PHANTOM IN TIME (23 page)

“Jacques
. . .”

He
pressed his mouth to her cheek. “You want to be here,
ma belle.
You want
to be with me. I can feel you quivering, feel your body responding, needing me
as I need you. Let me take you upstairs. Let me remove all your clothes,
worship your beautiful body, make love to you.”

Bella
shuddered, and Jacques gripped her chin. When he turned her face toward his,
her eyes were bright with tears of passion and helpless confusion. With a
groan, he kissed her greedily, sweetly bruising her lips, thrusting his tongue
deeply inside her mouth.

Bella
was drowning. Never had his kiss felt so intimate; never had his tongue aroused
her so wickedly. She responded with equal ardor, clinging to him, devouring his
lips, his mouth. She felt she had no choice . . .

As
the music ended and wild cheers rose, they pulled apart. Wincing at the animal
hunger she spotted in his dark gaze, Bella hastily glanced away. As Jacques ran
his fingers up and down her slim midriff, teasing the curve of her breast, she
spotted La Roux taking her bows, gathering her money, and scampering from the
room.

Tommy
launched into a lively ragtime tune, and several couples got up to dance to the
syncopated music, holding hands, whirling about and kicking up their heels in a
style Bella had never seen before. Bella was dying by inches . . . Then she
felt Jacques's mouth at her ear again.

“Come
upstairs with me, Bella?”

“N-no,”
she stammered.

She
heard him sigh. “Then dance with me?”

“I .
. . think not.”

Feeling
his arms loosening around her at last, Bella all but bolted from his lap and
seated herself in a now-vacant chair nearby. She steeled herself against his
chiding glance, resisting the urge to rush back over and kiss him senseless.
Oh, she wanted him so much she hurt, she trembled. Never had she realized
desire could be this intense. She felt so aroused, so confused, that she fought
tears of sheer frustration.

And
she at once regretted her resistance as a laughing Rochelle ran over to
Jacques, clutched his hand, and pulled him out onto the dance floor. Bella
seethed, watching the prostitute brush up against him suggestively several
times. At the end of the selection, the hussy soundly kissed him, and Bella
practically jumped out of her skin, glowering at Jacques when he flashed her an
apologetic look. Another prostitute seized him for the next dance. Bella's
fury, her desire, became centered in a palpable, painful knot deep in her
belly, a yearning so powerful it all but doubled her over.

When
Tommy launched into a bittersweet rendition of “Love's Old Sweet Song,” and La
Roux, who had reclaimed her former, sleazy gown, grabbed Jacques and began
waltzing with him, something snapped inside Bella. This was
their
song,
by God, the very song Jacques had sung to woo her across time, the song he had
played on his gramophone during their first date! She remembered waltzing in
his masterful arms, gliding around his drawing room to the beautiful melody, on
that night when he had seemed hers alone. Now he was lost to her—lost due to
her own foolish retreat—and she blinked back tears of agonized yearning. He
might be wrong for her; she might be making a fatal mistake, but she no longer
cared. No floozy was going to dance with Jacques to
their
song!

Like
one possessed, Bella got to her feet and marched across the dance floor.
Approaching Jacques and La Roux, she grabbed the woman by the arm, none too
gently, and shoved her aside. She caught a brief glimpse of Jacques's stunned,
delighted face before she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Jacques
crushed Bella close and kissed her back with such consuming passion that a
wince escaped her. Then he began to dance with her, to waltz so beautifully to
the dreamy music, all the while ravishing her mouth, French-kissing her as
she'd never been kissed before.

His
earlier kiss had staggered her, but, oh, it could not compare with the splendor
of this moment, being one with him, one with the glorious music. Such heaven!
Had he swept her into his arms, taken her up the stairs then and there, she
couldn't have resisted. It seemed to go on forever—the poignant song, his
stirring nearness, and the most tantalizing kiss Bella had ever known.

The
music stopped. They pulled apart, gazing at each another with awe and fevered
desire. Jacques smiled and extended his hand. Like one hypnotized, she reached
out for him—

All
at once Julie burst between them. “Ah, what a delightful couple you make,” she
declared. “But now you must sing for us, darling Jacques!” She smiled at Bella.
“You don't mind, do you, dear?”

Bella
glanced around the room to see almost everyone watching them in fascination.
Sanity began to filter back in. What was she doing? Why would she give herself
to this man—in a bordello, no less!—when she knew their future together was
doomed? She looked at Jacques's ardent, expectant face. She wanted him
desperately, but could she trust him? Would he ever commit himself to just one
woman? Did he want her, or did he want to sing? What mattered to him the most,
love or fame? Could she afford to find out?

“No,
I don't mind,” she said at last.

Was
she dreaming, or did Jacques look disappointed? He moved closer to her and took
her hand. “Please come sing with me, Bella. Let's do a duet of 'After the
Ball.'“

Staring
at Jacques's eager face, Bella again found she wanted to sing with him more
than she could say. But once again she demurred. “I'm sorry, Jacques, I can't.”

He
offered her a brave smile. “Soon,
ma belle.
Soon you will be unable to
say no to me.”

As
he sauntered off to the piano and serenaded her with his soulful rendition,
Bella suspected that soon she'd be unable to say no to Jacques LeFevre in
any
way. On one level, it hurt that he wanted to sing more than he wanted to make
love to her, yet his song was also seducing her, enthralling her.

Then
the selection ended and the hussies mobbed him, brazenly kissing him, even
tugging at his clothing. He grinned and laughed, totally in his element amid
the female adulation.

Bella
turned away, hellishly confused, seething in hurt and outrage. Did she
really
think Jacques LeFevre sang only for her? She was a fool.

Chapter Twenty-one

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Well
past midnight, Bella and Jacques, along with Tommy and Helene, rode back to
Helene's apartment together. Jacques and Bella were wedged together on one side
of the carriage; Helene sat on Tommy's lap across from them. With the other
couple kissing and caressing, Bella felt distinctly uncomfortable. Under the
circumstances, she was afraid to meet Jacques's eye. But the heat of his body
seeped into her, and she could
feel
his smoldering gaze.

He
took her hand, raised it to his mouth, and ran his lips and tongue over her
forefinger in a most provocative manner. Scandalized by his blatant eroticism,
she caught a sharp breath. But when she tried to pull her hand away, he merely
tightened his grip on her wrist and started in on her other fingers.

She
shot him a seething look. “Jacques—”

Her
words became drowned by his tongue in her mouth as he leaned over and ardently
kissed her. Bella stiffened, moaned, then melted. His kiss was hot and
delicious, his nearness mesmerizing. She was unnerved to find herself once
again putty in his hands, kissing him back with all the explosive desire that
had flared between them on the dance floor.

She
felt supremely grateful when the carriage lurched to a halt. Breathing with an
effort, she turned away from Jacques's triumphant smile, her face smarting in
the darkness.

She
heard Helene's gay voice. “Jacques, you devil, come upstairs and have a
nightcap with us.”

“Don't
mind if I do,” he replied smoothly.

Bella
stifled a groan, dismayed that Helene had invited Jacques upstairs. But it was
too late to protest; Helene and Tommy were already exiting the carriage.
Besides, it
was
Helene's apartment, and she had every right to invite
whomever she pleased. Thus Bella had little choice but to accept Jacques's
assistance out of the conveyance and walk with him through the balmy night,
into the building, across the patio, and up the stairs.

The
instant they were inside the apartment, Tommy and Helene rushed off, laughing,
to the bedroom, slamming the door behind them. Bella and Jacques were entirely
alone.

Feeling
extremely unsettled, Bella launched herself around the room, switching on the
lights. Already she could hear giggles and sounds of pleasure drifting from the
bedroom. Her pulse was racing and she felt weak. The situation was potently
sensual, leaving her flustered and vulnerable.

Somehow
she managed to look at Jacques, and nearly died upon seeing the cynically
amused—and very sexy—expression on his face. “I think you had better go now.”

“But
I was promised a nightcap by our hostess,” he protested.

“Our
hostess is otherwise occupied.”

With
devilment dancing in his dark eyes, Jacques crossed the room and carefully
removed the feather tiara from Bella's hair, setting it down on a tea table.
“Then you are left to fulfill our hostess's obligations. Tell me, are you going
to be rude to me,
ma
chère?”

His
intimate gesture and cajoling tone disarmed her, making it all the more
difficult to fight her feelings. But fight she would. Reminding herself of his
brazen conduct with the floozies at the bordello, she marched across the room,
poured half a snifter of brandy, and returned to shove the glass into his hand.
“There. Make it quick.”

Jacques
raised an eyebrow as a moan of pleasure sounded from the bedroom. “Make what
quick,
chérie?”

Bella
all but winced aloud, realizing she had laid herself open for that one. “Your
drink.”

Chuckling,
Jacques walked slowly to the settee and sat down. He crossed his long legs and
regarded her lazily. “Come over here and join me.”

“No.”

“Are
you still angry because the girls kissed me?”

She
said nothing, though her eyes seethed.

“So
you are.” He leaned forward. “You know, it isn't my fault they all find me
irresistible.”

Bella
was amazed. “Oh, of all the conceit!”

“But
I am not conceited, love,” he replied unabashedly. “Indeed, I am crushed by
your rejection. Whatever happened to the passionate creature in my lap—and in
my arms—earlier? The one who hauled me close and kissed me with feverish
abandon?”

Bella
blinked rapidly in betrayal of her extreme agitation. “I—I got carried away
then.”

“Then
you need to become carried away more often,” he rejoined. “Are you acting so
unpleasant now because you're angry about the other women, or because you're
frustrated with yourself for lowering your defenses and giving in to your true
feelings?”

She
glowered.

A
slow, confident smile spread across his dark face. “Admit it, Bella. I aroused
you tonight. To passion and to jealousy. When you marched across that dance
floor and shoved La Roux out of my arms, you made a very territorial statement.
You claimed me for your own. If Julie hadn't intervened when she did, I could
have taken you upstairs and seduced you.”

“Oh,
you are so arrogant!” she replied in a desperate, shaky whisper.

“I
am speaking the truth.”

Bella
turned away to hide her crimson face and trembling hands. “I . . . just have a
weakness for 'Love's Old Sweet Song,' that's all.”

His
sardonic laughter left her mortified. “And for love—and
me
—it appears.
You'd be much happier if you'd stop fighting your feelings. After all, it's
perfectly natural, no?”

She
whirled on him. “It may seem perfectly natural to you to want to seduce
anything in a skirt, but—”

“Anything
in a skirt, eh?” he mocked. “It seems to me that ever since you arrived here,
I've mainly been pursuing you.”

“Only
because I resist,” she retorted. “Only because I'm a challenge.”

“You're
certainly that.”

“Look,
why don't you just drink your damn brandy and go?”

Further
maddening her, he sloshed his brandy in the snifter and took an elaborate
whiff. “A gentleman expects some company with his brandy.”

“Who
said you're a gentleman?”

“Who
said I'm not?”

“A
gentleman would hardly sleep with every whore in Storyville.”

Jacques
regarded her with bemusement. “Storyville?”

Bella
lifted her chin. “Doesn't Councilman Story want to change the Basin Street area
into a district of legal prostitution?”

He
slanted her a forbearing look. “Bella, why do you think I've slept with all the
girls at Julie's?”

“Haven't
you?”

He
shrugged. “I admit I've had a few dalliances. However, what I did before we met
is of no consequence.”

“I
disagree,” she countered stoutly. “I can't picture a man used to sampling a
full smorgasbord suddenly settling for just one course.”

He winked
at her solemnly. “He will if she's Cherries Jubilee.”

Reeling
at his wicked comment, Bella managed to retort, “I see you as a man with very
destructive propensities.”

“Do
you?” Although his expression was pleasant, his voice took on a formidable edge.
“Perhaps I agree with you there. I can be a man of some—er—menace. Darling
Bella
,
go pour yourself a drink, then come join me on this settee—or you
won't
like the consequences.”

Staring
at his determined visage, Bella had to agree. Making a sound of exasperation,
she obliged him. She fetched herself a snifter of brandy, then sat down on the
settee, as far away from Jacques as possible.