complied with his request. Her blond hair swooshed back down, hanging loosely.

Taking one of her tresses, he brought the lock to his cheek and stroked it along his jaw. “You have beautiful hair,” he said.

His words unbalanced her. That was the very same thing he’d said to her the night she’d slipped and lost her slipper. Only this time there was such a carnal quality to his words, her sex tightened in response.

“Thank you. So do you.”
So do you
?
What sort of imbecilic response is that
?

This would have been so much easier if he’d become potbellied, bald, and had bad teeth.

Anxious to get this over with, she decided to move things along. Daringly, she dipped her finger into his goblet. Intending to put a drop on his lips, she said, “Would you like to try the wine?”

He caught her wrist before she touched him, his action surprising her.

Moving his goblet closer to her mouth, he released her wrist and said, “Ladies first.”

Oh, God. Remain calm. Don’t overreact
.

“You are most kind,” she responded, recovering quickly, though her heart rhythm did not. She took hold of the goblet, her fingers inadvertently brushing his. Did he notice they trembled?

Her nerves and the extreme situation were clearly distorting her reactions to him. Nothing more. If she kept her head, maintained some semblance of control over herself, she’d prevail.

Looking down at the wine, she searched for direction. She wasn’t about to drink any of it. This was difficult enough without some of the drugged wine in her system. What could she do?
Stay in character
. That was the answer. The key to success. She was playing the part of a whore, a seducer, an enticer.

She would entice him to drink even if that meant she had to delve deeper into her role. An idea came to her.

“Would you be so kind as to assist me—may I have your hand, please?” She held her hand out, waiting and praying he’d comply. There was curiosity in his eyes. And after what seemed an eternity, he placed his hand in hers. Carnal awareness crackled in the air between them. She could tell he felt it, too. The expression on his face had changed from desire to a feral hunger. It inflamed her further. A mortifying moisture pooled between her legs.

Her insides in havoc, Sabine glanced down at his hand in hers. It was strong, his fingers long, warm. She liked the feel of his skin. A little too much for her own good.

She couldn’t allow herself to forget how his family had preyed on hers, overtaxing, overburdening. Living off their misery. She didn’t feel sorry for what had become of him. Had he inherited his father’s title and lands, there was no reason to believe he’d have cared a whit about the suffering of those who lived on his lands any more than his father had. He deserved his fall from “grace.”

And he deserved what he had coming to him once she was through.

Knowing his palm would hold too much of the burgundy, she rotated his hand, tipped the goblet, and let a few drops land on the inside of his wrist.

Hesitating a moment to let most of the droplets run off, Sabine bent her head and pressed her lips to his skin.

The instant her mouth touched him, her senses were swamped by a heady rush. Her eyes fluttered shut. She forced them open, trying to recover her wits, yet she couldn’t resist brushing her mouth lightly across his wrist. He made a sound from deep inside his throat. It reverberated in her feminine core.

Overcome by the warmth and texture of his skin, she lingered a moment longer, then kissed his wrist. The urge to kiss him again gripped her fiercely. It took a moment to shake loose of its hold.

She pulled away slowly and met his gaze, her breathing sharper than before. And there was a pulsing between her legs that throbbed in time with the heavy thuds of her heart.

If she hadn’t been so shaken, she would have been elated. She’d successfully avoided the tainted wine. But it had come at a price. The most private part of her body was now rioting and aching for relief.

She scrambled to find her voice. “The burgundy has never tasted finer,” she somehow managed to say. “You should try it.” She held the goblet out to him.

“Perhaps I should,” he responded. Relived, she almost wept when he took it from her hand.

Holding her gaze, he moved the goblet toward her then dripped a drop onto her bare shoulder. The wine was startlingly cool against her heated skin.

He leaned in.

Knowing he was going to press his mouth against her body, she braced herself for the thrill of it. The droplet had rolled down her arm before his lips finally grazed over her shoulder. She closed her eyes. The light flick of his tongue against her skin drew a moan from her throat.

He pulled back, his mouth mere inches from hers, his breaths mingling with her own. “I’m not certain I like your wine. Perhaps I should try it again?”

She blinked. Unable to command her voice, she gave him a delayed nod.

The barest smile played across his mouth. He opened the top fastening on her bodice. Her eyes widened. And then he opened the next.
Dear God.

Then another fastening.

And another.

Think of something!
What could she say to stop him? She couldn’t reveal her duplicity. She couldn’t—
Oh!
Her opened bodice slipped off, revealing her chemise.

Amid her heightened distress, she felt a ludicrous pang of embarrassment. Her chemise, although clean, was old and worn. Not fancy or pretty like the undergarments she’d once owned. Like the ones worn by his former mistresses.

She looked away, unable to look into his eyes, trying desperately to think of a way to regain control of the unraveling situation.

He lowered her chemise to her waist. She swallowed down her protest, her upper body exposed, her breasts veiled by her hair.

He brushed her tresses aside, revealing her to the summer night and his gaze.

“Elise . . .” he said.

Unable to read much into his utterance, she cast him a sidelong glance, expecting to find him assessing her. Yet by his expression he seemed to be marveling at her instead.

His hand caressed the outside curve of her breast. She gasped at the jolt of erotic sensation. It drew his gaze back up to her face. Then it happened. He gave her one of his full knee-weakening smiles. Gorgeous dimples and all.

“You’re exquisite. With the nipples of Venus,” he said. “I wonder if they taste as good as they look.” Dipping the tip of his finger into the wine, he placed a drop near her racing heart and watched with fascination as it ran down toward her nipple. She was frozen. Expectant of what he might do. Unable to stop it from happening.

The moment the droplet dripped off the tip of her breast, he slipped his arm around her waist, lowered his head, and sucked her nipple into his hot mouth. She cried out, and flung her arms around him, the pleasure so keen she all but swooned. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed her cheek against his dark hair. Each luscious pull of his mouth contracted her sex, deep delicious pulses that vibrated to her clit.

She couldn’t catch her breath. Not when he continued to ply her with skillful sucks, licks, bites. The sensations radiating from her breast were melting her mind.

She’d kept herself numb for so long. Yet the pleasure flooding through her was so intense, there was no containing it. Or controlling it.

His mouth burned a path to her other breast and repeated the exquisite torture. Her head fell back, her lips parted in a silent cry, and she held on, lost to the hunger.

He had her arching and moaning, her breaths dragging up and down her throat.

He stopped suddenly. Sabine whimpered at the cessation. Dazed and panting, she snapped her eyes open, her body frantically clamoring for more.

She was shaky and ravenous, her sex slick with her own juices.

He was smiling again.

“You have very sensitive breasts. I like that.” He tossed the goblet with its contents behind him onto the ground, dropped to his knees in front of her, and pulled her up tightly against him. She felt the solid bulge in his breeches.