A Midnight Dance (8 page)

He grasped her arm and spun her around to face him. “Why. Did. You. Do. This?”

She laughed and blinked away more tears she refused to shed. Being Elise was exhausting. Consuming. And she was beginning to despise her.

“Why?”
she repeated. “Are you that much of a fool? Why would any woman profess to be a whore and enter a men’s camp if not because she was
desperate
.”

“My patience is running out. Speak plainly!” he barked. “And your words this time had better be
the absolute truth
.”

The stone-cold look in his eyes sent a shiver of dread through her. Fury was coming off him in waves. She found herself mourning the loss of his smile, his heated looks. And she hated it that she did. She felt defeated. She’d lost the battle. Yet she had no choice but to fight on.

She still had to steal his captured prize.

But Jules de Moutier was not a man to be trifled with. This former officer of the King’s Navy was a veteran in battle, skilled at weapons, with a small army of armed men at hand under his command.

She had only her two younger cousins and desperation arming her.

“I didn’t wish to deceive you. I didn’t think you would want me if you knew I was a . . . virgin.”

“You are correct there! Who are you?”

Lying was much like acting. You had to put on a believable performance. And the most convincing lies incorporated as much of the truth as you could allow.

“My name is Elise Marquette.” The false name slipped past her lips. “I couldn’t have you turn me away. I’m desperate for funds. What else was there for me to do?”

Mistrust was clearly readable in his eyes. “You have the wine. You could have sold it for coin,” he said tightly.

He’d cornered her. What she was about to admit to was a risky tactic to take, but she was out of options. He didn’t look as though he’d let her skirt around the subject of the wine. God help them . . . “I couldn’t. The—The wine is . . . tainted.”

“You
poisoned
the wine?” he roared.

“No!” Her heart was slamming in her chest. “Not poisoned. I swear! It’s drugged. To induce sleep. We were going to take coins from you and your men. We wouldn’t have taken everything. We would have left you some.” She was oh so careful not to let on that she knew of the captured wealth on hand.

“So you came here to steal.” His expression was fierce. “Why let me fuck you? Because you couldn’t get me to drink the wine beforehand?”

She crossed her arms, feeling chilled by his anger. Once again she found herself longing for his previous warm manner. “I’ll admit I didn’t come here with the intention of participating in any sort of . . . intimate act with you, but then . . .” Her next words caught in her throat.

“But then
what
?” he snapped.

She forced the words out—words that spoke too much of the truth for her liking. “But then . . . you touched me . . . kissed me . . .” She wanted to say no more. Each day she went through the motions of living, unable to mourn her sister. Simply surviving, more dead than alive. She’d forgotten how to feel. She didn’t even want to. Yet this man—of all men—had inflamed her senses and jolted her body to life with such startling intensity, she still trembled in the aftermath. She’d rather cut out her own tongue than have to admit to
him
, “I didn’t want you to stop.” How she wished that was a lie.

“Really.” His voice was bland.

“Yes, really!” His skepticism was wounding when it shouldn’t be at all. How ironic that she had to convince him of something she wanted to deny.

It took everything she had not to give up this mad scheme and run. But she didn’t have that luxury. “You . . . overwhelmed me.” Sadly that, too, was the truth.

He placed his hands on his hips. “Why didn’t you sell the wine before you ‘tainted’ it?”

“We tried to do that at the market. The realm is in financial chaos, in case you haven’t noticed. We had no takers. I’ve been traveling for some time. I’d only met the young men I’m with today. The wine was theirs. The idea to do this was mine. I convinced them to barter some wine for some sleeping powders. They did just that, mixed it into the wine, and we devised a plan.”

His jaw tightened. Tensed, she wondered if he could hear the pounding of her heart.

“Why did you select us?” he asked.

“You were the first group of men we came upon who looked as though you had some coin to spare.”

His brows shot up. “You walked into a camp of men you knew
nothing
about?”

“Yes.”

“
Merde
. Woman, are you mad?”

“No. Just utterly desperate. And out of choices. I had nothing to lose.”

“Except your innocence and your life.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “Why worry about my innocence if I am dead? And dead is what I’ll be without coin. Most of my family is gone. My home is gone because I didn’t have the money to pay our lord his taxes. What choice did I have?”

He studied her in silence. Her insides in frenzy, she prayed he believed her.

His eyes narrowed. “Those men you are with, did they know you were a virgin?”

“No!” She was intent on protecting her cousins, for she could see his ire rising once more.

“Did you lead them to believe you were sexually experienced?”

“I told them nothing about myself. They’re practically boys. Like me, they only resorted to this because they’re trying to survive. What would you do if you were in our desperate situation?”

He didn’t answer her, and his expression was unreadable.

He needs more convincing
.

She quickly added, “This has been a night of firsts. I’ve never stolen or tried to steal before. I swear it. And I’ve never experienced . . . the things I experienced with you tonight. What happened between us was not a ruse. It was . . .” She looked away, unable to look in his eyes as she said, “Bliss.” How she wished that were a lie, too.

Still he remained silent.

It unnerved her. She forced her gaze back to his. His dark eyes gave nothing away.

She hadn’t come this far to lose the silver treasure. She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. She had to convince him to keep her with him—near the silver.

She pressed on. “I’m traveling to the town of Maillard. It’s but a three-day ride. I have a cousin there who is a schoolmaster. He’s the only family I have left.” There was no cousin in Maillard. She’d purposely selected the town because she knew it was en route to his point of rendezvous. “Send the young men away, if you wish. But let me stay with you.
Please
. . . take me to Maillard. Take me to my cousin.” That would give her three days to find an opportunity to find his capture. And seize it.

More maddening silence.

Why didn’t he respond? If only she could decipher his thoughts.

“Look at me.” She opened her arms theatrically. “I am no threat to a man like you.”

His tactile gaze moved down her body then back up and met her eyes. He stepped closer and cupped her face in his warm palm. Her nerve endings sparked to life. “You want to stay with me, do you?” His thumb lightly brushed her cheek.

“Yes,” she said, a little too breathless.

“Why should I believe you? Why should I believe anything you say?” His touch was distracting.

“There are many in my situation in the realm. Why are my words so difficult to believe? I’ve confessed the truth about the wine, about my original motives. I’m simply a woman in dire straits. A woman who . . .” The truth caught in her throat.
Say it!
“Who found unexpected pleasure in a stranger’s arms. Couldn’t you tell there was nothing false about how your touch affected me?”

“Your passion wasn’t a lie,” he conceded. His sensuous voice stroked over her like a caress. His hand continued to cradle her cheek, with tender appeal.

“May I stay with you, then? Will you escort me to Maillard?” She had such an overwhelming urge to put her arms around him and lean against his strong body. And it astounded her. She never leaned on anyone. Ever. Everyone always leaned on
her
.

She kept her arms at her sides, by force of will, but she couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting to his mouth. A mouth that was all too perfect in too many ways.

The more he touched her, the longer he remained close, the more she craved both. He was drawing her back under his influence, and she was having a difficult time locating the will to fight it. She had no understanding of the unbreakable attraction she had to this man.

Though it wasn’t going stop her from doing what she had to do.

She’d either find a way to master it, or submit to it.
Whatever it takes . . .
She was a survivor. And ultimately the victor in this charade.

“Please, I would very much like to stay with you,” she said.

“Really.” His tone was far too bland for her liking. “Is that all you want, Elise?”

She gazed into his eyes. So darkly sensual. Far too stirring.

Whatever it takes
. . .
Say the words
.
If you don’t, he could assign one of his men to escort you to Maillard, sending you away from the camp and the silver
. “I’d like you . . . to show me more of the same kind of bliss you showed me tonight.” When this was over, she’d force herself to forget this night and all the shocking things Elise had done and was about to do.

Jules slipped his arm around her waist and drew her against him. A wave of pleasure crested over her. He dipped his head. “Is that so?” he whispered near her mouth.

She couldn’t speak, not when his lips were so close to her own. Not when she urgently wanted him to kiss her.

His mouth came down on hers. She closed her eyes. Her womb clenched. Enthralled by his taste, she could feel her passion mounting. She pressed herself against his solid muscled form, feeling herself pulled into a dream she’d had once. And lost.

He pulled away, and stepped back. She slammed back into reality.

She was left missing the contact, mournful of the brevity of his kiss. And grappling with the usual discomposure he caused with but the briefest physical contact.

He had his head down, his long strong fingers at work refastening his breeches.

“Well?” she nudged, tamping down the carnal craving he’d stirred. “What is your answer?”

He looked up at her, his task completed. Snagging his shirt off the blankets, he threw it on and cocked a brow.

“You wish to know if I’ll let you stay and be your lover for the next three days until we reach Maillard?”

“Yes,” she answered.

He stepped close to her again. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what your friends have to say, and what stories
they
give.” Her stomach dropped.

He stalked away.

Sabine raced after Jules. Her knees almost buckled when she saw him march past the brute Fabrice, yanking his sword from his scabbard without breaking his stride. Idly standing guard, the brute’s head snapped up in surprise.

Jules stopped before Gerard and Robert, seated near the fire.

“Get up,” he ordered, sword in hand.

Her cousins leaped to their feet, both clutching wineskins.

The murmuring around them died. Like predators closing in on their prey, the men who’d been sitting around the campfire rose and neared their leader, surrounding Gerard and Robert.

Robert looked around at the circle of men entrapping them, bewilderment and fear etched in his expression. Gerard’s gaze shot to her. His eyes widened, the shock on his face arresting her steps. It was then she realized her hair was unbraided and mussed. Her appearance disheveled and telling.

Gerard’s horror contorted his face. “Dear God . . . You didn’t . . .” His words trailed off. He remained frozen, staring at her.

She had to briefly look away, unable to stand the pleading in his eyes as he silently begged for the reassurance that she hadn’t resorted to giving herself to Jules. When she found the courage to return his gaze, she saw devastation in their depths. It tortured her to see it, to see the hint of—tears. Her throat tightened. She’d run out without any thought about her appearance for her cousins’ sake.

Seemingly oblivious to Jules’s threatening presence, Gerard’s expression told her he thought the price she’d paid was too great. How could she ever explain to him the pleasure she’d found in Jules’s arms? She couldn’t even explain it to herself.

Jules moved to Gerard’s side and laid his sword across her cousin’s throat.

Terror slammed into her.

“You’ve been found out.” Jules spoke in the deadliest tone. “I should run you through here and now for your little scheme.” He glanced at Robert. “Both of you.” Jules’s body was rigid, his muscles tight with restrained rage.

Gerard finally dragged his gaze to Jules. Never in her life had she seen that much contempt in her cousin’s eyes. His nostrils were flared, his breathing quickening. He looked ready to kill Jules.